#FoxDicker 🦊

[redvexillum]

A/N: Listen, I heard the cries of my readers. So, here's some pure smut. Enjoy! Also, Kit, this one is dedicated to you - all your kinks wrapped up in fuzzy cuffs uwu. Save your lying protest for when I come back from my trip.

SUMMARY: Adam’s curiosity spiralled into obsession when he discovered Hell’s array of wicked toys and restraints. He’s been dying to share his sinful finds with you, but patience is a virtue—one he only half possesses. Your protests? Oh, those only make it sweeter as he binds you tight and indulges every sinful fantasy he’s been saving just for you.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, foxdicker is OTP, sex toys, p♡ssy pumping, dild♡ in a, p in v, bondage, aphrodisiac, pure smut, reader is a fox sinner

The fuzzy cuffs encircling your wrists felt as though they were crafted from a Christmas wreath—soft, festive, and deceptively gentle against the raw edge of your predicament. They held you fast, tethered to the bedpost above, as your body arched against the relentless pull of gravity and desire. Tears streaked down your flushed cheeks, the sharp sting of them mirrored in the gasp that escaped your lips. Bare feet scrambled against the sheets for purchase, a futile effort thwarted by the cold, unyielding spacer bar forcing your thighs wide apart. 

“F-fuck you,” you rasped, voice trembling with defiance and need. Your head lolled back, surrendering momentarily to the sensations cascading through your body. The suction cup adhered tightly to your slick heat, a relentless device siphoning air and sending blood rushing to your swollen, hypersensitive folds. It was too much—too intense—as if every nerve ending in your core was alight, sparking with unbearable pleasure. 

Adam stood over you, a predator in his element, the cool glass dildo gleaming in his hand. He pressed the toy to the puckered ring of your ass, the contrast of its icy surface against your flushed skin stealing the air from your lungs. Slowly, agonizingly, he pushed it in, the stretch both unfamiliar and electrifying. Every thrust sent waves of sensation crashing through you, your body tightening and trembling in response. 

Your breath hitched as the suction on your lips and clit reached its crescendo. The tingling edge of numbness teetered dangerously close to pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain. You could feel it—your release coiling tighter in your core, threatening to burst free. 

Adam groaned low in his throat, his eyes fixed on you like a man possessed. His gaze roamed over your engorged folds, glistening and flushed, and his lips curled into a wicked grin. With a deliberate slowness, he detached the suction cup, and the sudden absence of pressure made you cry out. Your thighs instinctively fought to close, but the bar denied you even that reprieve, keeping you open and vulnerable. 

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his breath fanning over your sensitive skin, making you shudder violently. “Your cunt looks as juicy as that BLT sandwich I had the other day.” He chuckled darkly, the sound rolling over your quivering form. 

A broken whimper tore from your throat—a high-pitched, keening sound as unbearable sensitivity pulsed through you. Even the faintest touch of air over your trembling folds sent shockwaves straight to your core. Your ass clenched involuntarily around the unyielding glass, and you moaned as your inner walls fluttered, unsure if you were fighting or welcoming the intrusion. 

The pleasure was a tidal wave, dragging you under until the world dissolved into a high, tinny buzz. Your lungs fought for air, your vision blurred, and your lips parted in gasping cries. 

Every nerve seemed connected to the taut pull of the chain. Adam tugged, and the sharp bite of the clamps on your nipples sent a hot bolt of sensation shooting through your body. The exquisite mix of pain and pleasure ignited your senses, the ache blossoming and merging with the overwhelming pleasure surging through you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The words tumbled from your lips, raw and desperate, as your body betrayed you. Muscles tightened, walls pulsing rhythmically around the toy, the overwhelming storm of sensation tearing through your composure. Tears spilled freely as your orgasm consumed you, a violent and primal release that ripped a scream from your throat, leaving it raw and sore in its wake. 

Every nerve, every thought, every sensation burned with the force of it. And in its aftermath, you were left trembling and undone, a storm that had spent itself in the most devastating way. 

But the pleasure didn’t end—not even close. Adam’s lips descended upon your trembling heat, his tongue and mouth moving with a torturous expertise. His lips nibbled delicately on your swollen folds, each movement sending electric jolts straight to your core. The groans rumbling from his throat vibrated through your clit, the sensation so intense it made you buck against him involuntarily. 

“Noooo,” you whined, the word drawn out and quivering, torn between protest and surrender. Your hips jittered, trying desperately to escape the overwhelming sensation or at least dull it, but Adam was relentless. His nose nudged against your engorged clit with maddening precision, while his tongue delved deep inside you, curling, stroking, coaxing more pleasure from your already shattered nerves. 

And then he added the glass dildo back into the equation. Its cool, firm length plunged in and out of you, the contrast between its smoothness and the wet heat of your body almost too much to bear. Pressure built to an impossible height before bursting forth in a warm, gushing wave that left you shaking. 

The sensation of release was paradoxically another source of pleasure—liquid heat flowing freely from you only intensified the pulsing throbs that wracked your body. Your jaw fell slack, a soft whimper escaping as drool trickled down your chin. Your chest heaved as your body twitched uncontrollably, shocks of pleasure radiating outward in every direction, leaving you limp and trembling yet achingly needy. 

“Oh, fuck, babe,” Adam muttered, his voice rough with lust. He knelt above you, his cock swollen and flushed an angry red, a black ring wrapped tightly at its base to hold back his release. It stood proud and thick, almost hypnotizing in its intensity. 

Your tongue flicked out instinctively, your mouth watering at the thought of wrapping your lips around him, taking him deep until you gagged on his size. The thought alone sent a new wave of need coursing through you, pooling hot and heavy in your core. 

The bed was a disastrous landscape, strewn with toys and tools from the upturned box of delights. When Adam had said he wanted to give you the best Christmas ever, you hadn’t imagined this—but now you couldn’t imagine wanting anything else. 

Your cunt clenched and trembled, empty and aching, desperate for more. You didn’t care what—his cock, his fingers, anything to stretch you and fill the unbearable void. When Adam finally positioned himself, his cock pressing against your flushed, puffy lips, the heat of him seared your oversensitive skin, and you almost screamed. 

He moved slowly, tortuously, grinding his hips so the head of his cock brushed against your throbbing clit. You sobbed, your voice raw with need. “Fuck, Adam, fuck!” 

“What’s that?” he teased, his voice dripping with amusement. “You want more, babe?” His cock pulled away just enough to leave you gasping, the loss of contact a cruel torment. 

“Please,” you whimpered, need and lust pouring from every fibre of your being. Your mind was a haze, filled with nothing but the craving for him—his cock, his touch, the feeling of being utterly consumed. You wanted to be filled, stretched, claimed, fucked until nothing else existed but the pleasure that threatened to devour you whole. 

A soft sound reached your ears, metallic and familiar, and your breath hitched. The tin. You knew that balm. It was infamous in Hell—a devilish aphrodisiac that lit every nerve on fire, leaving its users delirious with uncontrollable lust. Mortals might have succumbed to its overwhelming effects, but here, where death wasn’t an option, the torment was addicting.

The memory of the last time Adam had used it with you flashed in your mind. A full-day lost in a haze of insatiable hunger, his cock inside you again and again, each thrust a new layer of torment and bliss. The thought alone made your thighs quake, your cunt fluttering with anticipation. 

Adam smirked, his eyes alight with wicked intent. “Ready to really lose your mind, sweetheart?” 

You were beyond ready. You were already his, body and soul, trembling and waiting to be taken to the edge of sanity and beyond. 

Adam pulled out a ribbed string of anal beads, each segment reminiscent of garish Christmas ornaments with its festive, bulbous design. The sight alone made your body tense in anticipation. He took his time, meticulously coating each bead with a thick layer of the slippery cream. The deliberate, methodical strokes of his hands sent shivers coursing through you, every movement a tease of what was to come. 

Your ass clenched involuntarily around the glass dildo still buried deep within you, the sensation heightened by the sticky warmth of your arousal as it slid from you, dripping onto the sheets. The air in the room was thick with heat and the heady scent of sex, and your mind spun as Adam’s sharp grin cut through the haze. That wicked expression promised nothing but pure, unrelenting pleasure. 

Your body thrummed with excitement, vibrating under his gaze like a live wire. Your eyes darted to the array of toys scattered around you, each one a thrilling possibility. Your tail twitched with restless anticipation, and your cunt fluttered, aching for more as a low, needy whimper slipped from your lips. 

With a sudden, fluid motion, Adam pulled the glass dildo from your body, eliciting a decadent, wanton moan that spilled from your throat before you could stop it. The absence was brief, but no reprieve followed. Instead, he pressed the first bulb of the anal beads against your entrance, the cool, rounded shape sliding in with agonizing slowness. The lube-coated beads stretched you deliciously, each one pressing against you in ways that left your toes curling. 

“Ah—hah!” Your moans filled the room, unabashed and raw, as your back arched off the bed. A fine sheen of sweat broke across your skin, trickling down your temple as the fiery effects of the aphrodisiac cream ignited every nerve. Heat coursed through you, burning and buzzing like an electric current. 

“I s-swear to fuck,” you cried, your voice breaking as he pushed another bead into you, “just fuck me already!” 

Adam chuckled darkly, his voice laced with amusement and desire. “Well, since you asked so nicely...” With a firm push, he buried the remaining beads inside, the firm intrusion pressing deliciously against your walls. You felt the fullness of them, unrelenting and perfect. “Fuck, this is gonna feel incredible,” he growled, his cock twitching against the restraint of the ring at its base. 

Reaching for the tin of cream, Adam scooped a generous glob and smeared it along the length of his cock, groaning as the intense heat of it spread through him. His hips jerked involuntarily, thrusting into the air as he hissed, “Shit, this stuff is no joke.” 

His gaze dropped to your trembling form, tied and exposed before him, and the corners of his lips curled into a smug, predatory smile. With the excess cream on his fingers, he reached down and began rubbing your swollen clit in slow, deliberate circles. The touch was pure fire, every nerve under his fingers alive with blistering pleasure. 

Goosebumps erupted across your skin, and your tail stiffened as your body seized under his touch. Your lips quivered, trying and failing to form words, while your screams caught in your throat, leaving you gasping and shaking. The swirling, maddening motion of his fingers sent shockwaves through you, reducing you to a trembling mess of drool and slick arousal. You writhed, tugging futilely against the fuzzy cuffs binding you to the bedpost, but there was no escape from the overwhelming onslaught. 

Your body coiled tighter and tighter until, with a loud, broken sob, you unravelled completely. Pleasure tore through you like a storm, leaving you clenching hard around the thick beads still inside you. The sensation amplified the ecstasy, and you could feel every tremor, every pulse of your body around them. 

Your gaze dropped hazily to your cunt—red, puffy, and trembling as the aftershocks of your orgasm refused to fade. The aphrodisiac prolonged every sensation, forcing you to ride out wave after relentless wave of pleasure. You cried out again as a fresh gush of arousal sprayed from you, soaking the bed and Adam’s thighs. Each involuntary clench only heightened the sensation, locking you in an endless cycle of bliss. 

“Fucking hell,” Adam murmured, his voice filled with awe as he watched you fall apart before him. 

Your mind floated in a sea of hedonistic abandon, your body shuddering and twitching uncontrollably. The intensity blurred the edges of your consciousness, leaving you teetering on the brink of delirium, lost in the pleasure that consumed you entirely. 

Before you could even catch your breath, you felt it—the stretch you had been aching for, the fullness that sent a lance of pleasure straight through you. Adam’s cock plunged into your slick heat, the glide easy from your arousal but no less breathtaking. A guttural groan tore from his lips, his body trembling as he gasped, “Fuck, I’m gonna fucking nut just from this. Fuck!” His voice was raw, his teeth gritted as he fought for control. 

“Y-you idiot,” you choked out, your voice breaking between moans. “Y-you used too m-much!” But even as you scolded him, your hips shifted, rolling against his cock to draw him deeper. The burn of need overwhelmed you, your sharp canines flashing as you growled through your haze of lust. “Untie me, baby,” you demanded, voice low and dangerous, “and I’ll fuck you so good.” 

Your thoughts were a blur, consumed by the all-encompassing desire to be filled, to chase the high of unrelenting pleasure. Adam hesitated only for a moment, his hands fumbling as he released the cuffs binding your wrists and tore away the spacer bar locking your legs apart. 

It was his undoing. 

Instantly, you had him on his back, his startled gasp turning into a guttural moan as you straddled him, pressing him into the mattress. Your palms braced against his stomach as you began to ride him with wild abandon. Each thrust of your hips sent the beads nestled in your ass slapping against his balls, the sharp rhythm driving you both closer to the edge. 

Your thighs burned, the muscles screaming in protest, but you didn’t care. The pain only heightened the pleasure, and each bounce brought your sensitive pussy slamming down onto his cock, forcing it deeper. The chains weighing on your nipples swayed and slapped against your chest, their sting igniting sparks of ecstasy that shot straight to your core. 

Adam’s head fell back, his eyes squeezing shut as he moaned uncontrollably, his hands clutching the sheets beneath him. “Fuck, babe, I can’t—I’m gonna come if you don’t slow down!” His voice cracked, desperate, but you were relentless. 

