#aftermath of boops

[idrellegames]

What do Aeran and Mel think about getting booped so many times?

Aeran is begrudgingly accepting his fate and is very, very embarrassed. Probably turning some shade of tomato and can't wait to get out of here (he secretly likes it shhhhhh).

Mel graciously accepts his fate and makes some sweeping, grand gesture because he is oh so very honoured to have been booped so many times.

[marsamoo]

Shout out to the mutuals I gained through mass-booping yesterday.

We’re best friends now :DD.

[ceemi]

@mbrine

[alterkrystal]

How did Booping go for you guys on Tumblr?

For a first year of participation I must say I’m impressed.

-u-

[shade-pup-cub]

Boop!

You- boop boop?

Boop :D

Boop!! I'm - boop boop! Are you- boop boop? Silly Boop!

[luna-loveboop]

Bibbidi-Bobbidi-... BOOP!!

Boop!

I tried to get a picture to boop back with, but stitch wasn't feeling it (doggo only wanted cuddles today)

Nevertheless, boop! :D

[literally-a-ferret]

i love that the boops have become like how at school when theres a fight everyone comes together-

people that have never spoken/interacted and will never speak/interact again are coming together to talk about the fight/boop each other

i love this so much and i think this has been the best april fools thing ever 🫶

[uncomfortableswarm]

[justaquestioninggirl29]

this is the *final farewell*

had only I known of boops sooner perhaps I would have made it, but alas not.

good night, fellow boopers.

[anxious-fandom-bean]

tumblr you need money right. i feel like users would pay for booping to be a permanent feature.

[braceletofteeth]

Booping you right back 🐾

Milb (mutual I'd like to boop)

[glauconaryue]

How am I supposed to interact with my mutuals now that I can't boop them? Dm them??? Impossible!

[retroaria]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆⚠︎ Cuteness Overload ⚠︎⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

summary: adorable things the blue lock boys do that turn your brain to mush

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy 😮‍💨 - aria

my requests are open!! send me some!!

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ᰔᩚ Isagi Yoichi

• He chews on the inner corner of his mouth whenever something makes him blush too much and it gives him this adorable pouty face. He furrows his brows and averts his eyes away as his pale skin turns a fluttery shade of pink. If you giggle at him it’ll only make it worse lol.

• When he kisses you he makes sure to bump his nose against yours before pulling away. Just a little boop. It’s so cute. Definitely does Eskimo kisses with you all the time.

• He subconsciously reacts to your facial expressions with the same expressions. If you make a worried face, he’ll do the same. If you make a surprised face he’ll do the same. It isn’t in a mocking manner, he just gets so focused on you that he instinctually mimics you.

ᰔᩚ Bachira Meguru

• Bachira is always trying to play footsies with you. Whether you’re sitting side by side or across from each other he’s nudging your feet and pressing soft kicks to your legs under tables where no one can see. It’s a good way for him to release pent up energy and he likes that it’s a little thing just for the two of you.

• he presses soft kisses to your eyelids to wake you up in the mornings. He’ll go back and forth until he feels your lashes flutter against his lips, then he makes his way down to your nose and your lips and your cheeks.

• love bites!! Bachira is always taking a little nibble of you. Your shoulders, neck, ears, cheeks, hands, arms, nose. He doesn’t bite hard enough to hurt, but sometimes it’ll leave marks which he loves seeing in the aftermath.

ᰔᩚ Itoshi Rin

• Rin will casually just rest his hand on the top of your head, russle your hair, give you a good noogie. Simply because he can.

• Sometimes when you guys hold hands he’ll stuff both your guys’ hands in his coat pocket or your coat pocket. Preferably his so he can just drag you around and be sure that you’re by his side as close as possible lol.

• Make out sessions with Rin never end in parting lips. He has to make sure he gives you at least one or two more small pecks before you both fully pull away, he does this instinctually and wouldn’t ever try to fight it. He does this when kissing you goodbye as well, he just can’t fight the urge to get a few more kisses in before you leave. And then brushes it off like it wasn’t the cutest most needy thing ever.

ᰔᩚ Itoshi Sae

• Sae is always playing with your fingers, your hair, your sleeves, the hem of your shirt, any part of you that he can mindlessly fiddle with while the two of you sit through conferences and interviews that he doesn’t really care about.

