#the ultimate guide to smooth skin

[ins4nebxtch]

ultimate IT girl guide

a guide to looking effortlessly perfect

"You’ve got the false narrative of a girl who spends 30 seconds on her appearance, when, in fact, you probably spent hours.”

1. basic hygiene:

having clean teeth and good breath

smelling good 24/7. i highly recommend finding a signature scent as a scent is associated with memory, id suggest something sweet yet not too overpowering like vanilla.

being clean in general. regularly shaving and exfoliating your skin to get rid of bodily hair and dirt that accumulates on your skin to make your skin glow.

clean nails. having clean and maintained nails (with a simple design if you wish) looks better than having acrylics that are wayyy too long and appear tacky.

2. hair :

having smooth healthy hair looks much better than dry and damaged hair. take care of your hair by finding the best products for your natural hair. get rid of your split ends as they make the hair appear really damaged.

in my opinion, loose waves look the most effortless yet pretty. but don’t ruin your natural hair by applying too much heat! you can try heatless styling methods to achieve this look.

3. diet and exercise :

being toned is the way to go to fit this aesthetic

avoid oily foods or sugary foods that damage your skin. don’t completely get rid of these as we all have our cravings, but try your best to avoid it

find a workout plan that works best for you, keeps you healthy but doesn’t burn you out! moreover exercise releases endorphins that improve your mood.

4. makeup and skin care :

natural makeup on clear skin fits this effortless aesthetic perfectly!

take care of your skin by finding a routine that fits you the best, consult with a dermatologist for the best results.

having smooth, blended makeup creates an illusion that you aren’t wearing any at all! this appears much effortless than a full face. also try to avoid those really huge false lashes that make you look tacky.

maintain your eyebrows and find a shape that fits you best!

5. outfits :

having a signature style which suits your body type is essential. experiment until you can find what suits you best! you can use a body analysis app for this.

wearing outfits you’re confident in, hot but not too revealing goes a long way. confidence is key. wearing overly revealing clothing might seem like one is trying too hard, but if you can carry it with confidence then that’s great!

jewellery : having dainty, signature pieces is key! find out which suits you better (gold or silver) through an ai analysis and invest in timeless pieces. personally, i think minimalistic pieces such as solitaires, simple pendants, classic hoops etc. look much more effortless.

6. personality :

don’t be too judgemental towards anyone as you don’t know what they’re going through and this makes you seem unapproachable

don’t talk too much or overshare! this creates a mysterious aura which draws people to you more

confidence is key! posture is very important too, carry yourself with confidence and walk with your head held up high.

7. examples and references :

serena van der woodsen (gossip girl)

mia thermopolis (the princess diaries)

cher (clueless)

elle woods (legally blonde)

rory gilmore (gilmore girls)

robin scherbatsky (how i met your mother)

gigi hadid

[jinkicake]

Do What U Want

Shameless hsr smut for no reason ((voyeurism, riding, choking+riding, welt is additcted to p*ssy looool))

Gepard, Jing Yuan, Sampo, Welt x Reader 

A/N: I kinda want these big, stupid men so b4d! I pulled this out of my ass because I could NOT stop thinking about Welt.... Gepard turned into Welt into Jing Yuan into Sampo LOL I never got to writing for Blade 

!! ALL SMUTTTTTT // NSFWWW !!

WC - 2,276

~~

Gepard

“So this is what you do when I am gone?”

The captain nearly jumps at your voice, ultimately freezing all over as his hand stills over his cock. He’s immobile, shame stuns him speechless and all he can do is stare at you. With his heavy cock still in hand, and abdomen on full display because of his shirt being pushed up over his chest, Gepard looks messy. 

“My love,” He finally stutters out and quickly makes work of covering himself up. His shaky hands fumble with his boxers as he attempts to shove himself back into his light pants. You stop him shortly with a single hand, a gentle touch of your fingertips against his wrist. It makes the man stare longingly up at you, hands now frozen as he tries to blink the surprise out of his eyes. Gepard knows he should be afraid of the smile on your face, the slight upturn of your lips but, he’s not. 

The man is practically shaking as he awaits your touch. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” You coo before running your lips over his jaw, the captain nearly winces as more precum pathetically spills from his cock. “continue.” Your encouragement goes in one ear and out the other, all Gepard can focus on are your dainty fingers against his skin. The captain continues to stare at you with furrowed brows and a confused expression.

It’s only when your soft hand guides his own, wrapping over his hard cock, that Gepard knows what he must do for you. You want him to pick up where he left off, you want to watch him complete an intimate act. Gepard tightly swallows and continues to stare at you, lips slightly parted, as his hand begins to move. 

He stares needily at your content expression, he stares at the pretty contours of your face and the perfect pout of your lips. Your eyes don’t meet his though, no, you’re too busy watching him jerk his thick cock. Each tight stroke causes you to breathe harder, hands now gripping his knees as you take it all in. 

Gepard tries to find any shame within himself but, he can’t find any. He puts on a show for you. His thighs tense at a particular yank and his balls start to feel painfully tight at a slight swerve of his palm over the tip. 

“Mhm,” He groans at the feeling, his head tilting back against his broad shoulders as his eyes squeeze shut. The touch of his own hand is nothing compared to your own but, Gepard makes the most of it. When you are watching him like this, he has to.

“Open your eyes.” Your voice is so gentle in his ears, calling to him like a siren that he immediately follows. The captain blinks his eyes open and moans out your name at your awaiting stare. You want to see the finale, you want to see him cum all over himself. Desire heavily clouds your iris. “You’re so close, aren’t you, Gepard?” With a singular lick of your lips in anticipation, the large man loses it. 

One more harsh tug pulls him to the edge, forcing him to unload all over his bare abdomen. As he strokes himself through the heavy orgasm, you excitedly reach for the ‘v’ of his hips and lower your head. 

Out of everything, Gepard shouldn’t be surprised that you want to lick him clean.

Jing Yuan

“How was your day, angel?” Genuine curiosity pours out of the general’s mouth as he stares at you with a darkened gaze. It’s cute how you squirm in his lap and are unable to respond, it makes the older man feel a surge of pride expand in his chest. He tries to encourage you with a large hand against your back but, the smooth touch of random patterns only serves to make you even more speechless. 

You make it a point to ignore him as you stubbornly shake your head and puff out your cheeks but, your general just laughs. It’s a rich and deep sound that seemingly fuels your irritation further as you attempt to move in his lap. 

“Eager, are we?” He breathes softly into your ear, thick hair tickling your cheeks and jaw, almost causing you to moan. Pitifully, you whimper and it’s a noise that Jing Yuan will always cherish. It seems that the man has had enough of teasing you as he begins lifting his hips in gentle motions. Strong and sturdy thighs keep you upright all while your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure. 

Jing Yuan maintains a steady pace as he leans forward to mouth at your chest. His heavy hand still keeps you steady from its position placed between your shoulder blades. The general places hot, open-mouthed kisses against your breast. He traces the outlines with intimate lips before subtly brushing over your nipple. The sensation causes your back to arch suddenly while desperately grinding down in his lap. 

Another peck to the growing pebble and your hands immediately reach for his hair. Thick white strands are now woven between your fingers and all Jing Yuan can do is groan against your breast as you tug against his roots. The sound is deep and low, causing vibrations to shoot up your spine. 

“Please,” You quietly beg, breathing out the plea with soft breaths. Jing Yuan licks over your nipple before encasing it with his lips. The immediate wet sensation that follows has you moaning desperately. His hot tongue works wonders against your sensitive body, dutifully flicking until your thighs begin to shake. 

Another hand snakes down between your legs as Jing Yuan places a thick thumb on your clit. He presses down before gently swirling a pattern of consistent circles that he knows will always do the trick. All it takes is a handful of seconds for the swollen bud to start reacting as your cunt tightens around him. 

Power surges from his fingertips as he uses his entire body to please you. The defined general beneath you does not once shy away from helping you reach the peak of your potential.

“How do you feel?” Jing Yuan asks as he forces himself to pull away from your chest. As he awaits your answer, he goes right back to your other breast. Each suction of his lips grows stronger than the last. “Tell me,”

You struggle to find the words as his hard cock rubs against you just right, any sound that falls from your lips is in his name. 

“So good,” You’re panting in his lap as you continue to grind down against him. “so close.”

“Is that so?"

That is what Jing Yuan wanted to hear, he always finishes his job with you. 

Sampo

“You really think you can take me?” 

All you’ve ever wanted to do is knock the cocky smirk off of Sampo’s face and now, the chance is right in front of you. 

“Yes.” You confidently sneer as you glare up at the large man, buff and carved in all the right places. His height almost makes it difficult to keep your gaze locked with his own. “Right here, right now, in any way.” 

The innuendo makes his lips split into a grin, eyes lighting up in excitement at such a prospect. This is a deal to be made. 

“Not in a fight?” He questions and one of his thick eyebrows raises up. Almost tauntingly, he tilts his head and your vision is nothing but a flash of deep blue strands. 

“Not in a fight,” You breathe, almost sounding breathless due to the close proximity. The merchant’s pleased expression only grows as his large hands wrap around your waist and pull you into his chest. His lips now ghost over your ear. 

“This way, my dear,”

With such a rare chance, you make sure to keep your word. By the end of this, the boisterous man will be fucked dumb by you and only you. 

The satisfaction is on the tip of your tongue and you can see the pleasure now in Sampo’s lust-filled eyes. 

Who knew all you had to do was wrap one of your hands across his strong neck and squeeze to get the big man to cry?

“Oh, fuck me,” He pants, eyes squeezed tight at the new onset of pleasure washing over him. His hips thrust erratically up into you and had you not been so prepared, you think you could have fallen off of him. Eagerly, you roll your hips down and grind into his lap. With each squeeze around his throat, you match it as you press your thighs together. It sends the man reeling, he’s just as noisy and as loud as ever. 

“Look at you getting fucked,” You coo while leaning over his chest. The merchant smiles at your voice, at your condescending tone as his large hands blindly reach for your chest. He groans at the feeling when he finally finds your pretty breasts against his palm. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” Sampo grins. “kiss me, I know you want to.” His own taunts don’t work against you, no matter how badly you might want to give in. 

“What have you done to deserve it?” 

“Oh, god,” He whines, the gigantic man beneath you actually whines at the denial of a kiss. You wish you had a camera, you wish everyone could see how he actually is. The merchant, talented and smooth-tongued, is nothing but your own little toy. Desire licks at your lower belly as you brush your lips against his chin. 

“Cum and I’ll kiss you,” 

“Kiss me and I’ll cum,” Even close to his orgasm, Sampo still finds a way to argue back with you. 

“Beg for it and I might consider,” You have to hear it, you need to hear his pleas of desperation. It’s a joke, really, because the second you hear them you’ll give in to what you both want. 

“Kiss me, please, please fucking kiss me,” Sampo’s throaty whine is muffled by your mouth as he eagerly parts his lips to meet you in a messy kiss. It’s perfectly, entirely too perfect because there is no one else you would do this with. 

Welt

“Are you sure no one will find us?” Your fingers, which Welt desperately wishes were tangled in his hair, are currently pushing him away from your cunt. It’s a mild distraction and does not steer him off track in the slightest but, Welt wants you to be at ease too. “Mr. Yang?”

He nearly moans when you call out his name, it’s like a dream how his perverted fantasies have come to life. Getting to eat you out in the back of a train car has only happened in his wildest fantasies. 

“No one will bother us, I promise,” His cool voice convinces you effortlessly and, once again, your pretty thighs slide open for him. The older man wants to give you a warning before he begins, he wants to make sure that you don’t interrupt him but he keeps to himself because the moment you push your panties to the side, any logical thought in his head is out the window. 

Welt starts with one short lick, partially to test his own restraint and to tease you. The sweet flavor on his tongue, perfectly earthy, nearly makes the grown man groan. He can’t stop after that one taste. Welt grips your thighs as his fingers dig into your skin, spreading you apart even further to wholeheartedly devour. One lick becomes two, followed by a third and each swipe of his tongue continues to grow heavier and heavier. He becomes utterly consumed with eating you out, nose now resting snuggly against your clit. 