One, two, three more thrusts, and his cock jerked inside you, the first hot spurt of his release sending you over the edge. “Oh, fuck yes!” you screamed, your walls clenching tightly around him, milking every drop of his climax as you rode out your own. The pleasure was explosive, blinding, and yet your hips refused to stop. 

Adam’s body writhed beneath you, his face contorted with overstimulation as his cock twitched, still buried inside your pulsating heat. His fingers dug into the sheets, his body trembling as he tried to endure the intensity. Even as his cock began to soften, you kept moving, pushing yourself deeper into the haze of pleasure. 

Finally, his cock slipped free, and a warm gush of his seed dripped from you, drenching his inner thighs before dripping on to the sheets. But you weren’t done. Your eyes darted to the array of toys scattered around you, landing on a thick, girthy dildo. Without hesitation, you grabbed it and shoved it into his hand. 

“Don’t stop,” you demanded, straddling his chest and bending forward, your ass presented to him. “Fuck me,” you ordered, your voice a growl as you wiggled your hips. 

Adam groaned but obeyed, gripping the toy tightly as he plunged it into your dripping cunt. Your back arched, a loud, unrestrained moan tearing from your throat as your tongue lolled out, saliva dripping from your lips. Leaning forward, you captured his spent cock in your mouth, licking and sucking him clean, your hunger for him insatiable. 

Time blurred, lost in the unrelenting haze of heat and pleasure. You couldn’t keep track of how many times he came or how many times you screamed his name. The room was filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding, moans, gasps, and the slick, filthy evidence of your shared debauchery. 

When it was over, you lay tangled together, your bodies covered in sweat, fluids, and the unmistakable marks of your animalistic passion. The sheets were soaked, the air heavy with the scent of sex, and yet neither of you moved, content to exist in the aftermath of your primal indulgence. 

When morning finally came, it hit you like a freight train. Your body ached in places you didn’t even know could ache, muscles seizing painfully as you groaned and rolled onto your side. Your head throbbed with the unmistakable weight of a pleasure-induced hangover.

Blinking groggily, your gaze shifted across the room to find Adam sprawled naked on the floor, limbs splayed haphazardly. His cock was still adorned with the cock ring from last night, and you choked on a surprised laugh when your eyes caught the sight of nipple clamps dangling from his chest. At some point, you’d clearly decided to get a little mischievous in your haze of passion. 

“Babe,” you croaked, your voice rough and raw from all the screaming. You winced at the sound, clearing your throat before continuing, “Maybe next time, we just go for a Christmas lunch down at that café?” 

Adam stirred, groaning as he rubbed at his temples. His eyes cracked open, bleary and bloodshot, and he let out a pitiful moan. “Fuck, I’m starving,” he muttered, his voice as ragged as yours, his lips quirking in the faintest grin. 

Despite the sheer chaos of the night before, warmth bloomed in your chest. Your body still buzzed, a delicious ache lingering from every pleasurable moment. For the first time, you truly allowed yourself to reflect—not just on what you’d done, but what it meant. Your eyes dropped to your wrists, where faint marks from the fuzzy cuffs remained, and you turned your hands over, studying them. Not once had you felt fear, not even a flicker of trepidation. 

It hit you then, with the clarity of a sunrise cutting through a foggy morning: you had willingly given Adam your trust. You’d handed over the reins, allowed him to lead you into something so intimate, so vulnerable. And he’d held that trust gently, never crossing the invisible boundaries you hadn’t needed to verbalize. 

Your chest tightened as you thought about your past. In Hell, intimacy was often just another commodity, a currency to buy power or survival. Friends you’d known had been trapped in the sex trade, their autonomy stripped, their bodies used as bargaining chips for shady deals. You’d grown up running, learning to stay two steps ahead, your sly instincts your only defence against a world eager to pull you under. Trust was a luxury you couldn’t afford—until now. 

You blinked, your lips quirking into a small, almost incredulous smile. Adam had somehow slipped past every wall, and you hadn’t even realized it. You didn’t think twice about letting him in. 

Adam groaned again, dragging himself up from the floor with the grace of a wounded animal. Half-asleep, he crawled onto the bed, collapsing beside you with a contented sigh. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. 

“Hey,” you protested weakly, though you couldn’t hide the fondness in your tone. “We should at least shower. We’re disgusting.” 

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled, burying his face in your hair, his voice thick with sleep. 

You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered. Past you would’ve scoffed at the idea of letting anyone in this close, let alone into your bed and heart. She might’ve been disappointed or maybe even angry that you’d let yourself become vulnerable, weak. 

But as Adam’s steady breaths warmed the back of your neck, his presence grounding you in a way you hadn’t thought possible, you realized something. Maybe you didn’t need her approval. Maybe it was enough to live in this moment, to feel the heat of his body and the comfort of his arms. 

Closing your eyes, you let the thought drift away, the ache in your muscles fading into the background as sleep crept over you again. For now, you let yourself be at peace, safe in the embrace of someone who made you feel like trust wasn’t a gamble, but a gift worth giving.

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[redvexillum]

@crackrodent I really am using your requests as tribute for my Kinktober/Flufftober, lol. This is my very first Adam ask and I'm sorry, I can't kill Adam! You know how much I love Adam! That's it *rolls up sleeves* imma show you what happens when you mess with the d1ckm@ster! Rawr! 😈

Special thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for being my muse for this story. Bless you. I had way too much fucking fun writing this. 💖

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, reader is fox demon for plot, sinner!adam, d☆ggy style, reader has a potty mouth, adam is the dickmaster, an☆l play, sp☆nking, hair pulling, multiple ☆rgasm (f!receiving), sq☆irting, rough s☆x, bl☆w job, big d☆ck adam, dom/sub undertone, so much f☆cking banter istg please shut up, adam being adam, adam figuratively sucking his own dick, toxic masculinity just oozes out of adam but the sex is hot af tho, adam is kind of a loveable idiot (?), I really went overboard here...sry kit (but not rly ayyy 🤣), CRUFTTY (crack + fluff + smut)

Building a sandwich was fucking art.  

The bread had to be perfect – moist and soft, but not so soft that it turned into a soggy mess under the weight of the toppings. It needed strength to hold everything together, to create a flawless bite.  

Every ingredient was handpicked by yours truly, each one deserving its place. The crispness of the lettuce, the savoury crunch of bacon, and the creamy balance of mayonnaise all had to align just right. Too much of anything, and the delicate flavour of harmony would soon collapse into a desolate heap of failure.  

It was your first day at “Hazbin Hotel,” a place with the dumbest fucking name you’d ever heard. Redemption, they called it. A program to save sinners, to help them earn their way to heaven. So far, all you’d seen was a ragtag crew of lunatics who wouldn’t have spent five minutes together unless they had their own selfish reasons for being here.  

Not that you gave a damn. You were here for one thing: free rent and free food. Your pointy ears twitched at the sound of manic laughter echoing through the halls. Niffty? Swifty? Whatever the hell her name was, you didn’t care enough to remember.  

All that mattered right now was your sandwich.  

Your orange tail, fluffy and tipped in black, swayed behind you as you worked with precision. The smell of freshly fried bacon lingered in the air, and a satisfied shiver ran down your spine. You squinted, eyeing the perfect amount of mayonnaise that dropped onto the bread with a soft plop. A sense of pride bloomed in your chest as you spread it evenly, knowing this was going to be the best fucking sandwich you’d ever made since coming down to Hell.  

Your lips stretched into a grin as you placed the final slice of bread on top, your tail flicking back and forth in anticipation. 

This was it. 

Perfection.  

Nothing could ruin this beautiful moment.  

Until, of course, all hell broke loose.  

As you stepped into the lobby, plate in hand, you barely had time to process the chaos before you. Your feet skidded to a halt, and you almost dropped your sandwich. The sandwich you would’ve committed six counts of murder for. 

“Holy shit!” you yelped, barely saving the plate from tumbling.  

There, right in front of you, was Niffty – or Swifty – going full psycho mode, cackling like a maniac as she repeatedly stabbed the newest guest. The guy was on the floor, writhing in agony, while Niffty giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world. “DIE! DIE! DIE! HAHAHA!” she screamed, her voice high-pitched and sharp.  

The blood splattered in bright red streaks as her tiny form hovered over him, the blade of her dagger glistening with every wild thrust. You watched, half in horror, half in disbelief, as she continued her assault with a grin that could only belong to someone completely unhinged.  

It wasn’t until Charlie – or was it Marley? - rushed in, shouting and waving her arms, that the scene started to settle. “Niffty, stop!” she yelled, scooping up the small, crazed girl with a panicked gasp. The dagger slipped from Niffty’s hand, clattering to the ground, blood still dripping from its blade.  

Huh. So, the girl’s name was Niffty.  

Noted.  

You picked up your sandwich, sinking your teeth into it, and damn near moaned right there in the lobby. The crisp, salty bacon mingled with the fresh crunch of lettuce, all balanced perfectly with the smooth creaminess of mayo. The bread was just the right kind of soft, with a subtle sweetness that tied everything together. It was like biting into a small piece of fucking heaven, even if you were in literal hell.  

“Oh, fuck,” came a groan from the man on the floor, interrupting your moment of sandwich bliss. The shitty guy who’d just been stabbed was slowly getting to his feet, looking dazed. “What the fuck!” he whined, wincing as he touched his back, his fingers now slick with blood. “That fucking hurts, like, real bad!”  

You rolled your eyes. Drama queen. This was hell, he was going to regenerate in a couple of minutes anyhow. You looked at him, and you almost dropped your sandwich, again.  

This guy.  

This fucking guy.  

Why was this fucking guy here, of all places? 

Marley – no, Charlie, fuck, whatever – chuckled sheepishly. “Sorry about that,” she said, flashing a nervous grin. “I, uh, forgot to tell Niffty that you’re not a bad guy anymore and at least she didn’t stab you with Angelic Steel!” she smiled way too brightly, as if that would somehow smooth things over.  

The man groaned again, straightening up with an exaggerated wince. “Ugh, I was never a bad guy,” he huffed, raising his hands in a condescending little air-quote gesture. “I was chosen and ordained by the big man upstairs to do what was right.” His nose shot up in the air like he thought he was some hot shit, and he crossed his arms with the kind of arrogance that made you want to punch him in the throat.  

You didn’t give two shits about the conversation. Hell, it was taking every ounce of self-control not to rip his trachea out right then and there. Of all the scum in hell, this asshole was the worst.  

Before the hotel, you’d made the horrible mistake of matching with him on Vinder, thinking maybe you could enjoy a no-strings-attached fling. 

Big fucking mistake.  

Your eyes twitched at the flood of memories. His obnoxious, open-mouth chewing. His laugh – raucous, loud, and so fucking embarrassing in public. And the way he’d slapped your ass during the first date like he fucking owned you.  

Chauvinistic.  

Pig.  

Every fibre of your being hated him.  

Well, almost everything.  

Your fingers tightened around the plate; the half-eaten sandwich forgotten. You hated him with a passion, but you couldn’t deny one thing: he had a huge cock. And, fuck, he knew how to use it. No matter how many times you swore it would be the last time; you kept crawling back, falling into the same damn cycle.  

One more fuck turned into two, then three, then how the hell did this happen again?

You were a goddamn addict – specifically, addicted to his dick. If you could slap a paper bag over his head, tie him up, and just ride him without hearing his obnoxious voice, that would be ideal. But you had no fucking self-control, and now here you were, in this weird-ass hotel,probably a cult at this point, hoping for a clean break.  

Adam – fucking Adam – caught your eye. His lips curled into a wide grin, teeth flashing like he’d just found a new toy. His red eyes sparkled in the dim light as he swaggered toward you, arms wide open. “Sugartits!” he called out, his voice like nails on a chalkboard. He moved in for a hug.  

You ducked under his arm, shooting him the nastiest scowl you could muster. Your ears flattened against your head, tail dropping between your legs in a stiff, unamused twitch.  

“You two know each other?” Marley – Charlie – whoever, asked, looking between you both with a raised brow and growing curiosity.  

“No,” you said curtly, biting into your sandwich again with more aggression than necessary.  

Adam, of course, couldn’t resist. “Oh, you could say I know her very well,” he said with a shit-eating grin, waggling his eyebrows like an idiot.  

“Ew,” Marley muttered, grimacing without even trying to hide her disgust.  

You groaned inwardly. Of all the fucking people in hell, why did it have to be him? 

Before you could even form a word, Adam’s fingers wiggled playfully, his lips curling into an “O” as he honed in on your sandwich like a predator eyeing its prey. “Aww, babe, you shouldn’t have!” he exclaimed, snatching up the sandwich you had poured your soul into for the last thirty minutes.  

“Wha-Wait-” you sputtered, horrified, as he stuffed the sandwich into his mouth in two massive bites, crumbs tumbling from his lips without a single ounce of grace.  

“Oh, hmm,” he chewed noisily, his cheeks bulging with food as he smacked his lips obnoxiously. “Ya know, I think you-” smack, smack, smack – his disgusting chewing noises clashing with the image of your sandwich being annihilated. “You may have put too much mayonnaise,” he continued, crumbs flying as he spoke with his mouth open. “So, I’d give it a 4 out of 10.” 

The low, primal growl that erupted from your throat felt volcanic, like every ounce of rage you’d bottled up over the miserable dates and hollow excuses was bubbling to the surface. 