• If he starts doing something with you, he won’t ever finish it without you. If he started reading a book while he was cuddling with you, he can’t read it again until the next time he’s cuddling with you. If you guys started a show/movie together he can’t finish it until you’re there too

• He does cat blinky eyes at you all the time. He uses it as a form of nonverbal acknowledgement when you guys are surrounded by a lot of people or in the mornings when you’re both too sleep ridden to speak. He sends two slow blinks your way and it feels like the sweetest thing ever

ᰔᩚ Nagi Seishiro

• Nagi has a habit of staring at you sometimes. Whenever he gets bored of mindlessly looking around, he’ll avert his gaze to you and he’s endlessly entertained. He does it with soft eyes and a gentle pout on his face, tracing your body up and down, watching your features with every reaction you make. He’s hoping that if he stares at you long enough the rest of the world will disappear and you’ll be coaxed into his arms.

• When he really wants something and he’s trying to give you puppy dog eyes as a form of persuasion he’ll push his hair back and out of his face so you can really see him pleading. Honestly it works every time bc his face is just too handsome and adorable to deny.

• He stoops himself down to your height sometimes in a sly, mocking way. He bends his knees when he does it so he looks really silly and he gives you a jokingly shocked look, “So this is what the world looks like from down here…wow.” He has plenty of other ways that he’ll tease you or try to shock you with his height but this is his favorite. (Sorry if you happen to be over 6’2 lol)

ᰔᩚ Mikage Reo

• Reo never had a spending problem until he met you. He was raised to be smart with money, especially since he’s got a LOT of it. But now he finds himself buying the stupidest most useless things just because it reminds him of you. Will literally buy weird knickknacks and chachkis from random street vendors and sketchy online stores just because something was the same color as your eyes or he thought you would think it was cute.

• He probably hides this from you but he keeps a little box of mementos from your dates, trips, just anything to do with you. He keeps game, plane, and movie tickets, polaroid photos of you, bookmarks from books you gave him, jewelry you left at his house that’s long forgotten, little slips of paper you’ve doodled on, receipts from your favorite restaurants. He cherishes all of it it’s so cute.

• Whenever you guys are home and you aren’t giving him enough attention he comes up to you and pinches your cheeks. He’ll even smoosh your cheeks around your face until you finally get annoyed enough that your eyes are on him, then he scoops you up and takes you to lay with him with a smile on his face like he wasn’t being an annoying brat two seconds ago

ᰔᩚ Rensuke Kunigami

• Kunigami is signed up to a flower service that delivers flowers to your house every week. The bouquets change with the seasons, and there’s a short and sweet note attached to them. Usually just “I love you!” or “thinking of you ❤️”. If he’s off in another country for games and such he makes the notes a bit longer, “by the time you get this it’ll be night where I am, wish you were in my arms darling.” or the occasional silly one “you’re not sick of these are you? If so, oh well! Hope you don’t miss me too much love :)”

• When he knows you’re coming home from a stressful or tiring day he turns the air on in your house to make it really cold so that he can welcome you at the door with arms open and a blanket draped around him, urging you to climb in and never return. Don’t worry about your clothes or makeup bc he’s already getting you changed and wiping your face like you’re his newborn baby. When you finally pass out within 20 minutes of being in the little cocoon he’s made for you, he smiles softly at his success and falls asleep with you.

• Refers to you guys as being married VERY often. Loves watching you get flustered over it. He does it even when you aren’t around though. Gets side eyes from his teammates when he does it in interviews, smirking to himself and wishing he could see your rosey red cheeks as you watch him say it on the TV back at home.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

(Ngl these are kinda just silly and for fun)

ᰔᩚ Michael Kaiser

• When Kaiser goes to take your hand in his sometimes he does a little bow, throwing his arm over his stomach as he bows his head in front of you, his other hand reaching out for you to grab. And of course he has to plant a kiss to your knuckles before continuing your walk with a smirk on his face, “Why thank you for the honor, m’lady.”

ᰔᩚ Oliver Aiku

(Silly Oliver is my Roman Empire)

• When he’s absolutely positive that it’s just the two of you and there’s absolutely no one around, he will talk to you in the cutest silliest baby voice. “Baby, can we take a bath togeder pwease?” Need you to rwub my poor muscles, owchie they hurwt so bad :(“ it’s become a joke between you two but when you laugh him off he sticks to the bit, “why are you waughing at meeee? you so mean. Pwetty pwease?”

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Please give me more requests for headcanons I had so much fun with this !!

