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dilf-docs · 2 days ago

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This Thing Upon Me, Howls Like A Beast

professor!pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: to cover some social hours and as a favor to your recently fallen-ill friend, you become your research methodology professor's TA. but here's the catch: you've got history, and what you really mean is beef; good, pure, unadulterated loath.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, pwp, rivals to ??, hate sex, p. in v. (do i even wrap it atp), degradation kink, daddy kink, lwk exhibition kink bc this happens on his office (rip to the furniture), bit dom!pedro + brat taming (again?? stop it mayor we get itttt omg) sprinkled here and there, fingering, squirting, creampie (everyone got invited to the party), reader is a loud-mouth (who's this divaaa), pedro's kind of an asshole and a perv in this one (ooc sorry), don't expect a second part this is literally just self-fulfilling filth without a storyline

word count: 6,451 words

side note: hello! this won the poll. am i the only one with this fantasy? pls tell me not; i feel insane looking some of my professors like a fucking starved drooling dog. giggling as we speak, bc the movie's got everybody insane between marvel renaissance, gif dump, new content, husband!pedro material and professor wet dreams out there... this piece of work is the last. hope you enjoy it, citizens! ps. jin of bts makes an appearance bc i love my seven men and i'm currently sick so he is sick too lmao (ah pero para escribir cochinadas ahí sí estás sana verdad)

It's your fault, really, for opening it in the middle of the class. It was a link, and you should've saved it for later, but then your thumb clicked into the blue underlined text your friend sent, and the reel popped up on your screen.

Your laugh erupted before you could cover your mouth, your professors' words hanging mid-air.

"Who did that?"

Everyone looks at you. Those sell-out, ass-kissing, boot-licking dicks.

His eyebrows furrow until they seem to melt into one, a big angry scowl on Mr. Pascal's face.

"Something you'd like to share with the class, Ms. Y/n?"

His voice reverberates on the class' walls, sounding even scarier.

You shake your head, tone quiet as you let out a small, "No"

"No?" he repeats your words, mocking your insecure demeanor, "because with that loud ass laugh, it seemed like something important enough to dissrupt my class. So please, share. You can't leave us wondering in here"

People cough and avoid your gaze while you wish the building would collapse and kill everyone inside, you included. Oh, that would be good. But no, you're stuck on a space that now feels too small and his persistent gaze cuts right through you.

"I-It's not important-" you stumble over your words.

"Can't speak anymore? All that boldness, suddenly gone"

"Mr. Pascal" you plead. God, you had never even begged for anything in your life. But there's always a first.

"I said share" his voice menacing, like he's got not an ounce of sympathy in that sturdy body that could fit plenty. No, wait. Focus!

He grows impatient at your lack of movement, practically growling his next words:

"I won't repeat myself"

"I-I I don't know how to-" you cut yourself off, cringing at how pathetic you sound. "It's a video, so-"

"Then cast your phone and project it" he clicks his tongue, clearly enjoying this. What a sadistic motherfucker.

"I-I can't-"

Can Jesus please hurry up and come fast? Even better, immediately take this one to hell, please.

"Aw, you poor thing" he tuts, mockingly. No one dares to speak, and you'll learn later that he's got his own reputation. For a reason.

"Don't worry, I'll help you myself"

Turns out, the fucker made you and your shaky legs stand up and walk the walk of shame. Then, you had to proyect the silly video, which in handsight, wasn't funny anymore. While some of your classmates laughed, that didn't lessen how humilliated you felt.

It had happened during your first year at university, on a subject you really couldn't care less and when you were still (practically) a baby; freshly eighteen. But now you were twenty, almost finishing your career, and the shaky insecure teenager was long gone, replaced by a secure (albeit a bit of a bitch), confident woman.

That had been your first encounter with professor Pascal.

You have to give him some credit: he is kind of the reason why you did a full 180 on your personality.

But life always comes back to bite you in the ass.

"What do you mean you're sick?" you scoff, "we were supposed to go to Dave's party tonight!"

Your friend lets out a cough that sounds borderline animalistic.

"First of all, don't come closer. I'll pass it to you" Jin speaks up, voice rough from the earlier death-threatening cough. "And second, do you think I care about a stupid party? I'm dying here"

"Don't be so dramatic" you roll your eyes.

"Hello? Didn't you hear that cough?!" he sounds offended, reinforcing the feeling by throwing one of his used tissues at you. You dodge his lame throw with a yuck. "I think you're devoid of empathy"

"Well, thank Mr. Pascal for that"

Jin wasn't your friend when that happened, but when you became buddies, he eventually came to know about your beef with the older man. Yes, beef, because after the Reel Deal (as you both have come to call it), he made your life impossible. If it weren't for your skills and intelligence, you'd probably fail his subject. Mr. Pascal gave you the hardest time ever: be it pairing you with the absolute worst students or making your assigments more difficult, for an "unknown" reason.

Eventually, even after such a traumatic experience and subject being way behind, it became a staple in your duo to bring him up everytime something negative happened or was mentioned.

("You're so funny!")

("Thanks, a professor pushing fifty made my life impossible when I was eighteen")

But here's an even funnier thing: for unknown reasons, Jin became his TA last semester. Probably he didn't know that you were friends, and that has to be the reason he's actually a decent human being towards the younger boy. I'm telling you, Jin would insist, the whole mean asshole shtick is propaganda!

"Talking about him..."

"Stop" you raise your hand dramatically, "enough bad news today"

"You can still go to the party, you know?" he giggles, earning another cough that practically leaves him voiceless. "Why do you insist on taking me? I don't know this people!"

Jin was two years older your senior.

"But it's not fun without you!" you insisted on dragging him around everywhere after you met because he tutored you. "Who will I bore with all my failed flirting attempts?"

"Thank God, not me" he ignores your pout. "Besides, wasn't like Marcos insisting you went with him? There's your chance!"

"But Marcos is boring..." you draw out, "and I need a man who makes me laugh"

"You can't really ask for that much in this economy"

Okay, here's the deal: there's another reason you can't let go of the Mr. Pascal subject, and it's not because of the beef. Hell, Jin can't know about this or he'll never let you live.

The answer is quite simple: as infuriating as he is, Mr. Pascal is hot. Like, middle-aged hot, with the greying hair and face marked by lines that tell time. If it wasn't for him you'd probably never discover your preference towards more... aged meat. You should be furious, and you were, but during all your petty arguments over topics or slides that didn't deserve to be reviewed for more than five minutes, the fire that ignited in your lower belly? You've never felt it before, and if that managed to get you more hot and bothered than a fresh boy ready to kiss your lips, neck and below? Well, that's a serious issue.

But it was his voice, that treated you with such vitriol, a deep and rich sound reserved just for you, or be it the way his auburn eyes seem to catch fire whenever you opened your mouth, dark forests burning in flames that threathened to reduce it all to ashes; yo were eager, anticipating the burn.

He saw your defiance, and instead of putting you in your place, he matched that wild rageful spirit of yours that refused to be tamed.

And that you liked, despite the history of hate between you.

"What about him?" you appear nonchalant, while retouching your makeup for the party.

"About him who?" Jin quips, "we just talked about two fine men-"

"The much older man"

A weird smirk forms across his lips. "Sure, of course"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. But it will be fun, nonetheless" he sits up straight from his previous surrendered position on the couch. "So, remember how I'm his TA, right?"

"Yes?" you pause. "Wait, if this is for me to help you check again more homeworks, no. I am not helping you read a hundred papers again for free"

"They weren't a hundred!" he barks. "Besides, it's not that"

"Then?" you press, not admiting how interested you were.

"Do you see my poor state?" you nod, not understaning where he's going. "Then, you're aware I'm not capacitated to do said task as of right now"

"I'm aware" you repeat, "what I'm not, is what does that have to do with me?" you resume your activity, going for your eyeliner. "So much mystery when you could've just said it in a pass"

"I need you to cover up for me"

The liquid eyeliner paints a line across half of your face. "What?!"

He laughs at your reaction, "You heard me"

You leave the mirror, now focusing your attention on him. "It's not April Fools yet, Jin. Heads up, it was a terrible prank"

Even if it made you hot to have such dynamic with your former IM professor, you weren't exactly keen on seeing him again. For you, he had turned into a memory slash fantasy at some point: an asshole that got your panties wet and pussy slick when you touched yourself at night, on behalf of all the dumb uni boys who couldn't reach that sweet spot of yours. What a dirty girl, his velvet voice on your head would say. Why are you touching yourself to your supposed foe, a much older guy? Fucking slut. Yeah, there was no way you'd go back to the real thing for the real him to taint the image you got off almost every night to, so he could say your name in that animosity that leaked with a barely contained rage and poorly disguised distate that left a bitter taste on your mouth, ego and self-steem on the ground. Because the truth is, no matter how much you argued back, he always won. You had just found your voice, but all efforts to bring him down seemed powerless, and he had won every single battle: even if he didn't have the last word, just with a look, he made you feel small, stupid and meaningless.

Nope. Not going back.

"And you have a terrible way of coping" he's quick to counter back. "Listen, it's not so bad. You just have to do meaningless tasks and pretend to be interested. Simple, right? Look, those extra credits could be useful, you know? And you excelled the class, y/n. Easy!"

"You're making it sound trouble-free as if the man doesn't hate me"

"He's definitely forgotten about it!" he waves his hand, dissmisively. "Probably jokes about it, like us!"

"Mr. Pascal doesn't seem the type of guy to have humor"

"Humor me, then" Jin sighs. "Do this for me, yes? When have I ever failed you?"

You wish for some sense to get into his skull. Had he forgotten every single anecdote?