A mixture of your arousal and his drool is coating his chin but, the older man can’t find it in himself to care. The neat and tidy Mr. Yang has fallen weak to you, this taste on his tongue is all he has ever wanted. 

“Please,” You quietly beg as your fingers tug on his hair, Welt moans at the sensation. He finally removes his tongue from inside your sweet cunt to focus on your clit. “Mr. Yang, Welt-” His broad strokes have changed to short flicks, focusing the tip of the muscle to properly stimulate you. Over and over again, he plays with your clit until it becomes swollen and slick. Welt sucks and laps over the bud even as your thighs tighten around his head. 

He couldn’t stop now, nothing could get him to stop now, not when he has you so close. 

“Come on,” He almost demands and at the brief insertion of his slim finger, perfectly curled to touch that spot shallowly within you, you come with a cry of his name. Welt continues to coax you through it, finger curling and pumping while he licks boldly at your clit to work you through the orgasm. He nearly whimpers while giving you a few more sucks, it’s more so for him than anything else. The sweetest taste on his tongue is a flavor he has desired ever since he met you, he desperately needs more. One orgasm is simply not enough.

“Mr. Yang,” You whine and attempt to push him back again but Welt continues to eat you out, hands still tightly gripping your hips. Your high-pitched moans sound like music to his ears, he can’t help the way he sucks and pops your pretty little clit in his mouth. 

Welt truly cannot help himself, he finally has you and can’t let you go just yet. 

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

← Smutlet masterlist

18+ Thigh Riding

He looked up at you, his head resting against the back of the couch. A teasing smirk flitted across his face as he watched you chasing your release. Bucky loved studying your features, staring intently. The way your mouth hung open, your brows practically knitted together from the effort you were putting in and your eyelids fluttering with your attempts to keep them open. Bucky loved that about you. You were always all in, including the short panting breaths that escaped from your swollen lips. Yes, he derived just as much pleasure seeing you come undone as you did experiencing it.

“You're so damn beautiful, Doll.”

You reveled in the way his large calloused hands felt on your hips, the way he held you, and subtly guided your movements as you pushed your uncovered core against his bare thigh. You loved how he bit down on his lip, struggling to contain his own arousal, so desperate to be inside of you.

“Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

Bucky moaned as his erection strained against his boxers. Oh, how he longed to press his palm against it, just to relieve some of the tension. No, today he was going to watch, watch you use his body to get yourself off. Then maybe, if you were feeling generous, you'd return the favor. He smiled. You were the most generous person he knew.

“Having fun there, Doll?”

You noticed how mesmerized he was by your peaked nipples, your blossomed breasts swaying up and down before his very eyes. A soft laugh slipped past your lips, his struggle of restraint amusing you as you watched his nostrils flare and his heavy breathing whistling through pursed lips.

“Mind if I have a taste?”

Ultimately, it's too much for Bucky, your beautiful bosom right there on display just for him. How could he not partake? How easy it was for him to lean forward and capture one of those perky beauties between his eager lips. His tongue rolled around your hard nipple with ease. You let him suck it as his hands caressed her twin. Cupping her, pinching her nipple between his vibranium fingers and kneading your flesh. Oh, how he loved the moans you saved, just for him.

“That's my girl, God, you feel so good in my mouth.”

Once you've given him a taste, he can't stop, yearning for more. You let him leave a trail of blazing kisses across your chest, teeth grazing your skin, open lips sucking bruises up towards your neck, marking you as his. You knew how much it turned him on, seeing his marks on your body, his possessiveness taking over. In turn, his covetousness drove you crazy, dialling up your desire to dangerous levels.

“You're mine, Doll. Got that? All mine.”

At this point, his hands are all over you, fingers and palm spread across your back, dragging over your silky skin. He skimmed over your waist only to find purchase on the curve of your ass where his fingertips dug in desperately, helping you along the path to nirvana. Encouraging you with lust dripping from his voice.

“Go on, Doll. You're doing so good. Just a little more."

By now, you're so lost in a haze that your movements are less than smooth, and you thank your lucky stars that Bucky has the sense to assist. Your juices are covering his thigh as you shamelessly drag your clit over his bulging quad. Over and over. You have his undivided focus now, he can tell how close you are to falling off the edge into the carnal abyss. He helped you out as pitiful moans left your lips and tired hips faltered slightly. He squeezed his quads, the muscle hardening under you, pushing against your sensitive little nub. Bucky whispered sweet words of praise and encouragement as you let go and cum on his thigh.

“That's right, Doll, you got this. How do you always look pretty, sweet girl? Keep going, just like that, darling. Only a little more, let it go. That's it, baby, well done.”

[the-ancient-dragons]

Welcome back to Overcomplicating the Pyrrhian Tribes! This week: the beloved RainWings!!

You know what's up. Joy Ang and Tui are so cool and I am just me.

Details and explanation below!

Otherwise, next week are the chilly IceWings! See you then!!!

More overcomplicated dragons.

I knew the RainWings would be really important, and I think they turned out the best of all the ones I've done. I think they're my favourite because they are basically the perfect mix of extra realism spice without altering Joy's design too much. The SkyWing design is awesome and I love it to bits, but it is one of the two that are the farthest from canon.

As for the RainWing.... I had. So. Much. FUN. I heavily used chameleons and snakes - they're basically the two main species on my research board - but there is a dash of cuttlefish and frilled lizard in there. Where, you ask? Well if you look closely, all over the RainWing are little tiny flecks of darker colour. I found a beautiful reference of a close-up on a cuttlefish eye. Its skin is dotted in thousands of little marks and I thought that would be perfect for the RainWing, who can camouflage just as well as them. I don't know if it's been discussed in canon but I bet they could animate their scales more than just colour shifting - cuttlefish are known for using their rapidly shifting patterns to hypnotize prey. RainWings could do it too, sort of like Ka from Disney's 2D animated Jungle Book.

Speaking of Ka - snakes. I love snakes. The head structure of the RainWing here is very smooth and rounded with muscles based on snakes like the python. I was even going to originally draw them in a venom striking pose and got as far as completing the lineart, but ultimately decided it wouldn't fit the calm portraits of the other tribes.

Will you see it in the future? Hell yeah! Pure, unhinged, magical death spit. Looking at it now I might try to alter it to be a full piece of Glory attacking Scarlet or Crocodile.

In the striking pose you can see the frills much better, but I still took my time on this serene pose (this is where the frilled lizard influence comes in). If you notice that I've drawn every scale (every single scale) then, yes, I am insane. If you didn't know that yet, you know it now. You have to draw guide lines and follow them meticulously while you wonder why you don't make a scale brush, and then cry because you know the randomness and imperfections that come from drawing a thousand circles is how it looks natural. The eye area is actually my favourite part, since drawing dragon eyelids was the original inspiration for doing this. Did I mention that? I wanted to draw eyelids.

EYELIDS.

I digress. Besides the eyelids, I like the frills on the action pose, but this pose is where I like the body scales more. When zooming in on my chameleon colour refs, I noticed the very rhythmical distribution of their scales and figured I would give it a try. They actually do have extra large circular scales along their bodies, which is where I guess the canon RainWing design gets it from. Very clever, Joy!

Anyway, on this version, those small circular scales appear on the face. Not only that, but I added a bit of influence from the snouts of my ref chameleons by extending the nose bridges to wrap around the nose horn. They blend in so seamlessly and that's the reason why I love this design - it's subtle, barely there, mostly Joy but a little extra.

Wow, I talk too much. If you're here, thank you! It's not mandatory to read, but very appreciated. I heard once that visitors at an art gallery look at each piece an average of 2-3 seconds. Or was it 3-6? Idk, but it was shockingly short, and ever since then I've tried to encourage myself to pay more respect to other artists and glean their work for little details I skip after that quick glance. I could talk so much more about these designs but that would be like an hour long video, each, lol. If you have questions about anything, ask away!

[highblkfemsociety]

Nourish Your Beauty: The Ultimate Fall Vegetable Guide

As the seasons shift, so do our nutritional needs—and the vegetables that thrive in the cooler months are packed with vitamins and minerals perfect for keeping your skin glowing and your health strong. For the Feminine Woman, integrating seasonal produce into your diet not only nourishes your body but also radiates beauty from within. Here are the best fall veggies to stock up on and their incredible benefits for both your health and your skin.

1. Sweet Potatoes

Sweet potatoes are rich in beta-carotene, which your body converts into Vitamin A—a key nutrient for maintaining healthy skin. Vitamin A helps prevent dry skin, keeps it soft, and promotes a youthful appearance by encouraging cell turnover.

Beauty Benefits:

• Glowing Skin: Beta-carotene protects your skin from UV damage and gives it a natural, radiant glow.

• Anti-aging: The high antioxidant content fights free radicals, reducing the appearance of wrinkles.

• Hydration: The Vitamin C in sweet potatoes aids in collagen production, helping to keep skin plump and moisturized.

How to Use: Roast sweet potato slices with olive oil, rosemary, and a pinch of sea salt for a simple yet delicious side dish.

2. Kale

Kale, the queen of greens, is one of the most nutrient-dense vegetables you can add to your diet in fall. It’s loaded with Vitamins C, E, and K, which are crucial for skin health, elasticity, and wound healing.

Beauty Benefits:

• Cleanses Your Skin: Kale’s high fiber helps to detoxify the body, leading to clearer, more even-toned skin.

• Fight Acne: The Vitamin C in kale reduces inflammation, making it a perfect addition to combat blemishes.

• Skin Elasticity: Vitamin K helps with skin elasticity, reducing dark circles and puffiness under the eyes.

How to Use: Add kale to a smoothie for a nutrient boost or sauté it with garlic for a quick, nutrient-packed side.

3. Butternut Squash

Butternut squash is high in Vitamin E, beta-carotene, and potassium, which help your skin stay hydrated, soft, and smooth. It’s perfect for preventing signs of aging while keeping your skin firm.

Beauty Benefits:

• Hydrated Skin: Butternut squash helps retain moisture in your skin due to its rich potassium content.

• Even Skin Tone: Its Vitamin E helps even out your complexion and reduces hyperpigmentation.

• Firmness: The collagen-boosting properties of Vitamin C in this squash keep your skin looking firm and youthful.

How to Use: Roast butternut squash and blend it into a creamy soup or cube it for a hearty salad.

4. Brussels Sprouts

Brussels sprouts are often underrated but are a powerhouse when it comes to skin health. Rich in Vitamin C, Brussels sprouts promote collagen production, which helps maintain your skin’s firmness and elasticity.

Beauty Benefits:

• Brighter Skin: Vitamin C boosts your skin’s radiance, making it look brighter and more youthful.

• Collagen Boost: Collagen production is essential for skin structure and elasticity, reducing sagging and fine lines.

• Detox: Brussels sprouts help detoxify the skin, flushing out harmful toxins and leaving your complexion clear.

How to Use: Roast Brussels sprouts with balsamic vinegar for a tangy, crunchy side dish that’s perfect for fall.

5. Beets

Beets are known for their blood-purifying properties, which lead to clearer, healthier skin. They’re also loaded with antioxidants that prevent signs of premature aging.

Beauty Benefits:

• Glowing Skin: Beets help boost blood circulation, resulting in a natural flush and radiant complexion.

• Detox Power: The high iron content in beets helps detoxify the body, keeping skin clear and blemish-free.

• Anti-Inflammatory: Beets’ anti-inflammatory properties reduce puffiness and redness.

How to Use: Add roasted beets to salads or blend them into smoothies for a pop of vibrant color and nutrients.

Incorporating these seasonal veggies into your fall diet will not only boost your health but also enhance your beauty from the inside out. These nutrient-packed powerhouses will keep your skin hydrated, youthful, and glowing as the temperatures drop.

So, head to your local farmer’s market, stock up on these fall essentials, and let your natural beauty shine!

