#but this has just been hanging around in my head for hours now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rainforestakiie · 2 days ago

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hello!

this is a short AU! expect part 02 in a few hours! i have mostly gotten it fully written, i am just playing around with it a little. the idea behind this has been on my mind for a while now!

Frozen Out

Part 01 - Part 02

Everyone has a breaking point…

It just took Adam centuries to reach his.

In the dawn of creation, Eden pulsed with an ethereal beauty, a masterpiece painted by divine hands. Each blade of grass shimmered like emeralds kissed by sunlight, and the golden apples hanging from the Tree of Knowledge swayed lazily, their surfaces glinting with the secrets of the universe. The air itself carried the scent of blooming flowers, crisp water, and a whisper of something ancient, something eternal. It was paradise, perfect in every way. And yet, Adam was lonely.

Adam lay beneath the sprawling shade of the tree, his gaze fixed on the heavens. He traced the shifting clouds with his eyes, hoping one of them might shape itself into the figure he longed to see. His heart fluttered at the thought. Lucifer. His guardian Archangel, the one who had brought him into this garden and promised to watch over him. His protector, his light, his... everything.

Lucifer often visited Eden, descending from the heavens with the brilliance of a falling star. His presence filled the garden with an otherworldly glow, as though Eden itself bent to welcome him. To Adam, Lucifer was more than just a guardian; he was the embodiment of perfection—graceful, radiant, and untouchable. Adam adored him, though he could never find the courage to say so.

"Adam," Lucifer’s voice was soft yet commanding, like the first notes of a hymn. "Have you been well?"

Adam always nodded eagerly, stumbling over his words in his haste to please. He would recount his days, describing how he had explored the rivers, befriended the animals, or marveled at the endless beauty of Eden. And Lucifer would smile, a faint, fleeting curve of his lips that made Adam's chest tighten with something he could not name.

But those moments were rare. More often than not, Lucifer would leave, his duties in the heavens calling him away. "I must go," he would say, his hand brushing lightly against Adam's hair, a touch so brief it left Adam aching for more. "But I’ll return soon."

Adam clung to those words, even as he watched Lucifer's wings unfurl in a cascade of light, carrying him beyond the clouds. Each time, the garden felt a little dimmer, a little emptier. Adam would return to the apple tree, his only companion in Lucifer’s absence.

Now, as he lay beneath its branches, Adam reached out a hand toward the golden fruit, though he did not pluck it. His fingertips grazed the air just beneath the apple's smooth surface, as though by reaching for it, he could somehow grasp the knowledge Lucifer carried—the wisdom, the grace, the infinite love Adam longed to share.

He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the sun seep into his skin. In his mind, he imagined a world where Lucifer stayed. Where they could walk together through the garden, laughing, talking, simply being. A world where Lucifer saw him not as a charge to protect, not as a creature to guide, but as an equal, as someone worthy of his love.

But reality was far less kind. Lucifer’s affection, while sweet and gentle, was distant. He patted Adam's head like one might a faithful dog, praised his obedience, and marveled at his innocence. To Adam, it felt like being both seen and unseen, loved yet overlooked.

"Do you think about me when you’re gone?" Adam whispered to the empty garden. His voice was swallowed by the rustle of leaves, a question cast into the void.

He imagined Lucifer in the heavens, surrounded by celestial choirs and the splendor of God’s light. Did he ever think of Eden? Of the one who waited for him beneath the golden tree? Or was Adam just another part of the garden—beautiful, yes, but ultimately forgettable?

Tears pricked the corners of Adam's eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Crying would solve nothing. Instead, he curled into himself, resting his cheek against the soft grass. "I’ll wait," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I’ll always wait."

Time passed. The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Still, Adam waited. His heart ached with the weight of unspoken words, of feelings too vast to contain. He longed to tell Lucifer, to say, “I love you.” But how could he? Love was a gift, and what did he have to offer an Archangel who already had everything?

The sound of wings broke the silence. Adam’s heart leapt, his breath hitching as he sat up. There, descending from the heavens, was Lucifer. His light bathed the garden in gold, and Adam’s chest filled with a bittersweet joy.

Lucifer landed gracefully, his expression calm and unreadable. "Adam," he said, his voice like the soft hum of a lullaby.

Adam’s smile was bright, though his eyes betrayed his longing. "You came back."

"Of course," Lucifer replied, his hand resting briefly on Adam’s shoulder. "I always do."

But even as they spoke, Adam could feel the distance between them—a chasm carved by divinity and duty, by the unbridgeable divide between mortal and celestial. He wanted to hold on to Lucifer, to beg him to stay. But he knew that love, if it was real, could not be chained.

So, Adam smiled, even as his heart broke. Because even if Lucifer could never love him in the way he wished, he would take what he could get. A touch, a word, a fleeting moment.

And as Lucifer left once more, Adam returned to his place beneath the tree, his silent companion. He gazed at the stars, wondering if somewhere beyond them, Lucifer was looking back.

But he knew the truth. Lucifer belonged to the heavens, and Adam… Adam belonged to Eden. And though his heart yearned, his love would remain unspoken—a quiet, eternal flame burning in the depths of his soul.

If only it was that easy…

Pain. Heart break. Horror. Only followed…

~#~

The first thing Adam felt was light. Not the harsh glare of the sun that he’d toiled under on Earth, nor the pale glow of the moon that had witnessed his quiet prayers at night. This was different. It was warm and all-encompassing, wrapping around him like a soft embrace. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Adam was no longer cold.

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the brilliance of Heaven. The sky was not a single hue but a shifting cascade of colours—gold melting into silver, blue blooming into shades of pearl. The ground beneath him was soft, like the petals of a flower, and the air smelled of something faintly sweet, something he could only describe as home.

But his body—oh, his body ached. Soreness clung to his limbs like a shroud, and he winced as he shifted. His hands, calloused and cracked from years of toil, trembled in front of him. Scars crisscrossed his skin, pale reminders of the battles he had fought against the earth itself—ploughing rocky fields, hauling water across barren lands, building shelters to keep his family safe.

His family.

The thought of them made his chest tighten. Eve. His children. Every wound, every bruise, every moment of exhaustion had been for them. He had pushed himself to his limits and beyond to keep them fed, to shield them from the unforgiving world they had been cast into. And all of it—all of it—because of a single bite of forbidden fruit.

The weight of that mistake had pressed down on him every day since they left Eden. Adam had carried it without complaint, without faltering, because someone had to. Someone had to bear the burden. And now... now he was here.

He barely had time to process where “here” was before he saw her.

A figure stood before him, radiant and awe-inspiring. Her six wings shimmered like molten gold, each feather catching the light and scattering it in a thousand directions. Her face was soft yet commanding, her presence both overwhelming and soothing. She was beautiful, yes, but more than that—she was holy, a being of divine grace.

“Adam,” she said, her voice melodic and laced with something tender, something almost like sorrow.

The sound of his name on her lips was his undoing.

Adam crumpled to his knees, a broken sob tearing from his throat. His shoulders shook as tears streamed down his face, hot and relentless, as if the floodgates of his soul had been thrown open. He wept for everything he had lost, for everything he had endured. For Eden, for his family, for the weight of years spent trying to atone for something he could never undo.

Sera—he didn’t know how he knew her name, but he did—was startled for a moment, her serene expression flickering with surprise. But then she moved toward him, closing the distance in a heartbeat. She knelt beside him, her wings folding around them both like a cocoon, shielding him from everything but her presence.

“It’s alright,” she murmured, her voice gentle as she pulled him into her arms. “It’s alright, Adam. You’re safe now.”

Adam clung to her like a child, his tears soaking into the fabric of her robes. “I tried,” he choked out, his voice raw. “I tried so hard. I did everything I could. But it was never enough. I—I lost Eden. I lost everything.”

Sera’s arms tightened around him, and she rested her cheek against his hair.

“Hush, my child,” she whispered. “You did more than enough. You gave all of yourself, and Heaven has seen your sacrifice. You are not lost. You are home.”

At her words, something stirred within him—a warmth, a light, something long buried beneath years of pain and struggle. It began as a flicker, a faint glow in his chest, but it quickly grew, spreading through his body like wildfire. Adam gasped as he felt it surge outward, his back arching as the sensation intensified.

And then it happened.

With a sound like thunder, golden wings erupted from his back. They unfurled in a blaze of light, each feather shimmering with an otherworldly brilliance. The pain of their emergence was sharp but fleeting, replaced almost instantly by a sense of overwhelming freedom. Adam let out a cry—not of anguish, but of release—as the wings stretched wide behind him, catching the light of Heaven and casting it in every direction.

Sera pulled back, her hands covering her mouth as she gazed at him in awe.

“Adam…” she breathed, her voice trembling. “Your wings. They’re… they’re glorious.”

Adam looked over his shoulder, his breath hitching as he took in the sight of them. They were unlike anything he had ever imagined, a reflection of the strength and resilience he had forged on Earth. For a moment, he was speechless, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of what he had become.

Sera reached out, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “You have done all that was asked of you,” she said softly.

“You bore the weight of your family’s survival, of your own exile, with grace and humility. And now, Adam, it is time for you to rest. You have earned your place in Heaven.”

Adam’s eyes filled with tears once more, but this time they were tears of relief. The crushing weight he had carried for so long was gone, lifted by her words and the gentle light of his new wings. He looked at Sera, his voice trembling as he asked, “Will it truly be better now?”

She smiled, a motherly warmth radiating from her. “Yes, my dear one. You are home, and you are loved. The darkness is behind you now.”

For the first time since Eden, Adam believed her. He closed his eyes, letting the light of Heaven wash over him, and for the first time in a long, long time, he allowed himself to hope.

Adam worked. He worked until his hands trembled and his wings ached. Heaven’s orders were absolute, its demands endless, and Adam gave everything he had. He gave and gave, offering up every ounce of his strength and will because that was what Sera wanted. That was what Heaven needed. And if he could not make others love him, if he could not bring back what was lost, then at least he could be useful.

“Adam,” Sera would say, her voice laced with that motherly warmth he craved so deeply. “You’re doing so well. Keep going. You’re Heaven’s pride.”

Those words should have comforted him, but instead, they weighed on him like chains. He nodded each time, his golden eyes bright with the fervour of someone desperate for approval.

"Yes, Sera," he’d say, forcing a smile. "I’ll do better. I’ll be everything Heaven needs me to be."

But inside, Adam was crumbling.

More souls arrived every day, their faces filled with awe and wonder, and Adam was there to guide them. He was there to smile, to reassure, to lift them up. His wings, once radiant and proud, sagged under the burden of expectation. The weight of his endless labour, of his duty to Heaven, was crushing him. But Adam refused to falter.

He had no one else.

Lucifer had shattered his heart and left him behind, stealing Eden—the only place where Adam had ever felt whole. Eve had betrayed his trust, her bite of the forbidden fruit unravelling the world he had tried so hard to keep perfect. And Lilith, the woman who had once stood beside him as an equal, had lied to his face, leaving him with nothing but bitterness.

No one had stayed. No one except Sera.

She was his guiding light, his only anchor in the vast expanse of Heaven. He clung to her approval like a lifeline, pouring his entire existence into pleasing her. Even as his wings burned with exhaustion, even as his body screamed for rest, Adam persevered. He would prove himself. He would be the golden boy Sera believed him to be.

But it was breaking him.

~#~

One day, after what felt like an eternity of serving, Adam found himself alone. He sat on the edge of a cloudy hedge, his golden wings sagging behind him. The feathers, once lustrous, were dull and trembling from the strain of holding themselves up for too long. They finally collapsed, spilling over the clouds like a crumpled halo. His chest rose and fell with laboured breaths, and his hands trembled as he rested them on his knees.

His mind, unrelenting and cruel, drifted back to Eden. His Eden. His home.

Adam swallowed hard, the memory of Eden gnawing at him like an old wound. The garden had been a paradise—lush, green, and perfect. A place where every moment felt eternal, where the air itself had been sweet with the promise of peace. But Lucifer had taken it from him.

Why? Adam had never understood.

"Why did you do it?" he whispered to no one, his voice breaking.

His golden eyes, now dulled with exhaustion, stared into the endless expanse of Heaven. His eyelids grew heavy, the dark circles beneath them deepening like shadows carved into his skin.

He missed Eden so much it hurt. The earth had been nothing like it. Earth was cruel, unforgiving, tearing at him with jagged claws. It had stripped him of everything—his comfort, his innocence, his sense of belonging. Even now, surrounded by the splendour of Heaven, Adam felt the ache of loss. Eden was the only place he had ever felt truly alive.

Tears pricked at his eyes, but he was too tired to cry. Instead, he rested his head in his hands, letting his thoughts swirl in an endless storm of longing and regret.

And then, it happened.

A faint warmth bloomed between his fingers, pulling Adam from his haze of despair. He lifted his head, blinking in surprise, as he felt something soft and delicate pressing against his palms. Slowly, hesitantly, he opened his hands.

There, growing from his touch, was a flower.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at it, his heart pounding in disbelief. It was a flower he hadn’t seen since Eden—a small, radiant bloom with petals that shimmered faintly in the light. His fingers trembled as he jerked back, startled, but the flower remained, swaying gently as though cradled by an invisible breeze.

For a long moment, Adam just stared. Memories of Eden surged through him, raw and bittersweet, as he reached out again. His fingers brushed the petals, and a gasp escaped his lips. The flower grew brighter, its stems stronger, its colours deeper. Two more blooms sprouted beside it, unfurling in delicate perfection.

Adam’s golden eyes widened. His heart thudded painfully in his chest as he looked down at his hands. The realization came slowly, almost too heavy to bear.

This was him.

With shaking hands, Adam pressed his palms against the clouds beneath him. He closed his eyes, his thoughts a swirling tide of Eden—its beauty, its peace, its promise of love. The ache in his chest grew sharper, but he pushed through it, pouring everything he had into the memories.

When he opened his eyes, he let out a sharp breath.

Nature had begun to grow around him. Flowers, vines, and lush green grass spilled from his hands, spreading across the clouds in a radiant bloom. The air filled with the scent of Eden, that sweet, familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for centuries.

Adam’s breath hitched as he stared at the life flourishing beneath his touch. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, something inside him stirred—a flicker of hope, of purpose. This was new. This was powerful.

But even as he marvelled at the beauty he had created, a shadow lingered in his heart. He thought of Sera, of Heaven’s expectations, of the endless giving that had nearly destroyed him. Would this new power be a gift? Or would it be yet another burden to bear?

Adam clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. It didn’t matter. He would give everything—his strength, his heart, his very soul—if it meant he could finally belong. Even if it destroyed him.

Because that was all he had ever known how to do.

~#~

Adam had done everything. He had bent himself to the will of Heaven, poured every drop of his strength into its gardens, and sacrificed his own dreams for the sake of their commands. When they asked for beauty, he gave them flowers. When they demanded glory, he painted the skies with life. Adam had filled Heaven with blossoms, vines, and trees, his power bringing Eden to every corner of paradise.

Yet now, they turned their backs on him.

Why?

Why were they betraying him? Why were they leaving him to rot in his failure, to suffer in his disgrace? His mind reeled with questions, but no answers came. The betrayal burned through him like wildfire, threatening to consume the fragile remnants of his faith.

The memory of Lucifer’s cruel laughter rang in his ears.

It hadn’t started this way. Once, there had been Eden. Once, there had been the quiet, sun-dappled days beneath the apple tree, where Lucifer’s presence was warm and protective. Or so Adam thought. But the Eden he had clung to, the Eden he still mourned, had been torn away. Lucifer had ripped it from him, and Adam couldn’t even understand why.

But understanding hardly mattered now.

What mattered was the humiliation.

Lucifer had dragged him through the mud—literally. The archangel’s blows were unrelenting, knocking Adam to his knees before all of Heaven. Every strike, every mocking word, every sneer had landed like a blade, cutting deeper into his soul than any physical wound. And then, when Adam was at his weakest, humiliated and broken, the final insult came—a one-eyed sinner who caught him off guard, a dagger slicing through his side.

The pain was excruciating.

Adam remembered falling, his wings folding like broken glass behind him as light bled from his eyes. The agony of his death was unbearable, but the agony of being abandoned was worse.

No one came for him.

No divine hand reached down to save him from the darkness. The heavens left him to rot in Hell.

When Adam awoke, he was something else. Something unholy. His golden wings remained, though they were battered and dull, and his eyes still shimmered faintly with the light of Heaven. But his halo was gone, replaced by horns that twisted above his head. Adam stared at his reflection in the jagged surface of a Hellish pool, his chest tightening with despair.

He was a sinner now.

He was nothing.

The voice that broke the silence was sharp, mocking, and familiar.

“Well, well, well,” Lucifer purred, his crimson gaze glinting with amusement. “Look who’s come crawling back from the grave. Fallen from grace, haven’t we?”

He stepped closer, his smirk cutting like a blade. “How the mighty have fallen. Tell me, Adam—how does it feel to be one of us?”

Adam said nothing, his jaw tightening as he lowered his gaze.

“Oh, don’t look so pathetic,” Lucifer continued, his laughter echoing like thunder. “You didn’t honestly think Heaven would take you back, did you? You’re a sinner now, Adam. You don’t belong to them anymore. You’re mine.”

The words hit like a hammer, but Adam refused to react. He kept his head down, swallowing the bitterness that clawed at his throat.

Lucifer tilted his head, his expression shifting from amusement to feigned pity. “Oh, come now. Don’t tell me you’re still holding out hope. That’s adorable.”

His grin widened, sharp and cruel. “But let me save you some time, pet. Sera doesn’t want you. She never did. You were just a tool, a pretty little puppet to do her bidding. And now?” He laughed, the sound dripping with venom. “Now you’re nothing but trash.”

Adam’s chest tightened, his mind flickering back to Eden despite himself. He remembered the way Lucifer used to smile at him, the warmth in his voice, the rare moments of kindness that had felt like sunlight. Or had they? Had Lucifer ever truly been kind? Or had Adam been a fool all along, misreading the disdain in those crimson eyes as something more?

Lucifer leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You were always just a pet, Adam. A pretty, obedient little thing.”

The realization struck Adam like a physical blow. He had looked up to Lucifer, adored him, loved him with a desperate, one-sided passion. But now, the truth was undeniable. He had been nothing to Lucifer. Nothing but a dog on a leash.

Lucifer’s laughter broke through his thoughts, loud and biting. “Don’t worry,” he sneered, stepping back and gesturing toward the red building at the centre of Pentagram City. “I’ll take you to the Emberley—our charming little meeting point between Heaven and Hell. After that, though, you’re on your own. Sera won’t let a sinner like you back in. You’re done.”

Adam said nothing. He followed Lucifer in silence, his wings dragging behind him, the weight of humiliation and heartbreak pressing down on his shoulders. The streets of Pentagram City were filled with jeering sinners, their sneers and laughter cutting into him like shards of glass. But Adam barely noticed. He was too numb to care.

Lucifer glanced back at him, a cruel smile curling his lips. “You’ve really let yourself go, haven’t you? No wonder you couldn’t keep a wife. Not that I blame her.”

The words were meant to hurt, but Adam didn’t flinch. He kept his gaze fixed on the Emberley’s doors, the only thing that stood between him and whatever awaited inside.

Lucifer followed his gaze, his smirk widening. “Good luck in there,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’ll need it. And just so you know—when you come out, you better get running. No one here is going to be kind enough to give you a head start.” He laughed harshly, the sound grating against Adam’s ears.

Adam’s hand trembled as he reached for the door.

Before he could open it, Lucifer’s clawed hand clamped down on his forearm, the searing heat of his touch making Adam wince. Lucifer leaned in close, his sharp-toothed grin gleaming in the dim light.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he purred, his voice low and taunting. “If you want to save your pathetic little life, if you really want my help…”

He paused, savouring the moment. “I’ll give it to you. In exchange for your soul, of course.”

Adam’s breath hitched, but he said nothing. He stared at Lucifer, his face unreadable, as the archangel chuckled darkly.

“Think about it,” Lucifer said, stepping back and gesturing toward the door. “Go on, pet. Your destiny awaits.”

Without another word, Adam turned the handle and stepped inside, his heart heavy with despair. Behind him, Lucifer’s laughter echoed like a cruel song, the sound following him into the darkness.

Adam’s steps faltered as the doors to the Emberley closed behind him, sealing him into the dim, suffocating space that seemed to hover on the edge of worlds. A strange, otherworldly hum filled the air, pressing against his skin like static. The golden light he had once associated with Heaven was faint here, weak and struggling against the blood-red glow that seeped in from Hell.

At the far end of the chamber stood Sera.

Adam’s breath caught at the sight of her. She was as radiant as ever, her six wings shimmering with divine brilliance. But there was no warmth in her presence now, no trace of the maternal kindness that had once cradled him in his darkest moments. Her expression was cold, her eyes piercing and unrelenting as they raked over him.

Adam felt his heart sink further, the weight of her gaze unbearable. He wanted to speak, to explain, but the words died in his throat. He didn’t know what to say.

Sera took a single step forward, the sound of her heel echoing sharply in the stillness. Her wings shifted behind her, their feathers gleaming like blades. When she spoke, her voice was sharp, devoid of the gentle cadence he had clung to in the past.

“Adam.”

The way she said his name made him flinch. It wasn’t the way she used to say it—soft and full of quiet pride. Now it was cold, distant, almost like an accusation.

“You’ve disgraced yourself,” she said, her tone cutting. “Look at you.”

Adam hesitated, his hands twitching at his sides. “I… I didn’t choose this,” he said softly, his voice trembling.

“No,” she snapped, her wings flaring slightly. “You chose to fail. You chose to fall.”

Her words struck like a whip, and Adam recoiled. He wanted to protest, to remind her of everything he had done for Heaven, everything he had sacrificed, but her gaze silenced him.

“You’re a sinner now,” Sera continued, her voice unyielding. “A creature of filth and corruption. Do you honestly think you can return to Heaven like this?”

“I… I didn’t mean to…” Adam stammered, his golden eyes filling with tears. “I tried, Sera. I did everything you asked. I gave everything I had—”

“And yet, it wasn’t enough,” she interrupted, her voice as sharp as glass.

“You failed. And now you wear the mark of your failure for all to see.” Her gaze flicked to the horns curling from his head, her lip curling in disgust.

Adam’s wings trembled, the once-glorious golden feathers sagging under the weight of her disdain. He felt the tears spill over, streaking his face as he fell to his knees before her.

“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “Please, Sera. I’ll do anything. Just… let me come back. Let me prove myself again. I’ll work harder, I’ll—”

“No.”

The single word cut through him like a blade.

“There is no place for you in Heaven,” Sera said coldly. “You have fallen, Adam. You are no longer one of us.”

Her words crushed him, the weight of them stealing the breath from his lungs. He stared up at her, his vision blurred by tears.

“You said… you said I was your son,” he whispered. “You said you loved me.”

Sera’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, her disdain deepened.

“I loved the Adam who was pure,” she said. “The Adam who obeyed. The Adam who belonged to Heaven. That Adam is gone.”

Adam’s chest heaved as a sob tore from him, raw and broken. He clutched at the hem of her glowing robe, desperate, pleading. “Please, Sera. I don’t have anyone else. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

She stepped back, pulling her robe from his grasp. “You made your choices, Adam. Now you must live with the consequences.”

Her words were final, her tone merciless.

Adam’s hands fell to his sides, trembling. He lowered his head, his tears dripping onto the cold, unyielding floor. The golden light that had once flickered in his chest felt dim now, as though it would extinguish entirely.

Sera turned away, her wings folding gracefully behind her.

“You will leave this place,” she said, her voice echoing through the chamber. “Do not return. You are no longer welcome.”

As she began to walk away, Adam reached out one last time, his voice barely a whisper. “Sera… please…”

She didn’t look back.

The sound of her footsteps faded, leaving Adam alone in the dim chamber. His sobs echoed around him, raw and desperate, but there was no one to hear them. No one to comfort him.

He was nothing now.

A sinner.

A failure.

As the last traces of Sera’s light vanished, Adam knelt in the darkness, his wings trembling and his heart shattered. The thought of Eden, of what he had lost, flickered weakly in his mind. But even that memory felt tainted now, distant and unreachable.

For the first time, Adam truly understood what it meant to be alone.

~#~

The door groaned as Adam pushed it open, stepping out into the suffocating, sulfureous air of Hell’s streets. The eerie red glow of the Emberley behind him cast long shadows on the cracked ground. For a fleeting moment, he dared to hope that maybe—just maybe—he could walk away unscathed. But then he saw them.

The sinners.

They were waiting.

Their twisted forms lurked in the shadows, their eyes gleaming with malice. Adam froze, his wings trembling behind him. He recognized some of them—souls he had been forced to slaughter in the name of Heaven, their faces twisted now with a hatred that seemed to pulse in the air around him.

“There he is,” one of them hissed, stepping forward with a jagged grin.

“The First Man,” another sneered. “Heaven’s golden boy turned to trash.”

Laughter erupted around him, sharp and cruel.

Adam stumbled back, his body already weary and broken, his golden wings sagging. The sinners closed in, their voices growing louder, more taunting.

“Pig.”

“Failure.”

“Couldn’t even keep a women.”

The words sliced through him, each one sharper than the last. Before he could react, one of them shoved him hard, and he fell to the ground with a grunt.

“Let’s see how much gold is left in those wings,” one snarled, grabbing a handful of his feathers and yanking.

Adam cried out as the sharp pain shot through him. They laughed louder, their hands tearing at his wings, ripping feathers out in clumps. The golden light that once shimmered in them dimmed as they shredded his dignity piece by piece.

"Look at him," one jeered. "The mighty Adam, grovelling in the dirt where he belongs."

Adam tried to stand, but they pushed him down again. His knees hit the ground, his body shaking. His mind screamed at him to run, to fight back, but he didn’t have the strength. He was too tired, too broken.

And then he saw him.

Lucifer.

The King of Hell lounged lazily against a jagged rock, his crimson eyes half-lidded as he watched the scene unfold. His smirk was slow and smug, a cruel twist of his lips that sent a chill through Adam’s battered frame.

Adam’s breath hitched. He knew what this was. Lucifer had told him, warned him, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it.

Lucifer was waiting.

Waiting for him to break.