"Think of all those times where I've taken you home, carried you drunk. Or the sad heart breaks I've been through with you, remember? Brought you ice cream and watched your favorite movies. Or when I used to tutor you? Or-"

"Enough of your emotional manipulation, Mr. Kim" you shake your head, dissapointed, all to avoid the quiet rage to settle in. "I thought better of you"

"It's for a week. Days if this pills do a miracle" his big black eyes look at you, pleading.

"Jin, you're not being a very good friend"

"It's just this one favor" he sighs. "Look, I can't loose this thing, okay? I get the credits I need to finally leave this shithole. If I don't show up, they'll hand it to someone else. You may not believe it, but it's very demanded"

People making lines to be emotionally abused by your former IM professor? Sure thing!

"Can't you tell someone, though? I'm sure they'll understand and you can go back once this cold is gone"

"I already did so, and they told me to show up or quit, due to the wait list of people applying for the position" you roll your eyes at your university's antics and their bullshit policies. "I don't trust anyone else to not fuck it up, but you. You'll just have to tell him about this minor inconvenience, and Mr. Pascal will understand. You know, I'm kind of his favorite guy in there..."

Great, just what you needed.

"Sorry to break it to you, but as soon as I walk through that door, all that pretty boy privilege would be gone"

"Please, y/n. Please"

"You'll never ask me any other favor?"

"No" he looks rather desperate; it's funny. "Hell, you can use the lake cabin for your birthday bash if you-"

"Deal"

Were you that easy to buy, huh? What does that say about you? Fucking ass sell-out.

Okay, but a birthday party in that all glass modern cabin with a deck and a jacuzzi does sound tempting. Who could be blamed? Not you, who will have to face her biggest foe in exchange for one wild bash.

You take a deep breath, imagining the lake water splashing and champagne on the deck (ugh, Jin's parents had a waterbike too. They were loaded), before knocking on his office. The door flings open, almost hitting you in the face, and there he is: Mr. Pascal, with his brown hair with white on the sides, loose curl over his face. Your fingers definitely don't itch to touch it, of course.

He's sporting a grumpy look (when doesn't he?), his big hands (you had forgotten how big they were) holding a bunch of papers (great, work!).

"Goddamn it, Jin. I was about to call you for standing me up, you know I hate when people don't tell me-"

He stops on his tracks, and that all too familiar scowl deepens his face.

"You"

Seethed with such venom, it's quite scary. Your legs tremble, yet your pussy clenches.

"Yes, me" you can't help but let out a little laugh at his antics. What did Jin said about him not remembering you? Well, can't be blamed; you weren't easy to forget.

His jaw clenches while looking down at you, but this time, you don't dare to flinch.

"What are you doing here?"

"See, Jin is my friend-"

He interrupts you, body frame resting on the door with a relaxed posture, but his shoulder looks tense.

"Oh, I liked him. Liked, as in past tense" he emphasizes, like a child throwing a tantrum. "How can a kid like him be friends with you?"

"We're best friends, thank you very much. As a matter of fact, I'm here as a favor" you hand him Jin's written apology, that may have one or two sneezes over it. "He's sick, and I'll cover him for a week, just so he doesn't loose the position. Said you would understand"

"I do" he replies on an instant, "you I don't"

"I passed your subject. With honors, even after you made my life impossible" you reply. "I'm the best candidate, face it"

He's rendered speechless for a moment, before he bites back:

"What makes you think I won't do it again?"

Now it's you who doesn't know what to say. It's infuriating how he still keeps winning.

"That's right" a wicked smile adorns his face. "Stay and find out"

Boy, don't you love a challenge?

So you stayed, much to his surprise. The bastard probably thought you were still the same scaredy mouse from first year.

Oh, it was delicious the way his whole face fell at your entrance next morning, how he quickly replaced it and introduced you in a clipped tone.

"Where's Jin?" a girl sitting in the front row had asked, more students joining to ask for his absence. You wonder if your friend's popularity stems from his brain or looks.

"He's sick" you answered. "But don't worry, he'll be back soon"

"Thank God" Mr. Pascal voices out loud.

You shoot him a look. He wasn't joking about not making it easy, was he?

"Oh, I didn't take you as a man of faith, Mr. Pascal, but you're right. It's important to thank our Lord everyday. So, thank Him for this week where I get to offer my suffering. In reward" you turn to face him, all the class silent as they take in your weird exchange, the atmosphere tense, "I'll never see your face again"

This time, you weren't going down without a fight.

"We'll see about that"

There it was: the fire to your gasoline.

So you pushed back, and argued everytime you disagreed, things that weren't part of your work but you still did because well, if he was still hellbent on making you suffer, you weren't going to make it easy for him this time.

If students argued against him, you took their side; even if just one did, you had their back.

You finished grading, but when returning the papers, you'd let them fall with a heavy thud over his desk, not even daring to look back.

At the time he'd talk to you, you wouldn't answer, instead just doing so, but no words to be uttered his way, as if he wasn't worth the effort. Not even a clipped okay.

And you enjoyed this; savored how he'd take every one of your petty actions with his full chest, eyebrows furrowed and face red in anger, but never answering, just silent, like deep in thought, a cold and calculated look overtaking his brown eyes.

Then the veins on his neck would pop as the ones of his tight white-knuckled grip on his mug. He'd speak up, and his voice had your legs shaking for some friction, wet spots now more often on your lingerie.

That he didn't know.

All he did was you were now more than a pebble on his shoe: a huge fucking stone, going down the hill, ready to squash him.

But boy, didn't he love a challenge?

It's Friday, aka last day of Torture Week.

You drop the quizzes for next Monday on his desk with the same harsh movement you had done all week.

"And it's over" you announce, papers plopping next to him, who is writing something. Mr. Pascal's hand moves, his L much longer than it should be. He looks up at you, annoyed, but his eyes flash with a hint of amusement.

"I see you can talk"

"Well, you already know me, Mr. Pascal. So you should be aware of what I can do"

"Love if you'd enlighten me"

He leans back on his chair, arms resting behind his head. It's hard not to take a brief glance to the flexing muscles, or how he's rolled up his sleeves, arms bulking up with the action, the fabric tense. It's hot in here. Wait, or has it gotten hot? Your face feels red, and when he catches your lingering gaze, he smiles devilishly.

"Like what you see, Ms. Y/n?"

No. You refuse to let him win this again, so close to the end.

"The release from prison?" you regain your posture, "very much"

"You may be a loud-mouthed brat, always knowin' what to say. I'll give that to you" he props himself to the front, elbows now resting on the desk as his eyes scan yours with a shade of dark covering them. "But a good liar you ain't"

You try to remain still, face emotionless, but your professor is a man of experience; an expert on his field. He who investigates, who has majored to be able to notice every small detail that can contribute to a hypothesis, has now formulated his.

You want this as much as he wants to.

You, with your wobbly legs and nervous eyes, glancing up at him with a hungry gaze that matches his own, despite your angry posture and irritated tone. You, that picked up petty arguments just to rile him up, because you liked the command for power on his voice. You like this, didn't you? Feeling small and weak, fangs pointy, just barely gracing the skin; the edge what set your skin on fire.

He isn't one to hold grudges (he's just mean all the time), but Pedro is willing to show you he hasn't forgotten about the years, and he'll be more than willing to fuck that bitchy attitude out of you.

"Hello?" you snap your fingers in front of him, "are you there?"

He snaps back to reality, your face covering his vision. In his position, he gets rewarded with a delicious peak at your breasts and the nude lingerine hiding them. He can imagine the perked nipples and the rosy plush skin he'd love to trace his tongue with, because even when you speak in a harsh voice, your eyes speak another thing. Fuck, he thinks he can even smell your arousal.

"I was talking to you" you don't even give him room to reply; snotty ass. "Said I was already leaving"

He thinks of himself as merciful. So he stands up, your bodies barely brushing against each other for a second, before he's opening the door, towering over you. He's so close, you can see the grey hairs mixed with the brown ones on his beard and mustache. God, you can smell him: coffee, cigarrettes, sandalwood and leather.

"You're free, Ms. Y/n" he follows your line of joke from before. "Just, humor me with one last thing"

You glance over at the clock above his desk. It's barely noon.

"Yes?" as dry as possible.

"Why did you accept?"

It's a simple question, really, but it manages to catch you off guard.

His tone is so different, maybe that's why: it's low, impossibly low. For less attentive people, it could even pass as a growl. But you hear, the amusement and dare laced within the velvety tone.

"Because I'm a good friend" you manage to speak, his body caging your smaller frame against the door.

This is ridiculous. You can leave at any time. Hello? Have your legs not gotten the memo?

"I didn't think you were capable of good things"

You huff, annoyed. "Well, I passed your subject, didn't I?"

He clicks his tongue.

"Many before you, and more after you have. Doesn't make you special, y/n"

Your name alone leaves a savory and toxic sweetness on his tongue.

"But how many of those you remember?" Mr. Pascal shots up an eyebrow, confused. "Tell me, how many can you name? That's right. I changed your life, whether you like it or not"

He's quick to reply. "Bullshit"

"Bullshit" you mock his angry tone, "but you recognized me the moment you opened the door. It didn't even take you seconds, hell, you hadn't even fully seen me and you knew who I was. Doesn't take a great investigator to figure it out, does it? So I take you missed me"

He can't believe your fucking mouth.

But then Pedro's remembering the way his pants tightened when you started to stand up to him, getting even worse when he still managed to shut you up. Fuck, the way you had smirked when you approved his subject during your last project delivery. He let you, because well, you had earned it: for the way your image had been the perfect companion for his hand pistoning his cock will full force, thinking of that loud mouth of yours gagged with it. Or when you walked past him in the hallways, wrapped in your own little bubble, your carefree laugh erupting and bouncing off the walls, tickling every hair of his body.