[rezwrites]

First I want to say I am obsessed with your Agatha x Reader fics. They give me a lot of joy through my last shitty weeks. I adore you

Second, I have an idea/request so Dark Agatha, who for Reader is just her friendly neighbor, but Agatha has been keeping an eye on Reader since Reader arrived in the neighborhood. One night while Reader was returning from a party and decides to walk home in the middle of the night, Agatha drives her car ‘casually at the same time’ and offers to take Reader at home. Of course, Reader accepts… what could happen?

Dark + jealousy + possessiveness + obsession + dub-con

No pressure. Take your time 

I really glad you like them! Writing them gets me through my shitty days too.

Warnings: +18 MDNI, dub-con, alcohol consumption, fingering

Quite footsteps filled the silent night as you cautiously walked down the sidewalk. The humid air causing your skin to become sticky with sweat. The low rumble of a car engine grew louder as it drove closer. You tensed up hearing the slight squeak of the brakes.

“Dear?” a soft saccharine voice called from behind you. Upon seeing Ms. Harkness peeking her head out her window, you breathed sigh of relief, relaxing. “It’s late. What’s are doing walking about?”

Ms. Harkness has been an angel ever since you moved into the neighborhood. She was always a shoulder to lean on whenever you need it. Never judging, always listening. The most wonderful neighbor you could ask for. Heavy disappointment washed over you for letting her see you this way.

You tried your hardest not to slur your words in front of her, but failed. Even if your words worked you probably looked a mess carrying your shoes, walking without them. “I’..m just walking… home,” You point in the direction of your home.

A deep frown etched in her features as she exited her car, nearing you, “How much have you had to drink?”

“A few..” you trailed off struggling to remember. Cups, glasses, a few shots. There was so much alcohol flowing throughout the night, it was hard to keep track in your addled mind.

“Hun, you’re too drunk to be out here alone. Let’s get you home.” She wrapped her arms around your shoulders, guiding you to the passenger side of her car. Climbing back in her seat Agatha set the air conditioning towards you, making sure you’re comfortable before driving off.

Pulling into the driveway Agatha swiftly came around helping you out of the car. Eyeing the flowerbeds under the windows of the house you realized this wasn’t your house. “This is your house, Ms. Harkness.” You stated, confused.

“Yes, dear. It will be easier for me to take care of you here tonight.” She rubbed your back soothingly as she guided you to the front door, “Besides, how would your family react if you came home in this state?”

She’s right. Your parents- your father, really, would berate you endlessly if you came home this wasted.

Guiding you upstairs she kept a steady hand on your back, patient as you took your time up each step. “I’ll wash your clothes and bring you a fresh pair, honey,” Agatha assured, placing you on her bed. Agatha scurried over to her dresser, bringing back a light hoodie and shorts. Agatha disappeared into the connecting bathroom, you took that time to change. Pulling on the hoodie the soft material on the inside felt like velvet again your skin.

Falling back against the bed you listened to Agatha get closer, collect your clothing, then walk out the room. Hearing her footsteps gradually grow and stop next to you, you have her a bit of insight of tonight, “I thought she liked me, that we had a connection. Only to see her dragging the quarterback upstairs.”

She audibly sighs tucking her arms underneath you, adjusting your body back against the pillows, “See, honey. This is what happens when you mess with girls like that.” She runs her thumb over your eyebrows, smoothing them down.

She hated to watch you fall for girls that lacked any substance. Anger in her eyes every time she saw you with someone who would ultimately break your heart. Agatha always told herself that you needed stable woman, one that can give you structure and support. You needed her. “Perhaps you need to slow down from finding a relationship.”

“Mmm…” The plush bed felt like a cloud underneath you, the faint scent of Agatha’s hoodie comforted you further, “Your bed is so comfortable, Ms. Harkness.”

“I’m sorry about tonight, sweetie.” Agatha pressed herself at your back. She gave you a kiss ghosting the back of your neck, her fingers playing with your sides. The patterns she drew lulled you into a light sleep, not noticing Agatha’s hand had dipped lower. Not until your hips jerked, her digits landing on your clit. Agatha’s serene voice soothed you, “Feels good?”

“…yes..” your body moved on it’s own, seeking Agatha’s touch once more. Her hand went lower, palm now rubbing against your bud. The coil in your lower stomach began to tighten, as Agatha ran her fingertips through the arousal that started to leak from you. Agatha peppered kisses wherever she could reach, sinking two digits into your quivering hole.

The alcohol in your system made you very sensitive, burying your face to stifle your moans. Each trust and rub on your core sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

“Not yet,” A groan fell from your lips as Agatha halted her movements, removing her fingers from you, “I want to start the new year off right. Hearing your pretty moans at the stroke of midnight.”

You both laid there for a minute before Agatha plunged two fingers back into your pussy, setting a merciless pace. Using her other hand to hold you still by your hair to prevent you from hiding. Agatha shoved one of her legs between yours using it to spread you open, giving her a deeper access to your needy cunt. Guttural moans ripped from your throat when Agatha curled her fingers in tandem with her thrusts, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot.

Your whimpers and moans were music to Agatha’s ears. Hot juices coated her fingers creating the squelch that emits around the room. “I know you’re close. Come for me, babygirl.”

“Ah- Agatha!” you cried, shaking in her arms. The coils snapped, shockwaves of intense pleasure reverberated throughout your entire body, reaching every inch of you. Agatha held you tightly fucking you through your orgasm, until you were limp from exhaustion.

“Mine.” Agatha claimed, sucking a deep purple mark on the crook of your neck as you were dragged into a heavy slumber.

[rafesplaymate]

You Belong To Me.

Rafe Cameron x GlamourModel!Reader

✩‧₊˚ navigation. ✩‧₊˚ masterlist

warnings: smut. p in v. choking. dom / sub dynamics. toxic behavior. dubcon. dark themes / adult content.

a/n: so excited about this AU! banner is for aesthetics purposes only.

⊹. ݁₊ ‧₊˚ ✩‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹

Rafe has imagined this moment so many times in his head. How many positions he would bend her into, feeling her smooth skin against his, pressing his thinner lips to her plump pout that is always enticing and suggestive. Gliding up and down the silky lips of her pretty pussy and then pressing the tip of his cock into the tight little cavern, till he’s pressed all the way in.

But now he’s finally experiencing it for real. In person. He feels like he’s floating, watching her wither around on his ruffled bed sheets with the skirt of her dress flipped up, lacy thong pulled to the side as he runs his fingers over her soaked snatch. Standing over her on the edge of the bed like a predator about to devour it’s prey.

“Rafe-I-please do something baby,” she moans erotically, perfect legs spread wide. One hand on top of and interlocked onto the hand he has groping at her perfectly designed chest while the other holds onto his wrist that is connected to the hand gliding over her soaked pussy. Guiding him to where she needs him most while he teases her.

Rafe smirks down at her, bringing the hand he had groping her tit to pinch her cheeks together, luscious lips puckering even more enticingly then they already were. Her eyes glazed over with tears of lust and frustration, thick lashes wet with tears and the sexy smokey eye she was wearing to dinner now dripping down the side of her face.

Fuck-she looks like the perfect wet dream. Docile, spread open for him and begging for any little touch he’s willing to give her. His already loaded ego bursting through the roof, Rafe always gets what he wants.

⊹. ݁₊ ‧₊˚ ✩‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹

After stalking her and meeting at the country club, Rafe made sure his little model was at his side at all times. Showing her the rest of the island tucked into his side, pulling her in closer and displaying his possessive claim when people recognized her and came up to her. Various request of photos, autographs- even signing the magazines and posters of her completely bare. She is a centerfold, after all. The ultimate Playmate.

It’s not surprising Rafe laid his claim so quickly, he’d be stupid not too. If there’s one thing Rafe was known for- is having the best. He’s got the best home on the island, his family is at the top of the Kildare hierarchy. He’s got the best of the best and now he’s got the best girl on the island. His friends are jealous, his sister is jealous (only bc she met you first-you’re HER friend!) and even his own dad praised him for locking you down, much to Rose’s dismay. He loved that-well his daddy issues sure did.

After showing her off and around the island, Rafe took his little model out on a date in Charleston. He bought her the dress he wanted to see her in, the lingerie he wants to rip off of her. And even brand new designer heels that show off the brand new pedicure he paid for. Although by now he’s sure it’s obvious she’s his, it’s time for him to complete it and claim her in the most primal way possible.

“What’s that, princess? You want more?” he drawls smoothly, still gripping her cheeks in a pathetic pout as she nods her head quickly. Eyes looking at him pleadingly, her smokey makeup even more ruined and rimming her eyes with smudged black while tears drag the makeup down her cheeks, making her look every bit like the erotic dream she is. “Use your words, don’t play stupid.” he mocks.

“Pleas-please! Rafey stop teasin’ me,” she whines, thighs spreading wider and her grip on his wrist tightening as she presses his hand harder into her aching cunt. “Need it soooo bad daddy…” she drawls seductively, “been wanting you since I first saw you.” She admits in a light, airy voice. Rafe groans deeply at that, his dick jumping as he lowers himself a tad and drags her up to him by the grip on her cheeks. Smacking his lips against her harshly, then shoving his tongue into her mouth. Dominating her completely. The idea that his princess wanted him just as bad as he wanted her. Making his already heavy head, bigger.

She squeaks which turns into a long whine as she pushes herself more into his grasp. Following his lips when he pulls back with a condescending smirk etched onto his handsome face. Eyes catching his as his glaze over with something dark, possessive. “I’m never letting you go, got that?” He whispers harshly, grip on her face tightening painfully, and she loves it. Nodding quickly and trying to push her mouth back against his, only to whine louder when he keeps her in place. The smirk falling off his face and his expression turning into something almost sinister.

“Nuh-uh… I don’t think you get it my little star.” Rafe removes his hand from her pussy, his grip on her cheek moving to her throat and squeezing harshly as he pushes himself onto the bed on his knees, straddling her and bringing their faces close together. The hand once on her pussy gripping onto her messy, tousled hair. Snapping her head back harshly. A threatening snarl curling on his lip. “I’m gonna keep you here. With me. All the time.” His grip tightening even harder as he menacingly speaks to her. Her breath catching in her throat, both hands coming to grip the wrist attached to the hand wrapped around her neck. Not making the effort to remove him. Tears streaking even more black down her face as she listens intently to each word that slips past his spit-slicked lips that she wants to suck and nibble on. So badly.

“You belong to me. Only me. You’re lucky if I even let you keep that little job you love so much.” His eyes crazed, voice harsh listening to her whine in protest, “Aht-listen,” he shuts her up. “I’ll let you keep your little job, but I’m gonna make sure you know your place. By my side, under me. Wherever and however I want you. Don’t even have to say it but you already know you’re my girl. And one day, when we ditch this place m’gonna make you my fucking wife and lock you down with a heavy ring on that pretty finger. Got it?” His eyes cut deep into hers, it feels like he’s staring into her soul. Dominating it completely as well as her heart and mind. She should be scared, revolted. Beg him to let her go and get far, far away from him. But she doesn’t, because she doesn’t want to. They barely know each other, only having met just a few days ago. But it already feels like so long to her, and deep in her chest she knows she wants no one but him. Ignoring the screaming in the back of head that’s logically telling her to get away from him.

Her heart pounds in her chest as they hold eye contact, his darkening by the second when she doesn’t respond immediately. “Don’t make me repeat myself. You’re not gonna like what happens.” He threatens to which she moans lightly. She brings a dainty hand up to his reddened face, his cheek warm and damp under her palm. Nodding as much as she can with the grip he has on her throat, “Yes,” she chokes out.

Rafe loosens his grip just a bit, allowing her space to breathe. “What was that?” he presses on, inquiring her to continue. She looks at him with stars in her eyes, “I’m all yours Rafey… wanna be with you. All the time. I belong to you.” She whispers with utmost sincerity, her eyes displaying the genuineness behind her statement. The glazed over look in them only telling Rafe everything he wanted to know. His chest tightening with pride at the fact that he knows he’s got her. Right under his thumb how he wanted her. And he’s not letting go.