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[tuiccim]

We're Gonna Burn (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen, Non/DubCon (because sex pollen), enemies to lovers.

Summary: When an exposure to a strange powder makes you feel as if you're burning to death, your only relief is in the person you hate the most. Now, dealing with the aftermath makes you question everything.

We're Gonna Burn Masterlist

Knocking on his door a short time later, you felt the fear and panic rise from your stomach to take a stranglehold on your throat. Dipping into the tenacity that had made you into a badass, you straighten your spine and wait, staring ahead with purpose. You felt it wobble for just a second when the door opened but you breathed in deeply and met his gaze directly. Your insides quelled but your mask never fell.

“Hi,” Bucky says softly, almost timidly.

“May I come in?” Your voice sounds harsh to your own ears, but it was necessary to keep it from trembling.

“Yeah, of course,” He steps back to allow you entry and you notice that he is giving you a wide berth. Even once you had turned back to him as he closed the door, he moved to ensure you could get to it without issue. As if he wanted to ensure you didn’t feel trapped. “So, uh, I think I owe-”

“Thank you,” you blurt, cutting him off.

“Wha, uh, what?”

If your nerves weren’t shot you probably would have smiled at the confused expression on his face. “Thank you for how you wrote your report. I appreciate that you were… discreet.”

Bucky just nodded, looking at you askew.

“I was as well. Not that you needed to know that,” you cross your arms to help hold yourself together.

“I read yours,” he says.

You give a curt nod. “Who else have you told?” You feel almost mean asking the question when he looks back at you with such sad eyes but you had to know.

“The doctor, my therapist, and Alpine,” Bucky says.

“Who’s Alpine?” You narrow your eyes.

“My cat,” his lips quirked the tiniest bit.

For some reason, the humor of it puts you a little more at ease. “You have a cat?”

As if knowing she was the subject of conversation, a fluffy white cat with big blue eyes rounds the corner letting out a small meow. She rubs against Bucky’s leg and then decides to study you. You crouch down as she approaches but don’t reach for her. You let her come to you, keeping your hands in plain sight with your forearms resting on your thighs. She sniffs at you, rubs her furry head against your hand and then puts a paw on your thigh to stretch closer to your face. Your eyes flick up to Bucky to see his surprised expression but you return them to Alpine quickly. Giving her a slow blink to show you mean her no harm, she moves her head up to rub against your chin and, following her lead you bring your forehead down to give her a head boop. She meows happily, jumps on the couch and gives you an expectant look while making circles.

“She wants you to sit with her,” Bucky’s voice breaks you out of the trance this little interlude had put you in.

“Oh,” you move to sit beside the white cat and she immediately makes camp on your lap. You stroke her soft fur, a small smile curving your lips.

“Uh, can I?” Bucky gestures to the opposite end of the couch.

“It’s your couch,” you say nervously.

“Alpine doesn’t often take to people like that,” Bucky says as he sits.

“Really?”

“She’s usually pretty standoffish. Kind of like you,” Bucky shrugs.

Your brow furrows at the comment but you decide to let it go. The last thing you wanted right now was to turn the conversation contentious. You worked your lips trying to form your next question but he spoke quickly.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he looks away.

“It’s fine.” You look down at the cat happily purring in your lap and then look up at him, “Are you… all healed up?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that but, yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good. And before you have to ask, yes, I’m healed. Physically,” you whisper the last word but can tell he heard it.

“I’m sorry for what happened. What I did, to you.”

“We did it to each other. It wasn’t your fault. Unless you knew it could happen. You didn’t know that was where they conducted those experiments, did you?” You felt wrong for asking but needed the reassurance.

“No! No, I would never have taken the mission if I did. I would have insisted they send a biohazard team. I may be a jerk but I wouldn’t wish that stuff on my worst enemy.”

“As your worst enemy, that’s good to know,” you try to lighten the moment.

“You aren’t my worst enemy. You’re my teammate,” Bucky says, incredulously.

“Coulda fooled me. You’ve hated me since I got here,” you scoff.

“Because I knew you were sent to observe me. I knew as soon as you got here that you were meant to watch over me. I’m still a threat as far as they’re concerned.”

“You arrogant son of a bitch!” You’re seething with the realization of the source of his disdain, “I was sent here to round out the team. My placement had nothing to do with keeping tabs on you. No wonder you question my every move. I can’t possibly be good at this job since the only reason I exist on this planet is to check up on Bucky fucking Barnes. Well, fuck that, Barnes, I’m damn good at my job and have skills that the team needs. Not that you ever cared to notice the value of my input!”