“Help me,” Adam rasped, his voice weak, barely audible over the sinners’ taunts.

Lucifer’s smirk widened.

“Help you?” he drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. “Oh, Adam. Why would I do that?”

Adam flinched as another sinner kicked him in the ribs, sending him sprawling. He looked up at Lucifer, his golden eyes swimming with desperation.

“Please,” he whispered. “You said… you said you’d help me.”

Lucifer tilted his head, his grin turning sharp. “I said I’d help you in exchange for your soul. Did you think charity was one of my virtues?”

The sinners laughed, their jeers growing louder. Adam’s hands clenched into fists against the dirt, his chest heaving. He didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to give Lucifer the satisfaction.

But he couldn’t take this anymore.

“Say it,” Lucifer purred, his voice a low, mocking croon. “Beg me. Prove to me how low you’re willing to go, Adam.”

Adam’s lips trembled. His pride, what little was left of it, screamed at him to hold on, to fight. But his body—bruised, battered, humiliated—couldn’t endure it anymore.

He fell forward, his forehead pressing into the dirt as tears streamed down his face. His voice was barely a whisper, choked with despair.

“Please… Lucifer. I… I give you my soul.”

The sinners froze, their laughter dying in the air. A heavy, suffocating silence fell over them.

Lucifer’s eyes gleamed with triumph.

“Oh, Adam,” he murmured, his grin splitting wider. “Say it again. Louder this time.”

Adam’s shoulders shook as he forced the words out.

“I give you my soul,” he repeated, his voice breaking.

Lucifer’s laughter echoed through the space, cruel and victorious. He stepped forward, his black boots crunching against the dirt until he stood over Adam’s trembling form.

A golden collar materialized around Adam’s neck, glowing faintly before solidifying with an ominous snap. A heavy chain extended from it, leading up to Lucifer’s outstretched clawed hand.

Lucifer yanked the chain, forcing Adam to lift his head. The fallen man’s golden eyes were dull now, lifeless.

Lucifer’s grin was wicked as he pressed his boot onto the back of Adam’s head, shoving him back into the dirt. “I own you now,” he said, his voice laced with smug satisfaction.

He leaned down, his sharp teeth gleaming as he whispered into Adam’s ear. “You’re mine, body and soul. A dog on my leash. A pet.”

The chain rattled as Lucifer pulled it taut, laughing as Adam remained motionless beneath his boot.

“Welcome to Hell, Adam,” Lucifer said, his tone dripping with mockery. “You’ll find it quite… accommodating.”

And as his laughter echoed, Adam closed his eyes, the last remnants of his hope shattering like glass.

~#~

The mansion was deathly quiet. The kind of quiet that pressed down on Adam’s chest and made his breathing feel shallow, uneven. Lucifer had left hours ago, his departure marked by a cruelly cheery announcement of his plans to visit his “precious little darling.” His voice still echoed in Adam’s head, mocking and sharp.

“I’d bring you along,” Lucifer had said, his grin wide and wicked, “but I think we both remember how well that went last time. Wouldn’t want another little incident with dear Maggie, now would we?”

‘Vaggie’ he would have said…

Adam had flinched at the memory. The cold rage in her eyes. The sharpness of her blade as it sliced too close.

And now, he was alone again.

The grand halls of Lucifer’s mansion, with their dark, gothic splendor, swallowed him whole. It was too large, too empty, and too suffocating all at once. Adam sat curled in a corner of one of the vast, echoing rooms. He pulled his knees to his chest, his golden wings drooping behind him.

Except… they weren’t quite golden anymore.

The once radiant feathers had dulled, the sheen long gone. They looked almost… tarnished. Adam tried not to think about it. He tried not to think about the way his own reflection in the polished floors didn’t quite look like him anymore.

His trembling hands hovered over the cold, flat patch of marble in front of him. There was no soil, no dirt, but there had never been a need for that before. Once, he could summon life itself from nothingness. In Eden, his hands had been a force of creation. Flowers, trees, lush green growth—they bloomed effortlessly at his touch.

He closed his eyes and focused. He could still feel the memory of it, the warmth that used to radiate from his palms, the way the ground would respond to him as though it loved him.

Adam’s breath hitched as he poured all of himself into the attempt. His fingers trembled, his body aching, but he didn’t stop.

Nothing.

The marble was cold and lifeless beneath his hands.

“Come on,” he whispered, his voice shaking. His golden eyes, dimmed and hollow, filled with desperation as he tried again.

Nothing.

“Please,” he choked out, his hands pressing harder against the ground. His tears began to fall, splashing onto the marble, but he didn’t care.

Still nothing.

Adam’s breath came in shallow gasps as his composure cracked, his chest tightening with the weight of failure. His whole body shook as he tried one more time, pouring every ounce of energy, every last scrap of hope he had left into the act.

Nothing.

His hands fell limp to his sides, his head bowing as a sob tore through him. The sound echoed in the empty room, raw and broken.

“I can’t… I can’t even grow a daisy,” he whispered, his voice cracking as more tears streamed down his face.

His shoulders shook as he curled into himself, his sobs coming harder and louder. It was too much. All of it. The humiliation, the pain, the loss. He had given up everything—everything—and this was all that was left. He couldn’t even find comfort in the one thing that had always brought him peace.

As the despair consumed him, his tanned skin began to change. It grew ashen, a sickly grey spreading across his body. The glow of his once-golden eyes dimmed further, flickering like a dying flame. Even the tips of his fingers, the hands that had once brought Eden to life, began to bruise, the vibrant warmth of creation replaced by cold, lifeless decay.

Adam buried his face in his hands, his muffled cries filling the room. He was breaking. The cracks in his spirit, the ones Lucifer had so carefully cultivated, finally split him open.

And still, no one came.

~#~

The mansion was silent, uncaring. The world around him had abandoned him, just as Heaven had, just as everyone had. Adam was alone. Utterly and completely alone.

And as his sobs echoed into the emptiness, he wondered if this was all he was destined to be now: a hollow, broken remnant of the man he once was.

The sound of crashing doors shattered the suffocating silence of Lucifer’s mansion. Adam, curled up in his corner, startled at the noise. His ashen skin, bruised fingertips, and dim eyes reflected the exhaustion in his soul. But his head lifted weakly as he heard a voice—bright, insistent, and filled with conviction.

“Enough, Dad! Enough hiding him away like this!”

It was Charlie.

She stormed into the room, her golden hair ablaze with determination, her fiery resolve lighting up the otherwise cold, oppressive halls. Behind her, Vaggie followed, clearly displeased, her sharp gaze darting to Adam and then back to Charlie. Lucifer appeared moments later, his expression an infuriating blend of amusement and exasperation.

“Charlie, my darling,” Lucifer drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe. “To what do I owe this… dramatic intrusion?”

Charlie ignored him, her bright crimson eyes landing on Adam. Her heart broke at the sight of him—this hunched, trembling man who seemed to be shrinking under her gaze. He looked nothing like the figure she had imagined, nothing like the stories she’d heard of the first man.

“Adam deserves a second chance,” she said firmly, turning to face her father.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Oh, does he now? And what exactly makes you think he’s worth it, my sweet girl?”

“Because I can’t claim to believe in redemption for sinners if I can’t even help the one person who’s already given up everything!” Charlie’s voice cracked, but her resolve didn’t waver. “He’s suffering, Dad. You’re letting him rot here, and for what? To make a point? To punish him?”

Lucifer chuckled darkly. “Punishment builds character.”

“Enough!” she shouted, surprising even herself. “He’s coming to the hotel. I’ll take responsibility. I’ll help him.”

“Charlie, no,” Vaggie interjected, stepping in front of her. “This is a terrible idea. He’s not like the others. He doesn’t belong there.”

“Exactly!” Lucifer chimed in, his grin widening. “Listen to your girlfriend, my dear. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

But Charlie wouldn’t budge. “How can I ask the sinners of Hell to trust me, to believe in redemption, if I turn my back on someone who needs it the most? Someone who’s already lost everything?”

The argument stretched on, voices rising and emotions flaring. Adam sat silently through it all, his head bowed, his hands limp in his lap. He didn’t dare look up, didn’t dare hope.

Finally, with an exaggerated sigh, Lucifer threw his hands in the air. “Fine! Take him. But don’t come crying to me when this all blows up in your face.”

Vaggie glared at him but reluctantly grabbed Charlie’s arm, pulling her toward the door. “This is a mistake,” she muttered, her frustration palpable.

As they left, Lucifer’s jovial mask dropped. He crossed the room in a flash, his sharp claws digging into Adam’s arm as he hauled him to his feet.

“Listen closely,” Lucifer hissed, his voice low and venomous. “Charlotte sees something in you. Something good, apparently. She’s willing to give you a second chance. But if you screw this up, if you fail her, I will make your afterlife so much worse.”

Adam nodded mutely, his throat too tight to speak.

At first, Adam thought things might get better. Charlie greeted him warmly, trying her best to make him feel welcome. But the others weren’t so kind.

Husk, the bartender, sneered at him over the counter, his gravelly voice laced with disdain. “So, you’re the infamous Adam, huh? First man, biggest failure. Fitting.”

His words cut deep, wrapped in riddles that danced around outright cruelty but still hit their mark.

Angel Dust was worse, his jabs sharp and relentless. “What’s the matter, Goldilocks? Can’t hack it in Heaven, can’t hack it in Hell? Guess you’re just useless everywhere.” He laughed, his high-pitched cackle echoing in Adam’s ears.

Niffty, with her manic energy, would chase him through the halls with a knife, giggling as though it were all a game. “Come on, Mr. Perfect! Let’s see if you bleed gold!”

Cherri Bomb acted like the mean girl Adam had never encountered but somehow felt all too familiar. She whispered behind his back, her laughter ringing out with Angel Dust’s as she made snide comments.

And then there was Alastor, the Radio Demon. He didn’t need to say much; his presence alone was oppressive. But when he did speak, his words were cruelly calculated to strip Adam of what little dignity he had left.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” he’d say, his grin sharp and sinister. “You’re a relic, a failure. A hollow shell of what you once were.”

Even Vaggie couldn’t hide her disdain, her glares cutting through him like knives.

Adam tried to find solace in the quiet moments, tried to use his ability to grow things. But no matter how hard he focused, nothing came. The dark bruises on his fingers spread further up his hands with each failed attempt. His once-bright golden wings grew duller, the light in his eyes fading into a murky haze.

He was crumbling, piece by piece.

~#~

One evening, after watching Adam retreat to his room for the third time that day, Charlie pulled Lucifer aside.

“Dad, what’s wrong with him?” she asked, her voice tinged with worry.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you noticed?” she pressed. “He’s different. His skin, his wings, his eyes—they’re all fading. He’s… he’s breaking, Dad.”

Lucifer frowned, his smirk faltering. He hadn’t noticed. Not really. He thought back but couldn’t recall when the change had started.

“Do you think I did something to him?” he asked, half-joking but with a hint of genuine curiosity.

Charlie’s frustration boiled over. “Maybe you should stop tormenting him for five minutes and actually look at him! He’s barely holding on.”

Lucifer waved her off, but the seed of doubt had been planted.

Later that night, Charlie gathered everyone in the main lounge.

“This stops now,” she said firmly, her voice carrying an authority they rarely heard from her. “The bullying, the mocking—all of it. Adam deserves better.”

The room fell silent, the weight of her words sinking in. Adam, hiding in the shadows, didn’t dare hope that things might change. Not anymore.

The silence that followed Charlie’s declaration was thick and uneasy. For a brief moment, Adam thought perhaps the tide would turn, that the words of the princess of Hell might carry enough weight to protect him. But then came the pushback.

Angel Dust was the first to scoff, leaning back lazily on the couch, his legs draped over the armrest.

“Oh, come on, Charlie. You really wanna waste your time defending that?” He gestured toward Adam with a dramatic flourish. “Dude’s a total wet blanket. Can’t even take a joke.”

“Yeah,” Cherri Bomb chimed in, her tone dripping with derision. “It’s not our fault he’s such a buzzkill. He just… doesn’t belong here, Charlie. You’re trying to shove a square peg into a round hole.” She snickered, elbowing Angel, who laughed along with her.

Vaggie crossed her arms, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Charlie, you’re not seeing this clearly. He’s a liability. He doesn’t fit into this place, and he’s dragging everyone down. You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment again.”

Niffty piped up, her voice sickeningly sweet but her words laced with venom. “Maybe he’d be happier somewhere else, princess. Somewhere far away.”

She giggled, the sound sending a shiver down Adam’s spine.

Husk grumbled from behind the bar, not even bothering to look up. “Kid’s not cut out for Hell. Or Heaven, apparently. Maybe he should just… I dunno, disappear.”

His words stung, their nonchalant delivery only making them more painful.

Even Alastor, who usually revelled in chaos, seemed unimpressed. His ever-present grin widened, but his tone was icy.

“Charlie, my dear, you’re fighting a losing battle. Redemption is your dream, yes? But some souls are simply too far gone.” He glanced at Adam with thinly veiled disdain. “This one is... cracked beyond repair.”

Charlie’s face fell as her friends, one by one, dismissed her plea. Her gaze turned to Lucifer, her last hope for backup.

“Dad?” she asked, her voice soft but pleading. “A little help here?”

Lucifer, lounging lazily in the corner with a glass of wine in hand, shrugged helplessly, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“Sorry, darling, but you know how stubborn they can be. And, well…” He gestured vaguely toward Adam. “They’re not entirely wrong.”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed, her frustration bubbling over. She puffed out her chest, straightened her shoulders, and cleared her throat. When she spoke again, her voice carried the kind of authority that made the room fall silent.

“I don’t care what any of you think,” she began, her crimson eyes blazing with resolve. “Adam has been through Hell—literally—and he’s still standing. He’s still trying. Do you have any idea how hard that is? After everything he’s lost, everything he’s been through, he hasn’t given up. That’s more than I can say for most of you!”

The room bristled at her words, but Charlie pressed on. “Angel, you came here because you wanted more than to just be some toy for people to use and discard. Cherri, you came here because you wanted to prove you were more than just destruction. Husk, you’re here because you’re tired of drowning your pain in booze. Vaggie, you’re here because you believe in me, in what we’re trying to do. And Alastor…”

She hesitated but forced herself to look him in the eye. “Even you came here because a part of you wanted to see if redemption was possible.”

Her gaze swept the room, daring anyone to interrupt. “How can we call ourselves a place of second chances if we’re not willing to give him one? How can I stand here and say I believe in redemption if I turn my back on someone who needs it the most?”

The silence that followed was deafening. For a moment, it seemed like her words might have reached them. But then Vaggie shook her head, her expression hard.

“It’s not the same, Charlie. Adam’s not like us. He’s not one of us. He doesn’t belong here.”

Charlie’s heart sank, but she refused to back down. “He’s not one of you because none of you are giving him a chance to be. He’s trying, but you’re all too busy tearing him down to see it.”

Adam, huddled in the shadows, felt a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in what felt like an eternity: hope. But it was fragile, delicate, and he couldn’t bring himself to believe it would last.

Lucifer watched the scene unfold with mild amusement, swirling his wine in his glass.

“Well, Charlie,” he drawled, “if you’re so determined to play saviour, I won’t stop you. But don’t come crying to me when it all falls apart.”

Charlie ignored him, her focus entirely on her friends. “This is my hotel, and I’m telling you all right now: the bullying stops. Adam is one of us now, whether you like it or not. And if you can’t accept that, then maybe you’re the ones who don’t belong here.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. One by one, the others looked away, grumbling but offering no further resistance. Charlie turned to Adam, her expression softening as she extended a hand toward him.

“Come on, Adam,” she said gently. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Adam hesitated, his dimmed golden eyes searching hers for any sign of deceit. But all he saw was sincerity, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to hope.

As he reached for her hand, Lucifer chuckled softly from the corner, his voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s see how long this lasts.”

~#~

Everyone was trying. Really trying. Adam could feel it. Husk would make small talk with him, Angel Dust would occasionally flash him a grin, and Niffty would clean around him with an overly bright smile. They were trying so hard to be nice to him, but Adam could tell it was all for Charlie’s sake. There was an air of forced politeness, a tightness in their voices and movements that Adam couldn’t ignore. It all felt... fake. Like the way a person tries to smile when they don’t really want to. He saw their relationships—the way Husk and Angel Dust seemed inseparable, the way Niffty gazed at Alastor with starstruck adoration, the way Alastor himself only seemed to genuinely smile when Niffty was near. And Charlie was the only person who could make Vaggie’s lips curl upward in a rare, hesitant smile.

But Adam saw through it all. They weren’t doing it because they wanted to. They were doing it because Charlie asked them to. Adam couldn’t help but feel like an outsider. It reminded him of the angels back in Heaven, how they’d always been kind to him, but only because it was expected of them. They never really cared.

And then, Adam thought of Lucifer. Eden. The way Lucifer had never really liked him, not the way Adam had wanted, the way he had convinced himself he could be loved. It hurt. The realization stabbed at him, deep and brutal. Lucifer never cared. He had been just as fake as the others. And that... hurt the most. Adam’s hands trembled as he realized, more clearly than ever before, that he had wished for something that had never been there. A lie he had told himself in Eden, that he could be loved. A part of him still wished for it—just one person, anyone, to truly like him.

Adam pulled his knees to his chest, huddling in a corner of the empty hotel. He clenched his fists, forcing all his energy into his hands. If he could just make something—anything—grow, maybe he’d feel better. A flower. Just one. But nothing happened. Nothing at all. His shoulders slumped as the weight of failure pressed down on him. He closed his eyes, feeling the coldness seep deeper into his bones.

What was the point?

A voice broke the silence, cutting through his thoughts.

“What are you doing?” it asked, low and unexpectedly curious.

Adam jerked in surprise, his heart leaping as he quickly looked up. Lucifer was standing there, leaning casually against the wall, his eyes fixed on him. There was no cruel smirk, no mocking stare—just genuine curiosity in those fiery eyes. Adam’s breath hitched as Lucifer crouched beside him, inspecting the ground with a frown.

“If you're damaging Charlie's hotel,” Lucifer added, raising an eyebrow, “I won’t be happy.”

Adam swallowed hard, shaking his head. “I’m not,” he muttered, voice small. “I wasn’t—”

Lucifer’s eyes stayed on him, his expression still soft. “Then what are you doing?”

Adam hesitated, his gaze falling back to the empty space in front of him. “I... I was trying to grow a daisy,” he said quietly, the words feeling hollow and stupid as they left his mouth.

Lucifer’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What?”

Adam sighed deeply, the weight of everything pressing in on him. His wings fluttered weakly behind him, their gold dimming, almost silver in the fading light.

“Back when I was in Heaven... I could grow things,” he explained, his voice breaking just slightly. “Things from Eden... and they always made me feel better…when I was sad I mean. Like... like I was still part of it, you know?”

Lucifer didn’t speak for a moment, staring at him with an unreadable expression. Adam glanced up, catching a flicker of something soft in Lucifer’s gaze—something almost... tender. Adam flushed, suddenly embarrassed by his vulnerability.

“If you're just gonna make fun of me, just do it already.”

Lucifer opened his mouth, but instead of ridicule, he closed it again, shaking his head slowly.

“I’m not going to make fun of you,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I’m just... surprised.”

Adam’s face twisted with confusion. “Why? Because I’m not worthy enough for nature to like me either?”

Lucifer looked taken aback, his gaze softening. “What? No. That’s not what I mean at all.”

He hesitated, then sighed, a deep, almost nostalgic sound. “Look, Adam... I get it. Okay? I miss Eden too.”

Adam blinked, surprised by the admission. Lucifer, of all people, missing Eden? “You do?”

Lucifer nodded, his eyes briefly distant as if remembering something painful. “Every day. I still dream about it sometimes. The way the trees... the way everything felt. Alive. Like nothing could touch it.” He glanced at Adam again, his voice quieter now. “I never could make things grow like you could. I used to try... but it didn’t work for me. I was always just a little... too far gone.”

Adam’s heart gave a painful lurch. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Lucifer—King of Hell, the fallen angel who had ruled over so many—admitting he missed Eden, admitting that he couldn’t do what Adam could? It was a side of Lucifer Adam had never seen, and it left him at a loss for words.

Lucifer’s eyes softened, and there was a quiet, almost hesitant energy between them. “Look, Adam...”

Lucifer trailed off, his voice laced with something close to sincerity. “I’m sorry for all of it. The way things have gone... it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Adam looked up at him, still processing his words. “You... you really miss it?”

Lucifer’s expression tightened for a brief second, but it quickly relaxed as he gave a small, wry smile. “Yeah. I miss it. A lot.”

Adam blinked, his tired eyes fixed on Lucifer as the King of Hell rolled up the sleeve of his jacket, exposing his pale arm adorned with faint scars and tattoos that seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light. Lucifer smirked faintly, though it lacked his usual malice. There was an unusual softness in his expression, almost a flicker of nostalgia that Adam hadn’t seen before.

“Watch this,” Lucifer said, his voice low but not unkind.

His sharp claws extended, and with a graceful motion, he dragged them through the air above the ground. Gold light sparked and swirled from his fingertips, pooling into the floor like liquid sunlight. The energy pulsed, then shimmered before something began to rise from the cracks in the floorboards.

At first, Adam’s heart jumped. The glow was reminiscent of Eden—golden vines, delicate petals, and the pure vitality of the paradise he’d once known. But as the plants fully emerged, his expression twisted into a mix of awe and horror.

The flowers were... wrong. They had teeth—sharp, jagged ones that snapped aggressively. Their petals curled in unnatural spirals, and their vines writhed like snakes. One particularly bold flower lunged forward, its snapping maw aimed directly at Adam’s face.

Adam yelped, stumbling backward just as Lucifer’s hand shot out, gripping his shoulder and yanking him out of the way.

“Whoa, careful!” Lucifer exclaimed, his grin spreading as he moved a clawed hand to restrain the offending plant. The flower hissed—actually hissed—before retreating, sulking back into the ground.

For a moment, there was silence between them. Then, unexpectedly, Lucifer started to laugh—a genuine, hearty laugh that echoed through the quiet hallway. It wasn’t mocking or cruel; it was warm, almost boyish in its condor. Adam stared at him, wide-eyed, before a reluctant chuckle escaped his lips. Soon, the two of them were laughing together, the absurdity of the situation washing over them like a tide.

“Well, that’s new,” Adam muttered, brushing himself off as his laughter died down into soft chuckles.

Lucifer’s smirk lingered, but there was something different about it now—something less guarded.

“Yeah, not exactly Eden, huh?” he said, gesturing at the chaotic plants that were slowly retreating back into the floor. “It’s... a work in progress.”

Adam hesitated, still processing what he’d seen.

“Wait,” he said quietly, looking at Lucifer with an unreadable expression. “You mean to tell me... you’ve been trying to grow things, too?”

Lucifer glanced at him, the sharpness in his gaze softening ever so slightly.

“Of course I have,” he admitted, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. “Do you think I’ve forgotten what Eden felt like? The smell of the air, the way the sunlight filtered through the trees? The way it... made you feel alive, like you belonged?”

His voice faltered, just for a moment, before he continued. “I dream about it sometimes. About being there again.”

Adam blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected that level of vulnerability from Lucifer. “You miss it,” he said softly, more to himself than to Lucifer.

Lucifer chuckled dryly, his gaze distant. “Miss it? Adam, I ache for it. Every damn day. I don’t care how many eons pass—I’ll never stop craving what I lost.”

He glanced down at his clawed hand, flexing his fingers. “But Eden doesn’t want me anymore. I can try to grow things, but... well, you saw the results.”

Adam’s brow furrowed as he watched Lucifer, his own sense of loneliness momentarily overshadowed by an odd sense of understanding. “I didn’t know,” he murmured, his voice quiet but sincere. “I thought... you were just okay with all of this. That you didn’t care.”

Lucifer snorted, a hint of his usual arrogance creeping back into his expression. “Oh, I care. But caring doesn’t change the fact that I’ll never step foot in Eden again.”

He tilted his head, studying Adam. “What about you? Do you still dream about it?”

Adam swallowed hard, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Every night…I used to take comfort in it. Growing things, I mean. It made me feel... closer to it. Like I hadn’t lost everything.”

He looked down, his voice trembling slightly. “But now... I can’t even do that anymore…”

Lucifer’s gaze lingered on Adam, and for once, there was no mockery in his eyes—just something akin to understanding. He reached out, placing a clawed hand on Adam’s shoulder.

“You’re not the only one,” he said softly, his tone carrying a weight that Adam hadn’t heard before.

Adam looked up at him, startled by the sincerity in his voice. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a small flicker of warmth—like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t completely alone.

Lucifer smirked again, though it was softer this time.

“Don’t get used to this,” he teased, his tone light. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

Adam chuckled weakly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they sat there, the tension between them seemed to ease, if only for a moment. For the first time, Adam felt like he wasn’t just a pawn in someone else’s game. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

~#~

As the days turned into weeks, the small moments between Adam and Lucifer began to feel like something more, something real. Adam had always known that Lucifer was dangerous, unpredictable, and cruel. But lately, Lucifer’s presence seemed to carry a different weight. A weight that wasn’t just about power or dominance, but something deeper, something more complex. It was as if, little by little, Lucifer was thawing—letting himself soften around Adam in ways he hadn’t with anyone in centuries.

Adam could feel it, too. Though he was still struggling to grow anything, despite his best efforts, there was a shift inside him. He no longer felt as desperate. Instead of the crushing disappointment he would have felt before, when his powers refused to work, there was a quiet acceptance. A sort of understanding that maybe the things that had once come so easily to him were no longer in his grasp—but that didn’t mean he was without value. Not anymore. And that was something he had Lucifer to thank for.

One evening, after another failed attempt at coaxing life from the barren earth beneath him, Adam slumped to the ground in frustration. His hands were covered in dirt, his wings drooping heavily behind him. He had been trying to grow a single flower—just one—but it seemed as though the magic that had once flowed through him so easily was slipping further away each day. He was just about to give up when he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye.

A small yellow rubber duck sat in the dirt, perfectly positioned in his line of sight.

Adam blinked, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. He hadn’t seen it before—hadn’t noticed it anywhere nearby. But there it was, so innocently placed, as if it had appeared just for him. His first instinct was to laugh, a soft, bewildered chuckle escaping his lips. It was such a random, out-of-place object to find in the midst of his failure. But somehow, it didn’t seem out of place at all. It felt... comforting. Like it was meant to be there.