“Mhmmm,” he drawls deep in the back of his throat with that cocky smirk back on his face. Using the grip he has on her neck to push her back harshly into the bed. She bounces against it, gasping air deeply into her chest and blinking away the haze in her eyes from the lack of oxygen. Rafe stands on his feet quickly. Making quick work of unbuckling his belt and tossing it the side as he unzips his pants, his thumb tucking into the band of his boxers and pushing them down along with his pants. His hard, achingly hard cock smacking against his toned-tanned tummy. The pretty pink tip already leaking copious amounts of pre-cum. She watches with wide eyes, legs spreading wider at the excitement of finally getting what she wanted since she first met him. Mouth watering at the sight of his pretty cock.

Rafe grips her by back of her upper thighs, yanking her harshly to the edge of the bed till her ass is hanging over it. Lifting her hips up and lifting his leg with bent knee on the bed to hold her thigh over his while he pushes her other leg back by the behind of her knee. He grips himself in his free hand, slapping the leaky tip of his dick on her swollen clit harshly. Watching as his pre-cum leaves strings of wetness when the tip pulls back up. He lowers himself to her leaky little hole and slightly nudges the tip in. Listening to her whine louder. Rafe looks at her with darkness in his eyes, using the hand once holding his cock to now grip the thigh laying over his leg.

“Raf-“ with no warning he pushes in harshly, till his hips snap firmly against hers. Trimmed bush pressing harshly into her clit, as his hands grip harder into her thighs. Her words catching in her throat as she moans loudly with a gasp. Hands immediately scrambling to grip on something. Anything. One hand twisting into the sheets as the other presses into his lower stomach.

French-tipped nails tapping against him as she squeaks when Rafe begins giving bruising, unforgiving thrust. His hand quickly grabbing the one smacking at his pelvis and intertwining their fingers as he presses it into the mattress next to her head. Lowering his body into hers, a sick smirk on his face as he watched her gasp and cry loudly. Eyes rolling back and head turning from side to side as she tries to get accumulated to the overwhelming feeling of his harsh pounding. Her thigh that is laid over his, bending back with her knee into the mattress as he lays lower onto her. Her pedicured toes pointing and tapping into his lower back. The other leg held open by his large hand getting spread wider as it sticks out straight to the side with pointed toes.

“Sshh. Sshh. I know baby,” his voice light and calm in contrast to his unforgiving thrust. Stopping to grind into her deeply as he brings his face closely to hers. He brings the hand that was interlocked with hers, to grip her face and bring her attention back onto him. Staring deeply into her hazed over gaze, “Shh shh shh. I promise i’ll be nicer to you next time my little star.” His infamous smirk etching itself back into its rightful place on his handsome face. As he continues on. Pressing a light kiss to the lips he’s learning to love so much.

“But right now.. daddy’s gonna show you exactly how much you belong to me.”

⊹. ݁₊ ‧₊˚ ✩‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹

a/n: i need him so bad. i hope i’m making it clear that little star is just as sick & twisted as him.

[contentloadingandstuff]

Dark Days - Yae Miko x Male!Reader

A/N: That's right, angst is on the menu today boyz. CW: Descriptions of disease, Kitsune!Reader, Reader death.

Creatures of lesser might are naturally attracted to their superiors. The strongest wolf leads the pack, the biggest Hilichurl commands the others, even the fascinating humans flock to the banners of those strongest in body or mind. Kitsune are no exception. 

There wasn't a day in your centuries of life that was lacking in kitsune. Those of your kind that haven't yet reached sapience always seemed to somehow stumble into your presence, guided by some sort of inexplicable magnetism. You and Miko often debated on the reason why these sly creatures could always find you. Maybe they sought to learn from you and follow your lead into ascension? Perhaps it was simply instinct or scent mixed with curiosity, it wasn't clear. What was clear, however, was that you couldn't help but interact with them. Their little ears and cute snouts never failed to make you share some delicious fish or egg with them. 

Foxes didn't make for good pets only, however. They could understand your commands and would carry them out flawlessly, as long as they were within their ability. Their main use was delivering letters from you and to you. What better use than make them the envoys of the Envoys? The irony never ceased to amuse you. 

There were some quarrels every now and then, obviously. These were still wild animals at heart. Sometimes they were moody and would stay away, sometimes you would accidentally step on their tail, earning a squeak and an offended glare from them. When one of these cuties would get too much into playtime, you would get a nibble or two. Neither you nor Miko paid any mind - they were shallow at worst and healed within a single day or two. 

That day wasn't any different. Miko needed to send a message to a Shumuutsuban agent, and she enlisted your help. You called a kitsune over, and before long one emerged from the nearby shrubbery. Just when it approached and you leaned down to attach the message to its back did you notice how dirty and skinny the creature was. It seemed dazed, its steps were unsure and shaky, lacking the usual tact and elegance of your kind’s thread. Regardless, you gave it directions. Just as you moved your hands closer, the fox sank its teeth into your hand. 

You yelped and struck it with a painful, but harmless Electro shock, and it scurried away. Never did you see a fox so snappy, and you were Miko’s husband. Ultimately, you cursed the animal under your breath and moved on with your day. 

Days passed. Absorbed by the soon approaching summer festival, you didn’t pay attention to the minor injury you sustained, even when the red spot didn’t seem to go away as it should. Miko noticed it by accident one day and questioned you. You just shrugged. 

“I guess it’s sunburn? I really should apply some sun cream.”

You did as you said, but even after an entire week of careful treatment, the “burn” was still where it was. More - it seemingly expanded, with the skin feeling just as smooth as the rest of your body. Miko’s curiosity turned into concern when the area became hot to the touch. Something wasn’t quite right with your hand, and yet you claimed to feel nothing out of the ordinary. To test this, Miko pinched your skin and was promptly taken aback by your complete lack of reaction to the stimulus. 

When the heat spread through your whole body, you called in a physician. Much to Miko’s relief, a short examination revealed that it was nothing but a minor infection from a neglected cut. 

Your wife spoke her farewells to the good doctor and took a few days off to keep you company. After all, what good would the medicine do you if you didn’t have the support you needed? Your fever dropped, giving both of you some much needed peace of mind. It was a fantastic opportunity to spoil you, even if kisses or cuddling were out of the picture - Miko didn’t want to bother with coughs, fever or any of the many unpleasantries sickness carried with itself. You were positively adorable, resting in the guest bed and becoming all flustered whenever she brought you tea, food or read you a book. 

But her smile was short-lived. 

Just a few days after the visit, the fever returned, higher than ever. Your forehead was close to burning to the touch. With the fever came sweat - constant sweat, drenching every bit of the sheets and blankets. Shivering, you lost most water in your body almost overnight. 

When Miko saw you in the morning, a cold shiver ran down her spine. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, your eyes wide open and blinking slightly, your skin shiny with sweat. You mumbled to her about wanting something to drink, but your voice was… wrong. Damaged, hoarse, as if your very throat had been scraped and mangled by a knife. There was a thick line of drool flowing from your agape mouth. 

“Water…” You moaned. “Please…”

It wasn’t long before a glass of the drink rested in your hand. Despite your state, your delirious expression betrayed hesitation. Miko stretched out her arm to hold you, but stopped herself shortly. She couldn’t risk catching whatever you had. 

“Honey, please drink it. It will do your body good.” She spoke in a calm, almost motherly voice, soothing and composed. 

With a shaking hand you lifted the glass to your lips. As soon as the water touched your lip, your throat spasmed, forcing you to spit it out. The glass fell to the floor, its life saving contents rejected by your very self. 

Miko spoke not a word more and rushed to the palace. It didn’t take long to explain the emergency, as Ei has been paying visits to your house ever since your condition confined you to the bed. Within less than an hour Ei gathered every medic she had at her service and led them back to you. 

—

Miko leads the humans through her house. Her steps are nervous, yet determination shines in her pupils. Everything will be alright now that the very Shogun brought the best of the best to your bedside. 

She opens your door, able to cast just one pained glance at your restless, miserable form. Your breathing is so heavy she can hear it from beyond the threshold. Miko turns to Ei, who nods at the doctors. They move into the room one by one. Miko turns to follow them, but is stopped by Ei’s arm on her shoulder. 

“Trust them. They know their trade and focus is what they need now.” 

Miko looks down. She shakes her head. “Yes. Of course.”

They sit down in the living room. Miko is fidgeting with her fingers. No words exit the lips of any of the two women. The tension hangs thick in the room, audible sounds of the researchers murmuring to each other being the only to break the deafening silence. 

Before long, the door opens. Miko jumps up and watches the men approach. Their expressions, graced with many scars of experience and age, are bleak. They look at each other nervously. Miko can hardly contain herself. 

“Speak!” She growls. “What is happening to my husband?”

One of them coughs. “It is…”

Silence. 

“Hydrophobia.” Another completes the sentence. 

Miko’s eyes grow wide. A smile of disbelief makes its way to her lips. She scoffs. 

“What? You can’t be serious.”

Reading the room, Ei stands by Miko in silence. 

“Lady Yae Miko, we are certain-” “So what if it is hydrophobia? Treat it.” Her eyes narrow. 

“There is no known cure to the disease. We are sorry.”

“Ah, is that so?” 

She makes a step forward. Her eyes meet those of the medic. 

“Fascinating. Isn’t it your job to cure? If you cannot do that, then what use are you, anyway?”

The man tugs at the collar of his outfit. His eyes dart from the kitsune to the floor and back. 

“You are worthless.” 

Her open hand raises and lands on the cheek of the elderly man, the sheer force of the blow making him reel back. Miko bares her fangs in rage, but before she can do another move, Ei grabs her by her kimono and turns her body to face her. 

“Stop this! Do not raise your hand at them, they are not the ones to blame.”

Miko groans and tries to push her friend away, but the god’s superior strength renders her efforts futile. Their eyes meet. Ei remains calm and collected. The stillness of her features chills Miko’s anger. 

Moments pass in silence.  

“We need to secure him. We cannot risk him going feral and hurting anybody.” She speaks, the decisiveness in her voice plain to hear. 

“I know.” 

A tear runs down Miko’s cheek. She smiles through the choking sensation, wiping her eyes with her hand. 

“I… I just don’t… want him to l-leave.” She shakes her head. “Not yet. N-not yet.” 

Miko lets her gaze fall downwards. Ei issues a command and the doctors re-enter your room. The fox remains paralyzed, her mind too dazed to form a coherent sentence. 

She wants to speak out. Protest. She wants to rip the humans to shreds, limb from limb, she wants to spit blasphemies at Ei for letting all this happen. At the same time, she wants to fall to her knees and kiss their feet, begging them to do something. Anything. 

But her mind knows. It knows that she shouldn't lash out as she sees the scientists take you out of your bed on a stretcher, yet her mind struggles. To understand. 

The stretcher stops next to her. She places her hand on the towel covering your forehead, her finger still bearing the ring that bound you and her together all these years ago. 

“Goodbye, my love.”

Until death does us apart. 

Thanks for reading.

[brodygold]

Twelve Days of Christmas: Day Seven

On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: seven swans-a-swimming.

Brody stood at the pool’s edge, his golden jersey practically glowing in the sunlight. His stance was commanding, his sharp gaze leaving no room for doubt. “Gentlemen,” he began, his voice cutting through the air, “you’re here because the Golden Army sees potential in you. Today, you will prove whether you’re worthy of joining our most elite unit.”

One of the men, Caleb, shifted uncomfortably. He tugged at the waistband of his blue swim trunks and glanced at the pool, his apprehension plain to see. “Uh, Brody, what is that stuff? It doesn’t look… normal.”

The pool was filled not with crystal-clear water but with a thick, black liquid. It shimmered in an unnatural way, almost alive, rippling despite the absence of wind or movement. The air around it was warmer, heavier, as if the liquid emitted its own strange aura.

Brody’s piercing gaze landed on Caleb, and he smirked. “It’s not normal. It’s extraordinary. This is no ordinary tryout. What lies before you is the key to unlocking your true selves—your ultimate unity as a team. If you’re not ready to embrace that, there’s the door.” He gestured toward the exit but didn’t take his eyes off Caleb.