Part of him had accepted Jin to be his TA if that meant having a piece of you, even if a small connection, to you. Did you think he wouldn't know? That he wouldn't see you walking by in those small skirts that rode over when you bent? He noticed you; after all, you were in the same place most of your day.

You had excelled his subject after all, hadn't you?

So of course you'd notice his stare lingering in your back like a hand over your ass. How his eyes would dart to the skirts you wore on purpose, attentive to the moment you'd drop a pen on accident and your panties would be on sight, a wet spot in the middle you hadn't even noticed that smelled. Fuck, and wasn't it sweet?

You really feel like you have won this, don't you?

"Miss you?" Pedro hisses the words out. "I didn't miss you. What I think is happenin', is that me missing you is what you want"

"And I think you're repeating the same words and fumbling thoughts because you're a big egocentric prideful asshole who can't admit he's got the hots for his younger student"

"God. Don't you have such a filthy mouth, baby?"

Before he can register and you've fully let the nickname sink, your hand slaps his face with a potent movement that reverberates across his office's walls.

"You're a fucking piece of work, Mr. Pascal" but instead of being offended (or you don't know, fight back?), he remains silent. "You dirty old spoiled prick. Think I would never fight you back? That you can get away with whatever this is?"

"Whatever this is?" he chuckles, a sound rumbling deep from his chest. "Well, pretty girl, ain't you started this?"

He looms over you, hot breath carressing your face softly.

"Me? Unbelievable" you scoff. "You're one to talk, humiliating a poor freshman"

"Poor? You were distracted, in my class! Did your parents never teach you manners?!" his words leave droplets of spit that land in your face. "I had to put your stupid ass in place; that'll teach you something"

"Like what?" you taunt, recklessly, chest up and down with uneven breaths.

"I see it didn't work" his body language does an immediate switch. You remember a predator ready to strike their prey. "Maybe I should've tried harder"

His eyes do a wild dance over your body as so do yours.

Lip. Eyes. Skin. Cleavage. His tight pants. Biceps. Legs. Hair.

Before you can register, he's got you pinned against his desk, door closed in a loud move. There's a click sound somewhere in between, but you're too busy feeling his big hands grabbing your face roughly, as if he wants to consume your skin and feel your very bones on his calloused tips.

His lips are impossibly wet and eager, hands needily gropping your body. He pushes all his weight over you as he deepens the kiss, his tongue now inside your mouth, making you falter.

You let out a breathy moan when your back hits the desk, the wood digging your skin, but he swallows it whole, making it impossible for you to talk.

"Mmph-"

"Mmph?" he mocks between kisses, not giving you the chance to take a breath, or maybe he was scared you would get the time to think and would push him away. "Just my mouth got you all worked up, baby? Can't even speak"

Your fingers run through his hair for support, curls between your fingers. They felt soft, like they were meant to be combed through over and over again. He dives his head in your neck, hot mouth wet with its trail of kisses, making you squirm.

"I see" his breath ghosts over your reddened skin, "you wanted this just as much, don't you? This boys aren't enough for you?"

Every hair on your body prickles, his mouth claiming every spot he could, bites and hickeys all over your skin. You whine, pouting your lips, missing his already.

"It's okay, baby" he laughs, "just gotta show them who's enough for you" he grunts, "a man"

Mr. Pascal takes off your shirt, well, basically rips the poor thing, his hands relieved to finally touch your breasts. He roughly grabs one of them, and you bite your lip so hard, you almost feel the bitter metallic taste in your mouth. He lowers himself, despite his aching joints, to play with your hardened nipples, lapping them with his warm tongue, sucking and swirling until they turn swollen.

Your hand finds its way to his formal pants, fingers gracing over the fabric, feeling his cock straining against it. Just like you imagined it: big, like his presence. If it could, your pussy would jump in excitement, realistically just throbbing and leaking.

You untie his belt and buttons so you can begin to rub over his boxers. You can feel him trying to meet your touches, grinding onto your palm. He groans, deeply, enjoying your hungry stare, steady beat, parted lips and wet cunt.

He bucks his hips against you, propping himself on the wall behind his desk, which had moved from its original position thanks to the mayhem.

"You clearly don't know what you got yourself into, baby. But don't worry, I ain't letting you go just yet"

He pulls the skirt up, revealing the damp panties and mess between your legs. He licks his lips before rough digits find your wet folds. His fingers carress your impossibly tight walls, coating them with your slick.

"So fucking tight" he groans against your collarbones, "thought of yourself as uptight but I can fucking smell you dripping, you dirty slut. Could tell you loved provoking me becayse that's the only way your snotty ass can get off"

"F-fuck you, Mr. Pascal" you manage to choke out.

"Where are your manners? After how I've rewarded your big mouth, you bitch" he takes off your panties with skilled practice, the piece falling to the floor with a weak sound. Your bare cunt makes you shiver. "You think you're smart, baby? You think you can play these games and face no consequences at all?" he tuts. "No, Ms. Y/n, you know I hate wastin' my time, so be a good girl and don't make this harder for you, get that?"

You whine at his words, but refuse to shut your mouth.

"Oh, I'm smart" you laugh, "smart enough to have you on your knees for me"

An ugly grin spreads across his features.

"I will never bend for a bratty pretentious slut like you" he grips your hair with force, leaving your neck exposed, "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, stupid cock hungry whore. You wanted my attention? It's all yours"

Then, with a low, almost feral growl, he grabs your hips and hoists you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He sweeps the papers and books onto the floor with a clatter, setting you down on the edge.

"You better behave, baby" Mr. Pascal bites your lower lip, "don't want people to know what we're doing in here, do you? Or would you want them to know just how much of a slut you are, spread on my desk as your cunt drips for me?"

He steps between your legs, pushing them further apart, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. He leans in, his face inches from yours, voice low in a threatening rasp.

"I'll behave, I promise" mind in blank.

"No loud mouth bitchy stuck up attitude?"

You free his cock, hands scouting his shaft, his base, and balls. You fondled them while his fingers lingered closer to your pussy.

"No"

"This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be fucked stupid and used for my pleasure? Well, get ready, because I'm not going to stop until I've had my fill of this sweet little cunt"

He savors at the sight of your glistening folds.

"Let me-"

He laughs, seeing how you desire to guide his cock towards your entrance.

"Eager, little one?" he teases.

"Yes" you whimper, "I need you so badly, papi"

Your plea mixed with Spanish sends him on edge. His eyes darken with a primal, almost feral hunger at your desperate plea.

His voice is strained, rough with barely restrained lust.

"Fuck, you needy little thing. You want to take my dick until this desk breaks?"

He rubs the swollen head of his dick against your dripping slit, coating it in your arousal. Then, with one powerful thrust, he slams into you, burying himself to the hilt in your tight, hot cunt.

"So tight" he groans, starting to move and setting a brutal pace from the very beginning. The desk shakes and creaks beneath you with each forceful thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the empty office. He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust, grinding his pelvis against your clit. He sets a relentless, punishing rhythm, determined to fuck you into oblivion.

It's a goddamn view in here: him above you, droplets of sweat falling to your face, pristine hair now disheveled.

At this point, you were clenching so hard it hurt, walls fluttering around his massive girth. But he's greedy, and he's pushing himself deeper and deeper.

"Runnin' your mouth but now all quiet as you take all of me, hungry greedy whore" he digs his fingers into your cheeks harshly, but you find pleasure in the sting the pain causes. "Bet this is all you been thinking since you started talking back, huh? Don't worry, daddy's got you"

Surprisingly, he leans down, capturing your mouth in a dominating kiss, tongue invading your mouth. His hand comes up to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly, a silent reminder of who you belong to.

"God. You're wet everywhere, baby"

His sweaty chest presses itself onto your tits as he forced his cock deeper within you, the plaid shirt sticking with sweat to his ablazed body, temperature high.

"T-the desk" you protest numbly; mind-fucked.

And oh, boy, doesn't he enjoy this view? Your fluttering eyelids, hazy eyes and trembling body.

So he keeps fucking you: pounding into you, rolling his hips skillfully, taking up all the space within you.

"I don't give a damn fuck about the desk, Ms. Y/n. I'm gonna fuck that attitude of yours until all you know is my name" he leans down, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. His hands grip your hips with bruising force, pulling you harder against him with each violent thrust. "Gonna break the desk, hell, fuck you on the floor if necessary, but you ain't leaving this office until my cum drips from your legs and everyone knows your tight little cunt is mine"

The desk groans and wobbles beneath you, the legs scraping against the floor as Pedro fucks you with wild abandon. The sound of your moans and the crude, wet slap of skin on skin echoes obscenely in the room.

His pubic bone grinds against your clit with each thrust, the rough friction sending jolts of electric pleasure shooting up your spine. His cock hits that perfect spot inside you, the one that makes your toes curl and your back arch off the desk.

He feels your walls starting to flutter around him, your body tensing as your orgasm approaches. Mr. Pascal leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a dark, intimate rasp.

"Why don't you be a good girl and tell daddy how good he's making you feel? Show me and everyone else what a desperate little slut you are, waiting for me to fill you up nicely with my seed"

He makes out of you a loud mess, a series of sweet sounds falling from your lips. You clench and he twitches, his digits holding your waist, keeping you in place for him.

"Good girl" he praises, "now you're gonna take it all, milk me dry, you greedy cocksleeve"

His thrusts become erratic and sloppier. The older man can feel your walls starting to flutter around him, body tensing as your orgasm approaches. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a dark, intimate rasp.