You were fucking done.  

Every humiliating dinner where he’d “forgotten” his wallet, every time you’d fucked him to deal with your frustration with him – it all flashed through your mind in an explosive torrent. Without thinking, you grabbed his collar and yanked him down to your level.  

“We need to fucking talk,” you growled, teeth clenched, venom practically dripping from your words.  

Dragging him towards your room, your eyes narrowed in disgust as Adam shot a wink at Marley, fingers raised in an unmistakable gesture for “fucking.” Of course, he thought this was just some sort of game.  

No amount of good dick would make you compromise on your self-respect–-

And yet, here you were, kneeling naked in your room, your mouth wrapped around his thick cock, the taste of him flooding your senses. The worst part? You didn’t even remember how the hell you got here.  

“Oh fuck, you missed my cock, didn’t you babe?” Adam groaned; his voice thick with smug satisfaction. His hand gripped the base of his cock while his other fingers curled into your hair, tugging hard enough to make you gasp. “Open that pretty little mouth for me. Say your prayers like the good girl you are,” he crooned, his voice dripping with arrogance.  

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  

You hated him. You hated how he could still make you fall to your knees with just a look. One second, you’d been screaming at him, ready to shove a 21-inch dildo up his ass, and the next, he had his cock out, and there you were – sucking him off like nothing had changed.  

Fuck.  

Your lips stretched painfully around his girth as he pushed deeper into your mouth, groaning as your warmth engulfed him. His soft, pudgy stomach pressed against your forehead as he shoved his fat cock all the way to the hilt. Your throat tightened around him, gagging slightly, but the reaction only made your pussy throb with need. The taste of him was heady, familiar, and it brought back memories of the way he could fuck you into oblivion, no matter how much you hated him.  

“That’s it, babe, suck it nice and deep,” Adam grunted, his hips thrusting forward as he buried himself deeper in your throat. “Bet you fucking missed this cock, huh? It’s been too long since you had a real man inside you.” 

You rolled your eyes, choking back the desire to tell him to shut the fuck up. If he would just be quiet for one goddamn second, you’d probably cum just from sucking his cock alone. But no, he always had to run his mouth.  

Then, his foot pressed firmly between your legs, the top of it rubbing directly against your slick pussy. Your breath hitched as his smug grin stretched wider, his eyes locking onto yours. “Go on, babe,” he taunted, his voice low and teasing. “I want to see you hump like the needy slut you are. Show me how much you fucking need it.” 

The words should’ve made you furious, but instead, they sent a shudder of arousal through your body. Your hips moved on their own, grinding down against his foot, your wetness soaking his skin as you rode him like you were desperate for release.  

You should hate this. You should hate him.  

You do hate him.  

But goddammit, you don’t hate this. 

“Mmph,” you moaned around his cock, your voice muffled by the thick shaft filling your throat. Your hips bucked wildly against his foot, the pressure building inside you faster than you’d like to admit. The musky taste of his pre-cum sliding down your throat made your whole-body clench in anticipation, bringing you dangerously close to the edge.  

“That’s right, sugartits,” Adam groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Look how good you are, sucking my big, fat cock.” The grin on his face was full of smug pride, and you could practically see the self-satisfaction swelling in his chest.  

The words “fuck you” echoed in your mind, but the moment his foot sped up, rubbing your clit in rapid strokes, your defiance crumbled beneath the weight of pure pleasure. The sharp edge of it cut through you, sending heat spreading like wildfire as your body tensed. Then, the first orgasm ripped through you, crashing like a wave and leaving your nerves buzzing in its wake.  

A muffled moan escaped around his cock, your spit trailing down your chin, your eyes rolling back in your head as your hands dug into his thighs for support. Fuck, it felt good. Fuck, it’s been too long.  

Adam pulled his cock free with a wet pop, and you barely had time to catch your breath before your legs trembled, the aftershocks still rippling through you.  

But just as you started to get your bearings, the world spun as he flipped you upside down, blood rushing to your head, disorienting you. His cock was right in your face again, and your brain struggled to catch up.  

“Wh-what the fuck are you doing?” you screeched, grabbing onto his bare hip for balance, your legs flailing helplessly in the air like a fish out of water.  

“Relax, babe. I’m going to eat you out,” he said simply, his breath hot against your dripping folds. He didn’t wait for your reply. “Now, shut up. Either suck my cock or wait your turn like a good girl for your second orgasm.” The condescension in his voice made you want to punch him.  

“Fuck you,” you spat, but your words were cut short as Adam ground his cock against your cheek, the heat of him searing into your skin.  

“You’re not that – ah – ah – fuck!” The insult died in your throat as your knees buckled, legs trembling with the sudden rush of pleasure. His tongue was already working between your folds, lapping at your wetness with obscene slurping sounds, like he was a dog drinking from a fountain.  

“Oh fuck, I’ve had better, you know,” you gasped, but even as you said it, your vision blurred from the lightheadedness, the blood pooling in your head making you dizzy. Your words rang hollow.  

Adam didn’t respond with words. Instead, he shoved his thick tongue deeper inside you, practically fucking your pussy with it. The roughness of his beard brushed against your sensitive clit, sending shockwaves through your body that had you trembling.  

“Fuck...fuck...” you whined, unable to stop the involuntary moans spilling from your lips. Your hand instinctively found his cock, pumping it with desperate need. You fucking jackass. You hated how his scent, his cock, his fucking presencehad this kind of power over you. The desire to ride him until you couldn’t walk for days burned in your gut.  

You hated everything about him – his cocky attitude, his smug grin, his fucking voice.  

But fuck, his cock? His cock almost made up for it. Almost. 

With a loud curse, as his mouth latched onto your swollen clit and sucked with relentless abandon, you felt yourself losing control. Your mouth opened wide, taking him back inside, your head bobbing back and forth as he fucked your mouth in rhythm with his tongue devouring you.  

The pressure from hanging upside down added to the dizzying pleasure, the blood rushing to your head making you lightheaded, while the taste of him hit your tongue. You needed both hands to grip his cock, stroking it harder, faster, desperate for his release – desperate for something to satisfy the ache growing inside you. Every orgasm he gave you left you unsatisfied because you knew the only thing that could truly wreck you was him fucking you senseless.  

As he always did.  

Your stomach clenched tight, thighs shaking as Adam moaned into your cunt, the vibration sending shivers of delight through you. His nose nudged against the base of your folds, his breath hot and heavy. “You gonna cum again, bitch?” he growled, his voice muffled, but the meaning was clear. The vibration of his words only pushed you closer to the edge.  

You hated how right he was. Fuck, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you cum again. You wanted to prove he wasn’t that good, that he didn’t know your body inside and out, that he couldn’t make you sing like a fucking instrument in his hands.  

But it was like he could read your mind, taking your challenge as an invitation. He bucked his hips, pistoning into your mouth harder, while his lips and tongue attacked your clit with reckless fervour. Saliva dripped from your mouth, your face flushed and wet with the effort of keeping up with his pace.  

It was only a matter of time. Your body betrayed you, your ass clenched, your legs spread wider, and with one last pulse of his tongue against your sensitive nub, you exploded. Another orgasm hit you, more intense than the last, your muffled cries of release vibrating around his cock as your body shook in his grasp.  

Tears blurred your vision, streaming down your face as waves of pleasure coursed through your body, leaving you breathless. The world spun once more as Adam laid you down, your back hitting the mattress with a soft thud.  

Your chest heaved, breath ragged, and your left leg twitched with the aftershocks pulsing through your still-throbbing core. The only sounds were your gasps and his own laboured breathing, tangled together in the humid air.  

Through bleary, tear-filled eyes, you glared up at him. “Fuck you,” you managed to spit out between shaky breaths.  

Adam, ever the cocky bastard, stroked his cock, slick with your spit, his hand gliding smoothly along his length. “Babe, that’s exactly what I’m about to do.” His smirk was infuriating, and all you could think about was shoving his face between your legs, smothering him with your pussy until he couldn’t talk anymore. God, you wanted to suffocate him with it. Death by cunt? Sign me the fuck-up. 

Why did he have to be such a colossal dick? The thought barely crossed your mind before his knees sank into the mattress, the bed groaning under his weight.  

“It you didn’t - hah – talk so much, you’d almost be tolerable,” you shot back, each word laced with venom.  

He burst out into bright laughter. “Tolerable? Baby, the way you worship my cock, you’re practically my most devout follower.” His sharp grin caught the dim light, and you couldn’t help the eye-roll that followed.  

“Holy fuck, you’re the biggest douchebag I know, I can’t even – ah!” Your words turned into a yelp as he slammed his hips against yours, burying himself deep inside you, aided by the slick remnants of your previous orgasms and his saliva.  

“Feel that?” he huffed, rolling his hips against your oversensitive clit, his voice dripping with smugness. “Look how fucking needy you are, bitch,” his grin widened as he looked down at you, eyes gleaming. “How many other cocks have tried to fill you since me? Any of them as good?” His hips slammed into yours, the wet, filthy sound of skin meeting skin filling the room.  

“Tell me, huh? Bet none of them could do this.” He pulled out, teasing you, before driving his cock back in, deeper, harder, the tip nudging against your cervix.  

“FUCK!” you screamed, legs instinctively spreading wider, your body arcing up to meet his. “You’re - ugh – such – a – fucking – ugh – ASS!” Each word was broken by the force of his persistent thrusts, the bed beneath you creaking in rhythm with his movements. It was like the damn thing was protesting as loudly as you were.  

“Good?” he smirked, filling in the blanks for you with every thrust. “Sexy? Amazing? Fantastic?” His pace quickened, clearly getting off on his own damn ego. If there was one thing he’d come from, it was the sound of his own bullshit.  

“All - ugh – you're good for – is your dick,” you growled, strands of hair sticking to your sweaty face, your skin slick with the sheen of your effort. You hated him, hated how smug he was, how cocky – and fuck, how right he was about how good his cock felt.  

Adam pulled out, his cock rock-hard and glistening with your arousal clinging to him. He gripped your hips and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your ass up and pressing your face into the mattress.  

Your heart skipped. This was the position that always wrecked you. Every. Single. Time. 

“That’s why,” he lined up, the blunt tip of his cock teasing your entrance, “they call me the Dickmaster.” He punctuated his words by thrusting into you in one fluid stroke, filling you completely, pushing deep until he hit your womb. Your back arched as a shameless moan tore from your lips, your body curling from the overwhelming fullness.  

“FUCK.” You nearly screamed. “Dickmaster? Are you fucking serious?” But despite the sheer cringe of the nickname, your body betrayed you. You moaned, louder, longer, as he thrust into you. The pleasure mixed with the sheer absurdity of it all.  

He was so fucking cheesy. The cringiest man alive. Dickmaster? More like Cringemaster. And yet, here you were, being dicked down by this walking embarrassment, moaning like a bitch in heat. The passion you felt for him, the anger, the lust – it all mixed into a chaotic storm, burning hot inside you.  

“Fuuuck youuu,” you wailed, voice trembling as Adam’s hips resumed their brutal, punishing rhythm. Each thrust sent shockwaves through your body, his hand coming down hard on your ass, the crack of skin-on-skin only fuelling the fire that was already burning through you.  

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna fucking kill you,” you sobbed, the sting from each slap merging with the pleasure, searing through your core as the heat radiated across your skin. You were sure his handprint was branded on your ass, marking you as his.  

The pleasure built and built, his heavy balls slapping mercilessly against your clit with each thrust. It was overwhelming, your body trembling in a puddle of your own arousal, tears, and drool. 

Why did you keep coming back to him? Out of all the sinners you could fuck, you always crawled back to him for a taste of that damn dick.  

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chanted mindlessly, your cunt squeezing tight around him as another orgasm threatened to break loose. But just when you were on the edge, he reached for your tail and yanked. Hard. 

“YIP!” you screeched, the sharp, high-pitched squeal erupting from your throat as the flames of your arousal were doused instantly. You whipped your head around, glaring at him over your shoulder. “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” you barked, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that you were on all fours, impaled on his cock with your ass still up in the air.  

Adam’s eyes widened, his expression morphing from confusion to realization. “Oh shit, so that wasn’t your butt plug?” he asked, cock still buried deep inside you, pulsing against your fluttering walls that betrayed the fury burning inside you.  

“WE’VE BEEN FUCKING FOR OVER HALF A YEAR, YOU ASSHOLE,” you snapped, baring your teeth in a snarl. “YOU EVEN FUCKED MY ASS! WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I’D BE WEARING A BUTT PLUG NOW?” 

He raised his hands in mock surrender, but his hips didn’t stop rocking gently into you, sending shivers up your spine despite your anger. “Babe, it was an honest mistake,” he said before licking his fingers and sliding one thick digit down, pressing against your ass. “Let me make it up to you.” 

Before you could protest, his finger was already pushing past the tight ring of muscle, sinking into your ass as your tail stiffened in response. “Oh, fuck,” you groaned, your resolve crumbling as the pleasure returned full force. His finger curled just right, rubbing the thin wall separating your pussy from your ass, sending jolts of ecstasy through both holes.  