Most of them men took this opportunity to leave. By the end of the shuffle out of the room, only seven men remained standing in front of Brody.

Caleb swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Brody’s words. Behind him, the other men murmured nervously but didn’t move. Caleb took a hesitant step forward, his resolve wavering. “Alright, fine. I’ll go first.”

The liquid clung to Caleb’s toes as he dipped them in, warm and unnervingly smooth. It wasn’t water—it wasn’t even like oil. It was something else entirely, and it seemed to pull him in. He hesitated briefly before stepping fully into the pool. The black liquid lapped at his legs, moving as though alive.

One by one, the other men followed, some with trepidation, others with a sense of resigned determination. The liquid embraced them, covering their skin and pulling them deeper. Caleb moved into position, the liquid up to his waist now, and felt a strange tingling sensation spreading through his body.

Brody’s voice cut through the room again, authoritative and commanding. “Begin the routine you were given when you signed up. Synchronization is key. Let the liquid guide you.”

The seven men moved as one, starting with simple sculls and leg movements. Caleb quickly noticed how effortlessly his limbs moved, almost as if the liquid were helping him. The others experienced the same, their movements becoming increasingly fluid and unified. It wasn’t long before they were executing complicated spins and lifts with a precision none of them had ever achieved before.

Then, it began.

Caleb felt the liquid seeping into his swim trunks. The fabric dissolved silently, and he gasped in shock. Before he could react, the black substance surged upward, spreading over his body like a living second skin. It flowed over his waist, up his chest, and down his legs, cool and seamless, molding itself perfectly to his form.

The material hardened slightly, forming a sleek black rubber polo shirt with a high collar. Gold accents appeared along the edges, gleaming brightly as though freshly polished. His legs were covered in matching black rubber swim shorts, the material tight yet flexible, clinging to him with perfect precision. On his left leg, the number 007 shimmered in bold golden digits.

But the transformation didn’t stop there. The liquid seemed to seep into his skin, his pores absorbing it. A warmth spread through him, not just on the surface but inside. His thoughts began to fade, one by one. Caleb. His name. His life. His individuality. Each piece dissolved into the black void taking over his mind. He couldn’t stop swimming, couldn’t stop synchronizing with the others. Their movements were no longer just similar—they were identical. Perfect.

As his mind emptied, the rubber surged up his neck and over his face. A sleek black mask bubbled into existence, covering the lower half of his face entirely. It was smooth and featureless. He couldn’t see himself anymore, couldn’t remember who he had been. There was only the number, whispered over and over again in his hollow mind: 007… 007… 007.

The other men underwent the same transformation. Their uniforms and masks formed in unison, each marked with a unique number. The liquid bound them together, mentally and physically, forging them into a single entity. They no longer swam as individuals but as extensions of the same hive mind, every movement perfectly synchronized.

When the routine ended, the seven drones climbed out of the pool in perfect formation. The black liquid dripped off them but left their sleek uniforms and masks untouched. They stood at attention, motionless and silent, awaiting orders.

Brody approached, his demeanor colder, more commanding now. He strode down the line of drones, inspecting each one with a critical eye. “You are no longer men,” he declared, his voice firm and unyielding. “You are Polo Drones. Your individuality is gone. You are numbers. You obey. That is your purpose now.”

He stopped in front of 007 and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “You are 007. Remember that number. It is all you are.”

“Yes, sir,” came the monotone reply from behind the mask, devoid of any emotion. They saluted their captain automatically, the movement stiff and rigid.

Brody smirked. “Follow me, drones. Your new quarters await. You will train, you will serve, and you will obey without question."

Without hesitation, the seven drones marched after him in perfect unison, their rubber uniforms glinting under the fluorescent lights. Behind the masks, their minds were blank, their identities erased. There was no resistance, no regret—only obedience. Only the hive. Only the voice in their heads. Only obedience.

Interested in becoming a polo drone? Contact me, @goldenherc9 or @polo-drone-001

[rainforestakiie]

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.”

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Beneath Miles of Stone - Part Nineteen - John Wick x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: John has been in prison for nine months. He’s content to stay if it means appeasing the high table and keeping peace between the owners of each continental. However, he meets someone who erases that willingness. Peace be dammed.

TW: death, HEAVY NSFW, spanking

John gets around three good hours of rest. Guilt sits heavy on his chest for killing the woman in Marcus’s guest room.

He sweeps a sweat damp slice of hair from delicate, puttering eyelids, and kisses a sweaty forehead.

She’s beautiful. She still has tiny red lines in her cheeks from the plaster, and just looking at them pisses him off.

He longs to protect her. Preserve her. Traditions instilled in him from a young, spongey brained age where women were meant for less brutal fates than men guide him and probably always will.

It’s why he feels guilty for killing the young assassin, and he’s certain that was the ultimate goal of her employer. Insidious bullshit.

Someone means to expose his soft underbelly, and they’re doing a fucking fantastic job, because here she is, silky and open and raw, snoozing on his chest.

He smooths his palm up and down her spine, hoping to be soft enough to keep her in the land of dreams, but she stirs.

“Shh,” he says, running fingers lightly over the bottom of her hand to the point of her elbow.

“I think you’re bad at keeping someone asleep.” Her smile is against his chest, and he grins back.

“I can get worse.”

She nuzzles, tired giggles prickling his skin. “Did you take your medicine yet, Johnathan ?”

“No nurse. I was waiting for you to wake up and feed it to me.”

She goes to get up and do just that, but he tugs her back down. “Where you going?”

She looks confused. Adorable. He tips her chin up to admire how pretty she is. “To get… your pills.” Wearing a goofy grin.

He kisses it away. “You think I’m actually going to take them?”

He’s kidding, but her immediate reaction - shock, anger, determination - makes the joke worthwhile.

She opens her mouth to either scold him or appeal to his rationality, but he starts laughing.

“Okay, you suck,” she grumbles, poking his ribs.

He kisses her - again. She tries to say something else, but he shuts her up with his mouth. Then more. Grabs her, drags her up so he doesn’t have to lean down to get to her lips.

She cradles his head while he holds her hips and pulls her closer, on top.

“Oh, Johnny,” she coos, hands massaging his scalp.

The big tiger vibrates, closes his eyes and thrums in pleasure.

She kisses his mouth, then his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, his collar, hiccups a squealing noise into the dip of his throat when his hand gives her butt a tap.

“Couldn’t resist,” he admits, smoothing over the sore, cherry love mark, pulling fabric up over the naked bottom of her ass.

“No, I like it.” Her voice is muffled, mouth busy with the skin where his neck meets his shoulder.

“Do you?” He teases, giving her another playful slap.

She repays this with a sharp bite over his deltoid.

He tucks her in and rolls over, causing a little cloud of air to puff from her chest in an ‘oof.’

He pats her cheek. “You okay, baby?”

He might be a big dog who gets too excited and knocks her over, but she adores him. Pretty melted caramel eyes steeped in sunlight promise safety - shelter from anyone and anything - and she believes them.

She kisses his bottom lip, pushes his hair back. “I’m fine. You’re not so scary.”

He bites the space between them, feigning a purposeful, hungry growl, inducing adorable, nervous giggles from his prey.

Any starving wolf would be far too weak to resist sinking their teeth into her throat. He’s no exception.

Kisses like fire wherever he goes, her skin on fire, everything on fire. Chest, brain, guts, lower, more intimate, the swirl of his tongue and suck of his mouth.

He’s on the pad of her fingers, lapping happily and biting the insides of her wrists, hands walking down her sides into places that make her writhe.

Reluctance to have his mouth on her is long gone, because she needs him. Needs that sloppy wet lick on her clit instead of her elbow crease.

He props himself on one arm, kisses her sensitive nipples, then replaces his lips with his thumb and proves he can have more effect on her without even touching her. Because he sucks the digit into his mouth, obscene and plopping, wetting it up for no reason other than to make her whole being clench and falter, and presses it against her already wet enough cunt.

Oh no, she cannot watch that little grin spread while he sinks into slick velvet folds and finds her nerve rich pearl.

She pulses around him, whine high and tight in her throat as his index finger traverses the soft gap between her clit and her entrance. He’s attentive, touching and flicking and pinching the way she likes, rubbing languid circles over her tight opening until it’s attempting to swallow him up.

“John.” Her voice threads with a little madness, frustration so apparent on both sets of puffy, swollen lips.

“I know, baby, I’m gonna make you cum,” he assures, resisting the suck of her little cunt. “Ask me nice.”

It’s not hard to beg him when she’s so pent up she could die. “John, will you make me come, please?”

So polite, just like her hole when it invites his finger in. Her gspot is easy to find, all swollen and popping and begging - helpless little sponge that’s going to be her unraveling. He works over it gently, letting her tremble on the wandering callous, then hooks his finger on the back and curls. Soft, kneading, working at it like a sore muscle, building a bright white warmth that floods every inch of her.

“Oh, fuck,” she says. He kisses the tears off the fat of her breasts.

“You’ve been neglecting this,” he admonishes, rubbing, smiling.

She nods, uhhuh, sticky cries drowning out the squelch of a happy pussy.

“Need you to tell me how that feels, honey.”

She tries to say, “good.”

“You want my cock and can’t even take my fingers?” He tsks. “Silly girl.”

Too soon she’s ready to convulse on his hand, and she tells him this, almost too late, struggling to get anything out of her mouth besides lewd sobs.

“Cum for me, my love,” he whispers, right on her throat, not thinking about the weight of those words - not consciously, anyway.

Luckily, she’s too busy to care right now.

Oh. They should have put a towel down.

She’s coming, moaning loud enough for the neighbors to use as an alarm clock, she’s… crying? Whimpering - fat beads of salt and bitten off mewls.

“Why?” He asks, kissing and tasting her tears. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” she chokes.

“Tell me,” he insists, persistent and soft, rubbing down her hair and back, holding a little too tight. He untucks his fingers from her carefully.

“Because I am scared.”

“I’m telling you, be afraid if you want to be afraid of me. Feel what you feel. It’s okay.”

“But you don’t really want me to be afraid of you..”

“Maybe at first, but not now. Every emotion you feel, I want it. Every thought you have, whether it be that I’m a monster or a hero - I don’t give a damn - I want it. Because, no matter what you think of me, I’ll still want you just as bad.”

“John-“

“Be afraid, it won’t change the way I feel about you.” He cups her cheeks, kisses her head. “It won’t change.” His eyes are leaden anchors to her tiny tugboat heart.

She grasps his wrists, leans in to kiss his palms, the pad of his thumb.

He presses her back against the sheets, rests his head against her own, and lets her mouth make its way over each tip of his fingers.

“I hate myself,” she tells him.

“Tell me why,” he asks, palm smoothing her chest.

“Because I’m not afraid for other people’s lives, anymore. This entire time, I’ve been selfish and awful. I’m afraid for me.”

He nods. “That’s okay, honey, told you that was okay.”

“But I’m not afraid of you, John.”

His brows furrow.

“I’m afraid you’re going to leave me. It’s all I can think about.” Embarrassment turns her eyes away.

He almost grins. “That is a ridiculous fear.”

She stops, her voice muffled by his ring finger. “And why is that?”

“You should be more afraid of the opposite,” he tells her, casting shudders through her skin with that dropped tone at her hairline.

“Of you not leaving me?” She asks, trying to breathe while he circles his fingers around her nipples.

“Of you ever leaving me.” He nips at her ear, rolls his tongue down the side of her neck. “And then me finding you. Because I will, sweet girl, I will find you.” Her hands latch onto his hair while he kisses over the tops of her breasts, flays her open, sucks more bruises into her as if she hasn’t had enough already.

“And when I find you,” he whispers against her shoulder, “I will lock you up and keep you all to myself, and there will be nowhere to run, and no one to save you from me.”

“Oh,” she says, although it comes out more like a strangled little ah, and then another, soft and desperate,

“Ah, ah.”