"Will you be a good girl?"

"Yes!" you cry out, "don't stop!"

You hated this humilliation, how easy it is for him to fuck you with his big cock. You fucking hated him. But didn't he make you feel so good.

"Then come on my cock, bitch"

You didn't think it was capable, no, but you did. A first, another first when it came to Mr. Pascal.

You squirt. You fucking squirted.

Pedro lets out a feral roar of triumph when your pussy spasms around his pistoning cock, your release gushing out and soaking his dick and the desk, papers and shit beneath you (no, not the quizzes! You had printed them this morning). He savors the way you throw your head back, eyes rolling until they turn white on your fucked-out face.

"Such a sweet cunt, baby" he praises. "Milk me dry, come on"

Your slick walls milking him dry pushes him over the edge, clenching around him, and he knew it was over. He snaps, arching his back as he roughly moans. With one final, brutal thrust, he buries himself balls-deep inside you, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he starts to come. Thick, scorching ropes of cum paint your insides, flooding your womb with his potent seed, still pushing the remnants inside when he grinds against you, his pelvis pressed tight to yours as he rides out the waves of his intense orgasm. His grip on your hips tightens, fingermarks surely to be left in the soft flesh as he holds you in place, ensuring you take every last drop of his release.

"That's it, pretty baby. Can't even speak, can you?" he captures your mouth in a deep, dominating kiss. Like he owns you. "As you can see, I'm a man of my word"

He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he pants softly. His eyes, when they meet yours, are dark and intense, filled with a primal, almost feral satisfaction.

It's humilliating, really, how your lips search for more. You need him, badly, despite how shit he treats you and how wrong all of this is. Is this a win or a loose?

"Good girl" he repeats, his sweaty forehead clashing against yours. The desk creaks yet again. You love when he praises you, and you whine on instintic, making him laugh. "Learned your place just yet? Listen carefully, Ms. Y/n: no matter what you do or say, I'll always win, get it? And you'll be nothing but a needy uptight slut who begs for my attention and cock"

He pulls out of you slowly, his softening dick slipping from your well-used hole with a gush of their combined releases. He tucks himself away, doing up his pants with quick, efficient movements. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, smearing a streak of his cum across it.

"Go on. Taste it, and tell me how it feels"

Your tongue does a lazy movement, making your lips moist thanks to the saliva and his cum, like a fucking gloss. You shouldn't enjoy this, really, but your body shivers when you feel the taste of him going down your throat as you swallow.

"Good" you manage to speak, salt on the tip of your tongue.

"Good" he repeats, voice low and menacing, "because we're just getting started"

#dilfistwrites #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fluff #professor pedro #professor kink #reed richards #the fantastic four: first steps

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summertimesadnessirl · 32 minutes ago

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I once read this story about Vladimir Nabokov.

About how he was obsessed with collecting butterflies, and all the weird shit in Lolita started because he realized one day he was literally murdering these little creatures.

And how fucked up that is.

I don't know if that's true or not because I never checked the sources.

But even the delusional narrator of that story eventually understands that you don't love someone if your idea of love is to suffocate someone in a jar.

Armand got 77 years in a jar with no air in it, and he knows it. But he didn't love Louis so much as he'd been in jars with no air in them his whole life and I think putting someone else in one might have allowed him to realize none of the people in his childhood, or Marius, or the other people in his life ever cared about him. That the fact that he loved them because he had never known anything other than starvation and little enclosures wasn't because they deserved it.

Lestat has a lot of problems. A big one is that he just plays the role people he likes want him to play without thinking. This is the thing he and armand have in common. They both reflexively do this in different ways and for different reasons so they can only kind of pay attention to one another by proxy, in a crowd. It's not that they don't have personalities, it's just their primary way of dealing with people. Lestat defaults to being a rebel or a villain in every story he's in, when he meets a new person he defaults to being in love with them but he also argues with them all the time. This works really well with Louis because Louis hates himself most of the time, so as long as Louis hates himself it's easy for Lestat to be kind to him. If he starts to improve, though, the focus shifts. It's on some level true that lestat is "waiting until you are happy." It's not on purpose, but if there is too much harmony, that's difficult for him. He literally needs the drama of some kind of high stakes story to be happening around him all the time. In the books he walks blithely into traps all the time, and on one level it's because he's kind of a himbo, but on another level it's because he kinda can't resist seeing what the trap will do. There's a whole part in The Tale of the Body Thief where he knows the body thief is going to try to keep his body and also he is very likely to die as a random mortal human and Louis is like "we both know this is a trap and we both know you're going to do it anyway." The only times Lestat really gets to love people is the times when he's killing them, and he constantly rhapshodizes about how beautiful all his victims are and how wonderful it is to be near them and follow them and stuff, even the ones who aren't pretty or anything, like elderly people and so on. The only time I remember him being nice to people just to be nice to them is Quinns grandmother in Blood Canticle, but that is 100% because he's enjoying the dramatic irony of letting some old lady show him her priceless collection of cameos, and also he's in the middle of a ghost story so it doesn't matter, he's playing Sherlock Holmes.

Lestat was really good when he was doing the seduction game, he was really good at "please forgive me, I fucked up" but he kept falling into some weird role over and over that's like... patriarch. Whiny wife with no hobbies who keeps getting into trouble because his husband works too much and doesn't pay attention to him. Crashing the party because no one can match his freak and he wants to go home. Bad boy boyfriend who trolls your family when they seem homophobic and eats your priest. Lestat is emotionally immature but he also has no idea how to be a person. He's too busy being the main character, and when he meets Louis, it hasn't become blindingly obvious to everybody that Lestat is the main character. It seems like once that happens it mellows things out for him a little because people know why he's like that all the time. Armand actually seems like he's the first person to have figured out that Lestat is the main character, sometimes. Good for him.

the thing with how lestat and daniel handled louis’ depression is that they had the immediate audacity to believe they could fix him with their personalities and humors and sex whereas armand thought hey let’s make the situation more dire and throw in a daughter death and bdsm. you laugh but armand got 77 years and lestat and daniel only have regrets. see?

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sacrificiallane · 3 days ago

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just the tip ۶ৎ mean!Luke Castellan blurb

cw: coercing!! (luke takes your virginity without asking 😔 he‘s mean like that!) MEAN!LUKE. sex. p in v. no protection (pls don't do that in real life!) ♡ blurb, so it's a little very short.

not proofread, oops

he is so desperate! literally, Luke thinks it's so unfair, how you're looking all pretty for him... yet won't let him in. it's killing him, please.

he just doesn't get this whole 'saving yourself for marriage' thing. it's stupid, he thinks, how you let him have his tongue buried between your thighs but not his dick ―

"please baby," his voice borders on a whine as he bumps his drooling tip against your clothed cunt and pries your thighs a little further apart. "just let me ―," he groans. momentarily, he thinks about just ripping the fabric in half and having his way with you... but he is a patient boy. for now.

"i told you, just the tip, hm?" Luke is taking a different approach then. he doesn't want to scare you, after all. so his hands ― all gentle and loving ― find a way to your face, to carefully caress your cheeks.

"you trust me, no?" he coaxes further, invading your space by nuzzling his nose to yours. an endearing gesture that makes it just so easy for him to get his way...

when you answer a soft 'yes, Luke...,' he smiles.

Luke knows how to sweet talk you into things. he's a son of Hermes, after all, one of the cleverest and most mischievous of the olympian gods.

"and you know i would never do anything that's bad for you, right?"

your teeth press into your bottom lip and Luke gets even harder Lukes fingers press the slightest bit harder into your skin, "right?" he doesn't like how you're hesitating, it's a normal question after all. i mean, why would you not trust him, after all? he is always taking care of you!

when he asks again, you know you have to answer "yea..."

he smirks, "good" and his hand starts to relax, and to wander.

he knows your body by heart, so the boy doesn't even have to look anywhere but your eyes when his fingers ghost over the drenched part of your panties.

Luke watches closely for your reaction. it's when your eyes trail down as well, when you feel him prodding, tugging and teasing, dangerously close to the part that you were denying him just moments ago, he acts quickly!

in an attempt to distract you from what he was really doing down there, and fearing that you'd deny him again and again, his lips press against yours in a hot kiss. it has you relax, at least, and gives him enough time to messily pull your panties to the side and press his bare tip against your slit. his tongue licks broadly into your mouth, to swallow any disagreeing noise of yours. he knows what's good for you!

when you do start to get a bit more whiny though, and try to move further up his bed ― you're nervous, of course, and Luke loves you too much to just ignore such a thing! ― he is quick to mutter sweet words meant to soothe you. whispering how he loves you, and how good you are for him.

his unoccupied hand smoothes over your hair, and his forehead bumps against yours when he literally bullies his thick head through your walls.

"fuck..." a breathless hiss and his eyes flutter close. you are so tight! wrapped around him like a vice, and Luke can just barely make out how you open a little further for him, and suddenly all of his common sense wanders south, and he craves you even more.

he really can't help it this time...

"sorry, i'm sorry―"

a loud gasp spills over your swollen lips when his hips suddenly snap flush against your own ― and his length slips all the way into your fluttering walls until you are completely full of him. so full, he can see himself slightly outlined through your tummy. "gods―" another thrust. in and out again, just to watch your reaction of having him poke your deepest parts.

"you ― just the tip ―" you were stuttering, trying to find words as he was greatly taking care of needs you weren't even aware of having! your fingers curl further around his sheets, cramping a little, when an especially hard thrust had you seeing stars for a moment.

Luke doesn't even think of slipping out again. instead, he shushed you softly, and pressed one hand over your mouth. gentle, of course. but you were so loud! and your sweet innocent voice trying to make sense of him, had him so close to spilling.