Bucky seemed taken aback by your reaction but still narrowed his eyes as he asked, “Why else would they send someone with a background in psychology?”

“I don’t know. What possible advantage could psychological insight have when dealing in espionage or motive?” You stare him down, your jaw steely and eyes filled with umbrage.

And he floundered as you did. His mouth worked several times as if trying to form some rebuttal but in the end his eyes met yours with clear defeat in them. “Exactly,” you sign his epitaph. “Look, you can believe whatever you want but that-”

“I believe you,” Bucky says.

You look him over, trying to determine his sincerity. It was then that your background in psychology kicks in somewhere in the back of your brain. He has a huge chip on his shoulder. A constant reminder that most people will always see him as a murderous ghost assassin rather than the tortured war hero that he is. He probably never trusts anyone’s motives until they’ve proven themselves. You were no different and knowing how the system works you can’t blame him for fearing that any new face was just meant to keep tabs on him. After all, even knowing he is free from the grasp of Hydra, the Dora Milaje still keeps tabs on him. When you can’t trust your own mind, how can you trust new faces that appear?

“Do you think that we can move past all of this?” You ask. The question seems to catch him off guard and so you elaborate to give him time, repeating what you had told Dr. Montesi. “Look, I want to be part of a team that has mutual respect for each other. If you can never give me that respect, if you can’t move past your prejudices or what happened in that cabin to see me as an asset, I don't want to work with you. I'm not asking to be friends, just co-workers, teammates, whatever you want to call it. Preferably ones who can talk without all the biting commentary.”

“Are you afraid of me?” Bucky asks quietly.

You’re taken aback by the question but answer quickly, “No.”

“Were you when we were in that cabin?” He asks, not quite meeting your eyes.

“No,” you search your brain as to why he would ask that question. “I wasn’t afraid of you. I was scared about what was happening, the lack of control, the fear of burning to death. I wasn’t scared of you physically. Mentally, I was terrified that you would tell everyone. That you would lord it over me that you had… gotten me in bed. That you would make me a laughingstock. It’s no small feat to make it to where I am as a woman but it can all be taken away just as quickly when people lose the respect you’ve earned. When they start seeing you as an object rather than a person.”

“You really thought I would do that?” Bucky asks.

“You hate me. You have since I got here and what better way to take me down a few pegs and prove that I don’t belong here? What a way to bring me to heel and force me out, right? Yes, I thought it was a possibility.” You admit everything and watch the hurt and emotions that cross his face.

“And now? Do you still think I would do that?”

“Honestly, no. For one thing, you haven’t done it. And when I read your report,it was as succinct as possible while also shining me in a good light, I realized you maybe weren’t that kind of person. Then, I-” you cut yourself off, not wanting to reveal too much.

“You?” Bucky pushes.

“I read your other reports for missions we had been on together. You keep it short but you also always mention others' contributions to the outcome, mine included. Reading them, I thought that, maybe, at some point you had started to see me as an asset. That somewhere in all of the times we worked together you had built some grudging respect for me. And if that was the case, somewhere under the asshat facade you wear, there’s a good man I haven't gotten to meet yet.”

“When you first got here, you were too friendly and I put up all my defenses. You… scared me,” Bucky admits quietly.

You nod, grasping exactly what he means. To him, you had seemed like someone with an agenda, trying to get under his skin. You decide to match his vulnerability, “I was interested in your story. I wanted to get to know the Howling Commando who was the first to fall and the last still fighting. You’re kind of a living legend.”

“So, you’re a fangirl?” He smirks.

“Uh, how very dare you. No,” you can’t help the little scoffing laugh that escapes. “More like a history buff.”

“Okay, I’ll go with that.”

You smile at each other, a feeling of comradery flowing between the two of you for the first time. But, still, you need reassurance and the question had to be asked, “So, does this mean you think that we can move past all of this and keep working together?”

“I’d like to. You?” He looks at you hopefully.

“Yeah,” you smile.

“Good. That’s good,” he nods.

“Yeah. Okay, I should get going,” you look down to the cat napping in your lap. “Sorry, Alpine. Time for me to get out of here.” The cat looks up at you as you gently place her on the floor. She stretches and then looks at Bucky, letting out a loud meow before walking away.