When he finds her now shy clit and forces it to re-socialize with his fingers.

“Let me taste this,” he demands, trekking over engorged, slippery places. “I’m gonna fucking die if I don’t taste your pussy.”

“Just go slow,” she asks.

He’s more than happy to oblige.

By the time he’s done kissing and licking every inch of her upper body, tormenting already sore skin, she’s a fucking mess again, pleading for something, anything. Always begging for him, needing more, desperate and whiny and he loves it.

His mouth, her thighs, back of her knees, making her twitch and moan, down each calf again, and fuck this man, fuck his sly grin, fuck his greedy lips kissing her heels, the tops of her feet, then her curling toes.

And has she ever been too turned on to be ticklish?

She has now.

“C‘Mon, John,” she says, and gets a big bite on the fat of her inner thigh as reward.

He’s beginning to realize that he really does like her bruised rather than not.

He huffs a laugh onto the fuzzy mound of her cunt, makes her hips come off the bed before he quiets them back down. Kisses each crease where plump, more delicate flesh meets strong, tensing thigh.

In here, the warm hallmark movie between her thighs where everything is sweet and right and good, he settles and kisses.

“John please-“

“Don’t even know what you’re begging for,” he muses, teasing the twitching, silk folds protecting her clit.

She grabs his hair and pushes his face into her cunt. He obliges, delighted by this, nose nuzzling her clit.

The vague thought of smothering him makes her loosen up a little, that and the fact he’s licking at her entrance, swallowing her cum, and it’s way too much all at once.

Dying drowned in her pussy would be a preferable and honorable end.

He grabs her hands, kisses her palms, runs his tongue over the lined tissues and makes her glare and snarl. He clicks at her, easy little beast, placing both hands at her sides. “Gonna tell me what feels good?” He asks, knuckles spreading her open.

“Yeah,” she whines, eyes teary and beautiful.

His cock makes a vehement, demanding request, threatening carefully crafted patience and virtue. But, maybe he wants to keep her like this forever and edge them both so much that that’s all they can think about - fucking and tasting and touching eachother.

She wouldn’t run away, then.

“Brace yourself,” he tells her, cuddling his face into her cunt.

This clit has been pampered and sheltered and spoiled its entire life. It gets whatever it wants. Never pestered too much, never daring to ask for more orgasms than one. Snuggly in its home, getting ready to retire, peeping out to look as if his mouth is some terrifying, alluring beast. Never pushed beyond its limits, safe and comfortable. It has a rude awakening.

Too much pressure on the head makes her clamp around him hard enough that he’s worried she might actually bust a blood vessel.

He quiets her, patting and rubbing her stomach, sloppy wet kisses to the top of her slit.

“You’re so sensitive,” he says, like he’s trying to think of a solution rather than tease her about it.

She fists the sheets hard enough to make her wrists pop. “Sorry.”

John laughs. He can’t help it. He kisses her clit, warms it with his breath, fingers coaxing at her spasming opening to get her distracted enough that he can carefully lick off to the side she prefers.

He tries a different finger inside, fucking into her with a gentle rhythm. Then, squeezes another against it. She feels so full with two stocky digits that she’s wondering how exactly she is going to take the beast between his legs.

Nice and slow, balls of warmth popping one by one inside of her, up her spine, through her bowed shoulders, inside her mushy brain. Her shy little clit comes around, asking for more attention, greedy and blushing and cuddling up to his tongue.

He cages her in his lips, sucks, just a little, and gently pushes her hips back down when they cant off the bed.

“Easy,” he murmurs, lapping up her slick, spitting globs of it back. Bed’s already ruined, might as well be sloppy.

He’s so, so gentle. Slurping and spitting and groaning and swallowing until he matches the sweet decibel of her cries.

He trades mouth and hand, burying his face deeper into her to tongue fuck the gooey, clenching hole - use the tip to greet her gspot while his fingers work her clit.

He comes up for air, wiping at his face and licking the cum off his lips. She whines, clit pulsing, whoring itself out on behalf of her empty hole. Once a spoiled homebody, now a desperate slut.

“You like that, huh?” He kisses her tummy.

She nods, clumsy hands trying to subtly pull him back in.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles, “I get it.”

That’s how she comes, with his hand palming her clit and tongue flicking inside. He greedily laps her up, reluctant to waste even a dribble.

“You want another one?” He cleans her inner thighs with his mouth, lets her hold and guide his heavy head so he doesn’t tongue too rough

“I don’t think I can,” she admits, knees drooping inward.

“You can.” A kiss to her clit and she’s snapping her thighs shut. He flicks them open again.

“Sensitive,” she says. “Remember?”

If he wanted to, he could hold her down and have his fill. It’s tempting.

“John.” She clears her throat.

“Mmm?”

“You’re doing that thing with your face that makes me think you’re gonna do something bad.”

He sighs - yeah, far too readable in the company of this woman.

“I am thinking of doing something bad.” The corner of his mouth perks.

“Can we just take a break?”

It’s a battle of wills - her versus her delectable taste - and the latter is going to win if he doesn’t get his senses away from her pretty cunt soon.

But it’s not enough - it will never be enough. Not even if he spends the rest of his life buried between her plump, beautiful thighs.

She tries something else, burning hot from embarrassment. “I wanted to save some.” She feels really stupid and naive for saying so.

“You want to save some.. orgasms?” He cocks his head, lays his cheek on her soft belly, careful with the rough scruff on his face.

“I guess, yeah, that’s what I mean.”

He blinks at her. She’s far too intelligent not to know a woman can climax continuously. He kisses her skin. “I don’t understand.”

“Well,” she says, fingers on his scalp. She’s really starting to develop an unhealthy fascination with his thick, dark, Angel hair. “I was hoping we could have actual sex - not that this isn’t actual sex, and not that it’s not wonderful. Not that I’m ungrateful -“

He stops her there. “Ungrateful?” The word rolls odd in his mouth. “You think I’m doing you a favor? That I’m eating you out as a courtesy?” He’s frowning.

“Um,” she tries, struggling to make him less frustrated. But also so confused by the frustration itself.

“You know there are men - people - that like licking pussy, right?” Some little nagging fly at the back of his brain is telling him that she hasn’t had great experiences with this conversation in other relationships. That she thinks she’s unworthy of this treatment. That someone - multiple someone’s - made her feel inferior and undeserving and he’s a hungry, raging wildfire again. Jaw ticking, eyes narrowing, struggling to control his rage.

“I did know, but I just thought that no one -“

“Why?”

“I don’t know, John, life. People.” She looks away from him, hiding her face from his wrath. “I let it get to me. I’m not as strong as you. Not everyone likes bigger women.”

Is that what this world has reduced her to? Is that the way she sees herself? Unworthy because of something as ridiculous as the size and shape of her body? Is this what it comes down to? The rest of him might be seething, but his chest aches. He reaches up to cradle her face. “Honey..” But what can he say? What undoes years of abuse? Something that would be more effective than talking, surely: burning the world down around her and proving that she’s the only beautiful thing left. That she is the center, the focal point of this universe, and should be heralded by every god of every religion. She is the goodness in this wretched place, the light that warms the dying earth. And she thinks that she’s unworthy because she has fat?

Someone will pay for this. Someone will bleed for this.

Her eyes close against the soothing rumble of his voice, and she takes a shaky breath to avoid weeping. Her cheeks are already so, so sore.

John moves so that he’s holding her again, arms wrapped around her waist, chin on top of her head, thighs supporting her lower half. He doesn’t know what the fuck to say to make this better. He wants to call Winston and make him say something to make this better. He wants to be Winston - which is such a ridiculous thought - so that he can have the right words to settle her soul.

“When I was younger,” he tells her, trying anyway, rubbing little circles on her tummy, “I was reckless. I thought that things like sex, drugs, and money could satisfy me. I wanted to find comfort where other people in my cohort seemed to find it. I was so empty and numb that immersing myself in any distraction was preferable.”

“Did it help?”

“It never does. Not for me, and not for anyone I know.”

“You did drugs?” She tries to imagine that and fails.

“Yeah. Lots of them. You get off a job, you go to a brothel, you eat cocaine for breakfast, wash it down with a bottle.”

“That kinda rhymed.”

“Dr. Seuss, watch your back.”

She giggles.

“I’ve slept with all kinds of different people.”

“Men?”

“Almost.”

He can tell she wants to hear that story, but he’ll save it for another time. “And I learned quickly if I wasn’t emotionally attracted to that person, I was inept.”

“Unable to perform?” She starts playing with his fingers.

“Uh-huh. So, instead of going through the trouble, I learned how to give head. Back alleys, broom closets, ratty blankets under desert skies, you get the gist.” He repositions her so he can kiss her ear and neck.

Under desert skies sounds appealing. He’s silent for a minute, so she has to say something because it’s too good to pass up. “You know you’re one of those perfect, dream guys, right John?” She rolls her eyes, not being sarcastic even the slightest bit.

He laughs and digs his fingers into her sides to stop her talking, pulling her back as she tries to claw away.

“Stop it,” he tells her, kissing her temple. “I loved doing it. I still love doing it. The sound of music? Familiar?”

She nods. “A few of my favorite things?”

“Yeah, if I had to sing mine, I’d be kicked out of the production and charged with sexual harassment.”

He makes her laugh that beautiful, melodic laugh, and feels way too proud about it.

“The moral of my story is that you’re getting eaten up as often as I can manage, baby. So, you better get used to my tongue.”

She tries to shyly bury her head into the pillow, but he brings her back with a persistent hand on her chin. “Wait, so does that mean you don’t like me - emotionally? That you can’t have sex with me?”

He’s about to gulp her earlobe into his mouth, but stops. And here he was thinking he was getting better at this talking thing. He huffs. “Did you have my cock in your pretty mouth?”

“Uh, yeah.” She squirms, suddenly not hating the idea of him between her legs again.

“Was I soft?”

“No.” Definitely not .

He hums and flicks her ear with his tongue.

“So, can we have sex?” She tries, voice faltering.

“I want that to be under different circumstances.”

“Like what?”

“Something special. A surprise.”

His penchant for romance gets her flushing harder than his mouth. “When?” She asks quietly, impatiently. “Why?”

“I’m a ceremonial person,” he says simply.

“I’m not. I don’t need ceremony or anything like that, John, I’m fine with doing this right now.” She tries to press into him, but he puts his hand on her lower back and stalls her.

“Is this all because of what I said about emotional attraction?”

She groans in frustration, wiggles around, fights his heavy limbs, manages to turn and face him. “No, John.” She looks up into his pretty eyes. “It’s because I’ve wanted you inside me since the first night we met.”

He barely has time to register what he himself is doing, so it must be a big surprise for her when he slams their hips together and she feels his cock pressing up against her naked cunt. It hurts a little bit, but that’s okay because the only thing separating his beautiful girth from where she wants it is the flaps of a robe. She grinds into him, but he stills her with a little grunt.

“You know,” he smiles, nuzzling her nose while his cock mimics the motion into the crease of her pussy. “You seem so innocent, but you’re a little siren, hm?”

He’s going to give in, he already knows it. That weekend getaway he was to start planning is going to have to happen without the sentiment of first love making. How can he resist her, though? With her half lidded eyes peeking at him beneath fluttering lashes, that little opening of her mouth, the way she feels so soft and soaked - he’s been wrong about something; it doesn’t matter if there are other gods, because she is the only one he wants to worship.

“Only for you, John,” she breathes, arching her back and plopping her tits out and tugging his robe open. “Only for you.”

She makes it so he’s under her, climbs into his lap and watches his jaw clank, hands fist the bed sheets, nose flare. She fits herself over his cock, grinding the bulky soft head on her clit, smiling at him like he’s the center of her world.

That leaking ego she’s growing shows a little.

“I don’t know if you know this,” she says, “but you are beautiful.”

His hands come off the bed to grab at her, flip her over and shove himself inside, but he stops himself. Somehow.

She flinches a little, bites her lip and watches his hands drop to the bed again. “Am I frustrating you, Johnny?”