"it's okay―," he mutters in a breathless whisper, "you're fine."

Luke would never make you do anything you aren't ready for. he swears!

and when your eyes roll back and your legs start shaking, your own climax hitting you so quickly that you don't even know how or when to warn you... he's there, with you, to rub soothing circles into your naked skin and remind himself that this is all just for him.

well, and there goes your 'saving yourself for marriage' ― "guess i will just have to marry you then..."

shorter than the percy smut, but i liked it like that! sue me

#luke castellan x reader smut #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smut #★ smut #𓇼 blurb ⋆.˚

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vettelsvee · 14 hours ago

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TWO SHY IDIOTS IN LOVE | Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Reader

SUMMARY: You and Oscar, your classmate back when you were in high school, and two shy idiots that might have feelings for the other, go on a "date"

WORD COUNT: 1471

WARNINGS: Mentions of drowning on a pool. Apart from that, I don't think anything else

VEE'S NOTES: I had this on my drafts for a while (more than a year I'd say) and since I'm a bit sick today and can't really move from bed I had to take it out. Anyways, it's short and one of the first things I ever wrote for Oscar, so I hope you like it! <3 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

You were excited, perhaps, for your first date with Oscar Piastri, the famous Formula 1 driver whom you had been following since his early days in the motorsport world simply because he hailed from your hometown and was also a former classmate.

You had spent days preparing for the big day when finally, the Aussie was going to take you on what you hoped would be the first of many dates. You had never lost contact with the other, although your didn't talk very often, so when Oscar surprised you by inviting you to Monza for the Italian Grand Prix, and despite having university exams, you didn't hesitate to accept the proposal.

It would be a bit hypocritical to say you hadn't prepared for the occasion. You had literally spent days choosing the perfect dress, along with the ideal hairstyle and makeup to look as best as possible just for him.

Finally, after patiently waiting for the blessed Friday to arrive, the time came to leave your hotel room and head to the circuit's paddock, where you had agreed to meet Oscar to watch the two Free Practice sessions and then go for lunch.

When you arrived at the agreed-upon location, your former classmate greeted you with a shy, but nice and comfortable, smile, then followed it with a warm hug that made you travel back to those school days when you used to spend most of your time with the guy in front of you.

"Y/N, you look stunning" exclaimed Oscar, a bit shyly and his cheeks turning instantly red. "I'll take you to McLaren’s garage and introduce you to my team quickly," he explained, almost without pausing. "They'll be taking great care of you while I'm driving, alright?"

As you walked towards the garage, after a brief stroll through the paddock due to the imminent start of the Free Practice sessions, you could feel the excitement in the air, the deafening noise of the engines and the adrenaline rush making you feel even more thrilled.

After introductions were made, and also hearing the scolding Lando started giving Oscar for being late, Piastri quickly showed you, while explaining it briefly, his race car, while getting into the gear to drive it.

"Don't you feel overwhelmed in there?" you asked with quite some curiosity.

"I've been doing this for most of my life, dear," replied Oscar. "Do you really think I get overwhelmed at this point?"

"Don't you?"

"Well, to be honest… yes," Oscar answered, "I get pretty overwhelmed, but it’s part of the job."

With that said, he turned on the engine and set out to achieve the best possible position for both himself and his team, mainly with the intention of surprising you, who ended up being more than impressed with his performance. Oscar didn’t only finish on the podium, but was also the faster driver of the day.

Oscar parked the car, and a team of mechanics immediately appeared to start moving it into the garage. You barely had time to congratulate him because he seemed to disappear into some sort of private room and didn’t even bother to tell you something, and you also didn't want to disturb him. You felt somewhat relieved when about five minutes after that, a woman, in a very pleasant tone, mentioned that Oscar liked to take a shower as soon as he got out of his vehicle and also apologised for not having mentioned it earlier.

You thought that it made sense, and felt somewhat relieved. If you were going to eat at a restaurant, it wasn't the best idea to go all sweaty.

As soon as he finished, about just ten minutes later, he approached you and, after quickly apologizing and without saying anything else, simply took your hand. You knew Oscar was shy, and even you tried to keep as calm as possible to help him somehow, your anxiety increased more and more, but it dissipated when the brown-eyed man began to tell you anecdotes from your school days, causing more than one laugh, while also mixing in details about his career and his expectations for his future as a driver.

There was no doubt, you were fascinated by the passion with which your companion spoke about his work and, above all, by his great dedication to it.

When you arrived at the restaurant, Oscar took you once again by your hand and led you to the table, where a bouquet of roses rested next to a flickering candle.

"This is for you," he commented, handing the bouquet to you. "To be honest… I didn't know what to get you, and I didn’t know if you even liked flowers, so… I hope you like them and aren't allergic."

You didn't know what to say. Nervousness started going thought your body, and you could feel Oscar’s as well.

"It's amazing," you ended up replying. "Thank you… I've always loved flowers and no one has ever given me a bouquet before."

You smiled back at him shyly, lowering your head as you couldn’t stop thanking him while sitting in the seat Oscar had pulled out for you.

Throughout the lunch, the conversation flowed easily, with Oscar telling funny stories about incidents with other Formula 1 drivers, and you laughing back while listening actively. Also, you started sharing anecdotes from your university life because beyond that, there wasn't many exciting stories to tell him compared to the ones he was telling you.

After finishing the meal, Oscar paid even though you insisted multiple times to do it, and assured you that you’ll have another moment to pay something else for him. Then, he took your hand while stroking it softly and led you out of the restaurant, going back to the paddock for a walk through it.

"Do you remember when I almost drowned in the swimming pool during Physical Education class, and you jumped in to help me without even hesitating?" Oscar said as he laughed, trying to break the awkward silence. "From that moment on, you really became my hero. Also… my mum made me join swimming lessons.”

"It wasn’t that much, Oscar," you replied sarcastically due to your shyness, "but I really appreciate the compliment…."

"So…," the driver pointed out, changing the topic since he was quite ashamed of himself after revealing that, pointing towards the track. "Every time there's a Grand Prix, it's surreal to me that I have a car out there, ready for a race, and I get to drive it..."

Noah looked ahead, imagining Oscar’s car racing at high speed, exuding elegance, with him on it smiling behind the helmet while focusing.

"It's a dream come true, isn't it?" you said, turning your gaze back to your friend.

"Definitely," he replied. "It's what I've always wanted to do, and what I've sacrificed so much for, so it's amazing to be part of this sport not only competing with the best drivers in the world but also forming friendships with them."

You looked at Oscar and saw the passion with which he spoke of his life in his eyes.

"You're amazing," you said, smiling. "I'm so proud of you."

He approached you and took your hand for the umpteenth time that day. No matter how many times he did it, he came to the conclusion that it would never be enough for him.

"Y/N, you've always been special to me," he said. "Although I've never told you, I've always admired your intelligence, your strength, and your beauty, and I've thought about you every day of my life, especially on race days. And now, here with you, I feel more in love than ever."

You felt your heart pounding.

"I feel something for you too, Oscar. Actually, most of your high school years…" you confessed, getting closer to him while trying not to die from embarrassment. "I never thought this could happen, but here we are…"

Oscar, trying to keep his cool, ended up leaning in carefully and kissing you gently. You felt everything around you stop. At that moment, you realized that you were a fool for not trying to do this earlier, for not confessing how you really feel about Oscar, convincing yourself he wouldn’t feel the same, but promised yourself to never deny your feelings anymore.

As you separated, still eyes locked on each other, Oscar put his arm around your waist and led you back to his car, ready to head to the hotel where you were both staying, with many thoughts in mind that included him cuddling with you for the rest of the night and, hopefully, for the very first time.

"Y/N… Do you think we could do this again… somehow?"

"I don’t think so, Oscar: I’m absolutely, completely sure, of that… Just if you want us to.”

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akawifeyy · 3 days ago

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LOVESICK | smau pt.2 (AKA12)

description: it's getting harder for you and kimi antonelli to deny your attraction to one another. but even the best-laid plans can go awry.

tropes: best friend's little sister, childhood friends, one-sided love, ob87 sister!reader

face claim: daniela avanzini

trigger warnings: suggestive content, hate speech (misogyny & covert death threats), swearing

| note: ahh this was a crazy smau to write 😞 also this is part 2 / 3 fics!

@ yourusername: out and about

tagged: @ f1, @ olliebearman, @ kimiantonelli

comments (394):

@ user1: help why did she post a big ass pic of the mercedes team logo? 💀

-> @ user2: Didn't you see she also tagged Kimi? I hate to be nosy, but like... This is getting a little...

@ olliebearman: No picture of me in my Haas is crazy

-> @ yourusername: maybe if you won, i would include it in my posts 💁🏼‍♀️

-> @ user3: DAMN GIRL

@ user4: the nails eattt 👀👀

@ f1gossip: Rookie Kimi Antonelli has been spotted with best friend Ollie Bearman's twin sister, Y/N! Wonder what the Haas driver thinks of this...

tagged: @ kimiantonelli, @ yourusername, @ f1wags

comments (245):

@ user4: this is such an appalling invasion of privacy. what happened to respect and decency?? why are we lwk stalking ppl now??