Before he could contemplate the oddity too much, he heard a voice, low and teasing.

“What’s this? A rubber duck in a garden of death?” Lucifer’s voice carried a hint of amusement, but there was something else beneath it. Curiosity, maybe.

Adam looked up, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I... I don’t know. It just appeared, like magic.”

He picked it up, turning it over in his hands as if it might somehow hold the answers he was searching for.

Lucifer crouched down beside him, his golden eyes gleaming in the dimming light of the evening. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from Adam’s forehead—a surprisingly gentle gesture.

“Seems like someone has a little sense of humor,” Lucifer mused, his voice softer than Adam was used to hearing. He was staring at the duck with an odd fondness, almost as though it reminded him of something—or someone—long ago.

“You’ve been trying to grow things, haven’t you?” he asked, his tone more careful than usual.

Adam nodded, his fingers tightening around the rubber duck. He didn’t want to admit how much it had been weighing on him lately—not just the inability to use his powers, but the ache of knowing that something so fundamental to who he was seemed lost to him now.

“I’ve been trying,” Adam said quietly. “But... nothing works. It’s like I’ve forgotten how.”

Lucifer’s expression shifted. He tilted his head, watching Adam with a quiet intensity. “You haven’t forgotten, Adam. Sometimes, things just take longer than we want them to.” He paused for a moment, considering. “Maybe you’re not meant to grow flowers right now. Maybe... maybe you’re meant to grow something else.”

Adam didn’t answer right away. The words lingered, reverberating in his mind. He hadn’t considered that—hadn’t thought that maybe this struggle was part of something bigger than just his powers. Maybe it was something about him, about his journey, that he hadn’t yet understood.

But instead of letting his mind spiral into doubt and frustration, Adam found himself simply appreciating the moment. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he wasn’t completely alone. The duck, the conversation—everything about it felt... small, but important.

Lucifer, noticing the shift in Adam’s demeanor, smiled faintly. It wasn’t a mocking smile, but something more real, something softer than Adam had ever expected from the King of Hell.

“I know it’s not easy,” Lucifer said, his voice quiet now, almost tender. “You think you’re the only one who’s lost something? That you’re the only one who’s struggling?” He paused. “I miss Eden, too. I miss what I used to be. But we’re here now. And... maybe that’s enough.”

Adam glanced at Lucifer, surprise flickering in his eyes. For a moment, their gazes locked, and Adam saw something in Lucifer’s eyes—a kind of sadness, a rawness that mirrored his own. It was fleeting, but it was there. And in that moment, Adam realized just how much they had in common. How much they both carried, how much they both missed.

“Maybe,” Adam murmured, his voice soft. “Maybe we’re both just trying to figure out how to be... okay.”

Lucifer didn’t answer right away, but when he did, his tone was uncharacteristically warm. “Maybe you’re right.”

They sat there for a while, neither of them speaking. Lucifer leaned against the tree, and Adam cradled the rubber duck in his hands, staring at it like it held the key to something he couldn’t yet understand. It was a small, silly thing—but to Adam, it felt like a symbol of hope.

As the silence stretched on, Lucifer shifted, his wings rustling slightly as he stood up. He offered a hand to Adam, who took it after a moment, letting Lucifer help him to his feet. It wasn’t the sharp, commanding gesture Adam had expected. Instead, it was gentle, steady.

“You’re doing alright,” Lucifer said, his voice quieter than usual. “Better than I thought you would.”

Adam met his gaze, surprise and something else—something warmer—flickering inside him. For a moment, he wasn’t the fallen angel. He wasn’t the broken soul who had failed. He was just Adam. And in that moment, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as alone as he had thought.

Lucifer gave him a small, genuine smile—nothing grand, but it felt like a small victory. Adam smiled back, feeling something inside him soften, just a little. Maybe this was the start of something new. Maybe, for the first time, he wasn’t just clinging to the past. He was building something for the future.

And that felt like enough.

~#~

As the days passed, the connection between Lucifer and Adam deepened in ways neither of them had anticipated. It started with little things—small conversations, stolen glances, moments where their laughter rang out in sync. They were bonding in a way that felt more intimate than either had expected. What had begun as a slow thawing of walls soon became something more. Something that neither could quite name, but both felt.

Lucifer was not often one to show vulnerability, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor when he was with Adam. It wasn’t just about the playful jabs or the moments of sarcasm; it was the way he listened, how he’d catch Adam’s eye just a little longer than necessary, or how his voice would soften when speaking to him. His presence felt more than just a force of power—he felt, for the first time in centuries, like a person. And that person... cared about Adam. In ways that both scared and thrilled him.

Adam, on the other hand, was far more cautious. The walls he had spent so long building were cracking, and with each passing day, he felt them crumble further. He would catch himself in moments of quiet, just staring at Lucifer, his thoughts wandering to places he didn’t dare to go. But every time, he pulled back. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—let himself fall again. Not after everything that had happened. Not after Eden.

He had loved Lucifer once, in a way that was pure and innocent. But now? Now, it was complicated. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal—it was still there, even if he didn’t want to admit it. He couldn’t forget what had happened in Eden, how Lucifer had cast him aside, how everything had changed. The love he had felt had turned to dust, a painful reminder of a time long gone.

Yet, despite all the distance Adam tried to put between them, despite the walls he erected in his heart, he couldn’t help but feel the pull when Lucifer was near. Lucifer’s smile, the way his eyes softened when they met Adam’s, the quiet moments when they’d sit together in silence—those things still made Adam’s heart ache. But each time, he pushed those feelings down. He couldn’t allow himself to fall back into that. Not again.

One evening, as the two of them sat in a dimly lit corner of the mansion, Lucifer was telling one of his stories. His voice was smooth, effortless, but Adam found his thoughts drifting. The warmth in Lucifer’s words, the way his eyes seemed to shine as he spoke—it was hard not to feel something. But Adam quickly snapped himself out of it, forcing his attention back to the conversation.

Lucifer glanced over at him, his eyes searching Adam’s face as if trying to read something beneath the surface.

“What’s on your mind, Adam?” Lucifer asked, his voice quieter than usual. There was an edge of concern in it, a softness that Adam wasn’t used to hearing.

Adam flinched slightly, caught off guard. He shook his head, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nothing. Just... lost in thought.”

Lucifer didn’t seem convinced. He leaned in slightly, his gaze never leaving Adam. “You know, you don’t have to lie to me. Not anymore.”

Adam’s chest tightened, a pang of guilt washing over him. He didn’t want to let Lucifer see him like this, didn’t want to let him know how much he still felt. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions in check.

“I’m not lying,” Adam said, his voice strained. “I’m fine.”

Lucifer didn’t buy it. His eyes narrowed, but instead of pressing further, he simply nodded, though there was something unreadable in his expression. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as he studied Adam.

Adam couldn’t shake the feeling that Lucifer could see right through him—that, maybe, Lucifer could see the part of him he was trying so hard to hide. The part of him that still wanted to reach out. The part of him that still cared.

But the fear was there, too—the fear of getting hurt again, of being abandoned. The fear of giving his heart to Lucifer and having it torn to shreds once more.

A silence stretched between them, but it was a comfortable one—unlike the awkward pauses that used to fill the room when they first started spending time together. It was as if they had both accepted that there was something unsaid, something lingering, but neither wanted to push it. At least, not yet.

After a while, Adam stood up, feeling the weight of his thoughts press down on him. He couldn’t stay there, not with Lucifer watching him like that. He needed to be alone. He had to clear his head, to stop this cycle of feelings from taking hold of him.

“I think I’ll take a walk,” Adam said, his voice low as he turned away, his wings brushing against the air.

Lucifer didn’t stop him, though Adam could feel the King’s gaze following him as he walked toward the door. He wasn’t sure if it was concern or something else, but either way, he couldn’t bear to be around Lucifer right now. Not when the temptation to give in to those feelings was so strong.

As Adam stepped out into the cold night air, he tried to push everything aside. The ache in his chest, the longing for something he wasn’t sure he should have, the fear of falling into something that could never work. But as he walked down the garden path, something caught his eye.

A single flower, blooming impossibly in the cold, dark soil.

Adam stopped, staring at it, his breath catching in his throat. It was small, delicate, but it was real. A real flower, growing against all odds. For a moment, he just stood there, mesmerized by its simple beauty. And then he realized—he hadn’t planted it. It had just appeared.

His hand shook as he reached down, gently brushing his fingers against the petals. It was a sign. A sign of hope, maybe. A sign that, just like the flower, there was still something inside him that could grow, something that wasn’t broken beyond repair.

But as he stood there, his mind wandered back to Lucifer. Back to those soft smiles, those fleeting moments of kindness, and the way Lucifer looked at him sometimes, as though he was seeing something Adam had long since buried.

It was almost too much.

Adam closed his eyes, willing the thoughts away. But it was too late. He couldn’t stop it anymore.

He wanted Lucifer. In a way that scared him, in a way that he couldn’t deny. But he wasn’t sure he was ready to face that. Not yet.

When he returned to the mansion, he found Lucifer sitting near the window, his eyes distant but his posture relaxed. Lucifer didn’t look up when Adam entered, but he spoke anyway.

“You didn’t have to go,” Lucifer said, his voice quiet, almost knowing. “You’re not alone, you know. I’m not going anywhere.”

Adam froze, his heart stuttering in his chest. He wanted to believe it. He wanted to lean into the warmth of Lucifer’s words and let himself fall. But something in him still held back, still fought against it.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just... I needed some space,” he said, trying to sound casual, but the lie hung heavily between them.

Lucifer didn’t push. He just nodded, and for a long moment, they stood in silence, two souls adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

Adam didn’t know what to do, but he knew one thing for sure: he couldn’t keep pretending that he didn’t feel what he did. And that terrified him more than anything else.

~#~

Adam sat across from Charlie in her bright, sun-filled office, the soft hum of her voice buzzing in the background as she spoke with enthusiasm. Her words were warm and encouraging, and her eyes shone with pride as she talked about his progress. Adam forced a smile, nodding occasionally to acknowledge her, but inside, his mind was elsewhere—far from the cheerful praise she was showering on him.

Charlie was talking about how much he’d improved since arriving at the hotel. How he’d taken to his tasks, how he had made an effort to change. She spoke of how proud she was of his work around the hotel, how the guests and staff had noticed the difference in him, how much more comfortable he seemed.

"Adam, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see the growth you’ve shown! You’ve really come so far. It’s honestly incredible! The way you’ve been helping with the garden, the little touches around the hotel, your willingness to pitch in… it’s all so amazing." Charlie’s voice was full of genuine excitement as she gestured toward the door, as if everything about Adam’s presence in the hotel was a small victory.

Adam’s gaze shifted to the window, his mind drifting off again, away from her words. He wasn’t listening fully. Not really. His thoughts were tangled up in a storm of emotions, spinning around a singular, complicated person—Lucifer.

Every time he caught himself thinking about Lucifer, a knot twisted in his chest. The warmth, the care, the way Lucifer’s touch lingered in his memory, always accompanied by that cruel smirk that had once sent him spiraling. But now—now, it was different. There were moments when Lucifer's eyes softened, when his tone was gentler, when Adam felt like maybe... maybe Lucifer wasn’t just toying with him. Maybe there was something there, something real.

But then the fear would set in. Adam wasn’t sure he could go through that kind of pain again. Loving Lucifer had once been his everything, and when that love had been ripped away in Eden, it had broken him in ways he wasn’t sure he could ever repair. To love him again, to feel that warmth, would mean trusting him all over again. And trusting Lucifer had never ended well before.

Lost in his thoughts, Adam absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder, feeling the unfamiliar weight of the silver feathers along his wings. He frowned. When had they changed?

The golden feathers, the radiant glow that used to shine so brightly, were gone. Replaced by the dull, muted sheen of silver. He hadn’t noticed until now, but the transformation seemed so subtle that it made him wonder: when had his wings shifted? And when had they become... so lifeless?

"Adam? Adam, are you listening?" Charlie's voice broke through the haze of his thoughts, and he blinked, trying to refocus on her.

"Sorry," he muttered, shaking his head slightly. "I—I was just thinking."

Charlie smiled, oblivious to the storm brewing behind his eyes. "That’s okay! I just wanted to make sure you know how proud I am of you. You’ve really come a long way, and I think—"

Her expression softened, and she placed her hands on the desk, leaning forward as her eyes sparkled. "I think there’s so much potential in you. You're really making a difference here, Adam. I’m so happy to see you improving."

Her voice was full of warmth, full of sincerity, and it made his chest tighten. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for how little he truly felt like he was progressing. Charlie saw him as someone who was moving forward, growing into a new version of himself, but Adam didn’t feel that. He didn’t feel like he was growing—at least not in the way she thought.

The silence between them stretched out longer than it should have, and Adam was finally forced to pull himself from the depths of his thoughts. He gave her a small, strained smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Thanks, Charlie. I... appreciate it."

Charlie’s smile widened, oblivious to the turmoil brewing beneath Adam’s surface. "Of course! You’ve worked so hard, Adam. I just want you to know how proud I am, and I really believe you have what it takes to make it here. You’re doing great."

Adam’s fingers twitched, and for a moment, he felt the urge to flee. He wanted to be anywhere but here, sitting across from Charlie, hearing the things he knew he should feel grateful for but couldn’t. There was something missing, something that he couldn’t quite put into words.

"Yeah, I’m trying my best." Adam said quietly, his voice almost distant as he stared at his hands, fingers trembling ever so slightly. They were bruised from the constant use, worn from trying and failing to do what he once could do so effortlessly.

But the truth was, he wasn’t just trying his best to improve at the hotel. He was trying his best to hold it together, to pretend that everything was fine. That the silver feathers on his wings didn’t feel like a symbol of everything he had lost. That the distance between him and the one person he wanted most didn’t tear him apart a little more each day.

Charlie’s voice brought him back once more. "You know, I’m so glad you’re here, Adam. It’s like you’re meant to be a part of this place."

She paused, tilting her head slightly. "You just have to believe in yourself a little more. I know you’re capable of amazing things, Adam."

Adam nodded, the words swirling in his head as his heart grew heavier with each passing second. He wanted to believe her. He really did. He wanted to believe that the person he used to be—that the person who had been capable of bringing life and beauty to the world—wasn’t gone for good. But when he tried to reach for that part of himself, it felt like something was missing, like the wings that had once been so full of light were now tarnished, just like the man who wore them.

"I’ll try," he said, his voice quiet, almost defeated.

Charlie beamed at him, clearly satisfied with his response. She didn’t know how much those words hurt, how much the hope she gave him only seemed to highlight how far he’d fallen.

But Charlie didn’t see that. She didn’t know the secret ache he carried inside. She couldn’t see the loneliness in his eyes, nor the way his heart longed for something that felt unreachable.

As Charlie continued to talk, her voice a steady stream of praise and encouragement, Adam’s mind wandered once more. But this time, instead of focusing on his failures, his mind drifted to Lucifer—the one person who had always been there, and yet, had never truly been there for him. A bittersweet yearning tugged at him, pulling him toward the man whose presence both comforted and terrified him.

The only question was: Was Lucifer just as lost as he was?

~#~

Later, Adam stood in the garden of the hotel, his eyes tracing the edges of the flowers, watching them flutter in the breeze. He couldn’t grow anything. Not even the simplest flower. His fingers twitched, but the soil remained untouched by any kind of magic. The golden light of his wings had dimmed so much over the weeks. It seemed like he was fading. He hated this feeling—the sense of helplessness, the constant reminder of what he'd lost. And all he wanted was to escape into the solace of his thoughts, to forget about everything around him. But no matter how hard he tried, Lucifer was always in the back of his mind.

Just as he was about to turn and retreat inside, a voice cut through the air, smooth and almost too calm. "You’re always running away from something, aren’t you?"

Adam stiffened, recognizing the voice immediately. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. He was used to the sound of Lucifer’s footsteps, the way they echoed in the quiet of the hotel’s garden, the air thick with tension every time they crossed paths.

Adam swallowed hard and slowly turned around, his pulse quickening despite himself. Lucifer was standing by the stone archway that framed the garden, the faintest of smirks playing at the corners of his lips. His red eyes glinted in the pale moonlight, his presence all-encompassing. The way he looked at Adam sent a shiver down his spine.

"What do you want?" Adam muttered, his voice not quite steady. He was trying so hard to keep his emotions in check, to keep things from spiraling.

Lucifer stepped closer, the air around him crackling with something dangerous and enticing. "I want a lot of things, Adam. But tonight... I want you to stop running from me."

Adam's heart skipped a beat. He knew what Lucifer meant. He wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t blind to the moments they shared—those moments when their gazes lingered too long, when their words were layered with something unspoken. But Adam didn’t know how to deal with it. He couldn’t. Not again. He had already given up so much of himself in the past, and he wasn’t sure he could survive losing himself to Lucifer once more.

Lucifer took another step forward, and Adam’s breath hitched. "Why do you keep avoiding this?" Lucifer’s voice was low, almost like a whisper meant only for Adam. "You’ve been pushing me away, and I don’t understand why. You think I don’t know what’s happening between us?"

Adam felt a pang in his chest, something between hope and fear. His heart was fighting against the pull of Lucifer’s words. It would be so easy to fall back into what they once were. It would be so easy to let Lucifer back in, to let him take all of Adam’s pieces and make them whole again. But there was too much pain, too many memories of betrayal.

“I’m not… I’m not running from you,” Adam said, though his voice cracked slightly, betraying the lie.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, as if he’d heard the lie for what it was. "Really?"

He was close now, close enough that Adam could feel the heat of Lucifer’s presence, the magnetic pull of his aura. "Then why is it, every time I look at you, I see that little flicker of hesitation? Why is it, when I reach out to you, you flinch?"

Adam took a step back, trying to put distance between them, but Lucifer moved faster, catching his wrist in a vice-like grip before he could even process the movement. Adam’s pulse thudded loudly in his ears, his breath coming faster, his body reacting against his will.

"Lucifer..." Adam breathed, but his words felt hollow.

Lucifer’s gaze softened, his expression unreadable for a split second before his face hardened once more. He leaned down, his lips dangerously close to Adam’s ear.

"I can feel it too, you know. You think I don’t see how you look at me, how you still care?" His voice was a low rumble.

"I’ve waited, Adam. I’ve waited long enough."

Before Adam could react, Lucifer pressed his lips to Adam’s, a slow, deliberate kiss that sent a shock of electricity through Adam’s body. It wasn’t desperate, not frantic, but it was heavy with years of longing. And it made Adam’s heart race, made the walls around him tremble and crack.

For a moment, Adam was frozen, caught in the undeniable heat of it, caught in the magnetic pull of Lucifer’s touch, the way his lips seemed to claim him. He had never experienced anything like it before—the weight of it, the depth, the rawness of it.

But then reality crashed back, and Adam pulled away, his body reacting instinctively. His hands shoved against Lucifer’s chest, pushing him away as he gasped for air, panic flooding him.

“No, no, no,” Adam whispered, his voice frantic. "I can’t... I can’t do this again, Lucifer."

Lucifer didn’t step back immediately. His gaze was intense, filled with something Adam couldn’t fully read—frustration, maybe, but also a twisted kind of satisfaction. "Why?" Lucifer asked, his voice soft, but the undercurrent of hurt was clear. "Why do you keep rejecting me? Why can’t you just let go, Adam? You don’t have to be alone anymore."

"I’m not... I’m not the person you think I am," Adam said, shaking his head violently. His wings fluttered, the silver feathers brushing against his back as he took another step back, away from Lucifer. "You don’t understand. I don’t want this."

Lucifer finally stepped back, his eyes darkening, but there was no anger in them—only quiet, haunting patience.

"I understand more than you think, Adam. And I’m not going anywhere."

Adam’s breath was shaky, his heart pounding, but he couldn’t look away from Lucifer’s piercing gaze. He wanted to stay, wanted to let it happen, to let himself be loved, to feel the warmth of it again. But he couldn’t. Not like this. Not when the scars were still so fresh.

Without another word, Adam turned and fled, his wings flapping desperately behind him as he ran into the hotel, his heart torn in two.

He didn’t know how to love Lucifer again. Not yet. And he wasn’t sure he ever would.

~#~

Lucifer threw himself onto the couch in Charlie’s office with a dramatic sigh, stretching out his long limbs and letting his head flop backward. The couch creaked beneath him as he stared up at the ceiling, his wings flaring out behind him.

“Dad,” Charlie muttered without looking up from her paperwork. “What are you doing here? This is my office, you know. Serious professionalism happens in here.”

Lucifer gasped as if she had just insulted him.

“This is serious, Charlie!” he insisted, his voice filled with mock indignation. “I need your advice.”

Charlie rolled her eyes but set down her pen, leaning back in her chair with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. What’s going on now?”

Lucifer didn’t hesitate, his voice faltering slightly as he spoke. “I’m... trying with Adam.” He winced as the words left his mouth. “I think he likes me. I mean, I know he does... but he keeps rejecting me.”

Charlie’s brow furrowed, her gaze shifting from her desk to Lucifer, who was now dramatically sulking on the couch. “Wait. Hold on.”

She leaned forward, the chair creaking slightly. “You're upset because Adam keeps rejecting your advances?”

Lucifer nodded solemnly, his usually confident demeanor slipping just a little.

“Exactly,” he muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and genuine confusion. “I don’t get it, Charlie. I’m trying to be patient with him. I’m making an effort, but it’s like... nothing’s working.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow, tapping her fingers against the desk thoughtfully.

“Dad...” she started, a small, almost playful smirk creeping onto her face. “You do realize you haven’t exactly been the nicest to him, right?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What do you mean by that?”

He sat up on the couch, looking at her with furrowed brows. “I’ve been trying to change, okay? I’m being patient! I’m not the same person I was in Eden!”

Charlie folded her arms across her chest, giving him a knowing look. “You’ve made progress, sure. But that doesn’t erase everything that’s happened between you two. You can't just expect him to suddenly be okay with everything after all the things you did to him.”

"I...what?" Lucifer breathed out.

"I don't know what happened between you, Adam and Mum, but I can tell Adam got the short end of the stick." Charlie accussed. "And you haven't been nice about it at all. You've been down right mean."

Lucifer’s expression faltered for a moment, and he slouched back into the couch. His eyes dropped, as if the weight of her words hit him harder than he’d expected.

“I didn’t mean for things to get this way. I never wanted to hurt him... But I’m trying now. I really am.”

Charlie sighed, her voice softening as she leaned back in her chair. “I know you’re trying, but Adam... he’s been hurt. A lot. He can’t just flip a switch and forget everything you’ve done.”

Lucifer was silent for a long moment, looking down at his clawed hands, his fingers twitching slightly. “I don’t know how to make it right, Charlie. I don’t know how to get through to him.”

Charlie looked at him with a mix of frustration and sympathy, her eyes locking onto his. “Maybe you need to start by showing him that you’re really, truly sorry. That you’re not just doing this because you want something from him, but because you care about him. You have to earn his trust again, Dad. It’s not going to happen overnight.”

Lucifer’s gaze softened as he slowly nodded. “I don’t want to hurt him anymore, Charlie. I don’t want him to keep rejecting me... but maybe you’re right. Maybe I need to earn his trust first.”

Charlie gave a small, approving smile, before turning back to her desk. “Well, there you go. It’s going to take time, but if you really care about him, you’ll make it work. Just don’t expect it to be easy.”

Lucifer leaned back on the couch, his arms folded behind his head. For the first time in a while, his mind wasn’t consumed with anger or pride. Instead, he found himself deep in thought about Adam, about how to show him the truth of his feelings—how to prove to him that he was truly trying to be a better person.

“I’ll make it right, Charlie,” Lucifer muttered, his voice filled with resolve. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

#hazbin hotel #adamsapple #lucifer x adam #fanfic #guitarduck #au #fanficiton #a03 #Frozen Out

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willowsnook · 8 hours ago

Text

orange is my favorite color (18+)

Can i get a ham, Swiss, lettuce, mikes way on a gluten free? from @a-beaverhausen

reader x joe burrow x oscar piastri

just let me in

a/n: I’m going to make it to where she’s a stranger to Oscar but not Joe bc it makes more sense for what I’m thinking. also these are my two worlds colliding so it makes me very happy

———————————————————-

The warm Austin air blew through your hair as you made it to the track for COTA, and while you had been to almost every sporting event known to man, this was your first F1 race, and you were excited.

When you and your sister started a podcast a couple of years ago, never in your wildest dreams did you think it would take off like it had. Now, you were an official Barstool Sports podcast and had the opportunity to interview tons of female athletes worldwide. Even though your podcast was geared towards female listeners, you still built relationships with male athletes who supported what you were doing.

“They really just let anyone in here these days don’t they?” You heard a familiar voice call out and turned, smirking, to see Joe Burrow grinning at you. Joe was one of the professional athletes who had been a big supporter of the pod, and you had interviewed him enough times to consider him a friend. He flirted relentlessly with you and you entertained it for the most part but never let it get further than words.

“Hi Joey,” you said, sauntering up to him. He was standing with two other guys who you quickly recognized as Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri.

“Guys, this is y/n,” he introduced. “She has a popular sports podcast here.”

You smiled warmly at the two men and they mirrored you.

“I’ve listened a couple of times,” Lando said and you were surprised. “You should talk to Susie Wolf.”

Nodding, you replied, “yeah that is actually on my to do list while I’m here.”

“Is this your first race?” Oscar asked, and you nodded, and a small smile appeared on his face.

You hung around with them for the next half hour, Lando talking your ear off about different F1 things while Oscar chimed in occasionally, but his eyes never left you, making you almost squirm. There was something about him that was so attractive. The calm, quiet demeanor was an interesting contrast from his teammate, but you were into it.

As the group chatted, you couldn't help but steal glances at Oscar. His piercing gaze made your heart race every time your eyes met. You were so caught up in the moment that you almost missed Joe's invitation.

"Hey, y/n, we're heading to the paddock. Want to come along?" Joe asked.

"Yeah, if that’s okay? you replied unsure.

Lando chimed in, "Of course! We'll vouch for you. Plus, it'll give you a chance to maybe set up that interview with Susie."