Oh, now she’s just pushing her fucking luck.

He levels a mean grin at her. “Yes. You are.”

There’s a threat in there somewhere. It sends a prickly thrill across her shoulders. “Payback.”

He moves his hands again, quick, making her flinch away and screech, grabbing her wrists softly and laying them on his chest.

“Why are you evil?” She asks, voice choked up with the new found pressure on all her sensitive bits.

“Thought I was your hero,” he retorts, voice only a little more controlled than her own.

“Semantics.”

He chuckles.

“Okay, I’m gonna -“ she puts her hand between them, grips him, positions so that he’s right at her entrance. “I’m gonna do this.”

“You’ve got this,” he assures, trying not to move his hips, using every cell in his body to focus on not hurting her.

“I’m just gonna-“ she pushes, little opening swallowing the very round top.

“Yeah, I’m here for you,” he nods, grits his teeth, “proud. That’s it, fucking beautiful.”

He makes her laugh, push a little further onto him, suck him up inside just tiny bits at a time. “Oh, that’s a lot.” Leans down, stalls, adjusts. “That’s a lot.”

He brings his hand up to cradle her face. “You’re doing such a good job, baby.”

She sinks deeper and they both stop breathing, hanging on to the other for dear life.

Someone knocks on the door.

“Fucking Christ. What?!”

She’s never seen him lose his temper quite like this, and all while he’s halfway into splitting her apart.

“John.” It’s Marcus. “Maria put the hit out.”

He looks like he doesn’t believe any word of that.

“Who’s Maria?” She asks.

He answers Marcus first, “check again.” He’s softer for her. “Owner of the El Paso Continental.”

“It was her, John.”

“I’ll just talk to her myself.”

“You can’t.” A hollow wooden sound like he’s lightly hitting the door.

“I can.”

“No, you can’t, because she’s dead.”

// art cred: Sakura

[leviathanlazarus]

Pretty Baby

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Jake Kiszka

Word Count: ~4500

Warnings: this is nothing but filthy PWP. I was just in the mood [slash, obviously; low-key sub!Jake & dom!Danny; dirty talking; oral sex; rimming; intercrural sex; light spanking, light choking]

18+ only <3 hope you enjoy!

---

Jake looked up in awe at the expanse of smooth, golden skin before him, his eyes traveling up the length of Danny’s torso gleaming with a fine layer of sweat, to the face of his bandmate that was so ungodly beautiful that he was already going weak in the knees. Before he’d stripped his upper half of clothing, Danny had looked even more ungodly–straight up devilish, actually, because of the seductive red and black he’d been adorned in on stage, the glitter and jewels dripping down his body and shining under all the lights. Sometimes it was so hard to stay focused with so much distraction. Thankfully, Jake didn’t have to try so hard anymore. Danny was right there in front of him, guiding every thought and every movement.

Beginning with Jake’s mouth. Danny cupped his chin, fingers splayed over his jaw as he tipped his head up. Jake was already on his knees between Danny’s spread legs, and his heart thumped with gratitude at Danny slowing things down and beckoning him to slide back up for a kiss. 

“Mmm,” Danny hummed against his mouth, strong arms circling his shoulders and keeping Jake in place. Not that he wanted to be anywhere else anyway.

Jake hooked his fingers in Danny’s sweat-dampened curls, tilting his head to perfectly match his lips; his own cock was already swelling in his pants, even more when Danny fully hauled him onto his lap, bringing their groins together. Jake let a moan escape when he felt Danny’s hands gripping his ass–the hold was already strong enough to bruise, and Jake’s cock twitched between them at the mere thought of the imprint of Danny’s fingers being locked into his skin. 

Danny pressed a kiss to his jaw, then pressed an array along his neck. Jake sighed and closed his eyes, reveling in the gentle affection of Danny’s talented mouth like velvet and eager hands still squeezing his ass. They’d done this exact thing enough times yet it never lost any allure for Jake–he waited for it every night they played, his dick tormented by a shallow, perpetual ache while his world was filled with the thunder of Danny’s drums. Each beat brought him one step closer to getting what he wanted, and when the curtain finally fell for real and they could whisk themselves away and shut the door, Jake was reminded every single time that it was all he ever wanted. 

“You were such a show-off tonight,” Danny said softly, his breath warm in Jake’s ear. It was the first time he’d said anything at all since they got off stage, and hearing his voice again sent a tingle up Jake’s spine. 

Jake moaned softly as Danny kissed his throat, then clarified, “In a good way or a bad way?”

“It’s always good,” Danny said, tilting his head back to look up at him. His hands down below gave another squeeze, blunt nails digging into the fabric of Jake’s pants. “You just seemed like you wanted some extra attention tonight.”

That was true, but not just from the audience. Jake rolled his hips into Danny’s body and tried to lean in for another kiss, but Danny pulled back, then suddenly there was a sharp slap against his ass, making him let out a high-pitched, surprised yelp.

“Right?” Danny pressed, just barely managing to slide his fingers past Jake’s tight waistband to press his nails into bare flesh instead of his pants. 

The spot that Danny had slapped still stung, yet Jake still briefly considered feigning brattiness to get another one. But looking into Danny’s deep and beautiful eyes that sparkled with just the right amount of mischief, he knew that he’d ultimately get all that he wanted with pure honesty just the same. 

“You’re right,” Jake admitted freely, pressing his hands against Danny’s chest. His thumbs ran through the smattering of coarse chest hair, his sternum a little damp with residual sweat too. “I’d say it’s quite obvious now that I’m always trying to get your attention.” 

One corner of Danny’s mouth curved up slightly–just barely enough to notice. “You’ve got it now, Jakey.” The hand down the back of Jake’s pants slid up his back and into his tangled hair, teasingly tugging. “What are you gonna do?” 

“Worship you,” Jake answered without hesitation, sliding his hands up from Danny’s chest to his broad shoulders, snaking one around the back of his neck. He wanted to kiss those sinful lips again but Danny tugged his hair harder, making Jake’s neck crane back, pulling him away. 

“You are very good at that,” Danny affirmed, and the praise made the warm, aching desire coil even tighter in Jake’s belly. He tried to shake out of Danny’s grasp, but that only made the hand in his hair pull so taut that Jake’s shoulders cracked and he couldn’t even see Danny clearly anymore. Instead, he was forced to blink up at the ceiling–so dull and boring compared to the sight he was being denied. 

“A little impatient?” Danny asked, maintaining his grip in Jake’s hair as he gave another fierce squeeze to his ass.

“Just a little. We don’t have all night,” Jake said, finally wincing at the sting of his scalp and the unnatural, forced angle his head and neck were at. 

“We could. I could keep you here all night if I wanted,” Danny replied, and Jake still had no idea exactly when his drummer became so filthy with his words and actions, but thank god the change had come. Jake had looked and fantasized from a distance for so long–he’d just never expected Danny to be like this when the fantasy had finally become reality. 

Jake whimpered both from the discomfort and Danny’s next words, spoken low in his ear: “I could tell everyone about what a desperate slut you are. Think they’d believe me?” Danny’s hand on Jake’s ass moved around to his crotch, squeezing his junk–hard. It made him buck and gasp. 

“I don’t know,” Jake said, no longer feeling able to be very coherent. 

“Hmm,” Danny hummed. He got Jake’s fly undone but then brought his hand to his hip instead of taking his already bare cock like Jake wished he would. Danny leaned forward in the chair, pressing his lips to Jake’s strained neck: “Maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe they'd need to see you on your knees for me.”

It shouldn’t have turned Jake on, but it did. He wiggled in Danny’s lap while he clawed at his shoulders, trying to get more skin under his fingers, trying to get Danny to soften those words with his lips once more. Instead of obliging Jake’s thoughts, Danny suddenly shoved him right back down to the floor. 

Jake’s hands gripped Danny’s knees as his own were pressed down hard into the cold tile. He really was desperate, so desperate he almost asked why Danny had stopped touching him, but then he leaned back just a bit to watch as Danny pulled his pants down to the middle of his thighs. Jake inhaled a sharp breath at the sight of that long, thick, hard cock already leaking precum–not a new sight any longer but one that he never got tired of. His mouth was watering as if Danny was something to eat. 

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Danny asked, and it could have been a question laden with smugness but all Jake heard was genuine curiosity. As if he didn’t know. As if Jake needed to tell him every time that he had a big, beautiful dick that Jake wanted in his hand, his mouth, his ass, at every given opportunity. 

Jake nodded, then when he realized he was just gaping like an idiot while staring, he took a breath and said, “Always, Danny. Jesus fucking Christ. Look at you.” He shuffled forward, planting himself right between Danny’s legs again, and didn’t ask before he wrapped his hand around his cock.

Danny let his head fall back as he let out a sigh. “I’ve been waiting for this all night,” he said, voice all soft and sweet, when he met Jake’s gaze again. Just as quickly as those sweet words came out of his mouth, the next ones made Jake’s own cock throb and ache harder in his pants: “Now show me what you’re good for.” 

Jake knew just how Danny liked it. He started by drooling all the saliva from his ogling all over the head of Danny’s cock, using his hand to get his shaft wet and start jerking him off; while he was doing that, Jake bent down and flicked his tongue over Danny’s balls, teasing for a few seconds and listening to him moan softly before he sucked one right into his mouth.

Danny groaned so loud that anyone even near the door would have heard. Jake just kept on sucking and stroking, his hand making wet sounds as he jerked Danny off and the suction sounds from his mouth growing louder too. A hand shot down to first caress the hair at the crown of his head; when Jake prodded the tip of his tongue into Danny’s sack again, his hair was pulled and tugged, urging him along. 

Using Danny’s thighs as leverage, Jake pushed himself up so he could sink down onto his cock. It was always an uncomfortable stretch for his mouth at first, but somehow the challenge made it hotter–he relaxed his jaw as best he could while his hand gripped the base of Danny’s cock to keep him steady, flattened his tongue against the underside and swallowed as much as he could in one motion.

“Oh, fuck,” Danny let out, the curse word a long groan, while his fingertips scratched against Jake’s scalp. When Jake managed to look at him, Danny was staring right back, his cheeks all flushed and his eyes bright with what Jake surmised as both admiration and desire.

Jake hummed around his cock, a nonverbal question; Danny nodded as he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he bit his lip and tensed his thighs, then he said, “Yeah, just like that.” He brushed a strand of hair away from Jake’s forehead. “My pretty baby–so fucking pretty when you’ve got my cock in your mouth.” 

The dirty praise, as always, made Jake want to try harder. He braced both hands on Danny’s thighs again and swallowed even more, bringing his nose right into Danny’s pubic hair–it was a dangerous position, because then he felt both of Danny’s hands on top of his head, holding him there. 

Jake’s eyes quickly began to water just as the pressure in his chest rapidly built up. His lungs wanted him to breathe; his throat wanted him to get rid of the obstruction; but his heart wanted to prove to Danny that he could stay with that cock down his throat for as long as necessary. So he stayed, focusing on breathing through his nose and keeping his tongue as out of the way as possible. 

“Fuck yes, what a good boy,” Danny cooed, petting Jake’s hair. Jake’s eyes were closed in both concentration and to try and keep more tears from falling, only able to feel Danny shift in the chair. The hands on his head stayed but he was pushed back until his back was straight; Jake’s hands squeezed Danny’s quads in desperation, gagging thickly around his cock now, as he managed to blink tears away and look up at Danny standing in front of him. 

Danny wiped tears away from Jake’s cheek with his thumb. “Need a breather?”

He really did. But Jake shook his head, which made the head of Danny’s cock nudge the back of his throat with just the right amount of pressure to make him choke so badly that Danny took it upon himself to yank him off.

Jake gasped for breath as tendrils of thick saliva ran down his lips and chin, sliding down his neck and onto the collar of his shirt. He coughed and swallowed while he tried to swipe away the rest of the tears in the corners of his eyes; quickly, Jake was interrupted by Danny swiping the head of his cock over his spit-slick lips. 