-> @ user5: HELP it's just one pic? 😭

-> @ user4: imagine if someone was doing this to you. i feel so bad for y/n and kimi 🙁

@ user6: They're soooo cute together omgg

@ user7: sigh, i can't even be jealous. she's literally y/n 😩

Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (2025):

comments (1984):

@ user8: bruh this is just rage bait, no one knows if she actually was with any other driver 😒

-> @ user9: Yeah Lando has said before that they were just good friends but that Y/N was too young for him

-> @ user10: the fling w paul might be true but it's never been confirmed either 🧐

@ user11: I honestly believe it tbh. She seems like the kinda girl to go around and fuck a ton of guys

-> @ user8: this is so disgusting i might puke 🤮

Instagram conversation between Y/N and a hate account:

@ yourusername has temporarily deactivated their account. (June 13, 2025)

comments (127):

@ user12: NOOO STAYYY PLS WE NEED YOU 🙏🙏

@ olliebearman: Love you sis, sorry you have to deal with all of this.

@ user6: chat I just failed a chem exam and now I see this? Worst day of my life

Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (2025):

comments (3329):

@ user14: i hope she comes back. i'll fight every hate bot and troll till she does 🤺

-> @ user1: We'll miss her

-> @ user9: her life is no one's business. I hope she finds peace and solace after all of this because the internet is a cruel place

@ user15: This is what happens when ppl don't realize how lucky they are. Y/N doesn't owe us anything.

-> @ user11: I don't know why everyone cares about this so much, Y/N is another nepo baby who's just popular bc of her face and body 🧍‍♀️

Further excerpt from the Instagram conversation between Y/N and a hate account:

@ kimiantonelli: So thankful to be P5 in Montreal!

tagged: @ f1, @ mercedes

comments (694):

@ user16: Help he's so dry

-> @ user9: we all know why smh... 😵‍💫

@ olliebearman: Great job!

@ user17: Not seeing Y/N in the comments feels so wronggg

-> @ user18: ikkk i'm so sad 🥲

Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (Three weeks later):

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #aka12 #aka12 x reader #andrea kimi antonelli #kimi antonelli #formula one #f1 fic #f1 writer #f1 fanfic #f1 smau

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koyagifs · 3 days ago

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𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾

pairing: yeosang x reader au: idol | best friends to lovers | genre: fluff word count: 1.5 k synopsis: everyone knew how head over heels yeosang is for you. and everyone knew how head over heels you are over yeosang. warning(s): fluff, sweet tooth rotting - literally will get cavities.

It was one of those unspoken truths, like the sun rising in the east or Mingi always forgetting where he left his keys. Everyone knew Yeosang was completely, unapologetically head over heels for you. His gaze would linger a little longer when you laughed, his tone softening whenever he spoke to you. And everyone knew you were just as captivated by him—the way your eyes sparkled when he entered the room or how your voice lit up when you said his name.

The rest of the group was thoroughly amused by it. Wooyoung, in particular, never missed an opportunity to tease either of you about the "mutual pining saga" that, in his words, "could put a K-drama to shame."

San would smirk knowingly every time Yeosang stumbled over his words when talking to you, while Yunho would silently cheer you on from the sidelines, rooting for one of you to make the first move. Jongho and Seonghwa, ever the more composed ones, usually just shared quiet, exasperated glances that seemed to say, When are they finally going to figure it out?

But none of the teasing or quiet nudges mattered because, in your world, it was just you and Yeosang. Even if you hadn’t said the words out loud yet, everyone could see it written all over your faces.

Wooyoung had hit his limit. Watching you and Yeosang dance around your obvious feelings was like watching two magnets desperately trying to stick together but somehow always missing the connection. It was infuriating, hilarious, and tragically adorable all at once.

One evening, after a group hangout where Yeosang spent the entire time stealing glances at you while you giggled at everything he said, Wooyoung had enough. It was near valentines day and Wooyoung had a plan. He flopped onto the couch dramatically and announced to the room, “hey yn, do you have a valentines ?”

You looked at him confused as the room quieted down, Yeosang sending Wooyoung a sharp glare.

"well no i don't but it's a stupid holiday anyways" you mumbled.

A malicious smirk was placed on Wooyoung face as he laid his head on your lap, looking up at you with ease.

" be mine? "

The room froze. All eyes darted between you and Wooyoung, tension thick in the air. Yeosang’s sharp glare deepened, his lips pressing into a tight line. Your cheeks flushed crimson, caught completely off guard by Wooyoung’s bold declaration.

“W-What?” you stammered, staring down at Wooyoung, who was now grinning like a cat that had just cornered a mouse.

“I said,” Wooyoung repeated with exaggerated slowness, his smirk widening, “be mine, Ynie. You don’t have a Valentine, and I’m available. It’s a win-win, right?”

Yeosang’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he stayed silent, his jaw tightening. The others in the room exchanged wide-eyed glances, unsure whether to intervene or let the chaos unfold.

You blinked, utterly flustered. “Wooyoung, I—”

Before you could say anything more, Yeosang abruptly stood up, his chair screeching loudly against the floor. All heads whipped toward him as he glared daggers at Wooyoung, his normally calm demeanor completely shattered.

Yeosang’s glare flickered with something deeper—hurt, frustration, and maybe even panic. Without a word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving everyone stunned. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing in the suddenly tense space.

You jumped up, pushing Wooyoung off your lap with more force than necessary. He landed on the floor with a loud thud, groaning dramatically as he looked up at you, but you didn’t care.

“Wooyoung, what the hell is wrong with you?” you snapped, your voice sharper than usual.

“Hey!” Wooyoung defended, sitting up and rubbing his arm. “I was just helping! You two are painfully slow, and I figured—”

“Figured what?” you cut him off, your anger bubbling over. “That you could just push Yeosang like that? He clearly—”

You stopped mid-sentence, the realization hitting you like a freight train. Yeosang had left because of you. Because he thought… he thought you might actually say yes to Wooyoung.

Wooyoung’s smug grin faded, replaced with a sheepish expression. “Okay, maybe I miscalculated a bit,” he muttered, glancing at the door Yeosang had disappeared through.

You huffed, shoving Wooyoung back to the ground for good measure as you made your way to Yeosang.

" can you two finally kiss to?! I'm tired of the sexu- ow hyung!"

Wooyoung’s cry was cut off as Seonghwa smacked the back of his head with a pillow, his face a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“Shut up, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa muttered, though the slight twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement.

You didn’t stick around to hear the rest. Rolling your eyes, you huffed and stormed out of the room, determined to find Yeosang and fix whatever Wooyoung had managed to break—or at least, whatever Yeosang thought was broken.

As you stepped outside, the crisp air nipped at your skin. It didn’t take long to find him. Yeosang was sitting on the edge of the porch steps, staring out at the darkening sky, his shoulders tense and his head hanging low.

“Yeosang,” you called out gently, walking up behind him.

He stiffened slightly at the sound of your voice but didn’t turn around. “You don’t have to be here. I get it,” he said, his tone distant, like he was bracing himself for the worst.

You frowned, coming closer until you were standing beside him. “Get what?”

“That you don’t…” He hesitated, then shook his head. “Never mind. Just go back to the others.”

“Yeosang,” you said firmly, lowering yourself to sit beside him. He glanced at you briefly, his expression guarded. “You’re being ridiculous. Wooyoung was just being Wooyoung. You didn’t actually think I’d say yes to him, did you?”

He looked down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting nervously. “I don’t know. Maybe. I thought… maybe you’d want someone more confident, someone who could actually tell you how they feel without messing it up.”

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice. “Yeosang,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “You’re the only one I want. I’ve wanted you for so long, and I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours, wide with surprise. “You… you thought that?”

You nodded, smiling a little despite yourself. “We’re both kind of hopeless, aren’t we?”

He let out a breathy laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing as he looked at you with a mixture of relief and adoration. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the world around you fading away as the weight of unspoken feelings finally began to lift. Then, Yeosang’s gaze flickered to your lips, and his voice dropped to a whisper.

“Can I…?”

You didn’t let him finish. Leaning in, you closed the small distance between you, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative kiss. It was sweet and perfect, everything you’d imagined and more.

From inside the house, Wooyoung’s muffled voice rang out. “Finally! Thank you! I’ve been waiting for months!”

“Wooyoung, shut up!” San yelled, followed by another loud thud and what sounded suspiciously like a wrestling match breaking out.

You and Yeosang pulled away, laughing softly as the chaos continued inside. He rested his forehead against yours, his smile so radiant it made your heart skip a beat.

“Be my Valentine?” Yeosang asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of his feelings.

You hummed playfully, pretending to think about it, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe I’ll have to consider it—”

Before you could finish, Yeosang’s hands moved to your sides, his fingers finding the perfect spots to tickle you. You let out a surprised squeal, squirming as laughter spilled from your lips.

“Yeosang!” you protested between giggles, trying to push his hands away, but he only grinned mischievously.

“Say yes,” he said, his voice full of laughter as he continued to tickle you.

“Okay, okay!” you managed to choke out, your laughter echoing in the quiet evening air. “Yes! I’ll be your Valentine!”

He finally relented, his hands dropping back to his sides as he leaned back slightly, a triumphant smile lighting up his face. “That’s what I thought,” he said, his tone teasing but his eyes soft and full of affection.

You huffed, still catching your breath, but you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Yeosang.”

“And you’re lucky you said yes,” he shot back, his grin widening.

The two of you sat there for a moment, the world around you feeling brighter and warmer despite the cool evening air. Inside the house, the muffled sounds of bickering and laughter reminded you that the others were probably eavesdropping, but you didn’t care.

Right now, it was just you and Yeosang, and for the first time in forever, everything felt perfectly right.

#yeosang x reader fluff #yeosang fluff #kang yeosang x reader #yeosang x reader #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #yeosang #ateez yeosang #kang yeosang

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kazumist · 2 days ago

Text

TAKE CARE .ᐟ

✩ — in which you feel haunted by someone who you know is alive out there.