You nodded eagerly, and the group started moving towards the paddock area. As you walked, Oscar fell into step beside you.

"So, what made you decide to come to your first F1 race?" he asked, his voice low and curious.

"Well, I was invited by the official F1 marketing team. They are really trying to grow interest in the sport in the US, and I have a large audience of people already interested in sports,” you explained. “But I got into it a few years ago after watching the Netflix show. Just haven’t had the time to make it to a race yet.”

Oscar nodded as you talked, and as you headed into a more crowded area, he tugged you into his side so that you wouldn’t get lost. His hand was warm against your waist, and you tried to contain your blush.

“So, since you’re hanging with us, can I assume you are a McLaren fan?” He asked and you smirked as you shook your head.

“RedBull all the way baby,” you teased and he rolled his eyes.

“We’ll have to fix that,” he muttered. You made it to the garage, and Oscar was pulled away quickly, so you settled into the atmosphere with Joe.

“Having fun?” He asked and you nodded, watching the garage as it came to life.

“Not as much fun as being at a football game but still fun,” you said with a smile and he threw back his head to laugh.

“That’s my girl,” he said, and you felt your stomach flutter at his words. His eyes were mischievous as he noted your reaction and you quickly averted your eyes. “I think our shade of orange looks better on you, though.”

“Oh yeah?,” you teased, smiling.

“Yeah, this shade makes you look pale,” he said, and you laughed loudly. The garage was getting busier, and you were standing very close to Joe as you tried to stay out of the way. Someone tried to move behind you, causing you to take another step closer to him, which he wasn’t complaining about.

“Here, I know you want to watch,” he whispered before shifting you to turn around. Your back rested against his chest, and you stiffened as you felt his arm wrap around your waist, holding you to him. His fingers were subconsciously tracing your skin as he watched the mechanics work.

Oscar appeared at your side again, his eyes darting between you and Joe with a hint of curiosity.

"Sorry to interrupt," Oscar said, his accent making your heart skip a beat. "But I thought you might like a closer look at the car. It's not every day you get to see one up close."

You nodded eagerly, and he began to guide you through the space, explaining the different parts of the car and the various roles of the team members. His passion for the sport was evident in the way he spoke, and you found yourself hanging on his every word.

As you moved around the garage, you noticed Joe watching you and Oscar with a hint of something in his eyes. Jealousy, perhaps? You pushed the thought aside, focusing on Oscar's explanations. He was easy to talk to and you enjoyed the behind the scenes tour you were getting.

Eventually, it was time for the race, and you rejoined Joe, taking a pair of headphones from him and putting them on to watch. You had a good time, and it was exciting to be there for the action even though both McLaren drivers missed the podium. You hung around the paddock a little longer, chatting with other US athletes who were there and filming some content for a vlog.

By the time you made it back to the hotel, it was later in the evening, and you were starving. Heading towards the bistro in the lobby, you spotted someone waving at you from the corner of your eye. Oscar was sitting at a table by himself, eating dinner.

“Hey,” you said as you approached him.

“Hey,” he replied, “hungry?”

You sunk down into the chair across from him, stealing a menu from a nearby table.

“You did great today,” you praised and he shrugged.

“It was whatever,” he said neutrally. “No hardware to bring home.”

“Well I still thought it was impressive,” you said.

“That is all I was hoping for,” he said genuinely and you felt your cheeks warm at Oscar's words, a flutter of excitement in your stomach. The waiter came by to take your order, and as you chatted over dinner, you found yourself increasingly drawn to Oscar's quiet charm and dry wit.

"So, what's next for you after this race?" Oscar asked, taking a sip of his water.

"Well, I've got a few more interviews lined up here in Austin, then it's back to New York," you replied. "What about you? Where does F1 take you next?"

"Mexico City," he said with a small smile. "Not quite as glamorous as Austin, but should be a good race."

As you continued talking, you couldn't help but notice how easy conversation flowed between you two. Time seemed to fly by, and before you knew it, the restaurant was starting to empty out.

"I should probably head up," you said reluctantly and Oscar stood up, holding out his hand to you.

“Let me walk you up,” he offered and you took his hand, letting him lead you towards the elevators. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” you said looking over at him.

He paused for a second before asking. “Is there something going on between you and Joe?”

“Mutual attraction,” you answered amused. “Nothing has ever come of it, but we don’t see each other a ton.”

“So he wouldn’t be mad if I kissed you right now?” He asked, taking a step closer to you and you thanked god that you were alone in the elevator.

“He probably would,” you admitted. “But I wouldn’t.”

That was all the confirmation he needed and he closed the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips against yours. You wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you as you deepened the kiss. Exploring his mouth, you gasped as one of his hands gripped your ass right as he bit down on your bottom lip. The doors opened as you reached your floor, and you dragged Oscar through the hall and to your room.

Swiping the card, the door swung open and Oscar was back on you in a minute.

As Oscar pressed you against the closed door, his lips trailed down your neck, sending shivers through your body. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you let out a soft moan. The heat between you was palpable, months of tension finally breaking.

Oscar's hands roamed your body, caressing every curve as he kissed you deeply. You tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. He pulled back just long enough to yank it over his head before capturing your lips again.

You pushed off the door, guiding Oscar towards the bed without breaking the kiss. As the back of his legs hit the mattress, he sat down, pulling you onto his lap. You straddled him, grinding your hips against his as his hands slipped under your shirt.

"Is this okay?" he murmured against your skin, his accent thick with desire.

"More than okay," you breathed and he lifted your shirt over your head and he attached his mouth to the top of your chest, sucking harshly to mark you. Just as your fingers traveled down to his waistband, someone knocked on the door filled the room. You pulled back from Oscar, hoping that the person would just go away, but they didn’t.

“I’ll be back,” you muttered, sliding off his lap. Not bothering with a shirt you yanked the door open, irritated. You did not expect to see Joe Burrow standing there.

His eyes darkened as he took in the state you were in, no shirt, flushed lips, messy hair.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner but clearly you are busy,” he said coldly and you flinched.

“Clearly,” you retorted, and his lips pressed into a firm line. Just as you were about to shut the door, you heard Oscar coming up behind you. It felt like the room temperature dropped another 10 degrees with the icy look that crossed Joe’s face.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he bit out and you rolled your eyes.

“This is not any of your business,” you said.

“Are you just not into me?” He whined. “I thought we had something, but all he had to do was talk with his pretty little accent, and you dropped your panties.”

Oscar snorted from behind you as you tried to hold back a giggle.

“You know I have a thing for you,” you said as you looked into his sad puppy dog eyes. “It’s just complicated with you.”

“How?” He demanded.

“We run in a lot of the same circles professionally,” you said. “Oscar is rarely even in the US so very no strings attached.”

“I don’t like it,” Joe said crossing his arms.

“Just let him in,” Oscar said from behind you and you looked over your shoulder, eyes wide.

“What?”

“Let him in, I don’t mind sharing,” he said nonchalantly before turning to move back to the bed.

You stood there, stunned for a moment, trying to process Oscar's words. Joe's expression shifted from anger to surprise, then to a mix of curiosity and desire.

"Are you serious?" Joe asked, his voice low and husky.

You looked back at Oscar, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes dark with want. He gave a small nod, a smirk playing on his lips.

Your heart raced as you considered the implications. The thought of being with both of them sent a jolt of excitement through your body. You bit your lip, weighing your options for a split second before making a decision.

"Come in," you said to Joe, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joe stepped into the room, his eyes never leaving yours as you closed the door behind him. The tension in the air was palpable as you stood between the two men, feeling their heated gazes on your half naked body.

You could feel the electricity in the air as Joe slowly walked towards you. You were caught between two dangerously attractive men, and the thought made your heart race.

Oscar watched with a smirk on his face as Joe stood in front of you, his eyes raking over your body. His hand reached up to cup your cheek, pulling you closer for a kiss.

His lips were soft but urgent against yours, his tongue quickly seeking entrance into your mouth. You responded eagerly, losing yourself in the passionate kiss.

"Isn't this nice?" Oscar's voice interrupted from behind you, making both you and Joe jump. He chuckled at your reaction before moving closer to join in on the kiss.

Your senses were overwhelmed by the feeling of two sets of lips on yours at once, their hands roaming over every inch of your body.

You moaned against Oscar's lips as Joe's hand found its way under your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he pushed you back towards the bed.

You fell onto the soft mattress with Joe on top of you, his hands eagerly exploring every inch of your body as he kissed down your neck and chest.

Meanwhile, Oscar had stripped off his clothes and was now standing by the edge of the bed, watching with a lustful gaze.

Joe looked up at him and smirked before leaning back to whisper into your ear. "Do you want him too?"

You nodded eagerly as he moved to sit behind you leaving room for Oscar between your legs. Oscar fell down to his knees and helped you get your pants off, pulling your panties down with them.

“So wet for us sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing the inside of your thighs. You could feel Joe’s hardness pressing into your back as you leaned against him, whimpering as his fingers circled your nippled, his lips sucking on your neck. You cried out the first time Oscar flicked his tongue out and your hips bucked up, causing Joe to hold you down.

Your body was on fire as Oscar's tongue worked its magic between your thighs. Joe's hands roamed your body, teasing and caressing as he whispered dirty words in your ear. The combination of sensations was almost too much to bear.

"That's it, baby," Joe murmured, his breath hot against your neck. "Let us make you feel good."

Oscar's tongue circled your clit before moving deeper, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Your hands tangled in his hair, urging him closer as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

Joe's fingers pinched and rolled your nipples, sending jolts of electricity through your body. You could feel his hardness pressing against your back, reminding you of what was to come.

"Oh god," you gasped, your hands gripping Joe's thighs as you felt yourself getting close. "I'm gonna-"

"Come for us, sweetheart," Oscar encouraged, and that’s all you needed to push you over the edge, your body locked up as you rode out your orgasm. As you came down from your high, Joe slid out from under you, standing next to the bed.

“Flip over baby,” he said and you obeyed, moving on to your hands and knees. “I’m going to fuck your pretty pussy now while you make Oscar feel good okay?”

Oscar moved to the head of the bed, leaning against the back, all bared out for you. Moving closer to him, you looked to him for one last confirmation, and he nodded, pushing you to drag your tongue from his base all the way to his tip. He hissed at the contact, leaning his head back as he tried to control his breathing. You toyed with him, slowly moving your tongue around but not putting him in your mouth completely. You were about to start another cycle of it when you felt a hand yank your head back with your hair, Joe’s mouth next to your ear.

“Stop being a brat,” he growled and your core throbbed at his dominance. He let go of you, and you enveloped Oscar’s head with your lips, making him groan out. Hollowing your cheeks, you started to bob up and down, making sure to move your tongue around his cock. His hand found the back of your head as he bucked his hips into your mouth, his breathing growing heavy.

You were so caught up in Oscar that you temporarily forgot about Joe, until you felt him push entirely into you. You cried out around Oscar, causing him let out a loud groan.

“That’s it baby,” Joe praised breathlessly as he quickened his pace. “Taking us both so well.”

Your body was on fire as Joe pounded into you from behind, his strong hands gripping your hips. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making it difficult to focus on pleasuring Oscar. But you were determined to make them both feel good.

You hollowed your cheeks, taking Oscar deeper into your mouth as you matched Joe's rhythm. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and muffled moans.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Joe groaned, his fingers digging into your flesh. "So tight and wet for us."

Oscar's hand tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as he thrust shallowly into your mouth. "Fuck, y/n," Oscar groaned, his accent thick with desire. "Your mouth feels so good."

The dual sensations of being filled from both ends was overwhelming. You could feel yourself rapidly approaching another orgasm, and when Joe brought his thumb down to your clit, rubbing rapid circles, you toppled over the edge. Your cries sent Oscar over the edge, and you swallowed the cum he spurt down your throat right as you clenched around Joe, causing him to spill into you.

Slumping down, you winced as Joe pulled out of you, and Oscar pulled you up into his chest. His arms wrapped tightly around you as you tried to catch your breath.

“Are you alright sweetheart?” He asked softly and you gave him a weak smile.

“Never better.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay baby?” Joe said sweetly, kneeling next to you. Nodding, you let him scoop you into his arms and take you into the bathroom. He turned on the shower, and Oscar followed you in. The shower barely fit the three of you, but you definitely weren’t complaining, just happy to be sandwiched between two of the hottest men you knew.

“Will you both stay?” You asked hopefully, and neither of them said anything for a minute, eyeing each other warily. “Please?”

Joe broke first, eyes softening as he looked down at you. “Of course baby.”

Oscar nodded in agreement, stepping out to get a towel for you.

Once you were wrapped up you looked between the two men smirking. “I think… that orange is my favorite color.”

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #oscar piastri imagine #nfl imagines #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow

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prettybbychim · 6 months ago

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u know i really appreciate that when dan heng's ancestry (is that the correct term here lmao) was revealed, the express crew didn't take it as a betrayal like i see that so often its ridiculous

they've all just been so kind about stuff, not pushing him to talk about anything, just letting him know they're there if he does ever want to. (there was smth that stuck with me that welt said. i can't remember the exact phrasing but it was like "he's running from something, and we don't know from what, and sometimes i don't think he really know either." they just...they perceive danger, and dan heng is just a stray they picked up along the side of the road but immediately he is family. his past doesn't matter. they're going to protect their own. THEYRE SO !!)

and when he is forced to reveal these things, they're just like "oh is that really u dan heng? u good my bro? aight lets go save the world or whatever!" and he's the one hesitating to include himself in the team, he's expecting to be distanced, but for them, nothing has changed. and nothing has. he's still dan heng, silent but deadly nerd of a big bro and that's how it should be goddammit

#i love them so much guys #i really did not anticipate how much i'd fucking adore these dorks #i actually haven't finished the quest yet ehe #i had to stop and i haven't had a chance to pick it back up again #but this has just been hanging around in my head for hours now #hsr #honkai star rail #dan heng #imbibitor lunae #astral express #do i tag this as spoilers #i'll tag this as spoilers #hsr spoilers #honkai star rail spoilers #i knew they were both technically dan heng going in but i didn't know exactly what was up with him #and it was a nice surprise hehe #im really glad i didnt already know lol

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6mayhem · 2 months ago

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anyway i need to hang out with my brother again he is the one person who i am pretty sure knows literally everything about me so he's the only person i trust that i can absolutely not disappoint. nothing i can do could be worse than the sum of everything i've been doing to that poor man (and him to me) the past 19 years

#especially now that im back into literally the only interest we actually share on a deep enough level to enjoy it together LOL #i mean we were also both into hannibal but thats just not an enjoyable show to watch together its too much effort #but wow that time we read das boot slash fanfic on the bus together that was awesome #and the time we wrote fanfic together lol LITERALLY WHY DID WE STOP #he has only gotten cooler and more comfortable with his gayness since then we need to write fanfic again ‼️#anyway i feel sorry for every person in my life but i dont think anyone ill ever know could ever have as close a relationship to me as him #were platonic soulmates lol but like not in the spiritual sense bc its pretty obvious that its not some supernatural bond #its juuuust shared trauma haha and the fact that our trauma is so complex and layered that only we will ever truly understand each other #there has been a really rough patch where we practically did not talk for 4... 5? whole years im serious. maybe on the weekends sometimes #while we were stewing in our own shit. but now were inseperable i think it actually pisses off the rest of our family because every time #theres some event where we meet again (we live like 5 hours apart) we only hang around for like an hour before we get in his car #and drive somewhere and hang out there for the rest of the day and night and only return at like 3am drunk #in a sense i guess were catching up on all the missed time #to be honest we both had some horrible shit going on in our heads me with the transgenderism and toxic relationship #him with his anger issues and (what he calls) psychopathy. like ill say this much he was not a good person as a child he was a devil #he was quite literally what some describe as born evil like u know those satans spawns kids that cut off babys fingers and dissect rabbits #all that yk. and i was his first and most frequent victim due to availability lol and my parents did not know any of it and if they did #they ignored it. so yeah u can imagine the relationship was a little strained and for a long time i lived in fear of him #also due to all the death threats and attempts on my life HAHA its kinda funny because i can say all this all detached now #but i think to anyone else this sounds mad as hell. like im not talking roughhousing or being mad at each other #he was always scarily calm and hyperintelligent he was actually diagnosed with some form of like super high intelligence that #makes kids capable of being really manipulative and thats what he used at every turn. everything was always calculated that was scary #if he was nice to me i would question if he was trying to lure me somewhere to hurt me yk?#anyway. sometimes those old thoughts come back when were hanging out alone but mostly i know hes changed and worked on himself #sorry oversharing oh wow

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floral-hex · 6 months ago

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real sad boy hours

#why? just ‘cause.#actually I’m here at this chess tournament my brother is entered in. sitting by myself in the lobby waiting for him to finish his last game #and I’m honest to goodness trying not to openly weep. I feel so stupid #hold on. give me a second bc just writing this makes #makes me start crying a little and there are people around #life is too short #I love this kid. I’ve loved watching him grow up. and I’m always ALWAYS aware that everything is passing so fast #will I be here with him next year? will he outgrow all of this?#we don’t hang out as much anymore. he’s got his teenage things going on. his own life.#I don’t know. I’m trying to appreciate these moments as much as I can #it’s hard though. I feel like shit. my head hurts. my tinnitus has been driving me crazy #it’s hard to be present when you’re in a fog #last night in the hotel room we didn’t even really hang out. he just played on his phone until he slept. which is totally his right.#I just… I just hope I’m really appreciating this time #ok now I feel stupid for kind of crying in this hotel while lots of people walk around #i don’t know what more I could even do now. it’s not like I’m allowed to go watch him play or I can do anything but wait #I suppose I have to keep asking myself ‘am I appreciating this enough?’ and if I’m not then try to work on that #life is really shitty right now but I know there have been countless times I wish I’d been more present #so I wake up tired today and drink coffee & 5 hour energy and still I’m tired and my head hurts but I’ve still gotta try. just a little.#in a couple of years he’ll be off to college and have his own life #and it won’t be him and I going to the movies or driving him to school or having dinner together #anyway… juuuuust sad. and lonely. straight up not having a good time #but also I’m glad I’m here if only to hang around my brother a little bit #IAN! stop! god I feel so stupid letting myself wallow like this. it’s not helping. it’s just making me sad. focusing on the negatives.#whatevs. I’ve got major depression. suck my butt. I’m allowed to be sad sometimes.#this weekend didn’t really go like I thought #I guess I expected to read more and shoot the shit with my brother and hang out more but it’s whatever. life happens.#my mental & physical health has been bad for a couple months now so I couldn’t have reasonably expected to suddenly be great just because 🤷🏻#oh well!#text

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shoyoist · 1 month ago

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── 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 : VI.

content: 2k words ! fem reader, pit fighter!vi, fwb dynamic. this is obviously sapphic. vi tops and she has a strap, rough sεx, cunnilingus, spit, slapping (not on the face), usage of petnames like 'princess' and 'baby', a lil angsty and tense, mentions of sεx work, p<3rn with plot!!

— . ｡˚ ♡ turns out, vi needed a rebound too.

vi is rougher and quieter than usual tonight.

shedding her clothes and pulling on the strap you've left on the bedside table for her, she climbs wordlessly onto your creaky mattress to get to you. you've been laying in bed for hours, all dolled up for her, and she doesn't really even look at you— it makes your heart sink a little.

you wrap your arms around her anyway, allowing her to touch you, and with a soft sigh, she gives the swell of your chest a kiss, 'hello'.

the pallid light coming through your window outlines her body in pale blue, and her smell invades your senses as she leans into your body, pressing her weight on you.

gripping the soft underside of your thighs harshly, digging her nails into your tender skin, she pushes your knees to your chest. "you missed me, princess?"

"mmm, i did." you're looking at her with the most innocent gaze you can muster, eyes wet and lips pouty, and she leans in to give them a kiss just like you want her to. her mouth tastes sour enough of sweat and cheap alcohol to make you wince— but when she pulls back, you feel a twinge of disappointment that it doesn't last long enough.

fresh out of a fight, she's still full of adrenaline — and wastes no time on foreplay. hooking your legs over those broad shoulders of hers, she spits onto your cunt and gets right to it.

her eyes roll halfway back into her head as she slips the strap into your cunt, like she can feel the way your pussy grips it. throwing her head back, she moans hoarsely, in sync with the sweet whine that comes out of your mouth as she rolls her hips into yours, sliding the strap all the way in. "that's a good girl, fuck."

yes. you are a good girl. her good girl.

vi has been coming to you every night or so, for a few months now — and at first it was just a good deal of sex for you both. but lately, you've found yourself less interested in the sex she offers you, and more interested in the woman herself.

your room is dark, like it always is when she comes over, and the harsh pleasure she gives you always turns your mind cloudy — but nothing can sway the watchful gaze you fix onto vi whenever you're in her arms. through half-closed eyes, you count the nicks and bruises that line the base of her throat and her shoulders and arms. the scratches and cuts, redder because she's flushed, drunk and exerting herself.

twelve new marks since last time. you wonder if she won tonight's fight or if she lost. the way she fucks you doesn't make a difference, so you can't tell — what you do know is that she comes to you seeking an escape from frustrations that stem from something unrelated to the fights entirely.

and whatever it is, it frustrates her a lot.

she seems especially bothered tonight. you try to hold onto her, nails scratching at her muscled back as you struggle to maintain your grip. her pace is dizzying, and her grip on your body doesn't get lighter. she fucks you nearly like she wants you dead. "vi, vi—"

"you're doin' good, baby." she hisses, eyes shut. "g'nna make you cum in a bit, kay? just let me see you take my strap first. pretty thing."

and you take it — like a good girl. how could you not? when she acts like she's ravenous about you? when, with how she puts those dead eyes and calloused hands and busted lips on you, she makes you feel something no one else ever has?

she looks so good, too — so hot, with the dark hair, the ashy streaks running down her face, the lipstick smudged down her bottom lip that's just slightly fuller than her top lip — and the muscles, god.

her tits aren't nearly big enough to hang in your face while she's on top, but they bounce a little with each snap of her hips, and the sight mesmerizes you. she laughs softly when your pussy squelches for her — and it makes your heart flutter. fuck. you might just be in love with this ghost of a woman. "vi, please."

"you like that?" she hums, landing a kiss on the side of your knee that leaves a bit of lipstick stained on your skin. "y'like it when i fuck you to bits?"

"mhm," you choke out, keeping your eyes on her so you don't miss it when she looks at you. "wanna cum, make me cum, please."

the strap slides out of you as smoothly as it slid in — and heat rises to your cheeks when vi stares at how your cunt clenches around nothing. "can't say no to you when you ask so nicely." she reaches up to brush a stray strand of hair out of your face, giving you that half-smile that makes your heart twist just as much as your gut.

"look at you." she lowers her face to your chest, lips tracing kisses downward. one hand comes up to squeeze at your tits, soft and sharp at the same time, index finger and thumb teasing your nipple and making you keen. "pretty, pretty thing."

she nudges your legs apart, getting comfortable between them. her other hand toys with your cunt, middle and ring finger slowly coaxing their way into your hole like she's learning to be gentle now. your body tenses with anticipation, feeling the way her lips get closer and closer to where you want them to go. "ngh. just—please."

the first flick of her tongue on your clit makes you gasp, body rocking in reaction— and vi slaps your thigh. "shhh," is all she says, but it makes you behave. she spreads your pussy open with her fingers like it's a flower, and takes you whole.

the wet sounds of a mouth on a cunt fill your shoddy little room, and you moan and shudder in vi's arms, caged in her hold as she draws the orgasm out of you.

and she does it so quickly, having learned what touches of her tongue your clit likes best, how you like having her fingers, when to add the extra tug to your nipples. she makes you go insane so easily.

like she took the time to figure out how to do it. like she cared enough to do that. like she might just l—

the white-hot rush of pleasure hits you, and all your thoughts dissipate. you grab vi's hair, digging your fingers into the dyed locks, keeping her face where you want it. "mmm, fuck, just like that—vi, just like that, please—"

she slaps your thigh again, but you relent only slightly. she licks up your slick, adjusting her position so she can fuck you better with her fingers, and you tremble under her as she curls her digits into your sweetest spots, wave after wave of bliss washing over you with each touch. the bed creaks like the weak boards under your mattress might snap, but you don't even hear it. "god."

once you're not shaking so much anymore, the high peaking and falling past, she comes up and kisses you — and you know your face and body are full of inky lipstick marks by now. it's almost romantic.

then, it's over.

vi pulls away, letting go of you and sitting up.

"ugh." you slump into the bed, hiding the pang of hurt that fills you. "you . . . don't want me to do you? or . . get you a drink?"

"not tonight. think i'm wasted enough." vi wipes her mouth off, stretching her neck to one side till there's a pop — and gets off the bed. you notice how her lips are entirely clean of the onyx that they were. "hey, you sure you don't want me to pay you?"

and there it is. the moment of intimacy dissolves like a grain of sugar into the vastness of the sea. it's home time.

"no, it's fine." you wave her off, turning away. you watch discreetly through your mirror as she looks around at the little box you live in.

"are you sure? . . i can cough something up." she asks again, and though you're slightly offended, you know what she means. your place is a single room that's barely a six by ten, small rickety bed and a desk with the mirror, a rack for the few clothes you own, and nothing else really. you share a bathroom and kitchen with two other girls across the street. and you have vi each night.

you need nothing else. "yeah, i'm good. and i don't do that anymore, anyway." you tell her.

"alright." vi pulls her clothes back on, and you're just a little sad to see her body covered away again. you did love getting your eyefuls of those slight curves and sleek muscles, and the tatts. "why'd you stop, though? working, i mean."

you think of how you used to feel, seeing clients and letting them fawn over you for the night. handing you a wad of cash and walking out at the end of it. back then, it was what you needed— but the moment you didn't need it anymore, you’d signed out.

you'd only agreed to hook up with vi because it seemed harmless enough. made your nights a little less lonelier, gave you some company. you hadn’t expected money or to catch feelings.

the answer to her question rises up your throat, but you find it a bit ironic — and you know vi is a good person. if she finds out that you're yearning for more than what's between you two at the moment, she may just see herself out of your life, so as to not hurt you. and you didn't want that. you wanted vi, even if it was only like this.

the real answer to her question rests at the base of your throat like an ache, throbbing a little along with the parts of your body vi had gripped a little too harshly. i didn't like to feel used.

but you shrug your shoulders and say, "well, i just didn't need it anymore."

vi doesn't answer, only turns to leave. "will you come tomorrow?" you ask, trying not to sound like you want her to come.