“She’s letting me know it’s time for food,” Bucky chuckles.

“I see who’s the boss around here,” you laugh.

“Oh, 100% her,” Bucky smiles as he stands.

You were almost to the door when Bucky said your name. You turn back to him in surprise and listen as he says, “Thanks for this. For talking.”

“Yeah, of course,” you turn away again but your mind is screaming because he had used your first name. Part of you wanted to let it go, to not ask about the one thing that bothered you most about what happened. To let sleeping dogs lie and keep the new peace that had been formed between you. But you know yourself, it will haunt you and working up the courage to bring it up later would likely never happen. It felt like once the door closed behind you when you left, you may never be able to get back to the one question that you needed answered. You whirl back around, “Wait. There’s one more thing. A question I have to ask.”

“Anything. What is it?” Bucky asks nervously.

If his stomach felt anything like yours, it’s in knots with fear that all the progress that had just been made would crumble to dust once the question was asked. You watch yourself twist your hands as the words tumbled out, “When we were…at the cabin, there was this one thing that, the, uh, you, at one point you, there was, you,” frustrated with yourself you blurt out the question, “Why did you make me say your name?”

You meet his eyes, yours filled with curiosity and just a touch of accusation and his tinged with fear and… sadness? You couldn’t quite read him.

“Ah, that. I, um, everything was so beyond our control. It felt like-, we were forced into this situation. And we didn’t have a choice in what we were doing but it was…”

“A small semblance of control?” You provide.

“Yeah, but more than that. I didn’t have any control over myself as the Winter Soldier. I was always the asset or Soldat. When we were in that cabin, Hydra had control of me again and the only way I could ground myself, to remind myself I wasn’t Soldat again was that,” Bucky looks into your eyes, “I was with you. I wasn’t alone and I wanted, I- I needed to hear my name. To be reminded that I was still Bucky even if Hydra did have control of my body, my mind was still my own. That Bucky meant something to me and it wasn’t lost again. So, I made you say it. I’m sorry. I know it was me taking away more control from you but I,” he stopped, looking away. His eyes were rimmed red and his demeanor screamed the feeling of shame overtaking him.

“It’s okay.” It took a few seconds for you to form the response you felt would give you both the closure you needed. You had rarely touched another person since the incident. Touch was overstimulating and occasionally triggering to you, but leaving that behind, you reach out and cup his cheek, “I understand. It wasn’t about me and that’s what I needed to know. It’s okay… Bucky.”

He covered your hand with his own, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch, “Can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive-”

He interrupted, seemingly unsatisfied with your denial, “I tried so hard not to take any more advantage of the situation than was necessary. I didn’t try to kiss you or force you to look at me. I just needed-”

“Bucky,” you waited until he looked at you, “I forgive you.” You nod and whisper again, “I forgive you.”

He stares at you in awe for a few moments. He reached to caress your cheek in the same way you held his. You mouth, “It’s okay” again to reassure him. You stay frozen like that for a few moments just staring into each other. You feel something shift inside of you and track when his glance slips to your lips and then back up again. Instinctively, you do the same but suddenly fear grips you. Panic begins to roll up from your stomach and your skin suddenly feels like it's being scorched by the heat of his hand on your face.

“MROW!” The loud yowl from Alpine pulls you both back to reality and you separate quickly. The cat was obviously impatient about her delayed dinner.

You let out a breathy laugh, “I’ll let you get to her dinner.”

“Uh, yeah. Dinner, right,” Bucky says. He watches your quick retreat but before you close the door he calls out, “Have a good night… doll.”

“You, too… Bucky.”

Part 4

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series will be made on Sundays Central Time Zone. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

[myokk]

I tried my hardest but I feel like I was defeated somehow😆😆😆

I was really busy but I would give boops while I was cooking until my app crashed and restart & move on to the next person…

This was fun though, I hope you all had a good Halloween if you celebrate!! & I’ll get to the other trick or treat asks/respond to everyone tomorrow🫶🫶🫶 I didn’t get any treats bc I forgot to send asks🥲😆 but I love drawing your babies it’s been too long!!!

ok so I wasn't around for the last time there were boops so I don't really understand it but I'M GETTING THEM TO THIS BLOG!!!! somehow...but when I send them who do they come from...

(ps I am also @oerflink bahahahahahahahahahahahah all of my likes/follows come from there which is why I don't know if these things are the same...)

[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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