✩ — includes: caleb x gn!reader. uhh mc!reader too. SPOILERS FOR TAINTED CUTS "MIGRANT BIRDS" ENDING !!!! and a bit of tainted cuts in general haha uhm... yeah read at ur own risk pls. bittersweet. not much dialogue (literally only one line and the rest is just word vom). wc: 605. inspired by 4 songs in total, two being from niki :)

“pipsqueak? are you okay—”

your eyes suddenly shot open as you suddenly sat up from your bed. glancing at the digital clock on your bedside table, the digits for 13:06 were displayed on it. it’s almost as if life was mocking you right now.

13:06. 13/06. june 13.

june 13 was caleb’s birthday.

ever since... that day, distant memories had started haunting you. every step you take somewhat makes your mind trail towards the times you were with caleb. the way you laid on his arm as you slept together, masking up your personal relationship you had with him being the councilman...

how can a few weeks possibly make those memories so out of reach when it feels like they just happened yesterday?

sweat trickles down your neck as you take a deep breath, calming yourself down from the peculiar dream you just had. it’s all strange—every single damn thing about this is strange and frustrating. you knew you were alone in this watchtower; you knew that only you and caleb knew about this place.

you knew this, and that’s why you chose to stay here—to find peace. but the isolated echo of caleb’s voice echoes through the walls.

acceptance was done long ago; you knew caleb had to leave because if he didn’t, you would be in danger of his frenzied state as a praedator. yet as the night cuts into the day, his presence lingers in your surroundings, leaving you no way to escape. recalling the times you both promised each other home—the kind you’d never known—leaves an ironic taste on your tongue as to how things are now.

you missed him. that was inevitable. and even though you weren’t really the individual who’s used to praying, you found yourself praying to whatever god is out there to make it stop.

because how can you even live in tranquility when every glance you make, you see his face hidden in the crowd? when everywhere you go, you could feel the same pressure of his hands holding yours?

it’s almost as if you were being buried alive—being haunted by someone who is still alive.

on nights like these where he’d haunt you in your dreams, you couldn’t escape. and all of those dreams end in the same way: he leaves. he always leaves you to wait. he always leaves with you, promising him that you’d still be there when he returns.

just how many unrealistic promises do you have to make in your dreams just for him to be in your arms again?

even when you can’t see anything due to the dim light lit in the room, the faint feeling of his touch could still be felt as a ghost on your skin. maybe it was some sort of coping mechanism you unintentionally got into to deal with caleb’s absence.

you promised to wait; of course you did; it’s caleb. but just how paradoxical it is that you’re here, left to wait for him again? caleb can't even provide a speck of reassurance that he’ll return, as this promise to wait for him is solely built on trust.

time wasn’t a concern as you continued on hoping that he’d once again meet your wait that’s waiting for him. real love is a verb—it isn’t just a feeling. love calls for initiative, development, and commitment. so you wait for him anyway. because it doesn’t matter how or when, caleb will always come back to you.

you’ll take it and he’ll take his time—after all, it’s only fair. you both take the cake for a love so rare.

so you take care.

a/n: overall this is just my take on a more uhm. inner monologue version? of what mc's thoughts could be with how tainted cuts ended in migrant bird :) literally no one hmu that card made me scream WHY IS CALEB SOOOO JDHSFJHSDFHJSDFJF. i love him sm u guys don't get it!!!! no one gets it!!!

i just thought it would be really painful to be haunted by someone who you know is alive (dismissed the idea that caleb could be dead since AGAIN it seems more painful that way if it was implied that he's alive). the actual ending in the card's story is a bit similar to the one i wrote but i obviously love the other ending more since they were so cute in that

icb my lads debut on tumblr is this. i couldve wrote something happier but hey! where is the fun in that

#( writings )#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader #lads caleb x reader #caleb love and deepspace #how do ppl tag in this fandom.

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kaicha05 · 2 days ago

Text

Title:“Obviously”

Derek had faced hunters, kanimas, alpha packs, and more supernatural nightmares than he cared to count. None of it had made his palms sweat quite like this.

Sitting on the couch, rigid as a steel beam, he glanced at Stiles, who was fidgeting with his fingers, his knee bouncing at a mile a minute. They had rehearsed this conversation—twice.

“Okay,” Stiles exhaled, rubbing his hands together before clasping them tightly. “Eli, bud, we, uh—well, we wanted to talk to you about something.”

Eli, who had been sprawled on the armchair with his legs hanging over the side, lazily looked up from his phone. “Yeah?”

Derek cleared his throat. Why was this so hard? He felt ridiculous. Stiles was the one who’d insisted they talk to Eli before making any legal moves, and Derek had agreed. It was the right thing to do. But it was also nerve-wracking as hell. “Well, uh,” Stiles started, then promptly turned to Derek. “You do it.”

Derek scowled but turned back to Eli. “Stiles and I have been talking about getting married.”

Eli blinked. “Okay?”

Derek hesitated. That was… underwhelming. Stiles jumped back in. “And, y’know, if we do that, we were thinking of making things official with you too.�� He licked his lips, eyes darting to Derek for reassurance before continuing, “Like, legally official. Like, I could adopt you.”

Eli blinked again. Then he snorted. “Yeah, obviously.”

Stiles stared. “Wait, what?”

Eli rolled his eyes. “Dude, you practically live here already. You take me to school when Dad’s busy, you’re at every game, you nag me about my grades—”

“I do not nag,” Stiles huffed.

Eli ignored him. “You make Dad less grumpy, and you keep the house from looking like a brooding cave. And let’s be real, I already call you for advice before I call him.” Derek frowned. “You what?”

Eli shrugged. “No offense, Dad, but you kinda suck at emotional pep talks.”

Stiles grinned. “He really does.”

Derek shot him a look before turning back to Eli. “So… you’d be okay with it?”

Eli made an exaggerated expression of deep thought. “Let’s see. Do I want Stiles to be legally obligated to put up with my nonsense? Yes. Do I want the ability to guilt-trip him by calling him my official dad? Also yes. Does this change literally anything in my life? No.” Stiles huffed a laugh, shoulders finally relaxing. “Okay, wow. You really took the tension out of this moment, kid.”

“Did you want me to freak out?” Eli raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I can if it’ll make you feel better.” He gasped dramatically. “Oh my God, you’re getting married? Stiles is going to be my stepdad? This is so shocking! My world is changing forever!” Derek groaned, but Stiles cracked up. “Alright, alright, you made your point.”

Eli grinned and stretched. “Cool. Can I go now?”

Stiles feigned offense. “You don’t even want to help us pick out wedding colors?”

“Nope.”

Derek sighed, rubbing his temples, but Stiles just grinned. “Fine, fine, you’re dismissed.”

Eli hopped up, but before heading to his room, he paused. His teasing smirk softened, and he looked between them. “For real, though… I’m happy for you guys.”

Derek felt something warm settle in his chest, and he wasn’t sure if it was relief or something deeper. Stiles beamed, nodding at Eli.

“Thanks, kid.”

Eli just shrugged before disappearing down the hall.

Stiles turned to Derek, a smug grin on his face. “Told you he’d be cool with it.”

Derek huffed. “You were just as nervous as I was.”

“Shh,” Stiles said, kissing Derek’s cheek. “Let me have this.”

__________________

Authors Note:

I have never watched the Teen Wolf movie, and as of right now, I don't intend to. I do not like the fact that Derek dies or that Stiles isn't in it. Even though I know that wasn't the actors' choice and there's nothing wrong with it, I just don't feel like I could handle it, since Stiles and Derek are two of my favorite characters in the whole show.

That said, I do love what l've seen of Eli as a character online, and my shipper brain can't help but love the idea of Derek and Stiles being his parents-or just being parents in general. I mean, come on, Eli is basically the embodiment of Stiles' personality.

So, no matter what canon says, I'll always think of them as a family.

#derek x stiles #sterek #sterek fandom #teen wolf #sterek fanfiction #oneshot #eli hale #derek hale #stiles stilinski

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angelltheninth · 3 days ago

Note

How would star wars character relax their S/O?

A Star Wars request, lets go! Miss writing for this fandom.

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker, Luke Skywalker, Ben "Kylo Ren" Solo, Rey, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Din Djarin, Sabine Wren, Shin Hati x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, relaxation, cuddles, kissing, literal sleeping together

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Feel particularly sleepy today. The weather sucks. I need cuddles from my favorite characters.

ANAKIN

Pulls you into bed with him and doesn't let you do anything work related for the rest of the day. Don't even think about anything work related when you're spending time with him, he is your beacon for a stress-free zone. He kisses your forehead while you cuddle, his hands pressing into your tense muscles. Considers it a great achievement when you fall asleep in his arms like that.

LUKE

Invites you to a meditation session with him. Might sounds silly but it really helps relax both the mind and the body, clear your thoughts, let go off all the stressful things of the day. His hands reach for yours, constantly rubbing his thumbs over the back of your hands to help you relax further. If you can't relax he will talk you through it, giving you his words of affection to focus on.

BEN

Oh he is not the best at relaxing, in fact he might be one of the worst people in the galaxy for that. But if there's anything he can be proud of is that he really does try to help you de-stress. It's a little aggressive still, he wants to be close to you, give you a few little kisses but passion soon takes over. And while that can help you relax in certain ways you'd much prefer a simple cuddle session.

REY

You tell her she should take care of herself as much as she's taking care of you. This confuses how her. How will this help you relax? Well, if she isn't freaking out about you all the time and how much she has to work to give you the things you want then you would both be able to relax together, which would also mean more quality time spent together.