"probably." vi answers, out of the door already. "stay safe, princess." then she's gone, and you're alone again.

the dreary darkness of your room surrounds you once more, and you feel hot and sticky. ignoring the discomfort, you slump into your bed again, realizing how painfully little you know about vi. yes, she's jinx's older sister. yes, she's nothing like her. yes, she's beautiful — handsome; ghost-pale, dark red roots showing through the dyed black hair, sad eyes lit up with need.

you loved those nights when she would let you reciprocate and make her feel good. when she would ask for a drink or two. when she would ask to stay the night, and you'd let her sleep on your chest. she wrapped her arms around your body then, holding you both like she's protecting you and like she wants you to keep her safe. and you'd hold her, stroke her hair, and stay awake praying the morning comes late.

and then there are nights like tonight — where she's quieter and more distant. where she leaves too soon. like she's holding herself back. it infuriates you, almost. you want to ask her what she wants. you want to tell her what you want.

shifting your stare from the ceiling to your door that hangs ajar, you let out a heavy sigh. next time, maybe you'll ask her. maybe you'll tell her. maybe. if the surge of body-and-mind desperation to make the moment last long enough doesn't overthrow everything else, you will. but you know it'll be easier said than done.

vi melts you like shaved ice in the sun. she softens you, turns you sweet. you feel alive with those dead eyes, calloused hands and busted lips on you. being wanted by her gives you a sense of meaning. and you'll do anything if it means holding her a little longer.

if that meant this, simply getting to be her good girl for a night and nothing more — then so be it.

a/n: part two, anyone? lmk if you want it, might turn this into a series :P💓

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canthelpit0 · 8 months ago

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Intimate

Pairing: Matt x Reader

Wordcount: 2.1k +

In wich: matt has a borderline obsession with cock warming

Warnings: smut, cock warming, p in v, use of y/n, 1st pov, praise kink, name calling (slut), pet names, unprotected, creampie

(A/N: English is not my first language! Also this song has like barely anything to do w the plot, I just feel like that’s the vibe. This is sort of like a blurb. Hope you guys like it <3)

One of the considerably weird things Matt is into is: cock warming.

I clench at the thought trying to focus on my history homework.

I’ve known Matt for practically all my life. We’ve always been close and no conversation between us was ever awkward.

Matt didn’t seem like the type to be into that sort of stuff. But one day, when, we were hanging out and cuddling like we were normally, I felt a hardness at my butt.

When I turned back to look at him he was blushing. Matt had his arms wrapped around my waist, spooning me.

After I asked him what that is, he responded with a question. “Can I..?” He trailed off and I wasn’t catching on to his train of thought.

“What? you want to fuck?” I huff rolling my eyes…not that I would be against it.

“No.” He said defensively squeezing my sides. “Can I just put it in?” Matt asked shyly.

I paused, But eventually complied. With the duvet being over us it shouldn’t be too awkward. He shuffled out of his sweatpants and pulled mine down too.

And before I knew it his finger was inside of me and I was wet.

After a few moments I felt the head of his dick press against me before feeling his entire length slide into me.

I never thought he’d be into that, but even further, I didn’t think that I’d like it too.

I shift feeling the angle change.

“Y/n/n, can you stop moving.” Matt huffs, his words sounding passive aggressive. He puts one of his hands on my hips to prevent as much movement as possible, his other hand still clutching his phone.

I clench again at the tone of his voice, slamming my pen down.

Ever since that day, when this first started off, I started to sit on him more often. Whether it was while we were cuddling or just mindlessly hanging out. We’re not necessarily friends with benefits tho.

I guess he just likes the feeling… but so do I.

It was bad, like we hung out so much Chris and Nick started to make joking remarks about it.

About us hanging out so much that is, not the… whatever we’re doing.

Like it was so bad that practically every time we were alone somewhere private, I was probably sitting on his dick.

It feels so intimate and good, and if we still have time after, he’ll rail me.

But I’m saying that when we’re at home doing homework, I’m sitting on his lap. Or when cuddling or sleepovers. Or even when we go get fast food to eat in the parking lot at night. I’ll climb over the middle console and sit down on it.

I was never a skirt person, but I started to wear skirts more often just for the easier access.

I could go hours just calmly sitting on it.

But sometimes after a while I would get frustrated.

I try to grind into him, Matt still holding me in place as much as he can.

“What? You wanna get yourself off on my dick?” He huffs. His grip on my hip gets harder making me whine, while his other hand still holds his phone.

He’d been scrolling through TikTok and various other social media while I was trying to get all of my homework done.

And it’s been probably over an hour now and I was getting frustrated from all the homework. doing math first was definitely a mistake.

And while on a normal day I would be fine with the intimacy and wouldn’t be trying to get myself off, the homework today was frustrating. And since Matt was already balls deep inside of me, I might as well.

He leans over putting his phone on my desk. With the movement his hand on my hip loosens giving me the opportunity to start to slightly ride him.

“Fuck-“ i sigh. I lean forward on my arms, trying to get as much friction as I can, both on my sweet spot and also my clit.

I hear Matt’s low groan. And suddenly his hands are on my hips again, holding me in place.

“Y/n I swear, i will make you cum over and over again until you’re seeing fucking stars if you don’t fucking stop right now and go back to your homework.”

His tone is authoritative and so hot. Why was he saying that like it would be such a bad thing anyway.

“Matt please.” I whine.

Sometimes Matt would get frustrated and fuck me while I wasn’t even paying him any mind, and sometimes it was the other way around.

He huffs letting go of my hips. Matt leans back as he just watched me and my every move.

I let out a shaky breath once again, leaning forward more to lift myself better.

“Fucking slut, getting yourself off on your best friends dick.” He rolls his eyes in exasperation.

His hands go to my waist, assisting my movements now instead of stopping me.

“If you cum I’m still gonna Make you warm me.” He warns his tone assertive.

Matt holds me in place for a few seconds and scoots the chair back. I sigh leaning forward, using my forearms to prop me up, before starting to ride him again.

His eyes were heavy lidded, his mouth dropped in a silent moan while he watches me.

He somehow seemed way less sensitive than me. But I can literally feel the knot starting to tie In My stomach just waiting to snap.

By this point I was panting and Matt was letting out some heavy breaths too.

“Fuck- Matt, Matt” I whine his name my voice pitching higher as i keep getting closer.

“You close baby?” He breaths out keeping his hands on my hips for stability.

I let out a sharp breath letting my head drop forward as I keep up the angle and speed up in order to reach my climax faster.

“Yeah.” One of my hands go down to my clit to rub it, resulting in my other arm having to hold me up alone.

“Come then.” He demands, his voice sounding cocky. I can hear him breathe heavily and bite his lip to keep quiet.

With his hands tightening on my hips, I feel the knot in my stomach snap.

I let out a loud moan, piercing through the, otherwise, mostly quiet room.

I sit down again my pussy convulsing around his cock.

I sigh, trying to calm down again. Matt’s hands rub my sides, holding my back to his chest and mumbling sweet nothings into my ear.

“You good?” He asks after I mildly catch my breath. I lean more into him, my eyes fluttering closed as I mumble an agreement.

“You gonna go back to your homework now, or…?” He trails off waiting for me to answer.

“No” I breathe out and slightly look over my shoulder to make eye contact with him.

He lets his huge grin take over his features. He picks me up gently, making me wince, to wich he whispers encouraging praises into my ear.

My back makes contact with my bed. I sigh at the feeling of the soft sheets under me. And I watch as Matt hurriedly takes off his shirt.

I was still wearing my mini skirt and a long sleeve shirt, but Matt didn’t look like he was going to take them off. The access was easy, so really, why do the extra work.

Matt rubs my lower stomach, while his other hand holds his dick. He glides it up my folds before slipping it back into me. I whine at the feeling throwing my head back into the mattress.

I’m still sensitive from my previous orgasm and also from the hour of cock warming’s

It wasn’t like he wasn’t sensitive too. I could see him physically hold back from releasing right then and there.

Our eyes stay locked while he starts to rock his hips against me. I can feel him hit that spot in me that makes pure euphoria shoot through my entire body.

Despite not being labeled, it always felt so intimate with Matt.

Maybe it was because most of the time it was literally just cock warming and nothing else. But sometimes, when it did come to the actual intercourse - penetration type of thing, it still felt intimate.

“So good for me baby.” He breaths out. Our eyes stay locked, my mouth dropped in quiet moans.

“Fuck- you like being filled?” He chuckles. His hand stays on my lower abdomen, pressing down slightly to feel himself.

I close my eyes briefly trying to respond, but the way his hips snap into me, and the way he still manages to make this feel sensual, has my head fuzzy.

“Fuck..” Matt breaths out his eyes staying locked on my face. “Too fucked out to answer now?”

All I can do is whine out his name and moan loudly, and he takes pride in that. I know he does. I can see it in his eyes.

“You wanna be fucking full all the time, don’t you baby?” Matt taunts, somehow speeding up even more.

I clench around him my legs going stiff at the constant and heavy stimulation.

Matt notices and readjusts, picking up my legs further so they’re on his shoulders before he picks up pace again.

“Close” I whine out, I can feel the knot in my stomach getting tighter by the second, threatening to snap anytime now.

“Good girl” he hums. Matt’s fingers find their way towards my clit as he starts to vigorously rub it.

“Oh god-“ I moan loudly throwing my head back, my eyes shutting tightly as I try not to get overwhelmed, even tho i already am.

“Eyes on me.” Matt speaks lowly also panting. His movements pick up pace getting more rough and messy, indicating that he’s close too.

My eyes snap open, immediately meeting his. And as soon as they do, I feel my body convulse, my orgasm washing over me like a wave. But despite that, I try to keep my eyes on Matt as best as I can.

“So pretty.” He breathes out harshly and before either of us know it, he gives me one last thrust and fills me up.

I pant, trying to catch my breath. I feel a thin layer of sweat coat my skin, but despite that, I love this feeling.

This post orgasmic state was sending me into almost as much euphoria as the sex itself.

I watch through lazy, heavy-lidded eyes as Matt sits up straighter, moving my legs from off of his shoulders.

“You wanna clean up or sleep like this sweetheart?” He asks tilting his head. Matt was trying to contain a goofy smile.

“Just..” I trail off and let out a breath. Damn I didn’t realize just how out of breath I am.

“Just lay down.” I breathe out.

He licks his lips his eyes wandering from my face to my body and how it’s still clothed.

“You wanna sleep with clothes, or…” he trails off. Matt’s eyes come to meet mine again with a playful glint.

“Matt, I don’t care” I say exasperated.

“I wanna cuddle?” He says like I said we wouldn’t. I huff a slight laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation at hand.

Matt huffs trying and failing to hold back a smile. He gently and slowly pulls out in order to not hurt me. But I still wince from the over stimulation.

He pulls the skirt back down and than reaches for the zipper. He pulls the skirt off tossing it to the floor carelessly.

He then reaches for my long sleeve shirt. I sit up slightly so he can take that, and my bra also off.

Now being nude under him, he looks satisfied. He hums in approval and wordlessly lays down next to me, before I feel his arms go around my waist.

“You think you can warm me, baby?” He whisper sweetly into my ear. I feel a shiver run down my spine from his tone of voice. My eyes shut I take in his silk like words.

“Corse.” I breathe out pushing my hips back into him to tease him.

Matt chuckles lowly. I feel his length slide through my folds. Still being soaked in our combined juices, it was fairly easy for him to slip back in, not that it didn’t make me moan.

I felt way too sensitive, but like hell would I ever say no to this.

Matt chuckles at the low moan I let out. He has his arm spread out so I can lay on it his other arm around my waist. “You do like being full?” He asks in fake shock.

“You were the one that started this tho?” I question right back not moving at all. Simply keeping my eyes closed and enjoying the closeness and intimacy.

“Touché.”

Masterlist

A /N: sorry for being gone for so long guys. Schools been overwhelming. But yeah, I hope you guys liked this. Requests and asks are open & feedback is always appreciated 💕

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun

#Spotify #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo x you #chris x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

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kousanosgf · 14 days ago

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men, minors dni

councilor!sevika x housewife!reader

sevika comes home after another tiring day. gladly, she has a good way of reliving stress.

tags: domestic fluff, oral (reader receiving)

it was well past 12am but your kitchen was alive, filled with smells of spices and meat. sevika was still not home, and recently she took a very annoying habit of staying too late at work. you couldn't blame her. maybe you were staying home all day and having all the time to enjoy yourself and work around the house but you were knowledgeable enough to understand how hard politics can be. so there's definitely not even a thought to voice any of your complaints to sevika.

yet, you couldn't stop to feel disappointed and dissatisfied the whole day, ever since you woke up late in the morning, sevika already off to work. it was unfair that you are unable to meet her while living in the same house and sleeping in one bed. and that's the exact reason why you were staying up late, waiting for her to come home. "i will not go through the day without seeing my own wife." you told yourself as you put on the apron about an hour ago to spend some time cooking so you wouldn't fall asleep by accident.

finally you hear a key clicking in the lock and a door opening. you smile to yourself but don't move from your place to meet sevika, the pan demanding your full attention.

sevika moves around the house, taking off her boots and outwear, washing her hands in the bathroom, before coming into the kitchen.

"give me a sec-" you don't finish your sentence, sevika surprises you by basically attaching herself to your body, hugging from behind and nuzzling into the top of your head.

"sorry i'm late." she mummbles and it makes you smile.

"how was your day?" you ask as you stir the stew on the stove.

"i work with complete idiots."

you can't help but laugh at sevika's attitude. she sounds like a pouty child, the sleepiness in her voice definitely adding to overall cutness of her.

comfortable silence hangs between you as you continue to cook and sevika just tracks your hand movements. she gets restless, you guess, when you feel her palms cup your breasts. sevika presses more into you and kneads your chest, her mouth coming down to leave light kisses on your neck. it tickles and you flinch away slightly. sevika just presses harder, your frame now caught between her and the counter.

"aren't you hungry, babe?"

she humms in agreement but doesn't let you go. "my meal is right here." it's probably the cheesiest thing you heard from her but you're so in love it works, something twirls in your lower belly.

you nudge her to the side to turn off the stove so the food wouldn't burn and face her finally. there're dark circles under her eyes, she definitely needs a better sleep schedule. the sight makes you frown.

"i hope it's your day off tomorrow, like you promised." you look at her with a stern look but cup her cheek gently, rubbing circles with your thumb.

"it is." sevika grins, there's a mischievous glint in her eyes. "planned spending it without letting you out of my grip". her hands rise back to your waistline, toying with the ties of your sweatpants under the apron.

there's a lot you can tell her. it's been a long day for both of you, especially sevika. she probably only had quick snacks on her brakes. she needs to sleep more. but how can you when she grew basically professional at seducing you.

treating your silence as a permission to continue, sevika slides your pants and underwear swiftly. suddenly you're in the air, held by her, as she places you on the kitchen counter.

"made me nervous there, doll," she huffs and squats down to place herself perfectly between your legs. "thought, i'll have to beg."

she starts slow, taking her sweet time to get you hot and wet. she squeezes your thighs while telling how her day went. the end of the year is coming and it seems everyone demands annual reports on her every move.

you really try to be an attentive wife and listen carefully to her stories but it's basically impossible when sevika runs her hands up and down your inner thighs, the contrast of temperature between her arms makes you shiver. you can help but gasp as the finger of her metal arm dips softly in the crease where your hip connects to the crotch.

"no, baby. don't block the view." she teases when your legs twitch, trying to close from the unexpected contact.

"sorry," you sigh. "just... weren't you so eager for this?"

"i am." sevika laughs and puts her head on your hip. "but don't you want to be a good wife and listen to what i'v been up to?"

and you do. of course, you do. but that's not really the reaction she waits from you. recently sevika's been set on a mission. begging wouldn't help in this situation. what she really wanted is you demanding things from her. you were too nice and sweet, usually considering other's wishes first rather than yourself. sevika finds it cute and cherishes that part of you. it's one of the traits that was important for survival in zaun, people being empathetic towards each other, always ready to help the community. but everything had it's limits and by sevika's judgment you needed to be selfish sometimes, specifically with her, because either way she was willing and ready to serve your every wish.

"vika, please." you whine.

"try again." she turns her head to kiss your thigh.

"fuck- you need to eat me out!" you finally give up, leaning further back, your head presses against the wall, hips thrust up to get closer to her mouth.

she doesn't let you wait a second more as she basically leaps forward and puts her lips on your pussy. your apron is still on you, sevika dips under it, hiding herself. she chuckles as you whine displeased and doesn't let you drag the fabric up for a better view.

there's a pause that's followed by a bite on your inner thigh. "use your words."

"wanna see, vika. let me see." there's a smile against your skin. she lays her lips back on your dripping cunt and reaches for the laces of your apron.

the sight is magical, you think. her face rubbing against you, nose already coated in your slick as she was teasing your clit, sliding up and down. sevika holds your gaze, taking in your reaction, and then just dives deeper, closing her eyes. her tongue is inside of you now. you cry out with pleasure, you legs closing around her.

sevika is so so so good for you. she can't move her head now, so she can only use her mouth. the tongue disappears from your hole and she just sucks on your clit. her puppy grey eyes are back on you, drinking in your reaction.

the kitchen is filled with your quite moans when she holds you there for couple more minutes. then she decides something for herself. the tip of her tongue on your clit. it dances lightly without much rhythm.

sevika once told you, she needs to try to spell the whole alphabet on your pussy and maybe it's the time for it. and if it is, you're not sure you can last through the whole thing, already too worked up.

"vika-" she raises her brows in question. "need to cum."

as she hears it, the pressure hardens, her tongue now laying more flat, trying to cover as much skin as she can. the sounds of her mouth and your drenched cunt become louder. you have to hold onto her head, pushing fingers through her hair, to steady yourself.

sevika doesn't stop, doesn't slow down as you reach the climax. "need to clean up the mess." she usually jokes, guiding you through the feeling and then some, becoming delirious with need to overstimulate you till you actually tell her to stop.

you slide down the counter when you finally catch your breath, legs shakey. sevika has to steady you, grabbing your elbow.

"i'm not letting you out of the bed till monday." you say, brining yourself closer, kissing her wet lips.

"can't say i'll be disappointed." sevika grins. you scoff under your breath and tug at her arm out of the kitchen, stumbling like a baby deer on shaky legs.

#arcane #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika x y/n

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darkbluekies · 4 months ago

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In the dungeon

yandere!king oc x fem!reader

Summary: after disrespecting him, you've found yourself in his dungeon. Edmund comes to visit you because he has heard that you haven't eaten in three days

Warnings: self starvation, punishment, toxic relationship,

Word count: 1.1k

He doesn't like it, but what choice does he have? If people found out that he doesn't punish his own wife, what would they think of him? That he's not a well respected leader because he can't even punish his own wife? No, he can't have that. He has to do it. But by doing it, he also feels pain, so it's a punishment for both of you. That's how he explained it.

You had disrespected him, belittled him and his masculinity. And now you're here. Easier said than done. Saying the words to him was easier than doing the time for them.

Your head hangs low as footsteps echo down the spiral stone stairs. You don't look up to see who it is, don't care who it is. Another guard to switch swift.

“Oh, my love …”

You look up. Edmund is standing on the other side of the metallic bars, wearing his clean, colorful clothes made out of the finest satin. He places a plate with a silver cloche on the bench beside him. You pull yourself up from the floor slowly, back sore from resting against the stone wall for eternity and stomach empty. Edmund's ice blue eyes follow your every step. It's not often that they contain any type of emotion, but seeing you like this brings out a deep worry that seems to make his eyes glow.

You drag yourself over to the door, which is nothing more than metallic bars. You hold onto one of the cold metal rods. Edmund places his hand over yours.

“The guards have told me that you haven't eaten in three days”, he says softly, as if you could break if he raised his voice even a decibel louder. “You can't do that, Y/N. You can't worry me like this.”

As if he would have eaten that stale bread and drink that moldy water, you think.

“Can I come up now?” you whisper. “I want to get out of here”, you cry weakly. “Edmund, please …”

Edmund shakes his head carefully.

“No, not yet”, he answers with a heavy sigh. “It's going to be okay, darling”, he reassures you softly, kissing the hand he's holding. “Soon, you'll be back with me, okay? Believe me, I want nothing more than to let you back upstairs and have you in my arms, but they would think I was incompetent in my role.”

He wipes one of your tears apologetically.

“Do you care more about your power than you do me?” you whisper.

He looks taken aback, unable to know what to answer.

“Don't be like that”, he says. “You know I love you more than anything else.”

But not enough, apparently, you think and sniffle.

He looks behind you, around the cell.

“I brought some food from the kitchen”, he says. “I want to see you eat it before I leave.”

He gestures for the guard to unlock the door as he bends down to pick up the plate. You back away from the door, finding your safe spot on the floor by the opposite wall. Edmund walks over, checking the floor before hesitantly sitting down.

“Do you have to sit on the dirty floor?” he mumbles dislikingly.

“I like it”, you reply.

“Alright, alright.”

Despite grimacing and dusting of his satin clothes, he makes himself comfortable on the hard, dirty floor and opens the cloche. The smell of boiled potatoes and marinated meat meets your nose, and the sight is even more exquisite. He takes out a silver fork from his pocket, stabs one of the potatoes and holds it to your lips. You open your mouth, letting him feed you. It tastes better than you remember it to. It has only been a week since you got locked down in the dungeon, but without anything to do, without necessities and comfort, the hours creep by. For all you could care, a month could have gone by. The only form of company you've had have been the rats crawling around on the floor, just big enough to squeeze through the metal bars. They bite.

“Tasty?” Edmund asks.

You nod. Anything that the kitchen prepares is delicious — or at least a thousand times better than the rock hard bread and dusty water.

“Good”, the young king says, pleased, feeding you another fork full of meat. “It makes me feel better to see you eat.”

Eating the food he has brought for you reminds you of how badly you want to vet out of here … and how much your comfort relies on Edmund.

Edmund wipes away a sauce smudge on the corner of your lips and sticks it between his lips to lick it off. You doubt he would do that to anyone else. Ever. He has certain liberties with you which he has with no one else. He can hug you, touch you, smile at you, joke with you. You give him life in a way no one can.

“You should see how restless my hours without you are”, he sighs and rolls his eyes. “I'm a walking bomb without you. I almost feel bad for my secretary.”

“Then let me back up …”, you whisper, a last attempt to try to plead with him. “Please.”

“I can't. Not yet. I've already given you special treatment and advantages no one else has gotten. If I let you back upstairs before an appropriate time my authority will be questioned.”

“I'm sorry, Edmund.”

Your voice is barely audible. His hand stops dead in its track on its way to your mouth. A drop of sauce falls down on the floor. You can see that it hit him right in his heart, shattering it.

“Oh, I know”, he reassures you and feeds you the piece of meat. “I know, darling. I believe you.”

You chew slowly, swallow slowly. The food seems to get stuck in your throat.

“Good girl”, Edmund praises. “You can hold out a little while longer, can't you? Just a few more days?”

You nod in defeat. What other choice do you have now that your pleading didn't work?

Edmund stands up. You follow him panicked, quickly reaching out and grabbing his hand.

“No!” you shriek. “Dont leave me. I don't want to be alone!”

“It's getting late”, Edmund answers. “I thought that I would let you get some rest.”

“No … not alone … please. Please stay. Just a little while longer.”

He thinks for a second. “Okay.”

You breathe out in relief. He sits down with his back against the wall, letting you fall asleep against him, wrapped in his warm, strong arms. Leaving him alone with his thoughts — his conflicting, torturing thoughts.

When you wake up the following morning by the sun shining through the little window pane you're alone, lying on the floor, covered by a colorful cape made out of the finest satin.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere fics #yandere king #yandere x female reader #female reader #yandere oneshot #yandere royal

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aliyahwritings · 2 months ago

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THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (01)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 4.2k

Aliyah's Notes: this is my first series on here so go easy on me (#adele) pls + some things are not going to be obx canon ... at least some of yall are warned. anyw im so excited for this cause lord knows the amount of time ive wanted to make a fake dating fic!!!!!!! anyw i hope you all will enjoy this i had so much writing the first chapter

The clatter of high heels against the marble floor echoed in perfect sync with the ticking of your watch. Every step was deliberate, poised—just like your life had to be. Perfection, it seemed, was not a choice but a requirement for survival.

You adjusted your sunglasses, your gaze skimming over the glamorous expanse of the fashion agency's lobby. People buzzed around you like bees in a hive, their worlds spinning, fueled by the weight of names, status, and flawless images. You smiled politely at the receptionist, offering a nod, though your mind was miles away.

To the outside world, your life was golden. The covers of magazines, the invitations to high-society events, the million-dollar deals with luxury brands—it was a fantasy that others could only dream of. It was your dream some time ago, too.

But today, your reality felt like walking on the edge of a tightrope, the safety net fraying below you.

Your phone vibrated in your purse, interrupting your thoughts. You fished it out, your pulse quickening when you saw the text from your lawyer. Three words that sent a chill through your carefully constructed façade.

"We need to talk."

Your heart sank. The issue of your visa had been hanging over your head like a storm cloud for months now, growing darker by the day. You’d known this was coming, but knowing and confronting it were two different beasts.

Fame didn’t shield you from the cold bureaucracy of citizenship laws, and your time was running out. One misstep, one delay, and your golden empire could crumble. In a matter of months, you could be deported, left behind by the very country that had built you up.

With a deep breath, you silenced your phone and slid it back into your purse. This wasn’t something you could dwell on right now, not in public. Your expression remained serene, even though your mind was anything but. You had a shoot in an hour, a charity gala that evening, and at some point, you had to meet with the lawyer to discuss "options"—a word that had started to feel more like a trap than a solution.

As you exited the building, the cool breeze caught your hair, the city unfolding before you like a glittering stage. New York City. You looked out at the streets, the people, the life you fought so hard to build. The car pulled up to the curb, and you climbed inside. On your way to your lawyer.