“Remember when I took your anal virginity?” Adam’s voice was smug, but the curl of his finger had you moaning instead of cursing him out. He pumped his finger slowly, in sync with the thrusts of his cock, his breath ragged with excitement. “You told me you hated anal, but look at you now. Begging for more.” 

Your head dropped onto the mattress, your tail wagging unconsciously as he added another finger, stretching you wider. You closed your eyes, trying to block out his annoying voice, but your ass wiggled back against him, betraying your need for more. “Fucking hell,” you whimpered, completely undone.  

He laughed, the sound deep and rich. “Told you. After I finish with your pussy, I’ll give that ass some love too. They don’t call me the dickmaster for nothing.” His voice was maddening, but the way his fingers curled inside you made you forget how much you wanted to punch him.  

Your ears flicked back, frustration mingling with desire. If only he would shut the fuck up, you would’ve come already – twice, even.  

“Babe, you want my load that bad?” Adam cooed, his voice breathy as his cock twitched inside you. “You wanna be my cum dump?” he chuckled, fingers and cock working in perfect, relentless tandem.  

“Sh-sh-shut up,” you moaned, voice low and trembling as your walls tightened around both his cock and his fingers. You were so close, teetering on the edge. 

If he would just stop talking... 

He pulled his fingers out of your ass, leaving you gasping at the sudden emptiness. His wet fingers gripped your hips, pulling your ass up higher as he pressed his weight down on you. Then, he started to fuck you hard – exactly the way you liked it – each brutal thrust forcing you down into the bed.  

Your breath came in broken gasps, each thrust stealing the words from your lips as his cock filled you completely, forcing your slick walls to stretch for him. The bed creaked and groaned under you, matching the wet slap of skin on skin, the rhythmic pounding filled the room. Your stomach clenched, thighs quivering as you squeezed your eyes shut, knowing you were about to explode.  

When his cock hit your g-spot again and again, your moan rose low and long, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You babbled incoherently, swearing and pleading for him to fill you.  

And he did.  

He always fucking did.  

Hot, thick spurts of cum flooded your pussy, painting your insides as the pleasure ripped through you, wave after wave. You were wrecked, ruined, and thoroughly fucked – just the way you wanted it. 

He pushed your body down, rolling you onto your back and stretching your thighs wide apart like he was prepping a canvas for his masterpiece. The thrill of being exposed sent shivers down your spine, and before you could catch your breath, his lips found your aching, sensitive clit.  

His fingers dove into your cum-soaked folds, the squelching sounds echoing in the air, making you feel like a goddamn wet sponge. You were so close to the edge of another orgasm that your muscles quivered with anticipation. Your head tilted back, pressing against the bed, and you gasped as warmth flooded out of you, mingling with Adam’s thick, syrupy load.  

“OH FUCK, FUCK!” you cried out, fingers curling tightly against the bedsheets, heels digging into the mattress like you were trying to anchor yourself to sanity. His mouth continued to suck at your oversensitive bud, relentless and teasing, even as you drenched him with your essence.  

You peeked open your eyes to find him grinning like a kid in a candy store, his face glistening with your juices, and it sent a fresh wave of heat rushing to your core. The feeling of him latching onto you was intoxicating, pushing you to new heights as your walls pulsated around his fingers, unable to tell whether this was yet another orgasm or simply an extension of the last.  

“ADAM!” you screamed, practically sobbing as your body jolted and convulsed under his ministrations. Pleasure poured over you, and your breath came in heavy gasps, your mind slipping into a blissful haze. His fingers curled perfectly inside you, mashing your g-spot like he was playing some twisted game of whack a mole, keeping you suspended in a state of everlasting pleasure.  

The last thing you registered before the world faded away was Adam moaning your name, his voice vibrating through your very core like a damn choir.  

When you fluttered your eyes open again, your body was still bare and sprawled out like a starfish on the bed. You heard that familiar sound of suckling, and looking down, you couldn’t help but groan at the sight – his familiar mop of brown hair nestled between your thighs, still focused on drinking you up like a man starved for 40 days and 40 nights. 

Pleasure washed over you in soft, slow strokes as Adam continued to eat you out. “How long have you been down there?” you asked, voice hoarse from all the screaming and moaning.  

His head popped up, lips and chin glistening with your arousal. “Dunno, but they do call me the ultimate pussy eater,” he said with a cheeky grin, like he was the fucking king of the world.  

You dropped your head back against the bed, trying to stifle a laugh. “No, they don’t,” you muttered, breath hitching as his tongue parted your slick folds again. “Fuck, we can’t keep doing this,” you whined, instinctively opening your thighs wider to give him better access.  

His fingers gripped your hips, anchoring you as his tongue burrowed deeper into your pussy, pressing against your inner walls, exploring every inch like he was on some treasure hunt.  

Naturally, he didn’t listen to your protests. He continued to slurp and lick, devouring you like a feast, and you should have stopped him.  

You really should have.  

But as a jolt of pleasure shot up your spine, tingling all the way to your core, a soft, breathy moan escaped your lips.  

Fuck, this was bad. You had come to the hotel knowing you had little self-control around him, and at this rate, you were destined to fuck him every day.  

Your body, soft and pliant, refused to budge; instead, you pushed your hips deeper into his mouth. “Fuck you,” you murmured weakly, as he coaxed another sultry moan from your lips. “This will be the last fucking time, I swear,” you insisted, squeezing your eyes shut as he pushed you closer to the edge of pleasure.  

But deep down, you knew you had said it was the last time so many fucking times that you’d lost count of your own vows.  

You hated him, yes.  

But fuck him and fuck yourself. 

You didn’t hate this. 

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[redvexillum]

A/N: So this is smut with Lute, but it is inherently an Adam x Reader story. FoxSinner!Reader makes a second appearance! Also, @peach-flavored-flambe how dare you infect me with the word "boop" and its uses! It somehow made it in the story!

RedVexi Sickness Update #1: Fevers, chills, coughing, lack of sleep, did I hit my peak for my illness? Will tomorrow be better?

SUMMARY: For the hundredth time, you broke up with Adam, this time telling yourself it was the last straw. But as you stormed away, you encountered an angel, Lute, who seemed to have an intimate past relationship with your boyfriend—err, ex-boyfriend. One thing led to another, and somehow, you both ended up trying to prove who was the better lover for Adam.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, fox sinner!reader, established relationship with Adam, face slapping, one-sided love/interest, Lute hates reader a lot, hate fucking, sex toys, complicated relationship, love triangle (sorta), strap-on, double penetration, overstimulation, degradation kink, reader is emotional and is a bit…ditzy

After the dizzying sounds of laughter, broken glass, and blaring music subsided, your once-cozy home looked like a war zone. Torn red and green streamers hung limp like office workers past clocking out time, and the smell of stale beer clung to the air like a mocking reminder of the chaos. You stood in the doorway of the kitchen, eyes narrowing as they zeroed in on the offending culprit sprawled across your floor. 

Adam. 

He lay there in nothing but white briefs, his stout body stretched out amidst a halo of crushed beer cans—a parody of snow angels. His mouth hung open slightly, and a faint snore rumbled from his throat, utterly unbothered by the destruction left in his wake. Rage bubbled up inside you, sharp and hot, as your tail swished behind you with dangerous precision. 

“Get. Up.” The words escaped your clenched jaw like venom, your teeth grinding together as your ears flicked back. When his response was nothing more than a particularly loud snore, you growled, your patience thinner than the ice you were about to shove him onto. 

With a sharp jab of your finger into his side, he jolted awake, snorting loudly. 

“Wha—huh?” Adam blinked blearily, his crimson eyes squinting against the dim kitchen light. His hand instinctively raked through his dishevelled brown hair, and as his gaze focused on you, a slow, infuriating grin spread across his face. 

“Babe,” he slurred, his voice a drunken drawl, “looking good.” 

Your lips curled into a sneer, your eyes flicking down to the tent now prominently pitched in the front of his briefs. Heat rose to your face, though it had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with seething irritation. 

“Seriously, Adam?” you barked, your voice rising sharply. His wince only spurred you on. “I told you so many times I didn’t want to have this goddamn party!” 

“Relax, babe,” he groaned, his large frame unfolding as he stood. He swayed slightly, towering over you as he lumbered closer. Then, with all the grace of a drunken toddler, he poked your stomach with the tip of his… erection. 

“Boop,” he said, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. 

You froze. Your brain struggled to process the sheer audacity of it all. The boop, of all things, was what made your eye twitch. Of course, Adam—your overgrown, immature boyfriend—had adopted the most cursed word in the human vocabulary. And now, he was weaponizing it against you. 

Your gaze flicked up to his smug face, then down to the persistent offending appendage. “Adam,” you growled, your voice low and dangerous. “Stop. That.” 

But he didn’t. Of course, he didn’t. “C’mon, babe,” he teased, poking you again, his grin widening. “I know what's gonna help you unwind.” 

For a fleeting moment, you considered murder. Then your eyes flicked to the aftermath of last night’s disaster—the vomit stains, the overturned chairs, the shards of glass glittering like cruel little stars—and back to Adam. Maybe he could make it up to you. Maybe a good dicking would at least take the edge off your frustration. 

“Fine,” you bit out, your voice heavy with resignation. “Get your ass on the bed. Now.” 

Adam’s grin morphed into a triumphant fist-pump as he stumbled off toward the bedroom, his childish glee almost endearing—almost. 

As you stripped off your clothes and crawled onto the bed, Adam asked you to roll onto your stomach. With a grumble, you obliged, expecting things to escalate quickly—but no. The man had the audacity to leave the room. You lay there, face buried in the pillow, equal parts annoyed and confused. Just as you were about to yell, he waltzed back in like nothing had happened, carrying a sandwich, of all things, and climbed back onto the bed. Well, it wasn't the first time he ate while having sex. 

Your body, traitorous as ever, was already eager for what was coming. But when he grabbed the base of your tail, earning himself a startled squeak, and slipped one fat finger into your asshole, the mood took a sharp turn. It wasn’t the act itself that sparked your anger—it was his commentary.

“Boop,” Adam said with zero shame.

Clenching your ass tight around his intrusive digit, you whipped your head around, eyes blazing. “Did you just say boop again?” Your voice dripped with incredulity.

The simmering irritation from him ruining your Christmas plans boiled over. And yet, this? This was the final straw.

You glared at him, catching the unmistakable sight of your precious BLT sandwich in his free hand. He was casually munching on it while simultaneously rubbing the shaft of his cock against your slick folds. 

The crumbs. 

The audacity. 

The absolute disrespect.

“Oh, that is IT!” you screeched, wriggling away from him with a feral determination. Your tail lashed, your ears flattened, and you practically threw your clothes on, rage igniting every cell in your body.

Adam barely looked up, still chewing, as he watched you with wide-eyed confusion. “Wait, what? Babe, what’s wrong?”

You narrowed your eyes at the crumpled wrapper in his other hand, your name scrawled across it in unmistakable all-caps. Something within you snapped, the chaotic storm of emotions inside suddenly going deathly calm. Your voice was eerily steady. “We’re done.”

His chewing slowed as the realization hit. “What?” he mumbled through a mouthful of your sandwich. Crumbs spilled onto the bed as he gestured vaguely. “Now, that’s not very demure of you.”

A single flick of your ear and a twitch of your tail were all it took for him to clamp his mouth shut. You levelled him with a glare that could have reduced him to ash.

“Fuck you,” you said with venomous finality, flipping him the bird as you stormed out.

Behind you, Adam sputtered, sandwich still in hand. “Wait—hold on—was it the boop?”

The icy air of the outside world hit your face like a slap, but it did little to cool your raging emotions. You marched a block away before stopping abruptly, your heels grinding into the pavement as frustration boiled over. 

Why the hell were you the one to leave? That was your home. Your territory. Yet here you were, storming the streets of Hell like a runaway instead of standing your ground. Pride, too wild and untamable, kept you from turning back. If you went back, you knew what would happen. 

What it always happened. 

You’d get pulled into his orbit again, your resolve folding over like a wet newspaper. 

But not this time. This time, you were going to be strong. You were going to stand by your decision. 

And yet… 

Your ears twitched, straining to catch the sound of heavy footsteps behind you. Your heart lurched every time you glanced over your shoulder, hoping—wanting—that he’d followed you. Each time, you were met with the lack of his presence. The pit of disappointment that formed in your stomach was as crushing as it was infuriating. 

You hated yourself for wanting him to come after you. For needing it. 

The endless cycle of hope and disappointment gnawed at your resolve, each turn of emotions feeding into a bitter spiral of self-loathing. You shoved your hands into your pockets and pressed forward, your footsteps echoing into the streets full of drunk people after celebrating the winter festivities. 

You didn’t notice the shadow until it was too late. 

A hand yanked you into a dark alley, slamming you against the rough brick wall. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, and you struggled to regain it, glaring up at your assailant. 

“What the fu—” 

Your words died in your throat as your gaze locked with piercing dark eyes framed by moonlit silver hair. The presence of the figure before you felt suffocating, oppressive. Your back straightened instinctively, adrenaline coursing through you. 

Why the hell was there an exterminator here? 

Ever since the Princess of Hell’s infamous battle with the angels, exterminations have been cancelled. It was a victory that dominated every news outlet and social media feed for days. This shouldn’t be happening. 

“Apologize to him,” the angel growled, her voice as sharp as a blade. Her fingers dug into your shoulders, her strength bruising. 