LEIA

Tells you to get as comfortable as you can be because she's gonna give you the best massage you've ever had in your life. She hadn't given many but she did get a lot of massages growing up. It's the perks of being royalty and she's confident she can help you relax the same way. She goes a little too hard on the knots in your shoulders but eventually she does hear you sigh in relief.

HAN

Will take your mind off anything stressful by telling about the latest heist offer he got. Yeah, the job is pretty reckless, but it sounds fun. He won't really go on this specific heist mind you, the pay is too low for someone of his caliber, but he's telling you how it could go, making you laugh by doing so. Making you laugh is all the reward he needs at the end of the day.

OBI-WAN

Has a whole relaxing evening planned out perfectly by the time you get home, no detail will escape him. It's almost too perfectly planned, so much so that he puts all that pressure on himself but hopes his charming smile is enough to distract from that. Won't put that pressure on you, he only wants you to relax and let him do things for you for a change. You deserve to relax after a long day of work.

DIN

The man is a great listener and cuddler and he will use both of those skill sets to help you unwind. Whatever you need to say to get things off your chest you can say it to him, and he will do his best to take care of the problem. Not necessary by going in and taking care of the problem personally, but just offering advice. But if his personal intervention is necessary he will go in and clean up the mess.

SABINE

Latches onto you whenever she can. She acts like she's a sponge that will absorb all of your stress, she will soak it up and help it melt away. Every time she notices you're feeling stressed, or pent up or sad there's a hug waiting for you, big or small it hardly matters to her how long you want her to hug you. It's important that you know she's there for you whenever you need her.

SHIN

Isn't good at giving advice or dealing with stress. She's not someone who considers herself a stressed person so the feeling is unfamiliar to her, she doesn't know how to help you. That being said she will at least listen, really listen to what you have to say and the reasons why you're stressed. At the end all she can offer you is her closeness, her presence there, but even that is enough.

#star wars x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #luke skywalker x reader #ben solo x reader #rey x reader #leia organa x reader #han solo x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #din djarin x reader #sabine wren x reader #shin hati x reader #star wars imagine #star wars headcanons #star wars fluff #x reader

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beef-brisket · 12 hours ago

Text

Adam slowly looked up at Lucifer: W-What are you doing...?

Lucifer: I'm making things right. I'm done thinking everything is dine- or normal, because it isn't! I'm sorry, Char. Really! But everything your mother said is a lie... I've made my foot share of mistakes... but I can't let you lice your life thinking... thinking she was a good person. Because she wasn't. She left us once she had no use for us anymore.

Charlie: I... I don't... why... why are you telling me this now-? How long have you known?

Lucifer: I... I've been slowly coming to terms with it... f-for a few months.

Charlie: ...A few months?! And you- didn't say anything?! I've been calling her- texting her- and... and you didn't want to say that she's in Heaven?! I went up there, dad! I could have... I could have SEEN her!

Lucifer: I... knowing Heaven and your mother, Char, I doubt that would have been possible...

Charlie sighed and rubbed her face: I need a minute.

Everyone parted to let Charlie through. Watching his daughter walk away from him was tough, amd reminded him too much of when she was a child.

Lucifer: Shit...

Angel: Just had to dump that on her all at once, short king?

Lucifer: I... I panicked!

Alastor smirked: Don't you always~?

Lucifer glared: Piss off, Bambi.

Kneeling ag Adam's side, Lucifer put his hand on his knee: Adam- please... I'm sorry. I really am... please stay, for a few days at least.

Adam: Days...? I... I guess I don't have anything on... okay- but you piss me off again, and I'm gone.

Lucifer quickly nods and helps him to his feet: Of course! That's all I can ask for.

Beaming, Angel ran up to Adam: I'm such a big fan babe- even after finding out you're Adam- you sound.so SICK! Could you sigh a few things for me, babe?

Adam laughed: How about tonight? I've uh... got someone to see.

Angel: Oh! Yeah, of course! We can chat! I'll even steal some of the good stuff~.

Husk growled: No, you fucking won't.

As everyone left, Adam straightened his clothes and took off his jacket, suddenly feeling hot and overwhelmed.

Lucifer: Am I the person you have to see~?

Adam: Pft, no. I'm going to talk to Charlie.

Lucifer: Huh? Why?

Adam: Fuck, you're blind. Lu, you just told her where her mother is, and you kinda sprung on her that her mother is a lie. That's... a lot to take in.

Lucifer: I... you're right...

Sensing the kings nerves, he petted his shoulder: I won't hurt her. Okay? Not again.

Lucifer nodded, and smiled: I believe you.

Charlie was pacing around her office, and she refused to see anyone, even Vaggie. There was so much to unpack, and she had no idea where to begin.

When there was another knock on her door, she was ready to tell them to leave. But they spoke before she could.

Adam: Kid? Can I talk to you for a minute? About everything?

Charlie was silent for a moment before opening the door: W-Why you? Why isn't he here...?

Adam shrugged: Because he's an idiot. And it will only make shit worse. And... Lilith's my sister, I'd understand her more than Lucifer. Now, anyway.

Slowly nodding, she opened the door and let him in. Taking a seat across from Charlie's desk, Adam looked around. There wasn't anything special in her office, apart from some pictures of a snake sinner.

Charlie: O-Okay. Holy shit... hi, Adam.

Adam smiled as Charlie sat in her seat: Hey. So. I... I know what it's like to feel lied to. Especially by her. But, I'm not here to bash her, pr put ideas in your head. I think you've had enough of that.

Charlie nodded. Poor thing looked so tired: I... I don't know what to make of everything.

Adam: I can tell. He shouldn't have dumped it all on you. He's a cock face, that's for sure.

Charlie laughed and rubbed her face: I can't believe Adam of all people is taking more time and care when talking to me than... literally anyone else...

Adam shrugged and crossed his legs: It's not that much of a surprise, is it, babe? I am over ten thousand years old and someone who had a lot of time on their hands. I've learnt a thing or two. I've also... spent some time with your mom in Heaven. So, if you have any questions, ask away.

Charlie: You... You did?

Adam scoffed: Not that I wanted to or had much choice.

Charlie: Hm... is she happy?

Adam smirked: Very. She's on a beach in Heaven. Who wouldn't be happy?

Charlie sighed: Did she mention me...?

Adam sighed: ...No.

Charlie: N-No? Nothing? She said nothing?

Adam: Nothing. Sorry, kid. Really, I am. But, that's her loss.

Charlie: ...What is?

Adam: That she doesn't realise how fucking great you are.

Charlie blushed and looked away: G-Great? Oh, I'm not sure...

Adam: Yeah? Well, I am. I... I don't mean this as an insult, but I think we're a lot alike. Growing up, I had no one. No parents, I had no idea what to do. And... I had a lot of expectations, and others used me before dropping me... but you're a great person, Charlie. I fucking hated coming here for the exterminations. Fucking hated it. But you-? Fuck, you have to deal with sinners everyday, I couldn't handle them for a day... even coming here was a pain in the ass...

Adam shifted in his seat: So, I think you're pretty amazing, kid. I do. Even though you fucked up my life in Hell but whatever. Water under the bridge.

Charlie sighed and wrapped her arms around herself: ... why have me if she didn't want me...?

Adam smiled: I asked that question a lot in Eden.

Charlie: Did you find out the answer?

Adam: shrugged: I was more of an object than a life. Like, a new cup or book. A shiny new thing is exciting for a few weeks, but it wears off... and... I think she wanted you, Char, she just couldn't get out of her own bullshit to put you first. There's only one person that matters to Lilith-.

Charlie: And that's Lilith... mom, I mean.

Adam smiled: You're getting it. And you're dads, just a fool that doesn't understand the basic needs of a child. But you're a good person, Charlie. And that's rare to find down here. Even in heaven. You're a rare breed. Just don't let people take advantage of that.

Charlie nodded: Thank you, Adam... I won't, I promise.

Succubus au

@beef-brisket

@fanofstuff01

(This au was originally on @things-aren't-what-they-seem66blog and was originally thought of by an anonymous ask)

The roaring of the crowd and the playing of his guitar deafened his ears but the incubus didn't care. He loved the way they cheered his name while he shredded on his axe. With one final strum, his song was done. He raised his arms and gave the horns, to which his fans reciprocated, and bid them all goodnight. He walked away his hands still raised until he was out of sight from them. Adam sighed heavily and wiped the sweat with his forearm as he made his way to his dressing room.

Once there he flopped onto the couch and groaned. Though Adam loved being a rockstar and having adoring fans, he wouldn't lie to himself, each performance, especially concerts, can be quite draining since he always had to prepare with mic checks and making sure he sounded right. Steve, his producer/manager/on-and-off-again fling, always assured him that these were mandatory. Just one of those sacrifices that come with being a star. Still, Adam felt a little like shit and he needed a drink, a hard one. Unfortunately, his evening wasn't quite over yet as knocking was heard from the other side of the door then a voice called out.

Assistant: Excuse me? Commander? I'm sorry for bothering you but I brought the VIP guests here with me.

Adam sighed completely forgetting about that. Almost all VIPs get access to meet him after every show. Though he loved his fans coming to him and saying how much they loved him, maybe even getting some head from the older crowd, tonight, he didn't want to. However, he knew that he didn't have much of a choice. Unless he wanted Steve up his ass, and not in a good way. Letting out a long groan he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and yelled out to her.

Adam: Bring them in.

He closed his eyes and sighed once again as he heard the door open and feet shuffle in. He prepared himself for the immediate responses of squealing and clamoring over to shake his hand. However, he was not prepared for a familiar voice to call out his name.

Charlie: A, Adam?

He opened his eyes and standing in front of him were Charlie, Vaggie, and a one-eyed sinner.

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