You stepped into the law office, the familiar scent of polished wood and stale coffee wrapping around you like a tight band.

"Ms. Y/L/N, good afternoon," Nicolas Ramirez, your lawyer, greeted you, standing behind his desk. His expression was composed, but you knew him well enough by now to spot the unease in his eyes.

"Hi," you softly smiled at him. Your heels clicked softly on the floor as you sat down, crossing your legs tightly, as if holding yourself together. "Let’s just get straight to it, okay? How bad is it?"

Nico sighed, adjusting his glasses. "Your visa expires in less than three months."

You felt your stomach twist, your worst fear inching closer to reality. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "And what about the appeals? The extensions?"

"We’ve exhausted every possible option—work visas, artist visas, even humanitarian grounds. Immigration laws are tightening, and without a permanent solution like citizenship or residency, you’ll be forced to leave the country."

"Leave?" Your voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the full weight of the nightmare you’d been living with.

Leave? Go back there?

The country you had fought so hard to escape. The country where your childhood had been marked by suffocating poverty, where your parents had already planned your marriage before you even turned 15. Where your dreams had been a distant, impossible hope until that one person changed your life forever.

You felt your throat tighten. You couldn’t go back.

Nico’s gaze softened slightly, his voice gentle but firm. "I know what this means for you. I know how difficult—"

"You don’t know," you cut him off, your voice sharper than you intended. "You… You don’t know—I can’t go back there, Nico. I just… I can’t."

He nodded, giving you a moment of silence to compose yourself, but the pressure in your chest only grew. You took a deep breath, trying to keep the panic at bay.

"So what now?" you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady. "Is this it? Am I out of options?"

"Well… There’s one option we haven’t explored yet." his tone was cautious, like he knew what he was about to say would open a new can of worms.

You furrowed your brow. "What?"

"Marriage."

The word hung in the air, thick and heavy. You blinked, unable to comprehend at first. "Marriage?" you repeated, as if saying it aloud would make the absurdity of it clear.

"It’s one of the few legal paths left," he explained, leaning forward slightly. "Marriage to a U.S. citizen could secure your green card and, eventually, permanent residency. It’s a legitimate route—many people in similar situations have done it."

You sat back in your chair, the tension in your body coiling tighter. The thought of marriage, of attaching yourself to someone you barely knew for the sake of staying in the country, made your skin crawl. You had already sacrificed so much for your freedom, for your career. And now this?

"You’re telling me the only way to stay here is to marry someone I don’t even love? Just to avoid being sent back to a country I don’t belong in anymore?"

"Not necessarily," Nicolas said, his tone measured. "It wouldn’t have to be a traditional marriage. Think of it as a business arrangement. It’s a legal partnership—nothing more. And it could save your career, your life here."

You crossed your arms tightly, your mind racing. Marriage. It was a word that had haunted you ever since your parents had tried to force you into it as a teenager. Back then, it was their way of controlling you, of keeping you bound to a life you didn’t want. Now, it felt like the universe was throwing the same chains back at you, just in a different form.

"I’ve compiled a list of potential candidates," Arjun continued, sliding a piece of paper across the desk toward you. "People who might be open to an arrangement like this. Athletes, businesspeople—individuals who might benefit from a similar deal."

You glanced at the paper but didn’t pick it up. The names blurred in front of your eyes. This wasn’t how your life was supposed to go. You’d already lost your family, fought tooth and nail to get out of your country and build something for yourself in the U.S. And now you were at risk of losing everything—again.

"I don’t know if I can do this, Nico," you said quietly, shaking your head. "I’ve already sacrificed so much. My family… I gave up everything to be here. And now you’re telling me I have to give up even more?"

"I’m not telling you that you have to do anything," he replied, his voice calm but firm. "I’m saying this is an option. One that could keep you here, legally. But the decision is yours. I’m just laying out the possibilities."

You swallowed the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

"I can’t go back there," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. "I’ve worked too hard to get here. I can’t lose everything."

He nodded slowly. "Then maybe it’s time to consider unconventional options."

You finally picked up the paper, scanning the names but not really seeing them. Your heart was racing, your mind spinning with a thousand thoughts. Marriage. It felt like a trap, just like it had back then. But maybe—just maybe—it was the only way to keep your future intact.

"I’ll think about it," you said, standing up and smoothing the front of your dress. "But I’m not making any promises."

"Of course," he said, standing as well. "Just let me know. We’re running out of time, but I’ll support whatever decision you make."

You nodded curtly, turning toward the door. As you stepped out into the cool city air, your chest tightened with the weight of everything you stood to lose. The lights of New York City flickered ahead of you, just out of reach, as though the life you’d built here could vanish at any moment.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly afraid.

Your phone buzzed, dragging you out of your spiraling thoughts. You fished it out of your purse, heart skipping a beat when you saw the name: Nina. Your agent.

With a shaky exhale, you answered. “Nina, hi.”

“Hey, babe!” Nina’s voice was all cheer, a stark contrast to the storm inside you. “So, I have amazing news! Guess who just got major campaign offers coming in? You! Chanel, Loewe, and oh my God, don’t even get me started on Louis Vuitton. The year starts beautifully for you!”

You should’ve felt ecstatic, but instead, the words passed over you like an echo. All you could think of was the countdown Nico had set in motion: three months. Three months before everything you’d built here would be taken away from you.

“That’s… amazing, Nina,” you managed, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Really amazing. Thank you so much.”

“Are you okay? You don’t sound like your sunshine-self.” Nina’s voice softened, concern creeping in. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause. Nina had been there through all your ups and downs, from your rookie days as a model to your rise in the industry. But the immigration issues, the fear of being sent back to a life you couldn’t return to—that was something neither of you could control.

“Three months?” she repeated, her voice going higher. “Oh my God—what the fuck? I thought… I thought you had more time.”

“So did I.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Nina, I don’t know what to do. I’ve called Nico and he tried everything—extensions, appeals—but the laws are tightening, and he said there’s only one real option left.”

There was a brief silence before she asked, “What option?”

You bit your lip. “Marriage. Nico says I could marry someone for a green card.”

“Marriage?” Nina’s voice came out in a shocked squeak. “Like a fake marriage? Babe, are you serious?”

“I don’t know!” you burst out, frustration and fear colliding. “I don’t know what to do! I can’t go back there. I can’t. My parents… My parents already wrote me off as dead, and if I go back, I’m stuck in a place I spent my entire life trying to escape.”

Her voice softened. “I know, honey, I know… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound—God, I can’t imagine how scary this is for you.”

You took a shaky breath, grateful for her understanding. Nina wasn’t just your manager—she was one of the few people who you actually close to. She was a 34 years old American-Filipina woman. You trusted her with your life.

“Okay,” Nina said, her voice more focused now. “Okay, now listen. We’ll figure this out. I know Nicolas wouldn’t suggest something like this unless it was a real option. Do you trust him?”

You sighed. “Yeah. I do. But the idea of marrying someone just to stay… it feels like another version of what my parents wanted for me. Like I’m back in that same time of my life.”

“I get it. But this isn’t like that. You’re in control this time,” Nina said. “If this is what you need to stay here, it’s not about love or being owned by someone.”

You nodded to yourself, trying to absorb her words. “Well, um, Nico gave me a list of potential candidates—people who might be willing to make an arrangement. You’ll never guess who’s on it, though.”

“Who? Shawn Mendes? Harry Styles? Tom Holland—”

“Rafe Cameron,” you said, cutting her off. “The basketball play—”

“Yeah, I know who that man is, Y/N. His reputation is a total mess right now. It’s not surprising for him to be on that list.”

“Exactly,” you muttered. “It’s a perfect business arrangement for him, too. He needs a way to look respectable again, and I need to stay in the country.”

“So, you’re actually considering this?”

You leaned against a streetlamp, staring at the city around you. “I don’t know. Maybe? It just feels wrong. Like I’m giving up a part of myself.”

“As nicely as this can be said, you are being dramatic here, babe.” Nina sighed softly. “Look, I’m not going to push you either way, okay? But I do think you need to look at it from a different angle. You’re not giving up on yourself. You’re doing what you need to do to stay here, to keep fighting for your career and your future. And Rafe—or whoever you’ll end up marrying—is not your parents. He’s not going to control you or he’ll get slapped.”

You closed your eyes, trying to let her words sink in. She was right—you were in control now. This wasn’t the same as being forced into a marriage you didn’t want. This was about survival. About keeping your life in the U.S. intact.

"Yeah… I guess you’re right," you said softly, feeling some of the tension release from your shoulders. "I just need time to think."

TWO WEEKS LATER.

The soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting warm light across your living room. After two relentless weeks of back-to-back fashion shoots, campaign meetings, and gala appearances, you had finally found a moment of peace. You curled up on the plush sofa, sinking into its embrace as the hum of the city outside became a distant murmur. The oversized, loose pajamas you wore were a far cry from the designer gowns and couture you’d been draped in recently, but they were yours—soft, comforting, and familiar. Your hair was twisted into a lazy bun under a satin bonnet.

You exhaled a sigh of relief, finally feeling the weight of exhaustion slip from your shoulders as you closed your eyes.

Buzz. Buzz.

The sound of your phone vibrating on the coffee table pulled you from the calm. You groaned softly, reaching for it with one hand, expecting to see another notification about a meeting or event. Instead, it was a message from Nicolas.

“Any thoughts on who you're going to marry? We need to move quickly if we want to ensure everything goes through in time.”

The familiar weight of the situation you’d been trying to avoid crept back into your chest. Two weeks had passed since your lawyer had first laid out the reality of your visa situation. In those weeks, you'd thrown yourself into work, hoping the constant flurry of activity would drown out the anxiety. But now, in the quiet of your home, the decision loomed large again.

You typed back, hesitating for a moment before hitting send.

"I haven’t decided yet."

A few seconds later, the reply came through.

"We need to discuss this in person. Can you come to my office today?"

You frowned, your eyes darting around the cozy room, not quite ready to leave your home.

"How about you come here instead?" you typed. "It’s been a long week, and I’d rather talk in private."

There was a pause before the three dots appeared, and then the message followed.

"Sure. I’ll be there in about an hour."

You put your phone down and leaned back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. This wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have, but it was necessary. Time was running out, and you knew you had to face it—whether you wanted to or not.

An hour passed in a blur, and soon enough, you heard the knock at your door. You padded across the room in your socks, your oversized pajama pants swishing softly as you walked. Opening the door, you found Nicolas standing there, looking as composed as ever in his tailored suit.

“Come in,” you said with a smile, stepping aside to let him in.

Nicolas entered, his eyes scanning the room before they landed on you. "You look... relaxed."

You gave a soft chuckle, gesturing to your pajamas. “Don’t mock the pj’s until you’ve tried them.”

He smiled slightly, but there was a hint of emergency in his expression as he took a seat in the armchair across from you. “I know you’ve had a lot on your plate lately, but we really need to make a decision.”

You nodded, sitting back down on the couch, hugging a pillow to your chest. “I know… I’ve just been avoiding it.”

“And I noticed,” he said, pulling out a folder from his briefcase. “But with the visa expiration approaching, we don’t have much time. We need to find someone—someone who understands the situation and won’t make things harder.”

You bit your lip, holding a smile, glancing at the folder in his hands. “You bought the list?”

He nodded, and handed it over, and you flipped through the names, recognizing some immediately. Athletes, businessmen, even a couple of actors/singers. And then there was Rafe Cameron, his name standing out like a bold headline.

“I’ve looked at these,” you said quietly. “I just… I don’t know who to choose. None of ‘em feel right.”

Nico leaned forward. “It's not about right or wrong. It’s about who can offer the least amount of personal complications and help you secure your residency. Rafe Cameron, for instance—he’s someone who could benefit from this arrangement as much as you. His reputation needs mending, and this could be a mutually beneficial situation.”

You stared at Rafe’s name, the memories of seeing his name in the news about how much of a womanizer he was… Could you really tie yourself to someone like him in a fake marriage?

“Alright, but I need you to help me decide,” you admitted, looking up at him.

He nodded, his expression understanding. “Of course, that’s why I’m here. Let’s break it down together and figure out who makes the most sense, not just legally but for your peace of mind.”

Nicolas opened his briefcase again, pulling out more detailed files on the potential candidates. He laid them out neatly on the coffee table, each name with a stack of information—financial records, personal histories, public perceptions. It was all very businesslike.

You leaned forward, looking at the pages in front of you. Each one represented a major decision, a shift in your life you weren’t entirely ready to accept, but you knew you didn’t have much of a choice.

“Let’s start with the most practical options,” he said, sliding the file on Rafe Cameron toward you. “I know his name has come up before. He’s wealthy, influential, and… well, let’s be honest, he could use a boost to his public image right now. It’s a good match on paper.”

You stared at Rafe’s name again, tapping the edge of the file with your finger. “Yeah, but he’s also a bit of a mess, isn’t he? I mean, the media paints him as this… whore, and his personal life is always talked about. What if that blows back on me?”

Nicolas raised a brow. “That’s something to consider, but you also have to think of the benefits. His public image might not be very clean, but he’s powerful. Marrying him would put you in a stable position, and if it’s a business arrangement, his private affairs don’t have to concern you.”

You exhaled slowly, still feeling uneasy. Rafe Cameron was trouble, and you knew it. But at the same time, trouble might be exactly what could make this work—for both of you.

“What about the others?” you asked, flipping through the files. “There has to be someone who’s… less complicated.”

“Well,” he said, tapping another file. “there’s Owen Turner. He’s a succesful tech entrepeneur, keeps a low profile. No scandals, no messy reputation. He’s reliable, but you’ll have to approach this differently. He’s more private, less likely to want his personal life on display.”

“And boring—plus, he seems like the type of white guy to want a traditional wife. Like he would expect me to cook for him every night… and he has an ugly name.”

“Owen won’t be expecting home-cooked meals, Y/N. He’s a tech guy; he probably lives on energy drinks and instant ramen,” Nico pointed out, trying to steer you back to the serious topic. “But if we position it as a legal arrangement, he could see the value in it.”

You sighed, leaning back on the chair. “Okay, maybe Owen is the safer options. But can you imagine our wedding announcement? ‘Succesful Tech Entrepeneur Married Famous Model: They Share a Love for Cats and Instant Noodle.’”

Nico shook his head, trying not to smile. “Focus, please. This is a serious matter.”

“Right, right, sorry…” you said, wavering your hand dismissively. “But, what do you think about Rafe?”

“Rafe Cameron is the most straightforward option,” he said, his tone now more measured. “He’s already in the public eye, which means there won’t be as much of a shock if you’re suddenly married. Plus, his need for good press aligns with your need for stability.”

“And personally?”

He smiled softly, a rare gesture from him. “Personally, I think you should go with the person you think you can manage.”

You nodded, appreciating his honesty. Staring at the stack of papers in front of you, Rafe Cameron’s name glaring up at you from the top of the list. Every name on the list had its pros and cons, but something about Rafe’s file felt different. Maybe it was the intensity of his media coverage, the scandals, or the way he dominated the headlines for all the wrong reasons. But as much as you hesitated, his name kept pulling you back.

“I know his reputation isn't spotless,” Nico said, sensing your hesitation, “but in this situation, a clean reputation isn’t the priority. You need someone powerful, someone with enough influence to make this arrangement stick without getting tangled up in emotional complications.”

You nodded, again.”But I don’t know if I can handle all the baggage that comes with Rafe Cameron. His public image is a trainwreck. Wouldn’t that only complicate things more?”

Nico leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “Possibly. But think of it this way: his personal life is already so chaotic that a stable, respectable marriage might be exactly what he needs to repair his image. And that’s where you come in. You’d be helping each other.”

Your eyes dropped back down to his file. "Do you think he'd even agree to something like this?"

Nico chuckled softly. “If there’s one thing I know about men like Rafe Cameron, it’s that they understand deals. His reputation is hanging by a thread, and a marriage to someone like you—someone with a pristine public image—could be the ticket to restoring his credibility. It’s a win-win, really.”

You considered Nico’s words. He was right. Rafe had everything to gain from a marriage of convenience, just like you. And while his scandals were messy, they didn’t define him entirely. He was still an elite athlete, one of the best in the game, and with the right PR strategy, you could both come out looking better.

But the thought of marrying someone like him—a notorious playboy with a history of messy breakups—made your stomach churn.

“You know,” Nico continued, “if this were just about your visa, we’d be having a different conversation. But this is about your entire future. Your career, your freedom to stay here, everything you’ve built. I’m not saying it’s an easy choice, but it’s one worth considering.”

You sighed, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. "What happens if it falls apart? What if things with Rafe go wrong?"

"That’s why we’ll draft a contract," Nico reassured you. "This won’t be a traditional marriage, Y/N. You’ll both have clear boundaries, and legally, we’ll protect your interests. If things go south, you’ll be covered."

You stared at the file a little longer, then closed your eyes.Rafe Cameron. He was cocky, possessive, and reckless—everything you usually avoided. But maybe that was the key. You wouldn’t have to worry about him trying to control you or make this anything more than a business transaction.

It would be messy. It would be complicated. But it would also keep you here, in the country you’d fought so hard to call home. And maybe, just maybe, it would be the solution you both needed.

“Okay,” you said softly, your decision finally settling. “I’ll do it.”

Nico’s eyebrows shot up, a little surprised at how quickly you’d made up your mind. “You’re sure?”

“No,” you admitted with a weak smile. “But I think this is the best option. I’ll marry Rafe Cameron.”

Nico nodded, closing the folder with a satisfied smile. “Good. I’ll set up a meeting with him. We’ll get the ball rolling.”

Oh God, you were going to marry Rafe Cameron…

chapter two

2K notes · View notes

luvsupa · 3 months ago

Text

I WANT TO HEAR YOU SCREAMMM!

summary: whatever you do, do not fuck mr.ghostface!

tags: ghostface!geto x fem!reader, naoya mention .., set in the 90s and inspired by fear street!!, smut, ōral sex (m and f receiving), knife play, slightly mask kink, humiliation kink, exhibitionism kinda, death, mentions of blood, etc, mdni

w.c: around 3.6k (sorry I got carried away …)

a/n: THANK U GUYS FOR 1.6K WAAAATTTT WE GOIN UPPPPP YEASSS

+ geto in tbis fic looks just like this fanart 🙂‍↕️

kinktober masterlist

you lean against the register, bored out of your mind as you scribble distorted faces on your company’s notepad. working a night shift sucks—especially a closing shift. you huff as the intercom blasts the latest rock song, a weak attempt to liven up the dead atmosphere. lately, the cd shop has been busy with customers buying vinyls, posters, and movies. ugh, it was so annoying having to scan the newest movie, scream. the line was always so long it nearly wrapped around the whole building!

you glance out the glass front doors, scanning the empty, dark streets, genuinely debating whether you should close two hours early since no one is coming. your attention shifts as you hear the bell ring, indicating a customer entering.

ugh.

your smile drops when you see naoya, your annoying coworker who flirts with you in the weirdest ways. he’s always condescending and putting you down until you found out from another coworker that he’s actually attracted to you. he walks toward you, standing in front of the register as if he were a customer. you honestly forgot he was still here after he said he would take a ‘five-minute’ break an hour ago.

“you don’t get paid to draw, now do you?” he says, leaning over to grab the notebook. you let him take it, but he rips the page clean, crumpling it in his fist. gosh, you hated when he acted like the manager. “anyways, I’m clocking out! must suck having to stay for another… two hours!” he laughs, glancing at the clock above. he giggles as he walks behind the counter into the bright red font ‘employees only’ room, leaving you scoffing in annoyance. you waste time fixing the decorations on the register as every minute drags by.

ring!

your heart stops when you hear the company phone ringing. who the hell calls at this hour? you pick up the corded telephone and force yourself into a professional tone.

“thank you for calling cursed tracks, how may I help you?” you say, lazily watching over the store. there’s a long pause, and your brows furrow. is this a prank call?

“hello—”

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

you burst out laughing, doubling over at the blatant prank call. there’s no way. it’s beyond cringey that you would be a victim of ghostface’s evil scheme. tears roll down your cheeks as you hang up the phone, your laughter still ringing in your ears. but then, you stumble backward, colliding with something solid—no, someone. your laughter halts as you slowly turn your head, gulping hard as your eyes drop in horror. screaming in genuine fear, you see him: ghostface, knife in hand, just like in the movies.

you stumble back into the counter, panic rising as you cry out, cornered in the booth. he drops his hand and bursts into laughter, and your brows furrow in confusion. he lifts his hand to remove the haunting mask, and embarrassment floods over you.

seriously.

“naoya, that wasn’t funny,” you snap, shoving him away as he continues to laugh uncontrollably. “you— you should’ve seen your face! I wish I recorded this— we would’ve been stars!” he wheezes, still amused as you find none of this funny. he continues to mimic your reaction, and you bite your lip to keep from lunging at him.

“stop wearing display costumes, asshole! you’re gonna get us in trouble,” you scold, turning away as he playfully bonks your head with the fake plastic knife. irritation washes over you.

“jeez, naoya— just leave already, you’re ruining my alone time,” you say coldly, clearly annoyed by his antics. you hear his footsteps retreating to the employee room, allowing you to calm down from his stupid joke.

you lean against the counter once again, watching over the store in boredom, your eyes feeling heavy as each minute passes. maybe you should really quit- you’re not getting paid enough for this. you roll your eyes at the ruckus coming from the room behind you—nayoa’s making way too much noise.

bastard, you mentally insult him.

you close your eyes to rest them, feeling exhausted from the long shift when you suddenly sense someone standing behind you. your eyes shoot open, and your heart drops again as you turn around to see nayoa in that damn ghostface costume.

“very fuckin’ funny, naoya,” you scoff, trying to ignore him, but he doesn’t move. he’s breathing heavily under the mask, staying still as if waiting for your reaction. you turn to yell at him, but the words choke in your throat. your eyes drop to the knife he’s gripping in his hand, and it looks too real—dripping with what looks like blood. your breathing quickens as you glance at the fake plastic knife that naoya left on the counter, your eyes twitching in disbelief.

“o-okay, naoya, you’re scaring me.”

“darling, who’s naoya?” the male voice says, distorted through the mask’s speaker. tears rush to your eyes as you see blood seeping from under the employee room door.

you step back, your back hitting the counter, trapping you just like before when nayoa scared you. the male steps closer, tears spilling down your cheeks as fear overwhelms you; you can’t call out for naoya—he’s fucking dead!

without thinking, you attempt to jump over the counter, but before you can touch the ground, you feel yourself being yanked back by strong hands. you squeal at how fast he moves, pinning you against the wall with one hand holding you in place and the other gripping the sharp, bloody knife to your throat. your eyes widen, the blade too close to your artery. if you looked up at the popcorn ceiling. you’d see the end of it—your life flashing before your eyes.

“oh pretty, you were just acting like a big girl,” geto coos, his voice soft yet terrifying. the grip on the knife loosens slightly as he pulls back his head, and your eyes remain shut, fear washing over you.

“y’r sooo fuckin’ nasty, huh,” geto comments, and your brows furrow as you stare at the creepy face behind the mask. he chuckles, and you follow his gaze down—oh fuck. you wish your body wasn’t reacting on its own! you’re grinding your hips against his knee placed between your thighs, your rhythm so subtle you didn’t even realize.

“let’s test how nasty you really get.”

those were the last words that echoed in your head as he had you behind the counter, knees grinding against the freezing floor, your jaw aching from the relentless thrusts. his thick cock slammed into your mouth with brutal force—so deep that you swore you could feel him in your chest, the bulge in your throat visible as he used you mercilessly. both of his hands gripped your head with brutal force, his long fingers tangling in your curly locks as he fucked your face like a filthy fucktoy. his groans, muffled by the infamous ghostface mask, sent shivers down your spine, the hollow black eyes staring soullessly at you as he threw his head back in ecstasy. the obscene sounds of wet gags and sloppy suction filled the store, the mess overwhelming—drool and spit spilled uncontrollably from your mouth, coating his shaft and dripping down your chin, soaking into the front of your work shirt.

your nose repeatedly slammed against his crotch, the rough patch of his pubes tickling against your skin, making you tear up even more. the strain in your jaw was unbearable, his fat cock stretching you wide, each thrust so forceful you thought your jaw might snap. but you kept your grip on his jeans, fingers digging into the fabric as your throat was pounded raw. his heavy black boot was wedged between your legs, you couldn’t stop grinding on him. each roll of your hips against his boot sent delicious friction through your core, and you were drenched, your panties soaked through your pants, sticking to your swollen folds. the slick sounds of your cunt rubbing against his boot mixed with the wet slurps coming from your mouth, each grind making you moan pathetically around his cock.

geto’s head dropped down to watch, eyes behind the hollow mask taking in the sight of you—a filthy, drooling mess on your knees with his cock buried so deep down your throat that a bulge swelled in your neck. drool poured from your lips in thick strings, and your hips moved desperately against his foot, grinding on him like you couldn’t help yourself. but he didn’t let you keep going. his movements stopped abruptly, and with a harsh yank, he pulled your head back off his cock, making you gag and cough, gasping for air. the sound of your desperate choking echoed through the store as strings of spit connected your swollen lips to his twitching tip, your eyes wide with lust and tears. the sight of you, completely ruined in your leggings, face soaked and pussy grinding against his boot, only made him harder, his cock throbbing in front of your face.

“you jus’ can’t help it, can you?” geto growls, his voice thick with cruel amusement as he grinds his boot harder into your cunt, your soaked panties doing nothing to dull the friction. the pressure sends jolts of filthy pleasure up your spine, making you cry out pathetically, your body writhing against him. his grin stretches behind the ghostface mask, those empty black eyes staring down at you, drinking in your desperation.

in a single, brutal motion, he rips you off the ground and slams you onto the counter, CDs clattering to the floor around you. your legs fly up, bent and spread wide, exposing you to him completely. his eyes rake over your body like you’re nothing more than prey. with a harsh tug, he rips your pants off, tossing them carelessly behind him. the moment his gaze lands on the soaked crotch of your panties, your clit twitches in response, your cunt clenching involuntarily, knowing what’s about to come. the fabric is practically see through now, drenched in fear and filthy arousal, and it only makes his smirk widen behind the mask.

your eyes are glossy, chest heaving as your legs stay bent up, thighs trembling with anticipation. you should be terrified, and you are—but the heat pulsing through your core is undeniable. the sight of him towering over you with that eerie mask, black eyes hollow and unfeeling, does something sick to you.

without warning, geto pulls a another knife from behind him, the blade gleaming dangerously in the store light. you gulp hard, a whimper escaping your lips as he waves it inches from your face, the cold steel sending a wave of fear coursing through you, but it only makes your cunt throb harder.