“What?” you blinked, your mind scrambling to process the absurdity of the demand. 

“Apologize to Adam.” Her teeth bared like an animal ready to rip into prey. “How dare you show such disrespect to the Commander?” 

“Commander?” Your brow furrowed, the word hanging in the air like a grenade about to detonate. “The fuck are youtalking about?” you screeched, your voice rising in disbelief. 

Your tail tucked between your legs instinctively, though you weren’t scared—at least not entirely. Wary, yes. Confused beyond reason, absolutely. 

“Let me go,” you sneered, baring your own teeth as your ears flattened against your head. 

Her grip tightened. The world felt as though it had tilted, dragging you into a nightmare where none of this made sense. 

Her nails dug into your shoulders like talons, sharp enough to sting but not break skin. “You should be worshipping the very ground he walks on,” she hissed, her voice trembling with fury. Her dark eyes burned with unfiltered rage, a mix of contempt and disbelief. “Don’t you realize who you’re even with?” 

The words hit like a slap, and for a moment, your brain struggled to process them. You’d never asked Adam about his past—it didn’t matter to you. He was Adam, your lazy, ridiculous, infuriating boyfriend. But now your mind raced, piecing together fragments of information you’d ignored. 

Was that pathetic excuse of a man the Commander of the fucking angels? 

The thought short-circuited your brain. Your world tilted dangerously, but years of survival instincts kicked in. You compartmentalized, shoving the revelation into a mental box labelled "Deal With Later." Right now, you needed your wits about you. 

“Let go,” you gritted through clenched teeth, twisting your body to break free. Her grip was vice-like, but adrenaline gave you the edge. With a sharp yank, you ripped her hand off your shoulder. “It’s none of your business anyway,” you snapped, lifting your chin defiantly. 

A surge of satisfaction bloomed in your chest as a flush of frustration spread across her perfect, angelic face. 

She crossed her arms, her lips curling into a cruel smirk. “I don’t see what’s so special about you,” she sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. “I bet you’re a pity fuck. What did you do? Beg him to touch you because no one else would?” 

The taunt was so petty, so juvenile, that it reminded you of Adam’s own infuriating antics. You knew you should walk away, let it roll off you like water. But irritation flared, hot and sharp, fuelling the pettiness surging through your veins. 

You whirled around, planting your hands on your hips and mirroring her stance. “And let me guess,” you shot back, your voice thick with venom, “you begged him to fuck you, and he probably laughed in your face.” You let your gaze drift up and down her figure, daring her to react. “What was it? ‘No thanks, not even in your dreams’?” 

Her low growl sent a chill down your spine, but you refused to let her see it. Her black spandex suit, patterned with feather-like designs along the collarbone, left nothing to the imagination. A dark wave of jealousy clawed its way into your thoughts. 

Did Adam fuck her too? 

The bitter thought lodged itself in your mind, feeding your insecurities. You hated how easily jealousy and self-doubt wrapped their fingers around your pride. You knew your flaws—how you hid your vulnerability behind arrogance and defiance. The awareness of your own weakness only deepened the bitterness. 

But in Hell, weakness was a death sentence. So you squared your shoulders, tilted your chin up, and faked confidence as you’d always done. 

“Oh, trust me,” the bitch purred, her smirk widening into a grin that made your blood boil. “You can only dream of how fucking amazing our sex was.” Her words were a dagger, twisting deep. 

You closed your eyes, inhaling sharply as you repeated the mantra in your head. Don’t take the bait. Don’t take the bait. Don’t take the bait. 

But, like always, you did. 

The dingy sex hotel reeked of sweat, desperation, and bad decisions. The neon-red light from the sign outside bled through the thin curtains, bathing the room in an unsettling glow. 

You rubbed your sore cheek, the skin still smarting from where Lute—as she introduced herself—had punched you. The memory flashed in your mind: the sharp crack of her fist meeting your face, your vision blurring for a second before the red-hot rage kicked in. 

Now here you were, sitting on the edge of a creaky bed in a room you’d paid for, wondering how the hell things had escalated this far. 

Lute lounged against the opposite wall, her arms crossed, a victorious smirk plastered across her face. “Feeling better, sweetheart?” she cooed mockingly, her tone laced with condescension. 

You gritted your teeth, resisting the urge to lunge at her again. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot. 

The moment Lute smugly mentioned she’d fucked Adam—your Adam—a tidal wave of possessive fury surged through you, so consuming it left no room for rational thought. Words turned into shouting, shouting turned into cursing, and before long, the two of you were rolling on the ground, nails clawing, legs tangling, and pulling hair like feral animals. Somehow, in the chaos, the argument shifted into a challenge: who was the better fuck? 

And the only way to settle it? To fuck each other. 

Now, standing stripped bare in the cheap hotel room, the gravity of what you’d agreed to hit you like a freight train. 

Holy hell… We’re all such idiots.

The thought barely formed before Lute grabbed the back of your hair, her fingers tangling cruelly in your locks. Without warning, she dragged you into a kiss so heated and rough it stole the air from your lungs. It wasn’t gentle; it wasn’t sweet. It was teeth and dominance, sharp bites against your lips, her smirk pressed against your desperation. 

And you hated yourself for moaning into it. 

The pain from her grip on your hair sent jolts of pleasure down your spine, mixing with the heat pooling low in your belly. You pressed against her without thinking, your breasts flush against hers, nipples rubbing together in electric friction. Her skin was impossibly hot, searing into yours, and when her thigh slipped between your legs, pressing firmly against your dripping core, a strangled cry tore from your throat. 

“Look at you,” Lute sneered, grinding her thigh harder against you. Her voice was low, dripping with condescension. “So fucking wet from just a kiss. You’re pathetic.” 

“F-fuck you,” you managed to spit out, though the words trembled under the weight of your moans. 

Lute shoved you backward onto the bed with effortless strength. Before you could process, something heavy and cold hit your breast—a glittery pink dildo falling unceremoniously onto the sheets. You stared at it in disbelief. 

“What the hell is this?” 

“Start fucking yourself,” she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. She stood tall, her posture imperious, her eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and superiority. “I’m not done getting ready, but I want a show.” 

When you didn’t immediately move, her smirk darkened. “What’s wrong? Can’t even make yourself cum without help, you useless little slut?” 

Her words sent a pulse of heat straight to your core, and you hated the way your body reacted to her degradation. Your thighs quivered, your wetness betraying you. Gritting your teeth, you grabbed the toy with shaky hands. “I’ll show you why Adam chose me again and again,” you shot back, though the trembling in your voice betrayed your arousal. 

The dildo was thick, almost intimidating, but the wetness between your legs made it easy to press against your entrance. Slowly, you pushed it in, relishing the delicious stretch, biting your lip to stifle the moan threatening to spill out. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered, adjusting your hips to take the length deeper. With one hand, you pumped the toy in and out, your slickness making obscene sounds that filled the room. The other hand teased your nipples, pinching and twisting until they ached in the best way. 

Lute stood across the room, donning a strap-on that was almost comically large—angry red with veins that made it look impossibly real. Her toned body gleamed under the dim light, her breasts full and her nipples hard as she watched you writhe on the bed. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” she taunted, her voice a low growl. 

You ignored her, focusing on the pleasure building inside you, pumping the toy faster and faster. The bed creaked beneath you, your body arching as you chased your release. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped, your voice rising. “I’m gonna—gonna—” 

A sharp, stinging pain snapped you out of your haze. Your clit throbbed in shock as your eyes flew open. 

Lute stood over you now, her strap-on gleaming, her manicured hand raised from where she’d just slapped your sensitive flesh. “Not so fast,” she drawled, her voice thick with amusement. 

Before you could recover, her hand came down again, the sharp sound of the slap echoing in the room. Your back arched involuntarily, a strangled mix of pleasure and pain spilling from your lips. 

“Beg,” she demanded, her voice dark and dripping with authority. Her body towered over yours, her confidence radiant, as if she had already won. 

“Ah!” The cry tore from your throat as your back hit the mattress fully, legs spread wide, the dildo a relentless invader as your hips bucked against it, desperate for more. Your body moved on instinct, shamelessly chasing the aching need pooling in your core. 

“Look at you.” Lute’s voice dripped with smug satisfaction, her sharp smile cutting through the haze clouding your thoughts. Her fingers were precise, cruel, landing another slap against your throbbing clit. The sharp sting reverberated through your body, a wicked cocktail of pain and pleasure that left you gasping. 

“I knew you were a fucking slut,” she hissed, leaning closer as her eyes bore into yours. The insulting words should have made you burn with shame, but instead, they sent another wave of heat rushing through you. Her confidence was suffocating, intoxicating. 

In retaliation—or maybe submission—you bit down on your lip, muffling a throaty moan as your back arched off the bed. The dildo inside you pulsed against your walls, each thrust filling you to your limits. The obscene squelch of your arousal echoed in the room, louder and more frantic as your hips moved faster. You were so close, your body trembling with the promise of release. 

Lute, as if sensing your impending climax, doubled down. Her hand struck your clit again and again, each slap harsher, sharper, driving you to the edge. The sound of flesh meeting flesh melded with your cries, creating a symphony of debauchery. 

“Oh, fuck!” Your scream tore through the air as the dam broke. Heat burst from your core, a gush of liquid spilling out of you and coating both Lute and the mattress beneath you. Your cries morphed into incoherent moans as you kept pumping the dildo, riding the waves of your orgasm. “Yes, yes, yes—more, more, more!” The words spilled from your lips, uncontrollable, desperate. 

“Fuck, you make such a disgusting mess,” Lute spat, though her flushed cheeks and heaving chest betrayed her own arousal. Before you could recover, she grabbed your wrist, ripping your hand away from the dildo. She pressed its base deep into you, forcing the tip to kiss your cervix. 

The sharp intensity of the stretch sent a strangled cry out of you. “Oh, fuck!” Your hands clawed at hers, trying to ease the overwhelming pressure, but she pinned you in place. Her free hand found your nipple, twisting it with cruel precision. 

“Look at you,” she sneered. “You can’t even handle this, and you think you’re worthy of him?” 

“Fuck you,” you gasped, your body betraying you as the pain began to blur into pleasure. 

“I bet this isn’t enough for you, you insatiable whore,” she growled, her tone laced with venom. Without warning, she flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up sharply. 

The familiar position sent a spark of recognition through your fogged mind. This was how Adam liked to take you—how he knew you liked it. A pathetic yowl escaped your lips when Lute grabbed your tail, the tug sending a jolt of pain and pleasure through your trembling body. Your saliva dribbled down your chin as your cheek pressed against the mattress, your body arching into her dominance. 

The dildo inside you felt impossibly large, your walls fluttering around it as anticipation coiled tightly in your belly. You hadn’t taken two cocks in so long, and the idea alone had your pussy clenching around the toy. 

Lifting your head slightly, you glanced over your shoulder. Lute’s flushed face, her eyes dark with lust, zeroed in on you like a predator. Her gaze lingered on your exposed ass, her intent clear. 

Swaying your hips, you smirked. “Oh, trust me,” you purred, your voice dripping with provocation. “Adam—” Her expression faltered slightly at the name, a flicker of insecurity cracking through her mask. 

“Adam loves to fuck my ass,” you continued, dragging the words out slowly, savouring her reaction. You began to move the dildo in and out of your dripping cunt with deliberate slowness, moaning loudly for effect. “He can’t get enough of my pussy and my ass.” You arched your back further, your hips pushing up enticingly. “Isn’t that why he’s constantly fucking me instead of you?” 

The words were a dagger, aimed to wound. And by the way Lute’s lips curled into a snarl, it had struck its mark. 

A sharp slap echoed through the room, the sting rippling across your skin and leaving behind a fiery warmth. The pain dissolved almost as quickly as it came, replaced by the shocking, relentless intrusion of Lute filling your tight ring of your ass. She didn’t ease her way in—she claimed you with a force that left you gasping. The stretch burned deliciously, a stark contrast to the rhythm of her hips as they surged forward with unrelenting purpose. 

You felt overwhelmed and in response you moaned, low and throaty, your body arching into hers. The obscene slickness of your drool coated your lips, dripping onto the sheets as every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through you. She filled you completely, both cunt and ass stretched to their limits, her movements precise yet feral, striking every nerve that made you tremble. 

“You really thought you could leave him?” Lute growled, her voice a mix of derision and lust. Her nails bit into your hips as she yanked you back into her thrusts, burying herself even deeper. “That he’d come crawling after you, begging like some love-struck fool?” 

Her words were as sharp as her movements, cutting into the haze that had overtaken your mind. Emotions churned wildly—shame, desire, anger—all tangled together in a chaotic storm you couldn’t control. Your body, however, had no such conflict. It betrayed you completely, you gripped the dildo in your slick folds and moved in time with her pounding thrusts. 

“Adam!” His name tore from your lips in a raw, guttural scream. It wasn’t a conscious decision; it was instinct, a plea from a place deep within you. Sobs wracked your chest as pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave, your pussy convulsing around the thick toy. The orgasm was devastating, a reminder of how thoroughly he’d ruined you—mind, body, and soul. 