“don’t move,” he whispers darkly, dragging the tip of the knife down your neck, making your skin break out in goosebumps. the blade hovers over your chest, your nipples hardening as he traces your curves. he presses just enough to remind you of its sharpness, enough to let you know he could cut deep at any second. the threat lingers in the air, the thrill of it making your thighs tremble.

he doesn’t hesitate when he reaches your shirt. with a quick flick of his wrist, you hear the rippppp of fabric as the blade slices your work button-up clean open, exposing your bare chest. the sharpness of the knife cutting through the material like paper sends a shiver of fear and arousal down your spine.

“cheap shit,” he sneers, but the way your nipples perk in the cool air has his cock straining even harder. his hand moves lower, the tip of the blade dragging dangerously over your trembling stomach, inching closer and closer to your cunt.

you gasp when he finally reaches your panties, the cold metal resting against the swollen lips of your pussy. “y’know. . .” he trails off, voice thick with lust as he presses the flat of the blade against your clothed clit, the cold, sharp edge making you jerk involuntarily. “never had someone so . . .desperate in their final moments.”

it’s humiliating how your clit twitches at the contact, how your cunt clenches around nothing, soaked and aching for him. he notices, of course, the way your hips twitch toward the blade, and the wetness that’s already beginning to drip down your thighs.

“fuckin’ embarrassing,” he mutters, but his voice is laced with something darker—he’s getting off on this, on how soaked you are for him. the knife slides lower, grazing your inner thigh, just shy of cutting you, the scrape of the blade against your skin sending shivers through your body. you can feel your pulse in your clit, each drag of the cold steel only making you wetter, more desperate.

“this turning you on, baby?” he asks, his voice low and mocking. you can’t even respond, too lost in the filthy heat coursing through you.

with a quick flick of his wrist, the knife slices through your panties, the sharp blade cold against your slick folds. you gasp, your pussy finally exposed, clit twitching as the cool air hits your drenched core. the knife grazes your swollen lips, barely a whisper of pressure, but it’s enough to make you moan, your cunt clenching desperately.

he hums in approval, staring down at your glistening pussy, the wetness dripping from your folds, thighs trembling as you lie there helplessly. geto’s exposed cock twitches painfully at the sight, his eyes narrowing behind the mask as he drinks in how ruined you already are.

“fuckkk,” he mumbles, voice thick with lust. he lets the knife trail up, dragging it over your clit just enough to make you gasp, the cold edge sending waves of agonizing pleasure through you.

you’re fighting the urge to touch yourself, legs trembling with need, but he’s dragging it out, watching you suffer, savoring every filthy, desperate moan that spills from your lips. your cunt clenches again, dripping, aching for more, but all he does is graze the blade over your sensitive skin, keeping you on the edge, waiting for him to finally take what’s his.

without a second thought, geto rips off the ghostface mask, revealing his face in all its sinful glory. his long black hair cascades down his back, a few loose strands framing his face just right, giving him that perfect, messy look. your heart nearly stops at the sight—those silver piercings in his lower lip glint under the lights of the CD store. fuck. your breath catches as you realize just how devastatingly hot he is, a man who could ruin you in every sense of the word.

“f-fuck, mr. ghostface. . .you’re so fucking hot,” you moan, your cunt clenching involuntarily at the sight of him. he smirks, catching your reaction instantly, bringing the blade right back to your dripping cunt, but now it’s different—now you can see every twitch of that gorgeous smirk, every glint in his wicked eyes. nothing is processing in your mind at this point. you’re too far gone, body shaking as he holds all the power over you. he could do anything right now, and you’d let him.

geto leans in, inhaling deeply, letting your scent drive him mad before diving headfirst between your thighs. his lips find your cunt with no warning, devouring you like a fucking beast. his tongue plunges into your soaked hole with reckless abandon, the wet, obscene sounds echoing through the empty store. your back arches violently against the counter, the cold glass windows around the store only barrier between you and the outside world. if anyone walked by and caught sight of this—fuck, you’d be fired in an instant. but the thrill of that thought only makes the heat in your core burn hotter.

your body reacts before your mind can catch up, hands flying to tangle in his thick, soft hair, yanking him closer. he groans deep, the sound vibrating through your clit as you pull his head in tighter. mr. ghostface loves his hair being pulled—check! you think, feeling the way his body reacts to your grip, only making him devour you more ruthlessly.

his nose nudges your clit, adding to the torment as his tongue relentlessly works your insides, the metal ball of his tongue piercing sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. it’s so nasty, so fucking loud as he slurps up your juices, the slick sound echoing around the store. you can’t believe your body is making this much of a mess, slick dripping down your thighs, pooling on the counter beneath you. you’re losing it, completely undone by how he’s devouring you.

geto’s tongue is merciless, and just when you think it can’t get any better, he brings two thick fingers to your entrance, thrusting them in deep. the stretch makes your head spin, his digits spreading you open wide as his tongue continues to work your cunt. he groans low in his throat, the vibrations sending another wave of ecstasy through your core. the sensation of his tongue, his piercing, and his fingers all working together has you seeing stars, your walls clenching around him uncontrollably.

“fuck, look at you,” he growls against your cunt, his voice muffled but still dripping with arrogance as his fingers curl inside you, finding your sweet spot instantly. your eyes roll back, legs shaking uncontrollably as the tension in your belly coils tighter. your grip on his head tightens, forcing him further into you, needing more, more of that perfect, filthy mouth. his lips close around your swollen clit, biting at it just enough to drive you insane, while his fingers pound into you relentlessly.

you catch a glimpse of his face between your thighs, his half-lidded eyes fluttering shut as a moan slips past his pierced lips, his tongue flicking out to lick your slick from the corner of his mouth like he can’t get enough. he’s completely lost in you, ruthlessly making out with your cunt, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. the sight alone nearly pushes you over the edge, your body trembling violently as you feel your orgasm building, heat burning in your stomach, your cunt clenching around his thick fingers.

“listen to how talkative she is,” geto sneers, a wicked smirk stretching across his face. without hesitation, his free hand grabs the store’s telephone, fingers working quickly to connect it to the intercom. before you can process what he’s doing, he presses the microphone right up against your drenched, sloppy cunt.

your eyes go wide in horror as the filthy, wet sloshing of your pussy echoes through the entire store. the slick, obscene sounds of your cunt squelching and dripping around his thick fingers fill the air, amplified by the speakers. every thrust makes it squirt, the embarrassing symphony of your slick coating his fingers making your stomach drop with humiliation. you’re completely exposed, the sound of your body’s desperate reactions bouncing off the store walls, reminding you just how nasty this is.

the wet slaps, the relentless gushing of your cunt, and the squelching noises leave you utterly mortified. It’s so loud, so filthy that if anyone were to walk by, they’d hear everything—and know exactly what a mess you’re making for him. every slick, nasty sound screams your shame, broadcasting to the entire store that you’re getting off to a literal serial killer!

“look at you,” geto chuckles darkly, his voice dripping with arrogance. “so fucking nasty for me. all this for a killer? huh? you like knowing what a filthy slut you are?”

geto throws the telephone, letting it dangle by the cord, before roughly flipping you onto your stomach. your feet barely touch the ground as your chest presses into the counter- bent over, giving you a full view of the empty store. his eyes darken as he takes in your position, biting his lip at the sight of your ass wiggling back, grinding against his hard cock. you can’t help but plead, your voice breathy and desperate.

“please, mr. ghostface, you’ve been sucha tease,” you whine, turning your head to watch him as he toys with his lip piercing, eyes fixed on you like he’s weighing his options. before you can beg again, he makes his choice—sliding his fat, mushroom tip past your dripping entrance. the stretch of his tip slightly burning but- oh it felt so good. your body jerks forward with the slow, agonizing thrust, his thick crownhead teasing innn and outttt of your needy, aching walls. you cry out, wanting—no, needing—more.

desperation overtakes you, and you try to fuck yourself back onto him, but his hand comes down hard, swatting your ass. the sharp sting only makes your pussy clench harder, and you hear him tut in disbelief at how filthy you’ve become for him. “unbelievable how you’re this horny,” he sneers, gripping your hips tighter as if to hold you still.

“if you’re a virgin, just say—ahh,” you taunt- gasping loudly when his fingers wrap around the back of your neck, his grip firm as he pulls you flush against his broad chest. his thick tip remains lodged inside your cunt, teasing you with how little he’s giving, yet how desperately you crave more.

he leans in close, his breath hot on your ear. “i’d love to stay and prove your point,” he purrs, eyes flicking to the front of the store, where the bright blue and red lights of approaching police cars flash in the distance. your mind is too foggy, too consumed with lust to understand what he’s hinting at. “but baby, your little coworker—the one you never bat your pretty lashes at,” he continues, his tone darkening as his grip tightens around your neck, turning your head toward the ‘employee’s only’ door.

that’s when you see it—the large, dark puddle of blood seeping from under the door, your coworker’s lifeless body hidden from view.

“i-i don’t care, i wan’ you,” you plead, tears stinging your eyes as your walls grip his girthy tip, trying to coax more from him. geto chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. he turns your head back toward the front of the store, where the police cars are getting closer. his hand slips away from your neck, leaving you trembling as he cruelly pulls his cock from your addicting cunt, leaving you empty and desperate as he swiftly tucked it back in his pants.

tears spill from your eyes as you feel him slipping away, denying you what you need. “he’s the one that ruined our fun,” geto says, his voice soft but menacing. “and sadly…” his words trail off, and you freeze as you feel the cold tip of a sharp blade pressing against your neck. you gulp hard, heart pounding as the reality of the situation sets in.

“’m really sorry, baby, but i can’t have you snitching to the police, can i?” he whispers, and with a swift motion, the blade slices cleanly across your throat. blood trickles down in a warm line, your breath catching in your chest as your body collapses to the floor. the cold tiles beneath you feel distant as your vision blurs, the last thing you see is geto standing above you, pouting as he watches the life drain from your body.

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landoughnut · 3 months ago

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Dream Girl

♡ masterlist - request!

♡ pairing - lando norris x fem!reader

♡ summary - when being interviewed, the conversation gets on the topic of you, lando's long term obsession crush, never in a million years did he think you would actually notice him

♡ warnings - obsessed/simp lando

♡ w/c & a/n - 0.85k | I hope you all are doing good! as usual send any requests xoxo

"Good afternoon, Lando! We're happy to have you here with us today," the interviewer smiles, sat across from the driver.

"Great to be here," he nods, putting his hands on his lap and leaning back into the chair, "Wow, nice chairs you've got here."

The interviewer laughs, "Glad you approve of them. So, let's get started with the questions, shall we?" Lando nods and the lady clears her throat, "First off, when racing at the high speeds you do, what are some things you're thinking about? Or maybe I should say, a someone?"

Let's rewind. If there was one thing, besides being a Formula 1 driver, that everyone knew Lando Norris for, it was having the world's most massive crush on you. In fact, pretty much everyone was aware of this; except for you.

You wouldn't call yourself oblivious, per se. You just weren't really one to be online, so you never saw all the drama surrounding Lando's infatuation with you.

He has been enamored with you for about three years now, and he made it everyone's problem. From liking instagram updates of you, to commenting on pictures and videos of you, to even reposting edits of you. His friends must have sat through hours and hours of hearing him just speak about your beauty and personality.

His friends teased him about it quite often, though he was never really embarrassed over it. He truly just found everything about you beautiful, you were his dream girl, everything he'd ever want in a woman.

"Well, uh, I think about, you know, winning. Also what I'm going to eat after, and uh.. my girl," he nods with a slight grin.

The interviewer raises her eyebrows, "I wasn't informed you finally got a girlfriend," she says, surprised.

He laughs and shakes his head, "No, no. She's not my girlfriend... yet. Although I'm not even sure if she knows that I exist, but I'm working on it."

"Ah, I should have known," the lady smiles at his flustered state, "I wish you luck with that. Now I believe we should move onto the more important questions, before I get in trouble," she taps on her clipboard.

The rest of the interview seemed like forever for Lando, now that he was thinking about you again, as he usually is.

You're in your bed, watching one of your favorite shows, How I Met Your Mother, when your phone starts to blow up with your friends messaging you and sending you a link to a YouTube video of some F1 interview.

You open the video is none other than the very cute, Lando Norris. Of course you knew who he was, you kept up with Formula 1 on your free time and enjoyed watching the races.

As the video is playing through, you open the comments and your eye go wide at everyone saying your name and commenting on how hot of a couple you two would make. You furrow your eyebrows at some comments talking about how devoted to you he must be for liking you for several years without a single interaction.

You continue to watch the video and your cheeks turn pink as he talks about, well you. You couldn't believe that he liked you like that, surely you were well-known, and you weren't too bad looking, but one of the best current racers in the world crushing on you?

After the video ended you messaged your best friend back, asking what you should do. She, of course, told you to message him on instagram.

You thought over the idea for a bit, before nervously clicking on his account and following him back before beginning to type.

Lando was hanging out with Oscar around the garage when he hears his phone ping with a notification. He glances at it and turns his phone off again before doing a double check to make sure he saw it right. You had followed him.

"OSCAR," he yells and turns to his friend, holding the phone in his face, "SHE FOLLOWED ME, LOOK," he waves the phone.

Oscars jaw drops, never did he see this day coming, "Wow! Mate, thats fantastic, and look! It seems like she just sent you a message!"

"What? I might faint, Oscar," the boys hands shake with excitement and nerves as he clicks on your message. "Hi! I saw your interview, and I must say, I'm truly flattered," Lando reads as his face turns dark pink, he didn't think you'd see it, guess he was wrong.

Oscar starts laughing, "Text her back!"

"I don't know what to say, I've never spoken to her in my life," he panics.

"Mate, she saw you call her your girl, it's a bit too late to be nervous," Oscar smiles, patting his friend's pack. Lando chews his lip and writes back, heart pounding.

After a few messages were exchanged and an anticipated Oscar waiting for an update clears his throat, Lando looks up from the phone with the brightest smile Oscar has ever seen on him, "Guess who scored himself a date with his future wife this Saturday?"

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris #f1 x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfic #oscar piastri #formula 1 #mclaren #ln4 #lando norris x female reader #formula one

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swordsandholly · 3 months ago

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Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anothology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist | cw: oral (reader receiving)

Part Ten: Permission

A/N: We're SO back!

You’ve never been so happy to work an extra day.

Johnny gets the shop to himself on Sundays for walk-ins. Usually, he mans the shop by himself but you need to record the cash income from the convention in the ledger. Sure, you could do that during your usual hours the upcoming Wednesday and catch up on sleep, but you have too much nervous energy coursing through you. If you were home you would just be stewing on your couch the hole day and probably spiral into a panic attack. At least here, with a task and Johnny yapping in your ear, you don’t have to think about the fact that you made out with your boss too much.

Fuck. You really did that. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You woke up in a cold sweat, fingers brushing over your lips as you tried to decipher if it was real or dreamed. If you really kissed John, if he really held a hand on your lower back as he walked you home, if he really gave you a second, light peck before saying goodnight. The itch of his beard lingers, as well as the warmth where his hands cupped your face. It felt so good. So fucking good.

Then the context settles in. The fact that you kissed your boss makes you want to throw up - not for any dislike of it, just the fact that your job is now in limbo. Hanging in the balance until you can talk to him on Wednesday. At least you can take the next couple days to collect your thoughts - come up with a good apology that will hopefully let you keep your job and some semblance of dignity. Somehow make sense of the fact that you’ve kissed John and Kyle and surely when they find out they’ll think you’re a floosy. Loose and easy and pathetic and gross. You couldn’t quite meet your own eye in the mirror as you tried to get ready for the day.

The current, formerly “Future You” is not very happy with the now Past You. Frankly, you’d like to deck her for leaving you in this state of a permanent heart attack.

“Och, I’m about tae melt.” Johnny mutters, appearing from his room and stretching. His shirt rides up, exposing a thick happy trail that does not help you in your current spiral.

You just hum, gluing your eyes to the physical spreadsheet in front of you as you go through the sales from the convention. Numbers will clear your head. Yeah, nothing less sexy or more distracting than trying to do math with pen, paper and a TI-84 calculator.

“We should go get some ice cream.” Johnny leans over behind you, causing you to jump. Large hands settle on your shoulders as he rests his chin on the top of your head. At least Johnny is always touchy, you don’t have to read into it. You don’t think you could handle reading into it right now.

“Uh, yeah, okay.” You murmur, letting him lead you out of the office and flipping the out for lunch sign. You’ve been so lost in your head the entire day that you can’t fully pull yourself out of it - the same spiral of fears and self-degradation swirling around in your mind. A Cat 5 tornado of your own making. So stupid.

Johnny intertwines your fingers as you make your way down the street. Your hands swing lightly as you walk. Even with the heat, it doesn’t feel like too much. You’re not sure what it is - of you’re just comfortable or if Johnny just has something about him that makes touch feel perfectly natural - but it’s never overwhelming. Even when he’s hanging off you like a leech, it’s just Johnny. He doesn’t make you talk, doesn’t pry into why you’re so spaced out. He probably just thinks you’re tired. You are tired. So tired.

You don’t realize Johnny is saying something until he gently elbows your side. “Huh?”

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks with a concerned furrow in his brow.

“Oh, uh, I can get my own-“

”My treat.” He shakes his head, batting away the hand pulling your wallet out of your back pocket. You have no choice but to give in to him - there isn’t any point in arguing with Johnny.

“Thanks for suggesting this.” You murmur, as you sit at one of the wooden, outdoor tables in front of the shop a couple blocks down from the tattoo parlor. The tables are covered in the shade of trees and an awning, luckily, keeping the sun from beating down on you. It doesn’t stop your ice cream from melting nearly faster than you can eat it, but you don’t have the heart to complain after Johnny took you out and bought it for you.

“Aye. Seemed like ye needed some cheerin’ up. Never seen ye so sullen.” Johnny comments, casually stuffing a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. His eyes are sympathetic, though.

“Oh.” You thought you’d been doing alright at hiding it - came into the shop with a jokes and everything this morning. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how much Johnny actually notices between all his volume and energy.

“Gonnae tell me about it?”

“No.”

“Might help.”

You shake your head. “I- I’m- I can’t.”

“Okay.” He smiles gently, giving you a once over. His eyes are so sharp. The others do it too - take your body language in piece by piece. It doesn’t burn like when Johnny does it, though. His gaze is consuming, even when soft.

He seems to let you off the hook, though. It’s impossible to know how much he does or doesn’t know - how much any of them know. It puts you on edge, the inability to ask. After all, to ask is to admit. If you admit to it, you might lose it all. Fuck why did you kiss John? Kyle you can explain away - just a fun little bet. You’re close in age, he’s pretty, you’re together a lot, you get along. Nothing to it - even if it feels like there was. Even if it feels like every time you’re near him you’re going to melt and the air gets too thick and all you want is to pull him to the back room one more time.

John… John you can’t justify like that. He’s your boss. He’s over a decade older than you. Easily. He’s been so good to you but that’s not an excuse - it’s not right. You’re jeopardizing his place in his community. You’re jeopardizing your job. The best job you’ve ever had. The best friends you’ve ever had.

You can feel Johnny glancing at you as you walk, your eyes square on the ground and fists clenched anxiously. The heat outside only makes your head spin faster. Your cheeks feel feverishly hot. The ice cream almost curdles in your gut. Everything is too loud, too hot, too heavy.

You glance up at the clock. The day’s almost over - there probably won’t be more than one or two people that file in at most. You’ve finished with your work, currently just cross hatching on a sticky note in an attempt to calm your frayed nerves. It hasn’t worked. You need a distraction. A real, proper distraction.

“Johnny.” You snap, standing in the door way to his workroom.

“Hm?” He looks up, thick brows raised.

“I want a piercing.”

He cocks his head, taking you in from head to toe. “Aye?”

“If you have time.”

“I’ve always got time fer ye.” He grins.

You almost roll your eyes, but you’re too raw at the edges to really care about his usual flirting. There’s too much weighing on your mind - too much real anxiety knotting itself around your synapses and crushing them in it’s hold. The pain will help. It’ll ground you - sharpen your senses. You can focus on taking care of it for the next couple days between sleeping the days away until Wednesday. Until you can get this shit over with.

The only answer is to quit, right?

That’s your only option.

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks.

You shrug. “What’d you think?”

He taps his chin, eyes slowly making their way over your body. You wonder if he can see how tense you are - body so locked up your joints ache and your jaw throbs. It’s a wonder your teeth are still there with how much you’ve been grinding them.

“How about a navel?”

“Okay.” You agree too quickly, flopping back on the pairing table. You focus in on a water mark on the ceiling above while Johnny digs through his tool cabinet, laying everything neatly on a small rolling tray.

Johnny stops above you. You don’t even turn your head to look, fists clenching and unclenching.

You’ll have to quit.

That’s your only choice. No reference calls, no contact. Will Simon hate you? Will they all? Will they talk about why you up and left? Will they show up at your apartment to demand an answer? No. You don’t mean that much - only a blip on the timeline of their shop. The corners of your eyes burn.

Johnny’s fingers skate over your soft middle, barely touching as he passes over the button of your jeans. He pauses, glancing down at you. “Bonnie?”

“Yeah?” You reply a little too harshly.

Johnny leans over you, hands on either side of your head, blue eyes burning through your skull. He blocks out the light above. “Yer doin’ this because ye want to, yeah? Not to punish yerself?”

You shrink into the table, hackles raising. It really is so easy to forget that Johnny is an observant bastard. Loud, brash, but he still sees everything. Like how he learned your coffee order by heart without you ever even saying it to him or having it written on the cup. He absorbs things, files it away, keeps it close to his chest and hides it behind his blunt, brash daily manners. You’ll miss him.

“I- yeah, I’m fine.” You wince internally at the shake in your voice.

“Y’know, we all love ye.” Johnny murmurs.

You huff, eyes darting anywhere to get away from his. Laying on the table suddenly feels slightly trapping. You can’t get your gaze fully away from where he stands over you - so close as his thick arms cage you in. “Guess so.”

“An’ there’s nothin’ tae feel guilty or bad about.”

Your eyes snap to his face, wide and worried. Does he know? Was he told? Do you ask? If you ask, you’ll be admitting to it. If you ask, then he will know for sure. If you ask, you might ruin it all. “I don’t-“

“Ye do.” He cuts you off. “An’ ye have permission, even if ye dinnae need it. It’s okay. Ye havennae done anythin’ wrong.”

You stare, mouth opening and closing lamely. Johnny. Straight forward, loud mouth, unsubtle Johnny. Fuck, you love him for it. Doesn’t dance around what he means. Doesn’t avoid what needs to be said - from his end, at least.

“Did- did you talk to-?” You stutter, struggling between needing to know and fear to admit the truth so blatantly. Even if he obviously knows something.

“Not really. Not my business.” Johnny shrugs casually.

Not his business. So they persue separately, you think. That makes sense. Probably. It’s probably wrong to make assumptions about the dynamic, about the implication that they have some sort of free for all. Then again, you don’t really know anything about their interpersonal workings much. They live together, they’re touchy. The dynamic is a mystery to you - only adding to the piles of confusion.

“Yer thinkin’ tae hard about it.” He pokes the furrow between your brows.

Oh. Is that it? You’re overthinking? No, adults talk about these things. You don’t understand the interpersonal workings here at all. Are they together? Do they just do this? Pull girls in and push them around until they get tired? That feels too cruel for them. They’ve taken such good care of you…

“I still… want to talk.” You murmur, cheeks warm.

His face softens, a light smile tugging at his lips. “An’ ye will. Kyle’s been damn near loosin’ it with ye avoiding him.”

“I’m not avoiding him!” You snap far too defensively.

“Sure ye aren’t.” Johnny shrugs, as if to tell you he knows that’s bull. Not his business, though, he said. “Just… donnae be so scared of us, aye? We’ve got yer back.”

Your shoulders drop, sore from being tensed for the entire day. “Okay.”

“Still want tae get peirced?”

You nod, chest far less tight. As though you finally let go of a breath you had been holding the entire day. “Sure, why not.”

Your shoulders slump as Johnny makes his way through the usual song and dance - showing you the freshly cleaned tools and marking the spot for the needle. Somehow the world seems… quieter. As if all the chatter in your mind had been just as deafening to your physical ears. It’s tiring. That same sting behind your eyes that you get after a long night out. Your defenses are down, and your body is finally at rest.

“Ow!” You gasp, lifting your head to meet Johnny’s impish grin with a glare. “A little warning next time!”

“Tha’s what happens when ye donnae listen.” He teases, slipping the jewelry through. “She’s cute.”

You snort. “She better be. Y’know I should tell John on you for improper conduct.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Aye, ye an’ Price know plenty about improper conduct.”

There’s no malice in the comment, or in the grin he settles on you. For once, you don’t freeze up. Don’t send yourself into a panic spiral over what he knows or thinks or feels. Johnny made himself clear. Instead you land a light smack against his arm and huff in embarrassment.

“Stand f’me.” Johnny murmurs after cleaning the piercing, a heat in his eyes that you can’t quite gauge the source of.

You do as you’re told, slipping off the table. You have to hook a finger into the waistband of your jeans to keep them up, cheeks hot as you realize how much is actually exposed with the fully undone fly. You glance up at a far too pleased Johnny. Didn’t even say a word, the mischievous bastard.

He drops to his knees in front of you. Your brows shoot damn near into the sky. Johnny mumbles something about making sure the piercing is sitting right. You roll with it, knowing he’s probably just saying whatever to get you to keep your pants undone a little longer. Your breath quickens as a large, warm hand flattens itself over your soft belly, unabashedly groping. Not that you mind, really, even if it does make your face so hot it might melt.

Your heart almost breaks out of your rib cage when he places a small kiss next to the piercing. His hand lowers, resting beside yours on the waistband of your jeans.

“May I?” Johnny murmurs, big blue eyes blinking up at you.

You have permission.

You don’t need permission.

You have it, though.

“Yeah.” You gasp, shivering at the cold air on your skin as Johnny pulls your pants halfway down your thighs.

“Pretty, pretty lass.” He murmurs, nipping at the softness of your belly and down to your thigh. “Look at ye.”

“Flatterer.” You scoff, attempting to let the tension melt off your shoulders with the usual snide remarks you slide each others way.

“M’just honest…” Johnny mumbles absently, fingers catching in the hems of your underwear. “Ye always walkin’ around in somethin’ this skintie?”

For a moment, your brows knit in confusion. That is until he pulls back and snaps the string of your thong against your hip. Your face somehow gets even hotter and you grumble out a poor excuse of, “S’laundry day…”

Your hips twitch as he traces between your lips through the cloth. So uncharacteristically slow and methodical for Johnny as he feels you, like he’s trying to memorize it. A shamefully harsh jolt runs up your spine as he presses just slightly into your clit.

“Sensitive little thing.” Johnny grins up at you. You swear the devil has a less delinquent grin.

“It’s been a while.” You shrug, aiming once again for casual and missing by a mile.

His grin only grows, eyes bright and hungry. “Let’s get these off.”

You shimmy your hips a bit to help him get both your underwear and jeans completely down. A wave of shyness overtakes you as it settles in that you’re utterly exposed to Johnny, your friend and coworker, in the middle of your workplace just as the sun has begun to edge down close to the horizon. It’s almost too much, and you almost yank your pants back on with a stammered, fake excuse, but Johnny soothes his hands up your thighs, gaze locked onto your pussy like it’s the only thing that exists and yeah… you want that.

You have permission.

“There she is.” He cups you gently, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit just hard enough to make you gasp.

Before you can say or do anything his hand retracts and Johnny settles you with the most serious look you’ve ever seen from him. It looks wrong, almost, on that face that’s supposed to have a permanent ear to ear grin.

“If ye want tae stop, I need ye tae tell me now.”

“No.” The word leaves you before you can even register the thought - desperate and breathy.

It earns a low chuckle. The only warning you get before Johnny licks a long stripe up between your lips, letting his tongue rest on your clit for just a moment before repeating the motion as though he’s not just eating you out but truly trying to truly get a taste for you. To memorize you as he drinks you in.

“Should let me give you a Christina…” He murmurs, pulling back to look at you.

“Ah, wha-“

“Look so pretty on this fat little cunt.” Johnny gives you a light smack for good measure, grinning at the visible jolt that travels up your spine before diving back in. He hooks a leg over his shoulder, leaving you balancing on your tip toes with your hands flat on the table behind you. It’s precarious and with absolutely no room to escape the attention he’s lavishing on you. It’s almost desperate, the way he moves. The way he devours. A man utterly starved.

“Fuck-“ you gasp as his tongue piercing catches your clit. Rough hands knead at the softness of your thighs and hips, urging you to press into him, to take as much as he’s giving.

“Tha’s it, ride m’face…” Your fingers lock into his mohawk and Johnny’s slurred words become the most pornographic moan you think you’ve ever heard. He practically goes limp - body relaxed and pliant while you grind down onto his tongue.

You tilt your head forward, risking looking down only to meet those big blue eyes staring up at you with all the intensity of the sun. A shaky moan passes your lips and his eyes flutter.

“J-Johnny-” The whine of his name only spurs him on - has him pressing his tongue so deep inside you and drinking you in full.

If he has any complaints about the way your heel digs between his shoulder blades as you unconsciously pull him closer, he doesn’t make it known. His nails rake over your ass, biting and stinging in contrast to everything else. It’s so much. Heat continues to pool at the base of your spine - babbling words, please and moans spill messily from your lips.

Your climax catches you off guard as Johnny sucks harshly at your clit; lighting your body aflame with only his mouth. Every muscle inside you tenses and the sounds you let out can only be described as strangled whines.

You have to yank a little at Johnny’s hair to get him to stop when the overstimulation reaches just the wrong side of too much; he’s well and truly lost in the moment. It fuels your ego to dangerous heights - the idea that this gorgeous man became that intoxicated just from your pussy.

There isn’t even time to say anything before Johnny is standing and connecting his lips with yours. You taste yourself on his tongue, his lips - somehow this is the first time you’ve found that pleasant. With heavy breaths you watch him wipe around his mouth his his palm, only to exaggeratedly lick and clean what’s left off his hand. Fucking sinful.

“Nasty man.” You sigh, too blissed out to be truly critical. Johnny winks and you roll your eyes.

“S’about quittin’ time.” He says, tilting his head to look up at you through thick lashes. “Should get ye home.”

You frown, still trying to come back to earth as you glance down. “Don’t- do you want-?”

He looks you over, your mouth goes dry as his hand drops from your hip to adjust himself. The implications of the outline through his thick denim has your head reeling and your breath quickening. Johnny chuckles at you, surely seeing it written plain across your face. You might as well start drooling and panting like a dog.

He buries his nose into the crook of your neck to nip at your skin. “Another time. Want tae savor ye.”

You shiver, unable to stop the smile that quirks up the corners of your lips. You have permission. You don’t need it, but you have it.

A/N: Sorry if this is a little rough, I'm getting back into the swing of things. It's finally time for things to get fun, tho ;)

Also please give some love to this AMAZING fanart from @eurydicescurse

#poly 141 x reader #poly 141 #john soap mctavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap x reader #soap x reader #fem reader #plus size reader #tattoo au #tattoo shop au #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #captain john price x reader #cod smut #reader insert smut

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chlorinecake · 3 months ago

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❝ DON’T WAKE DAD ❞ — ✿ 𝐏.𝐒𝐇 ׅ ㅤ֢ ㅤׄㅤ .

── 𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈 ܃ Sunghoon was your stepbrother, and ever since your two fractured families merged into one, he’s had feelings for you. Deep down, he knows the attraction is wrong, but the taboo of it all only made it more addicting to him…

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈 ｡｡｡ KINKTOBER SPECIAL, swearing, kissing, mentions of virginity loss, oral (m. r), masturbation (f. r), stepcest kink, cum eating, manhandling, face slapping, hair pulling, breath play, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mentions of 02z, reader is younger than sunghoon & has long hair, short parental argument, that’s all

𝐖ORD 𝐂OUNT ⨾ 4199 — 𓊆ྀི Day 10 𓊇ྀི

“She’s hot as fuck, I can’t help it…” Sunghoon sighed while readjusting himself in his seat just at the mere thought of you.

He and his two friends, Jake and Jay, were hanging out in your step-father’s backyard near the pool, helping themselves toa few cold drinks and some conversation while round about the outdoor table.

“Who fucking cares, dude?” Jake asked rhetorically, his Australian accent rugged and thick with utter confusion and disgust.

“Exactly bro… you’re playing with dangerous fire here, Hoon, and trust me when I say you don’t wanna mess with that step-sis shit…” Jay added, crossing his legs where where he sat.

“Why not, though?” Sunghoon challenged, pulling out his phone to swipe a few notifications clouding his screen.

“Well, for starters, screwing your step-sister in real life is a lot more tricky than how it’s shown in pornos… secondly, you two could be blood-related for all you know!” Jake pitched in, spreading his arms as if to convey increased importance.

“Please…. I highly doubt that…” Sunghoon scoffed, shaking his head at his friend's cautious protest.

“Right… and what makes you so sure then, huh..? You’ve taken any DNA tests lately?” Jay questioned matter-of-factly.

“Of course not, idiot, but that’s beside the point—”

“She might have the same dad as you!” Jake went on in a fit of concern.

“Not possible… my father had a vasectomy before I was even born, and my step-sister’s younger than me…”

“Then you all might have the same mom, it doesn’t matter! You never know with this type of stuff, dude—”

“Wait- Shhh…” Sunghoon whispered, just as a woman’s voice in the distance filled his ears until you eventually walked by.

“Hey, Hoon!” You chirped, paying a brief yet respectable wave to his friends as well, “Your dad’s been looking for you all afternoon, by the way…”

“Oh yeah? What’s up with him?” Sunghoon asked in between taking a sip from his soda can.

“He said something about you leaving the garage door unlocked last night?… I don’t know, maybe he just wants to talk to you about it…”

“God… I mean, okay, uh… thanks for letting me know, sis…”

“Mhm,” you hummed with a nod, right before turning on your heel and walking back from whence you came...

“Dad?” Jay repeated with confusion.

“Sis?” Jake added, just as confused.

“Yup… and we don’t look very similar now, do we?” Sunghoon offered with a proud smirk, taking the last sip of his cherry cola with a clenched jaw and sighing at the fizzy sensation.

“Fine, but what difference does it make when you live under the same roof and share a set of parents, biologically or not?”

The space felt quiet at Jay’s sudden comment, with nothing other than chirping birds in the distance filling the void.

“Look man, I gotta go now, but please, at the very least… consider… our advice,” Jay said in a more solemn tone before shuffling from his seat and standing up to walk away.

“Yea… I mean… I’ll consider it,” Sunghoon nodded nonchalantly while waving his friend off, but Jay didn’t see it as shady because that’s how Sunghoon always acted…

Numb, absent, impetuous.

It’s those precise qualities in him that initially earned your attraction, and they were the same qualities that eventually made you stick around…

1 hour later…

“It’s so pretty, Hoon…” you admired from beneath your step-brother, trailing an inquisitive finger along the underside of his cock as he nearly dug crescents into the palms of his hands from how tightly he balled his fists.

He was just so, so sensitive…

“Can I now?” You asked softly, eager to finally have his cock in your mouth and stretching your slutty little lips apart with his thickness…

And to no one’s shock, he was just as eager to have your mouth around him, too…

Of all the private time you’ve spent with Sunghoon, you two had tried almost everything in the books from dry humping, nipple sucking (on both sides), vaginal sex, cockwarming, and even mutual masturbation on some accounts…

Though, you had never tried giving him oral before, and it’s an act that’s been on your mental bucket list for quite a while now.

“Go on, angel,” Sunghoon groaned, watching intently as you began prepping him by stroking the base of his length, and he swears a hand has never felt so good around his cock before.

Your step-brother, being the handsome guy that he was, had his fair share of sexual experiences in the past…

However, once he met you, or more accurately, once y’all crossed that dangerous physical boundary, he fell in love with you in a way that would never be considered brotherly.

Simply put, you were the best at everything to him; making him feel better after a bad day, listening to his most profound thoughts when no one else would, etc etc.

And it helped that you were one of the most beautiful girls he had met, too…

The first time he had sex with you, he remembered gazing at your cunt first before sliding himself in, and he felt so bad for having to be the first one to stretch you out.

You were so tight and fragile and he was so thick and long that it took more than a few tries just to have sex properly…

But since then, you became his little fuck toy, and he simply dreaded the thought of some other guy getting to enjoy those parts of you one day…

The parts he worked so hard to cultivate in you… the parts that he felt should be for his eyes and his eyes only…

“Ohhh, God,” Sunghoon groaned suddenly, sealing his pretty brown eyes shut at the feeling of your lips sliding along the center of his shaft.

His tip, the most sensitive part of his cock, found utter bliss in the back of your tight throat, and his tense hips subconsciously bucked into your mouth, causing you to tap his thigh as a sign to slow down.

“Sorry,” he whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear to prevent it from getting in the way, but you couldn’t help yourself from marveling at the way his length twitched inside your mouth, its tip already crying out precum as you kept bobbing your head nice and slow.

And it was genuinely such an honor to be sucking him off, considering how much he had done for you in the past… things that your parents never had to find out about because he was there to help you.

For instance, you vividly recall the time when a deadbeat date you met at a party dropped you off on the side of the road after you rejected his sexual advances, and Sunghoon was the only person who answered your call that night…

That same night marked the first night you kissed each other… in his car at a red light on your way home, to be precise…

And you cried the rest of the drive back to the family mansion until Sunghoon managed to finally calm you down with a hug… one that led to him sleeping in your bed that night with his clothed cock slowly rutting against the curve of your ass…

You remember pretending like it didn’t happen for a while until eventually, the taboo craving was reciprocated in you; you wanted Sunghoon just as much as he always wanted you…

“Fuck, baby… ‘m so close,” your stepbrother groaned in pleasure, keeping his hands in your hair because it was genuinely one of his favorite parts about you, “Yea… keep drooling around my fat cock, baby… just like that… shit~”

You squeezed your thighs at Sunghoon’s desperate dirty talk, feeling yourself getting more and more turned on every time he swore beneath his breath.

“Go on, angel… touch yourself for me,” he mewled from above you, compelling you to do exactly what he just suggested.

Slipping your fingers past the waistband of your skirt, you found your core instantly given how you weren’t wearing any underwear.

You slid your digits over your folds while still sucking his dick before humming at the feeling of your aching clit finallygetting some attention.

“Didn’t know sucking my cock would turn you on so much,” he snickered through a smirk, only to groan once again as you hummed around his dick, reeling him even closer to climaxing.

With just a few more bobs of your head, Sunghoon was finally coming undone, screwing his thick eyebrows shut with his head thrown back.

His thumbs slowly outlined the side of your hairline as he looked back down at you with pure affection, slipping his cock out of you as cum coated every surface of your mouth—

“C’mere, princess,” he whispered in a raspy voice, finding your lips in the sweetest kiss as your tongues intertwined, all while you still stimulated your clit beneath your clothes…

And as if you weren’t feeling a bit lightheaded already, you definitely were now, feeling your hips spasm the more and more his tongue ran against yours.

Before you knew it, you were crying out Sunghoon’s name into his mouth and creaming all over your fingers.

“Shhh,” he cooed while holding your head in place with a gentle hand, backing away only once so he could see the look on your face as you finished.

It was such a beautiful sight to him, too… the way your eyes brimmed with tears as you bit down on your lower lip, trying to keep quiet but failing nonetheless…

He loved every part of it—

Knock, knock, knock.

“Sunghoon, are you in there?” Your mom called out from behind the door, just mere feet away from you two.

“Uhh, yeah, what’s up?” Sunghoon asked as calmly as he could manage while you both worked on readjusting your clothes back.

“Your father’s ready to have dinner with everyone,” she continued, trying to listen in on what was happening on the other side of the door, only to have her ears filled with the sound of shuffling.

“Alright, I’ll be down in a minute,” Sunghoon answered, just as you stood up to kiss him again, desperate for more.

“Great… I’ll go and tell your sister to join us, too,” she said before finally walking away, and you smiled even deeper into the kiss as Sunghoon’s hands found your body, guiding your hips closer against him.

30 minutes later…

“Why’re you making such a big deal out of this, Dad?”

“Because you’re too irresponsible for your age,” your stepfather scolded at the dinner table, the awkward clinking of silver forks against glass plates filling the room.

“Just because I forgot to lock the garage back on one night?”

“One night is all it takes for someone to come in and rob us, son,” his dad argued in between chewing on a piece of steak,“if you ever want this property or anything in the family estate to be yours, you better start acting like it belongs to you already…”

“But I do, Dad… can’t you see that?” Sunghoon asked with frustration in between eating some rice from his plate, “I keep the pool clean, cut the lawn weekly, and help out with bills, what else do you want me to do?”

“Lock the garage door back at night. Let’s start there,” his dad said plainly, and Sunghoon simply scoffed at his words.

“Right… got it, sir, but I’ll be excusing myself now,” Sunghoon said while getting up from the table with his dad in unison.

“No, you sit back down and finish eating so you can help your mom and sister clean up… I’m going to my room…”

“Ugh,” your mother sighed, getting up from the table and following in the exact steps as Sunghoon’s father did, “Sorry to leave you guys hanging, but I think I’m gonna call it a night and just chill out with your dad…”

“Oh… yeah, that’s fine,” you and your stepbrother smiled softly while getting up to wash dishes, “have a good night…”

“You, too, guys,” she smiled softly with her hands clasped in front of her before eventually leaving.

In the meantime, you got started on loading the dishwasher and wiping the kitchen surfaces; Sunghoon helped by sweeping and taking out the trash.

Afterward, you and Sunghoon sat on the living room couch and talked for a bit, the sound of the dishwashing machine thrumming in the distance.

You remembered his friends kept giving you weird looks earlier, so you decided to ask Sunghoon what they were talking about as a conversation starter.

“Oh- nothing, really… they were just curious about who you were, is all…” Sunghoon answered plainly, gentle clicks coming from his fingers as he toggled with the TV remote, searching for something good to watch.

And you knew it shouldn’t have affected you so much, but you could almost feel his hands all over you again just from looking at them…

You could feel the way his fingers were cupping your face earlier, and the way his palm felt resting on the small of your back as he kissed you that evening—

“Wanna watch something scary?” He offered, interrupting your brief thoughts.

“Do we even have a choice?” You returned while glancing at the screen, shocked to see there were predominantly horror movies playing tonight.

“I swear, it's like people never get bored of having scary movie marathons,” Sunghoon shrugged before eventually turning the TV off.

Currently, you were both sitting opposite to each other on the couch, up until your stepbrother patted the empty space next to him, signaling for you to come closer.

You laid your head on his shoulder, and the warmth of his body radiating through the cotton sweater he wore made you sigh in comfort.

“What, you're getting sleepy already?” Sunghoon asked with a soft smile, not expecting you to have snuggled against him so suddenly.

“No,” you said, reaching for his pale hand before tracing the nail beds of his fingers with your own, “just wanna enjoy this gentle moment with you...”

“Oh... Seriously?”

“Mhm...” You hummed against him, making the smile on his face linger for a little longer, “Can I ask you something?”

“Yea, what is it?”

“Well... hypothetically speaking, if your dad left his bedroom door open all night, how much do you think we could get away with in here?…”

“____...”

“Relax, it's just a question,” you pouted, letting go of his hand and touching his tense thigh instead.

He gulped before answering.

“Okay then... hypothetically speaking... I know I could keep quiet during a lot of things, but you on the other hand...” his voice trailed off as he gave you a knowing look instead of finishing his sentence.

“What? Finish what you were gonna say, loser,” you chuckled, sitting up to look him in the face now, but judging from his cheeks alone, you could tell he was a bit flustered about something...

“Hey,” you spoke softly, moving your hand from his thigh and cupping his face instead, but it didn't stay there long before he was pushing you on your back, caging you beneath him on the sofa.

“I think it might be better if I just show you instead of telling you, hm?” He whispered, dangerously close to your face, and you felt your heart rate increase while caged beneath him…

Not because you were nervous, but because you knew your parents were likely still awake, and you’d hate to get caught in a position like this.

“S-Sunghoon, maybe not in here, okay?” You began with shaky breaths, trying to keep your voice as low as possible now,“It’s too risky…”

“Shhh,” he whispered again, right before leaning down to kiss you, and you hated how it was truly that easy for him to win your submission.

Sliding a hand over your breasts, he found your neck in his grip, gently but firmly.

Though, the pressure only increased from here, and it was enough to make you squeak.

“You’re seriously getting all noisy, and just from that?” He judged you with a snicker, “If you want me to fuck you, y’know you’re gonna have to stay quiet, pretty… think you can do that for me?… hm?”

You could only manage to whimper in response, and he finally freed your neck from his rough hand, at first you think it’sbecause he’s easing up on you, but then you realize that he was just getting started.

Sitting up, he tugs your pants down to your thighs, only to have you immediately pull them back up again.

“Do you really wanna force me to get rough with you tonight, baby?” Sunghoon slithered, cupping your entire cunt in his hand before grinding his palm against your clothed sex, and he almost laughed out loud at the way you squirmed now.

“I can’t believe you’re being this s-stupid right now,” you stammered, but you couldn’t stop your hips from subconsciously bucking against the delicious friction he provided.

“Look at you… rejecting my advances only to grind against my hand like a bitch in heat,” he retorted, spitting in his free palm before slapping you across the cheek, the added moisture only adding to the echo of the impact.

You wanted to curse him out, kick him, punch him, or even just yell at him for doing that to you… but someway, somehow, you felt your body freeze at his gaze, and tears erupted from your eyelash beds in the same way they did the first night he kissed you… the first night he claimed you as his…

“Now, you know I didn’t wanna have to do that, sweetie,” Sunghoon pouted with a hoarseness to his tone, and you immediately felt his erection brush up against your thigh.

“As my little sister, you’re supposed to obey me, no matter what I ask of you,” he continued tenderly now, wiping the tears from your face with the back of his hand.

Your cheek still stung from where he slapped you, and it only made matters worse when you heard shuffling from your parent's room.

“B-but… I am ob-beying you,” you sniffled, voice cracking slightly as he kissed your face right where he struck you.

“Good,” he smiles, ceasing his hand in groping your cunt, “So that means you’ll let me make you feel good and you’llkeep quiet then, right?”

“Y-yes, Sunghoon,” you nodded, feeling him kiss your lips one last time before freeing you of his daunting shadow, only to stand up from the couch and tug you in whatever position he pleased.

And he handled your body as if you were weightless, but you knew that had more to do with his strength training than anything.

Situating you on your knees on the floor of the couch, he knelt behind you, caressing your waist while pressing his front against your ass.

Keeping all your clothes on, the only thing he did was slide both of your bottoms down, and you don’t think you ever felt more eager than you did once the cool room air hit your aching cunt.

And that’s when your stepbrother started sliding his burning red cock between your folds, trying his hardest not to spank you as that would only make more noise.

“You ready, baby?” He asked, making a makeshift ponytail of your hair, but before you could even answer, he was already sliding inside you all the way now.

And because you and he had sex so many times in the past, it’s like your walls were carved just for him.

No matter the circumstance, Sunghoon could always count on you being ready to take him in every which way he desired…

So, when you put up a little fight today, he made sure to remember it as he started rutting into you, keeping one hand firmly at your hips while the other one secured your head.

“Ohh…. mmm… ahhh,” you hummed, keeping your eyes shut completely as the faint sound of skin against skin filled the room.

His cock felt so good inside you, just like it always did… given the position, your cunt was angled a little different than what you were used to, but it helped him to fuck even deeper into you anyway.

“Feels good, baby?… Yea?… You just love taking your step-brother’s fat cock in your tight cunt, don’t you… you dirty little- nghh,” Sunghoon groaned breathlessly from behind you, pulling your hair back further now as he roughly pounded into you again and again.

“Your ass is so perfect, too,” he slurred, and all the dirty talk was making your pussy throb even more, with his greedy cock loving the sensation as well.

“Fuck, Hoonie,” you whimpered quietly, arching your back a bit so he could fuck you even deeper, when suddenly, you felt his grip release from your hair, causing your face to meet the couch cushions.

You could conveniently bury your face into the, whenever you felt like making a noise, letting all your naughty little sounds dissipate into the cotton.

He was bucking his hips behind you so fast and hard though now that even the wooden floorboards were starting to creak…

“Nghh…. Oh my g… ahh… fuck, baby,” you whined into the couch, but being so lost in the pleasure, it didn’t seem like Sunghoon cared to keep quiet anymore either.

He was grunting all loud like a madman now, and if it wasn’t for the air conditioner drowning out the squelching noises of skin-to-skin, you’re certain your parents would’ve caught you like this…

Your hearts pounded in unison as Sunghoon's hands continued to roam over your soft, supple body, tracing the curves of her hips before grabbing hold of the swells of your breasts.

You couldn't help but let out a stifled moan as squeezed you in his grip, filling you with an intensity that was almost too much to bear.

Biting down on your wrist, you tried your hardest to keep yourself from crying out, but it wasn’t long before you felt your walls tightening around him, Bo your collective breaths growing more ragged as you approached the brink.

“S-Sunghoon, I’m getting close,” you gasped, feeling something in your stomach tighten the faster your stepbrotherfucked his throbbing cock into you.

“S-so am I,” he stammered as the initially deep tone of his voice started to sound more desperate and vulnerable.

Sunghoon's eyes fluttered shut as he concentrated on the pleasure your soaking wet hole provided him with, digging his nails into your hips to contain all the energy within himself until it finally happened; with a silent scream of pleasure, you shuddered around his cock, making him lean forward to cover your mouth and conceal your moans, causing you to whine into his hand.

Swearing beneath your breath, he felt it was safe to remove his hand from your mouth now as your body arched off of the couch, and Sunghoon’s orgasm followed closely behind.

Not wanting to finish inside you, he pulled out as quickly as he could, jerking his slimy cock with the same hand he just covered your mouth with before cumming all over your back, using it as a landscape for his ivory release.

Sunghoon then pulled your shirt back over to cover you, and if you weren’t so tired and fucked out, the feeling of his sticky cum smearing under the cotton of your clothes would’ve made you cringe.

The two of you just lay there for a moment, panting and trembling with slick sheens of sweat decorating every corner of your collective bodies.

With a satisfied sigh, you looked down the hallway, noticing that your parent's door was already closed and that perhaps,the two of you missed it earlier given all the excitement.

You were already starting to feel the aches in your body creep up on you given how rough Sunghoon was being, but that all melted away once his lips connected with yours, humming into a gentle kiss.

“Let me help you to bed, sissy,” he whispered, helping you get up from the ground now.

He offered to carry you, but you insisted that you could walk on your own.

A few steps later, you were eventually in your bedroom with Sunghoon’s delicate hands getting to work on removing your shirt and wiping down your back.

Sliding a nightgown over your head, he gave you one last kiss goodnight before sweeping off to his own room now… but something in you told you this wasn’t the last you’d see of him tonight…

It was on nights like this that you missed Sunghoon most; despite how you two had already shared such intense intimacy with each other, you still craved his presence, and of course, he felt the same.

As you forced your eyes shut to hopefully get some sleep in, you comforted yourself with the fact that you never heard the soft click of the door latch from Sunghoon’s bedroom, letting you know that it’d only be a few minutes before his footsteps would echo through the hallway as he’d slip into bed beside you.

✎𓂃 Thanks for reading DAY 10's fic entry for my 2024 Kinktober Event !! Sorry I’m a day late to posting this (I had to process some issues in one of my friendships), but nonetheless, if you're interested, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist here !!

♱ PERM TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy (miss you), @wonbinisbabygurl @watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

♱ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs @mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij @yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess @zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier @idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings @stormy1408 @crownj1min @jay-0n3s @gacktsa @leeknowinggg @d-dilemma @mrsjohnnysuh

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #sunghoon smut #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon ff #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon au #kinktober 2024

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