The room fell eerily silent as you lay there, trembling, your breath hitching in uneven gasps. Lute’s hands never faltered. She rolled you onto your side again as if you weighed nothing, her strength unnerving yet exhilarating. She grabbed the dildo from you and moved with a slick, obscene rhythm, each thrust sloppy and wet. You clawed at the sheets, your body pinned beneath hers as she drove you further into submission. 

There was no reprieve. Lute’s lips descended on your swollen clit, her tongue working circles that made your thighs quiver. Every nerve felt like it was on fire, the sensations building to an unbearable crescendo. Tears slipped from your eyes as your body jolted under her expert touch, writhing as waves of pleasure blurred the edges of your consciousness. 

“Ah… ahh…!” Your cries were incoherent now, reduced to desperate, broken sounds. Lute’s stamina was as merciless as her demeanour—she never faltered, her thrusts rhythmic and punishing, her tongue a relentless torment against your most sensitive flesh. 

Time lost meaning. The room dissolved into nothing but the wet, slick sounds of your bodies and the heady scent of sex that filled the air. Your legs trembled as exhaustion tugged at the edges of your awareness, but even as your body began to give out, she didn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop. 

Her stamina rivalled his. No, it mirrored his. And with that realization, dread and anticipation coiled in your stomach. You knew she would push you past every limit, wringing orgasm after orgasm from you until you had nothing left to give. Even unconscious, you were certain she’d find a way to make you submit. 

Your body burned with a pleasure so intense it felt sinful—like a divine punishment crafted for a sinner like you. Maybe you deserved it, you thought, the fleeting notion lost in the cocktail mixture of sensations. You were too far gone, too consumed by the overwhelming heat, the slick press of her body against yours, the ceaseless rhythm that stole your breath and fractured your mind. 

And then, finally, sweet oblivion overtook you. The sounds of your body, your cries, your moans faded into the void, leaving you adrift in a dark, silent expanse where nothing else mattered. 

Lute heaved, her chest rising and falling as she stood over your wrecked, sprawled form. The dildo in her hand was soaked, glistening with your juices, and the room reeked of your debauchery. Her eyes flicked to the darkened spots staining the sheets beneath you, evidence of your squirting with every climax she’d wrung from you. She bit the inside of her cheek, bile rising in her throat at the thought of how Adam had always loved that—the mess, the chaos, the rawness of it. 

“Super hot,” he’d called it. 

Her gaze drifted lower, settling on your used pussy. It fluttered weakly, twitching in the aftermath of her relentless assault. She ripped the strap-on harness from her hips, her hands trembling with something she couldn’t name—frustration? Hatred? Envy so raw it felt like it would consume her? 

This was the cunt. The one Adam had fucked endlessly, obsessively, ever since his damnation. Her teeth clenched so hard it hurt. 

Her eyes burned as she looked down at the dildo slick with your juices. Slowly, she pressed the head of it against her entrance, her breathing shallow. She let herself imagine—for one fleeting, painful second—that it was him. That he was here, pressing into her, taking her apart with the same fervour he’d given you. 

The thought sent a violent shudder through her body. Anger swirled with frustration in a maelstrom of emotions that left her shaking. 

Why? 

Why did it have to be you? 

Why couldn't it have been her?

Lute’s nails dug into her palm as she stared down at you. She’d been by Adam’s side for centuries—since the day she’d pledged herself to the Exterminator’s cause. She had fought beside him, bled beside him, held his dying form in her arms during that final battle. If anyone deserved to be next to him, to be his, it was her. Not you. Not some temperamental fox demon whose mood swung as wildly as Hell’s weather. 

Her lip curled, hatred twisting her features as she thought of how effortlessly you’d stolen him. But before she could act on the anger roiling inside her, a sudden knock at the door startled her. 

She froze, her pulse hammering in her ears. That was... unexpected. Glancing at the clock, her brow furrowed. Their time shouldn't be up yet.

The knock came again, louder this time, insistent. Her head whipped toward the door, her breath catching in her throat. Tossing the dildo aside, she scrambled to find her clothes. Whatever was on the other side of that door, it was a threat. She was sure of it. A Sinner, perhaps. Maybe even one of your pathetic, desperate allies. 

But as she reached for her Angelic Steel weapon, she froze. 

“Babe?” 

Her blood ran cold. 

The voice was unmistakable. 

“I know you’re in there,” Adam called from behind the door, his tone light but carrying that same commanding edge she remembered all too well. Another knock followed, firmer this time, shaking the door on its hinges. 

Her heart raced, the sound of it pounding in her ears like war drums. She hadn’t seen him—truly seen him—since that battle, since she’d cradled his broken, bleeding body and watched the light leave his eyes. Since she’d learned he had fallen, damned to this place. 

And she had followed him, hadn’t she? Not openly, not brazenly, but from the shadows, drawn to him like a moth to flame. She had watched him, studied him, but never once dared to face him. How could she? He was everything she had been taught to loathe. A Sinner. The Sinner. And yet, here he was, standing on the other side of the door. 

Slowly, her trembling hands reached for the handle. She cracked the door open, just enough to see him. 

Her breath hitched. 

He hadn’t changed. Not really. The soft brown hair that curled at the ends, the sharpness of his goatee, the confident grin that had always set her pulse racing—it was all still there. But his eyes, oh, his eyes were sharper now, darker. They pierced through her like a blade, and she could feel her heart squeezing painfully in her chest. 

“Si—” she started, her voice barely a whisper. 

But Adam cut her off, brushing past her with the ease of a man who had nothing to prove. 

“Damn,” Adam muttered, his eyes softening as he looked down at the fox sinner lying unconscious on the bed. His tone was warm, almost affectionate. “If you wanted a good fuck, you should’ve come to me, sugartits,” he said with a smirk, effortlessly picking you up in a bridal carry, your limp form cradled against his chest. “Ah, shit, I should probably cover you up before you get pissed at me for flashing the entire streets of Hell,” he chuckled softly to himself, the tenderness in his voice as natural as breathing. 

Lute’s blood ran cold. Her eyes burned with a fury that threatened to consume her whole. She watched the scene unfold with a bitter, seething resentment. This was the man she had devoted everything to—her loyalty, her love—and here he was, cradling that bitch like you were the most precious thing in the world. The way he cared for you, the way he held you so gently—it made her want to tear her own heart out. Adam had never looked at her like that. He had never held her like that. She had given him everything, and now he was throwing it all away for a cheap sinner. 

For you 

She wanted to scream. She wanted to shatter something, to make him see her, to make him feel her. The pain twisted in her chest, and a furious, bitter laugh bubbled up from the depths of her throat. 

Adam turned to leave, his attention on the door, but Lute stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Her chest heaved with desperation. She couldn’t just stand there and let it happen. She couldn’t just let him walk away from her without at least trying to make him see. 

“Sir, I—” her voice cracked, her heart pounding in her throat as she reached out to him. 

Adam stopped, looking at her with a flicker of curiosity. He didn’t even seem annoyed. His gaze was more... bemused. He tilted his head, his lips curling into a slight smirk. “You’re sort of in my way,” he said lazily, the words like ice in her veins. 

It hurts. The words she had wanted to say to him, the things she had wanted to plead, now stuck in her throat like shards of glass. She had tried for so long to fight it, to hold on to something, but now she saw the truth. She wasn’t the one he wanted. She wasn’t the one he needed. 

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as she swallowed down the bitter rage that threatened to spill over. This was the man she had fought beside, bled for, and fallen in love with—and now he was walking away, without even a second glance. She wasn’t even a thought in his mind. 

“How could you?” Lute spat, her voice sharp and full of venom. “How could you live like this? Where’s your honour, your faith, your—” 

He snorted, a cynical laugh escaping his lips. His eyes, red as blood, flickered with something dark. “We’re in Hell now, Lute. What honour? What faith?” he said, his voice flat, resigned. The coldness in his tone stung her, as if he had completely given up on everything they had once stood for. The man she had loved—worshipped—was gone, replaced by this hollow shell. 

Her heart shattered all over again. “Y-you’ve changed,” she managed to choke out, her voice raw. It wasn’t just the words, it was the realization that he had completely slipped away from her, that everything she had once thought was solid and real was reduced to less than dust. 

Gone. 

"Uh, duh," he muttered, his tone so casually dismissive it felt like a slap. His eyes didn’t even linger on her as he adjusted the fox sinner in his arms. There was a tenderness there that Lute could never seem to get from him. He didn’t look at her the way he looked at you. "I kind of have horns now, like actual horns, and I’m in Hell,” he said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

Lute stood there, the anger swirling inside her like a storm. “We could change that,” she said, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. She had said this to herself a thousand times before, rehearsed it in her mind like a mantra. “We could go to the Seraphim and beg them to reconsider. We can—” 

“Lute,” Adam’s voice was soft, but it was enough to silence her. That soft command, the one that had always made her want to kneel before him, now closed her mouth with a force that felt like a blow. She looked up at him, seeing that tired, resigned expression on his face—the man who had once been so full of life was now defeated, broken. “I can’t go back up there anymore,” he said simply, like it was a fact she should have already known. “The big man upstairs saw fit to bring me down here, so you and I both know it’s impossible.” 

“No,” Lute whispered, her voice trembling as she took a step closer to him. She had to try. She had to make him see. She reached out, desperate, her fingers brushing against his arm. “It’s not impossible. It’s not impossible.” 

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “One of the residents from that hotel—the snake sinner—he… he made it into Heaven, sir.” 

The words hung between them like a suffocating fog. Silence stretched out, heavy and unbearable. Lute’s heart raced, hope flickering in her chest even as the truth sunk in. She knew—deep down—that Adam had already made his choice. And it wasn’t her. 

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes unreadable.

Adam’s chuckle started low, almost like a whisper, a dark, bitter sound that sent a chill crawling up Lute’s spine. It grew, slowly, until it broke free, rippling through the room in a full, boisterous laugh that seemed to mock everything they had once fought for. His shoulders trembled with the force of it, a laugh full of cynicism, full of sorrow, full of something Lute could never name but felt in the very marrow of her bones. And then, as quickly as it had come, the laughter faded, leaving only the heavy silence of a man who had long given up on anything pure, anything worth fighting for. 

Adam walked past her without a glance, his presence like a storm she couldn’t escape. He paused just before the threshold of the door, casting one last glance at her without ever really looking at her. She felt it—a hollow emptiness, as if he had already made his choice and it didn’t include her. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he murmured softly, as though to himself. But the words cut through her like a knife. “Maybe my sons didn’t have to die after all.” 

Lute’s heart stopped. Her blood turned to ice. She was desperate to stop him, to make him understand, but the words caught in her throat. He was already walking away, retreating down the hallway like a man who had finally lost his soul. She scrambled toward the door, calling his name over and over, her voice frantic, raw with desperation. “Adam!” She could feel the tears beginning to burn at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not yet. “Adam, please!” 

But he didn’t turn back. 

Not once. 

Not ever. 

He didn’t even spare her a second glance as he walked away, each step taking him further from her, further from everything she had ever believed in. The very man she had respected, the very man she had loved with everything she had, was leaving her behind in a trail of dust and broken dreams. He was walking away from everything they had built together. From everything they had fought for. 

And it hurt. 

It hurt more than anything she had ever felt before. More than the battles they had fought. More than the pain of losing her faith. More than any wound ever inflicted upon her by another. 

He turned his back away from salvation. 

He turned his back away from faith. 

He turned his back away from her. 

And in the silence that followed, all Lute could do was stand there, lost in the shadows of a love that would never be returned. 

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[redvexillum]

A/N: FoxDicker, my OTP has returned. Tagging @redfoxwritesstuff as she continues to be in denial of how much she actually loves Adam. I'm also currently away right now, so please leave a message, after this beep. Except Kit. Kit. You stay away.

SUMMARY: On Christmas Day, you had the perfect holiday planned with Adam, eager to enjoy the festivities together. But everything went off course the moment Adam decided to surprise you with a visit to Loo Loo Land—the most cursed amusement park ever created.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, p in v, soft!adam, adam tries his best, cunnilingus, exhibitionist, loo loo land is mid, reader is a fox sinner, foxdicker is the official ship name, fluffy-wuffy

Your body lay sprawled across the bed, each shaky breath drawing in the cool air that kissed your sweat-slicked skin. The sheets clung to you, damp and tangled from the primal activity that had unfolded moments before. Every nerve felt alive, thrumming as though you were a live wire, sparking and overstimulated. You turned your head, languidly, to find Adam beside you—his chest heaving, his goofy grin painted on his face like a masterpiece of satisfaction. 

It was Christmas Day, and unlike last year, where he’d thrown a surprise party so loud and chaotic you’d considered kicking him out from your shared apartment, Adam had done the unthinkable: he’d listened. He’d agreed to keep things quiet, just the two of you. You’d envisioned the day perfectly—a warm breakfast at the quaint café down the street, twinkling with holiday cheer, followed by decorating the apartment to make it truly feel like Christmas for once. 

But the morning had other plans. 

You’d barely stirred awake when you felt him—Adam, radiating heat like a furnace, his morning wood pressing insistently against your stomach. The smug waggle of his brows told you everything you needed to know about his intentions. You’d opened your mouth to protest, to remind him of the plans, but all coherent thought dissolved the moment he ground against you, slow and deliberate, before pressing a feather light kiss to your cheek. 

And that was all it took. 

Fuck, you really do fold like a soggy newspaper. 

One moment, you were swaddled in the promise of a productive morning; the next, pyjamas were discarded—well, yours anyway, considering Adam always slept naked—and you were a mess of limbs, moans, and relentless desire. The way his body moved against yours, how his hands gripped your hips as if you were his anchor to the world, sent you spiralling into a haze of pleasure. You swore he lived for moments like this, bending you in ways that made your back scream in protest, your knees practically kissing your ears as he pounded into you. 

It was overwhelming, electric. 

Perfect. 

And yet, as the high ebbed, you muttered to yourself through a half-laugh, half-groan: You really need to work on your flexibility. 

The realization hit when you glanced at the clock. Breakfast was no longer an option—it was well past noon. “Lunch it is,” you murmured, voice hoarse but amused. A Christmas lunch date sounded far more reasonable anyway, especially since you were still trying to recover from the morning’s activity. 

Adam, though? He was utterly unbothered, lounging in the aftermath like a king who had conquered his kingdom. His arm lay lazily over his chest, that smug, silly grin still plastered across his face. 

You stared at him for a long moment, thoughts wandering, as they often did. Adam wasn’t exactly a paragon of reliability—Hell wasn’t known for its steady job market, after all—but his circumstances were… unique. When you’d first discovered who he was, the revelation had hit you like a slap. Adam. The Adam. The first man, the original sinner. The “original dick,” as he’d so eloquently put it mid-fuck one night. 

It explained so much—his cocky demeanour, the whispers behind his back, the reason no one seemed willing to hire him. The arguments that had erupted between the two of you when he refused to explain himself made more sense now, but even with the truth out in the open, you weren’t sure how to approach the topic. What could you say? Hey, babe, let’s talk about how you used to be the commander of a battalion of angels in charge of exterminating sinners for centuries every year has ruined your career prospects. 

Instead, you let the thoughts drift away like smoke. Slowly, you crawled closer to him, nestling yourself against his side. He let out a soft sigh, his arms wrapping around you instinctively, pulling you closer. For a moment, you stayed like that, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. 

Dating Adam was like navigating through a mall during a crazy Black Friday sale—you never knew if you’d be swept away by passion or sheer chaos. Most of your dates could hardly even be called dates, considering they usually ended with you screaming at him over some thoughtless blunder or outrageous stunt. Then, inevitably, he’d kiss the fight out of you, pressing your body against his until the world dissolved into breathless moans and shattering pleasure. By the time he was done with you, the anger always seemed so trivial. 

But this time, you wanted something different—something special. It was Christmas, after all, and you were determined to have a date you could treasure. One that didn’t devolve into arguments or excuses. Sure, the morning hadn’t gone to plan, but if the rest of the day went smoothly, you’d still consider it a win. 

“All right, big guy,” you said, unable to keep the excitement out of your voice. Your tail swayed behind you, betraying your eagerness as you grinned. “We should get dressed and go out for lunch.” 

Adam leaned back against the headboard with a satisfied smirk, patting his stomach. “Aw, fuck yeah! I love lunch. Let’s get some back ribs.” His lips stretched into that crooked smile of his, the one that somehow managed to be both cocky and endearing. 

A giggle escaped you before you could stop it. Moments like this—when he wasn’t being infuriating or insufferable—you almost found him… cute. 

“But, babe,” Adam started, his voice casual as he stretched his arms over his head, “I got us tickets to Loo Loo Land for today. But, y’know, we don’t gotta go.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, though the hint of smugness in his tone said otherwise. 

Your ears twitched, catching his words, but it was the mention of tickets—Lu Lu Land tickets—that sent you bolting upright. Your tail wagged uncontrollably, thumping against the sheets as your smile stretched wide enough to hurt. 

“No way! Shut up!” you squealed, leaning forward with barely restrained excitement. “I’ve always wanted to go to Lu Lu Land! Those tickets are crazy expensive. Who did you kill to get your paws on them?” 

Adam basked in your attention, his smirk widening as he straightened up. “Got ’em for free, baby,” he said, voice dripping with pride. 

“What? No way!” Giddy laughter bubbled out of you as you practically leapt out of bed. “All right, baby, let’s hop in the shower then head to Lu Lu Land!” 

Adam’s eyes sparkled mischievously as he finally sat up, his gaze dipping to your bare body as his cock twitched with interest. “Round four?” he asked, his tone low and teasing, a devilish grin curling his lips. 

For once, though, you were too caught up in the thrill of the moment to be derailed by his antics. He’d actually planned something thoughtful—a romantic date to an amusement park on Christmas Day, no less. That realization sent a warmth blooming in your chest, making your smile grow even wider. 

“Better hurry,” you sang over your shoulder, giving him a playful wink before skipping toward the shower. The sound of his groan followed you, but you knew he wouldn’t be far behind. Today, against all odds, was going to be perfect. 

The shower stretched on until the water turned icy cold, but neither of you cared. Every moment was electric, every touch a spark igniting something primal and consuming. By the time you both stumbled out, bodies pressed together, breathless and grinning, you knew it was some of the best sex you’d had—so far, at least. 

Lu Lu Land didn’t live up to its reputation—or rather, the reputation you’d dreamed up in your mind. The place was a mess, more imps than you’d ever seen darting chaotically between rusting rides that looked like they’d collapse with a stiff breeze. Trash littered the grounds, and the attraction lights, with their flickering bulbs and gaping dark patches, gave the park a dilapidated, haunted feel. 

Strangely, the park was emptier than you expected for Christmas Day. Entire stands were shuttered and abandoned, their chipped paint and faded signs whispering tales of better days. It didn’t make sense to you. 

“This is Lu Lu Land?” you asked softly, your voice wavering as your heart sank. You didn’t mean to sound so defeated, but the disappointment was like a weight pressing on your chest. 

When you were younger, the idea of going to an amusement park felt magical, a dream just out of reach. But there was never enough money, and when adulthood came, life demanded everything you had—every dollar, every ounce of energy. The amusement parks of your childhood fantasies faded into the background as you scraped by, paycheck to paycheck. 

You swallowed hard against the lump rising in your throat. There were many regrets you carried, and this—never experiencing the whimsy and joy of a proper amusement park—was one of them. 

“Yep! This is Loo Loo Land!” Adam declared with his usual overconfidence, puffing out his chest and placing his fists on his hips like he was proud of the place. “Way better than that other shitty park, if you ask me!” 

You blinked once, then twice, as a lone flyer drifted on the breeze and landed against your leg. Frowning, you picked it up, your eyes scanning the brightly coloured text. The flyer advertised the park—but the name wasn’t “Lu Lu Land,” the famed amusement park of your dreams. It was Loo Loo Land. 

Your gaze darted around, taking in the off-brand chaos: the peeling paint on the “best attractions” sign, the cheap circus tent rising in the distance like a sad parody of fun. Realization hit like a bitch slap. This wasn’t the amusement park of your childhood dreams. This was the off-brand version—the amusement park equivalent of generic cereal in a plastic bag. 

You wanted to pout, to stamp your foot and demand answers, to yell at Adam for getting your hopes up. But the words never came. It wasn’t his fault you’d misunderstood. He’d said, “Loo Loo Land,” and you’d let your imagination and misunderstanding fill in the blanks. 

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to look for the silver lining. Adam had thought of you. He’d gotten the tickets, however dubious their origin because he wanted to share something with you. And an amusement park was still an amusement park, right? You could still salvage this day, still create a happy memory to look back on. 

Swallowing your disappointment, you spun on your heel and met Adam’s gaze with a forced but hopeful smile. “Well, we might as well have fun, right?” 

The gleam in his eyes and his wolfish grin were enough to make your heart flutter. For a moment, you let yourself believe this would be a magical day, off-brand or not. 

But after an hour of sketchy rides, overpriced snacks that tasted like cardboard, and constant interruptions from screaming imps, you were ready to explode. This day wasn’t just off-brand—it was a disaster in the making. 

If there were awards for sheer determination to stay optimistic—or perhaps delusional—you were confident you’d win an Emmy. Hell, maybe even a Golden Globe. You kept up the facade, smiling through gritted teeth, convincing yourself that this off-brand nightmare could still be salvaged. But as the day dragged on, your resolve began to crack. 

For starters, the prices at this rundown park were ridiculous. A bag of popcorn cost nearly as much as a week’s worth of groceries. Still, you bit the bullet, wanting to embrace the experience. That was until you opened the bag to find cockroaches scuttling around your popcorn like they’d paid for admission, too. 

When you marched back to the stand, livid, the imp vendor had the audacity to deny everything. “Oh no, ma’am, those didn’t come from our popcorn,” he said, waving a clawed hand like you were being unreasonable. The gaslighting only fuelled your fury. Shoving the bag in his smug face, you unleashed a tirade. Behind you, Adam was doubled over, laughing so hard tears streamed down his cheeks. 

“Glad you’re enjoying the show!” you snapped at him, but your heart wasn’t in it. His laughter was annoyingly infectious, even if it made you want to smack him upside the head. 

After that fiasco, you decided to give the rides a try. Maybe they’d turn the day around. 

Big mistake. 

The first line you stood in—for a merry-go-round, no less—dragged on for over an hour. Just as it was your turn to board, the ride broke down. A loud groan of frustration escaped you, but you swallowed it back and told yourself there were other rides. 

And there were. 

...Like the Line Ride. 

It took you an embarrassingly long time to realize you’d been standing in line for another hour... only to find out the “ride” was the line. Just a joke at your expense. By then, your patience was paper-thin. If someone so much as sneezed in your direction, you were pretty sure you’d snap and stab a bitch. 

Adam, however, was in great spirits. “I’m having a great time,” he said, flashing you a grin. “I get to stare at your ass all day.” 

You shot him a glare, but it didn’t deter him. Every now and then, his hand would creep down to squeeze your backside, and you’d slap it away, muttering curses under your breath. 

Still, you clung to your fragile optimism. One ride. That’s all I need. One ride, and I can call this date passable. 

But then Adam whined, “We haven’t had lunch yet. I’m starving.” 

He wasn’t wrong. It was well past breakfast and lunch—closer to dinner, really. Your stomach growled in agreement, though your wallet, now painfully light, protested. “Fine,” you sighed. “Let’s eat. Maybe food will help.” 

That hope was short-lived. 

You approached the cleanest-looking stall in the food court, which wasn’t saying much. The imp behind the counter barely glanced at you as you ordered two BLT sandwiches. But then he reached back, scratching his ass with a gnarled claw, in plain view, before grabbing for the bread. 

The sight turned your stomach. You felt your appetite drain away like water from a sieve, replaced by sheer disgust. “Cancel my order,” you said, trying to stay calm. 

The imp ignored you, pretending not to hear as he continued assembling the sandwich with the same unwashed hands. “I said, cancel it! And give me my money back!” 

No response. Just that same vacant look as he slathered mayonnaise on the bread with all the enthusiasm of a corpse. 

Adam’s chuckle behind you made you whirl on him. “What’s so funny?” 

“Babe, you’re adorable when you’re mad,” he said, grinning ear to ear. 

Adorable? You wanted to scream. Instead, you turned back to the imp, eyes blazing. Today was supposed to be perfect.Perfect. Instead, you were standing in the middle of this trash heap of a park, ready to commit murder over a BLT. 

And it wasn’t even lunchtime anymore. 

You should have killed them. You wanted to—really wanted to. But instead, you unleashed every vile slur, every curse word you could think of, before walking away. 

As you took your first few steps away from the shabby food stall, a sudden collision threw you off balance. You stumbled into a young imp child, its chocolate ice cream splattering across your pristine white dress—the one you still had threepayments left to make on. You froze, eyes burning as the little imp cried over the loss of its treat, its pitiful wail cutting through the air. 

The weight of everything that had gone wrong that day pressed down on you, settling heavy on your chest. How had this happened? All you’d wanted was a perfect day with Adam. Just a few stolen moments of happiness, making memories together on Christmas Day. Instead, you were left with frustration, anger, and a gnawing feeling of disappointment that lingered, suffocating. 

Your eyes stung as the first wave of tears began to form. You wiped them away harshly, forcing yourself to smile, though the gesture felt hollow. You thrust a handful of change into the kid's hand, pushing him toward the ice cream stand, before stomping away, feeling the familiar sting of tears threatening to spill. 

You couldn't break down here—not in public. Not in a place like Loo Loo Land, of all places. 

You found the washroom in a haze, the door slamming shut behind you with a thud that echoed through the empty space. The tears came quicker now, too fast to stop. You twisted the faucet, water rushing out in a steady stream, but it did nothing to erase the stain on your dress. In fact, the more you tried to scrub it away, the worse it became. The stain spread like a cruel reminder of everything that had gone wrong. The frustration bubbled over, tightening your chest as you fought to control the sobs threatening to escape. 

And then, that voice—Adam’s voice—cut through the chaos. 

"Babe," he said, his tone smooth and comforting, but somehow laced with an energy you knew all too well. 

"Adam!" You spun around quickly, wiping away the treacherous tear with the back of your wrist. You met his gaze, trying to hold it together, praying that your makeup wasn't ruined. "You shouldn’t be here," you started, but the words died in your throat as you caught sight of the men’s urinal beside you. Your shoulders slumped in a resigned groan. 

"I know what you need," Adam said with a grin, one that made your pulse quicken. Before you could protest, his strong arms encircled you, pulling you into the cramped stall with ease. 

The small space felt even tighter with him in it. His broad shoulders barely fit, his tall frame bending slightly to accommodate the imp-sized toilet. The absurdity of the situation hit you all at once—here you were, standing in a bathroom stall meant for imps, with Adam so close you could feel the heat of his body. You barely had enough room to breathe, let alone move. 

"I swear to fuck, Adam," you huffed, frustration tingling in your voice. "I’m not in the mood for this right now." 

But Adam wasn’t having it. His lips curled into a mischievous grin, and his fingers slid down to your hips with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. "But babe, we haven't ridden anything yet. So, how about you ride my dick?" He waggled his brows, his voice dripping with playful arrogance. "You can skip the line, VIP access, baby." 

Your body betrayed you. Despite the chaotic mess of emotions swirling inside, despite the anger and the sadness, the pure audacity of his words made something else stir within you. His touch—gentle, yet confident—ignited a fire deep inside you. Your body responded without your permission, heat flooding to the places that had been craving him for far too long. 

And before you could think, you were giggling. It was absurd. His crass humour, the ridiculousness of this whole situation, was precisely the thing you needed. As you met his eyes, still twinkling with mischief, the tension in your body melted away. 

His grin widened as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You can’t deny it," he whispered, the words heavy with promise. 

You couldn’t believe you were actually considering it, considering giving in to this madness. You let your eyes drift lower, catching the prominent bulge straining against his pants. 

With a lazy smile, you leaned in closer, your voice a seductive whisper. "I always wanted to ride roller coasters." Your fingers trailed down his body, unbuckling his pants with a slow, deliberate motion. "I want to feel my body thrown around with every twist and turn," you murmured, feeling his breath catch as your fingers brushed against his hard-on. 

You could hear his audible gulp, his body tense with anticipation. 

“Fuck,” Adam groaned, his voice low and desperate, and before you could even think to respond, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his shoulders. His lips brushed the soft fabric of your dress, lips trailing upward as his head dipped beneath it, his mouth finding the curve of your panties. He suckled gently, teasingly, wetting the fabric, before his tongue slid against your quickly hardening clit, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. 

“Oh, fuck!” you gasped, the pressure building inside you as the pleasure crept steadily, like a slow burn, igniting every nerve. The stress of the day melted away instantly, replaced by the primal need to be consumed, to feel something, anything—until you saw stars. Your head tipped back, your eyes flicking over the edge of the stall, and you saw the washroom door. A rush of heat flooded you as the realization hit: anyone who walked in would see exactly what he was doing to you—his face buried between your legs, devouring you with an intensity that left you breathless. 

You should be embarrassed, but today? Fuck the imps, fuck the world. You needed this. You were going to feel every inch of him, and if it had to be Adam, then so be it. 

He manoeuvred quickly, claws of desire pulling at the fabric of your underwear, tugging, yanking, until you heard the unmistakable sound of it tearing. The hole he made left you gasping, but before you could voice your frustration, it dissolved into a moan—low and sultry—when his tongue delved deeper, tasting you in ways that made your pulse race. 

“Oh, fuck, baby,” you sighed, your hips grinding against his face, the sound of his lips and tongue working your pussy turning your brain to mush. “God, you’re so fucking hungry.” Your fingers threaded into his hair, guiding him, urging him to take more. The wetness on his lips, the feeling of him dragging his tongue across your slick skin, was a sensation so carnal you could hardly breathe. Every moment of pleasure set fire to your nerves, your body humming with need. 

Before you could spiral into ecstasy, Adam pulled away with a growl, lifting you in one swift motion and spinning you around. Your breasts pressed eagerly against the cool stall wall, your ass thrust out, and he didn’t hesitate—slamming into you from behind with a force that made you cry out. The stretch was overwhelming, the thick, heavy length of him filling you in a way that made your entire body ache. He pressed deeper, relentlessly, until he hit your cervix, the sensation so intense that a sharp cry ripped from your throat. 

You were a screamer. You craved rough, dirty sex—the kind that left you breathless, the kind that made you feel alive. 

And Adam? He was just as wild, just as hungry. 

He pounded into you with abandon, his hands gripping your hips, his fingers leaving marks as he slapped your ass, the sting making your entire body tighten. “Fuck, squeeze me tight, babe,” he growled, “Yeah, moan for me, bitch.” His words were raw, his voice thick with lust, and they made you feel like you were the only thing in the world worth fucking. Your body responded to him instinctively, your voice growing louder, desperate for more. 

Each wet slap of skin on skin only intensified the heat between you, and you couldn’t help but encourage him, your words slipping out between heavy breaths: “Yes, baby, harder, harder, harder.” You whimpered as your body responded to him, riding the waves of pleasure as they crashed through you. “You fuck so good,” you moaned, the rhythm of your words pushing him to go faster, harder. 

The stall wall shook with every thrust, the sound of your bodies slamming together filling the space. You swore you heard gasps, voices from outside, as if the whole world could hear how fucking good he was making you feel. You were sure there was an audience, but it didn’t matter. Let them listen, let them hear how desperately you were being fucked. After the day you’d had, you fucking deserved it. 

His cock nudged against your g-spot, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hand slid around to the front of your hip, fingers expertly swirling over your clit, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge. You gasped, your breath growing shallow as the sensations built. “Oh, fuck, baby, I’m going to make a mess if you keep doing this,” you moaned, the words tumbling from your lips without hesitation. You didn’t want him to stop; in fact, you wanted him to push you further, harder.

“Yeah,” he grunted in response, smacking his hips against yours, the heavy swing of his balls hitting your skin with each deep thrust. “You know how I like it, babe,” he groaned, his voice thick with lust as he quickened the pace, each thrust driving deeper. “Now, scream how good my dick feels inside you,” he commanded, his words pushing you into a haze of desire, pushing you past the point of no return. 

His rhythm grew faster, more frantic, and you pressed your cheek against the cold stall wall, the friction between your bodies sending jolts of fire through your veins. Drool pooled at the corner of your lips, your vision blurring as you felt the peak drawing closer, your body trembling under the intensity. 

Your muscles tightened, and with a loud, unabashed scream, you finally gave in, “Fuck, yes, baby!” you cried out as your orgasm crashed over you, hard and overwhelming. Your body convulsed, squirting wildly, the wetness soaking the front of your dress, dripping onto the floor, and pooling at your feet. 

He grunted, a low, primal sound as he followed you, his cock throbbing inside you. With a deep, guttural moan, he pumped a thick load of his seed into you, his hips grinding against you, urging you to milk him for every last drop. You could feel him deep inside, your walls gripping him desperately, as if trying to hold on to him, to drink him all in. 

Both of you breathed heavily, hearts racing from the intensity of the fuck. The tension of the earlier part of the day, the stress, all melted away in the euphoria of the orgasmic daze. As he pulled out slowly, you felt his warm seed dripping down your thighs, the mixture of his release and your own slipping down to join on the floor. 

“Fuck, that was fucking amazing,” Adam said, his voice rough but satisfied. The moment you turned to face him, he cupped your chin, lifting your face to meet his, and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, his touch tender in contrast to the rawness of what had just transpired. “Now, just chill here for a second, babe,” he said, his grin lazy but affectionate. 

You could only nod, still lost in the aftershocks of the pleasure, and as he squeezed himself out of the stall, you leaned back against the cool wall, your breath coming in uneven gasps, slowly feeling his seed continuously dripping out of you, mixing with your own juices. 

That’s when you heard it. 

Voices shouting, cussing—Adam’s angry voice cutting through the air as he shooed the intruders out of the washroom. 

“Fuck off!” Adam yelled, his tone rough and possessive. “Don’t fucking jerk off to my girlfriend, you fucking assholes!” 

Your shoulders stiffened, a jolt of something fierce and unnameable coursing through you. Your breath hitched, caught on the edge of a gasp as your eyes widened. A strange, disarming warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading like wildfire, and before you could stop it, the heat reached your cheeks. They burned, your lower lip trembling—not from fear, no, but something rawer, deeper, something that made you feel both vulnerable and... 

Alive. 

He’d just called you his girlfriend. 

Out loud. 

Openly. 

The words rang in your ears, soft and almost careless in his tone, but their weight hit you like a sledgehammer. Your heart was pounding, a frantic, unrelenting rhythm that refused to be ignored. For a moment, all you could do was stand there, trapped in the swirling tempest of emotions that his simple declaration had stirred. 

He was such a fucking loser—messy, aimless, and someone you’d convinced yourself you were only keeping around out of pity. And yet, despite everything, he made you feel like this. 

Alive. 

Wanted. 

Consumed. 

Sure, the incredible sex played a part. That was undeniable. But even in the heat of those moments, there was always something more—a connection that ran deeper, messier, and far more terrifying than either of you dared to acknowledge. 

Still, you weren’t blind. You weren’t naive. This thing between you wasn’t built to last. It was fire and chaos, the kind of passion that burned bright and reckless, destined to burn out long before it settled into anything stable. You knew that. You accepted that. 

So why was your heart still betraying you? Why was it racing like this, pounding like a war drum in your chest? Your trembling fingers brushed over your cheeks, your skin impossibly hot, the blush spreading like a stain you couldn’t hide. 

You took a steadying breath—or tried to, at least—and when the moment passed, when your body cooled and the flush began to fade, you smoothed out your dress as best you could and stepped out of the stall. Your legs felt unsteady, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, but it was the emotions twisting in your chest that left you truly off-balance. 

You sank onto the bench, needing the grounding sensation of solid wood beneath you, and waited. Adam was off somewhere, picking something up—probably something stupid, knowing him. And as much as you wanted to stay indifferent, to hold on to the simmering frustration of how thoroughly he’d upended your carefully guarded emotions, you couldn’t stop the damn flutter in your chest every time he moved, every time you thought of him. 

When he jogged back into view, his hands hidden behind his back and a playful, self-satisfied grin lighting up his face, you swore your heart skipped a beat. 

“Took you long enough,” you teased, though your voice faltered as Adam thrust something in front of your face, startling you. 

A candy apple. 

It gleamed under the garish, hellish lights, its glossy red shell capturing the chaos around it like a tiny, sugary miracle. Your breath hitched as your eyes locked onto it. It was perfect, almost unreal, and yet it was very much in his hand, being awkwardly thrust toward you. 

“I’m not really a fan of apples,” he admitted with a shrug, his brow quirking up. “But I remember you said you liked candy apples once.” 

The words were simple, but they hit you like a tidal wave. Your heart skipped a beat, then another, and suddenly, it wasn’t the candy apple you were looking at. It was him. Adam, with his soft, uncertain expression, his lips pressed together like he wasn’t sure if this was a good idea. His usual bravado was muted, replaced by something genuine, something vulnerable. 

“Listen,” he began, his voice rough with hesitation but tinged with sincerity. “I ain’t good at this kinda thing, but… Merry Christmas, babe.” He gave you a crooked, lopsided smile, nudging the candy apple toward you again. 

For a moment, the world stood still. The noise of the carnival, the blaring music, and the distant screams of the rides—all of it faded into the background. All you could focus on was the candy apple and the boy standing in front of you, looking like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin but refusing to let go of this moment. 

Your fingers brushed his as you took the wooden stick, the faint warmth of his touch lingering against your skin. You held it tightly, the reality of his gesture sinking in. “I—I can’t believe you remembered,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Adam’s brow furrowed, his lips twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to smile or scoff. “'Course I did,” he muttered, looking off to the side. “You don’t shut up about sweets, so… yeah.” 

You couldn’t help it—a soft, breathy laugh bubbled up, breaking through the overwhelming tide of emotion. Adam, the man who barely listened when you talked, who acted like he didn’t care about half the things you said, had remembered something so small, so inconsequential. 

And it mattered. 

It mattered more than you wanted to admit. 

Your fingers curled around the stick a little tighter, your chest aching in the best way. “Thanks,” you said softly, your voice trembling with a quiet kind of wonder. 

Adam’s face softened at your words, though his smirk quickly returned. “Well, are you gonna eat it, or are you just gonna stare at it?” he teased, his tone light, but the way he watched you gave him away. 

“Fine,” you huffed, unwrapping the candy apple carefully. The scent of sugar and caramel wafted up, sweet and familiar, and as you lifted it to your lips, Adam’s voice interrupted you. 

“Let’s go home,” he said, blowing a stray lock of hair off his face. “This place sucks anyway.” 

You blinked, startled by the sudden shift, but before you could question him, he reached out and took your free hand, pulling you up from the bench with ease. His grip was steady, his palm warm, and as his fingers laced with yours, you felt your chest tighten all over again. 

The candy apple in your other hand felt heavier now, more significant. It wasn’t just a treat—it was a moment, a gesture, a piece of him he’d handed over without realizing its weight. 

As the two of you left the chaos of Loo Loo Land behind, the gaudy lights fading into the distance, everything felt a little softer, a little more vivid. Adam didn’t say anything else, and neither did you. But his hand stayed in yours, his touch grounding you, reminding you that sometimes the smallest things—like a candy apple—could mean everything. 

And as you took your first bite, the sugary sweetness melting on your tongue, you decided it was the best candy apple you’d ever had. 

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