“It’s a good thing you’re not singing tomorrow night,” Danny said, grabbing a fistful of Jake’s hair. Before he felt even halfway ready, Danny pulled him forward and slid his cock as far down Jake’s throat as he could, eliciting another ragged, wet gag. “I’m gonna wreck you, Jake.” 

He already felt pretty wrecked, but he’d willingly and eagerly keep going for Danny. Not that he had much of a choice–Danny was easily keeping him pinned to the ground and adhered to his dick, pushing Jake’s head down so far that he could only inhale the scent of sweat and musk from Danny’s pubes again. Jake clawed against Danny’s legs, both because it was nearly impossible to do much of anything, including breathe, and because as twisted as it was, he wanted more. He wasn’t even sure how much more he could take, but he’d take whatever Danny gave him without a fuss. 

And Danny gave him a lot. He started to fuck into Jake’s mouth, each thrust of his hips making him gag and choke so fiercely that Jake just had to resort to just letting his jaw drop as much as possible, foregoing any real suction or technique. Danny seemed to enjoy that just fine–rough moans and low curses rolled out of him as his cock slid back and forth over Jake’s tongue, his pace quickening and his hold tightening. Jake’s own dick was straining against his pants, the fly undone but his pants were still too tight around his lower body and prevented any freedom. He wouldn’t dare try to touch himself yet either, although he didn’t really have the ability to–his mind was hyper-focused on keeping himself upright and stable with his hands on Danny’s legs. He also couldn’t break away from the obscene yet stupidly hot wet, sloppy sounds his own throat and mouth were making and the deep moans and purrs of approval from Danny. 

Danny abruptly pulled himself out of Jake’s mouth; Jake coughed again and went to wipe the mess of saliva away from his chin, but Danny grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Such a sloppy cockslut,” he said, spreading even more of the spit around Jake’s chin and mouth with his dick. 

Jake stayed rigid on the floor, knees spread, with the arousal from those words from that mouth on his drummer weaving deep inside his belly and groin. Now that he had time to breathe, he really, really wanted to touch himself; he blinked up at Danny in a silent plea, too embarrassed about what his voice might sound like to try and speak yet. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” Danny told him, idly stroking his wet cock in front of Jake’s face. Jake could only imagine what he actually looked like, but Danny was the only one he ever wanted approval from. If him being all red-faced and sweaty, with tangled hair and covered in his own spit was “beautiful,” so be it. 

Danny bent down and hauled Jake up onto his feet. Jake moaned with relief and adoration as soon as Danny’s lips met his in a deep, slow kiss; he wrapped his arms around Danny’s waist and pressed their groins together, frantically rutting his trapped erection against Danny’s free one. 

“Please touch me,” Jake begged, reaching down to grab Danny’s ass, using what strength he had left to force Danny to hump against him. 

“I will, beautiful,” Danny told him, caressing Jake’s neck with his fingers, pressing more kisses to his cheek. “But I want you to see yourself when I do.” Without letting Jake even think, Danny whisked him over to the vanity. 

Jake let out a surprised grunt as Danny planted a hand between his shoulders and shoved him down, pressing his cheek against the surface. All Jake could see was the scattered array of makeup and gemstones until Danny grabbed him by the hair and forced him to look straight into the mirror. The sight of his own face was jarring for a moment, but then he looked at Danny, who was so stunning that Jake felt like he couldn’t breathe. Tall, powerful and majestic and with a face like an ancient god, Jake couldn’t take his eyes off him until Danny suddenly, finally yanked his pants down and Jake tried to peer behind himself to look at what might come next. 

Danny sank down to his knees and spread Jake’s cheeks; Jake briefly considered asking him if he really wanted to do that given how he’d been trapped in those skin-tight satin pants all night, but he’d asked before during an earlier hookup and was immediately told, “Like I give a fuck." So Jake just stayed bent over the vanity, letting Danny spit on his hole before he swiped his tongue long and slow through his crack. 

“Oh god, Danny–” Jake whimpered, biting his lip to stifle the wave of noise that would come out otherwise. It had never been much of a secret how much Danny loved his ass, but Jake hadn’t anticipated how much Danny would love eating his ass. 

Danny hummed his affirmation against Jake’s skin, not sparing a second away from using his tongue and lips to drive him wild. But Jake’s cock was still hard and neglected, and now trapped between his own body and the sharp vanity; he pushed back against Danny’s face to make some room, and Danny let him. But when he tried to wrap a hand around himself for some relief, Danny took that over too, finally. 

Jake dropped his head down against his arms, huffing out gratitude that steadily turned into muffled moans. Danny’s other hand held his ass fiercely, keeping him spread open while his tongue licked, teased and prodded his hole; Jake could feel spit running down his perineum as he was stroked, then he felt Danny’s whole mouth sucking on his balls.

He slapped the vanity with one hand as a sob ripped from his chest. “Fuck, Danny–what the fuck–”

Danny chuckled with his mouth full and his hand wrapped around his cock. His other hand reached up to tug at the hem of Jake’s jacket. “Take this off,” he ordered after he tongued Jake’s balls out of his mouth. 

Jake grunted with the effort of propping himself up enough to follow the order. He tossed his jacket aside and Danny smoothed his hand over Jake’s shirt at the small of his back while he went back to circling his rim with the tip of his tongue. Jake shuddered and closed his eyes, back to pressing his face against his forearms while he was half-naked and arching his back, pressing his ass back into Danny’s face as much as he was allowed.  

As the pad of Danny’s thumb rubbed over Jake’s hole, he said, “We should always have lube on hand.”

Jake shook his head against his arms. “I know.”

Danny took a bite of one plush cheek before he replied, “That’s okay. I’m still gonna fuck you.” Jake was lifting his head and opening his mouth to actually protest, but then he felt the slide of Danny’s cock right between his inner thighs. Danny laid his upper body over Jake’s backside, pushing his nose through his hair. “As much as I’d love to fuck you for real, I don’t wanna ruin that perfect ass.”

Jake’s thighs trembled around Danny’s cock, the hard weight of it pushing into his soft skin, the heat from it so palpable. “But you have no problem ruining my throat,” he noted, just teasing, but then Danny’s hand that had been jerking him off was wrapped around his sore, swollen throat instead.

“You liked it,” Danny said, starting to thrust his hips back and forth. He nibbled at Jake’s ear as he squeezed his neck tighter. “Your knees are gonna be bruised. Your throat is gonna be sore for days. And if I asked you to do it all again now, you would, wouldn’t you?” Jake nodded, eyes closed, and felt Danny’s hand even more viscerally against his throat as he swallowed. Danny squeezed tighter yet and jerked Jake’s head back as he said, “Look at yourself, Jakey.”

Jake opened his eyes and looked in the mirror, but not at himself. He looked at Danny, right into those pretty eyes with those long lashes–his gaze was so soft and gentle, not at all mirroring the hold he had on Jake and the harsh stabs of his hips. 

Danny leaned back and smiled in the mirror. He let go of Jake’s throat and Jake inhaled a much-needed breath; just when he thought Danny might be relaxing a bit more, he watched Danny’s hand wrangle in his hair again. 

“That’s it–arch that back,” Danny said, his voice not much more than a whisper. He was getting close, Jake noted. Jake followed that order too and the dip of his back was caressed over his shirt by Danny’s warm hand; fingers stroked down his spine, drew circles over his hip, then skated across his ass. 

Jake was getting close too. Danny’s fist around his cock was relentless as was the rhythm of his thrusts–he might not have been inside him, but the mimicry of full-blown sex was so close, so intense, that Jake hardly noticed. So when Danny freed his hair and his fingers began to rub over his rim again, Jake bucked and gasped, his body shocked by the one piece that had been missing.

“Fuck. You’re so hard,” Danny purred, his lips parted and eyelashes fluttering as he looked down at Jake’s body. Jake was dripping into his hand and Danny certainly felt that too–he twisted his wrist and circled his cock feverishly, adding, “So wet for me too, goddamn. I can tell you’re gonna come soon.”

“Yeah,” Jake panted, his whole body being shoved with the weight and fervor of Danny’s hips. His thighs were squeezing around Danny’s cock tighter as the orgasm continued to steadily build, the tension radiating through his strained, taut legs up into his belly. He met Danny’s gaze in the mirror and asked, “You too, Danny?”

Danny nodded, and Jake could see a bead of sweat drip down the bridge of his nose. “Hell yeah.” He circled his thumb over Jake’s rim again while he diligently stroked his cock, all while still humping against Jake’s ass to get the slide of his own wet cock fast and fluid between his thighs. 

Oftentimes, when Jake was alone and just getting himself off, he was thinking about Danny. He would close his eyes and his brain would work so hard to try and visualize Danny there, those big hands touching him, that beautiful face close to his, that strong body on top of him. Whenever he had the real thing, like now, all of Danny was so enchanting that it was difficult to comprehend him as fully real, and the orgasm that skyrocketed out of Jake’s body was unmatched each time. 

Despite being so ungracefully bent over the dressing room vanity with most of his clothes soaked in sweat and still clinging to his body, Jake felt like he was ensconced in the ultimate fantasy. He didn’t have to close his eyes to experience it either–he kept his focus on the mirror, watching every little change in Danny’s facial expressions and every little movement of his body. The visual, the touch, the heat and the weight against him all compounded into so much beautiful, supercharged sensory overload–another twist of Danny’s hand and pounding against his ass and Jake fell forward against the vanity, moaning and cursing without a care for who might hear, shooting his load right into Danny’s fist.

“Fuck yeah, that’s my good boy,” Danny affirmed breathlessly, stroking Jake’s cock with his cum until he was squirming, trying to escape the overstimulation. Danny let him go but, as Jake was trying to catch his breath, he slipped his wet, sticky fingers past his lips and pressed them against Jake's tongue. 

Jake dutifully sucked on them, tasting his own release while his heart continued to hammer with excitement at Danny’s impending release. His fingers slid out of his mouth and Jake was just looking in the mirror again when Danny’s curls shadowed his vision; Danny replaced his fingers for his lips, capturing Jake’s mouth in a hurried kiss that both of them were moaning and whimpering into. 

Danny’s thighs trembled against Jake’s, and Jake felt the wet heat surge between them as Danny’s hips stuttered. With his hand fiercely gripping Jake’s jaw, he kept them connected there too, their tongues sliding together while their bodies both slowed and melted into one another.

Just when Jake thought he was going to completely revert back to his normal sweet self, he could feel Danny wiping up his own cum from between his legs, then a hard smack with his wet hand was brought down on Jake's ass. He hissed at the sting, back arching again involuntarily; Danny turned his head to the side to kiss him again. 

“It shouldn’t be so hot,” Jake said after Danny pulled away and was just resting his chin on his shoulder.

“What shouldn’t?” Danny asked, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath with his nose in Jake’s hair.

“You being mean. It shouldn’t be so hot.”

Danny chuckled and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “I’m not mean. I’m domineering.” He brought his lips to Jake’s ear and whispered, “You get off on it, obviously. Or should I stop?”

Jake pivoted his body so he could lean back against the vanity, giving his spine a break, and look up at him. “I have absolutely no plans to ever tell you to stop,” he said, resting his hands on Danny’s hips. What everyone else was doing, where they were, what was going to happen next–Jake should have known, had some idea at least, but he was clueless and he didn’t care. Right now, it was just him and Danny in that dressing room, wrecked and ruined, basking in the afterglow that Jake wished he could live inside of forever. 

Danny gave Jake a lovely, adoring smile. “Anything for my baby,” he said, and he kissed his forehead and held him against his chest, letting them bask in it a little longer. 

---

Tagging:

@mackalah @sparrowofrhiannon @starbuggie @lightsofthe-living-gvf @sanguinebats @gvfrry @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta @milojames16 @brokebellsgvf @streamsofstardust @heckingfrick @wetkleenex-gvf @kissingsun

If you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics, you can go here or DM me :)

[fafnir19]

A swimming lesson

It was another typical day at school, and as usual, I found myself in the crosshairs of Mr. Coachman's disdain. My name is Tristan, and I am what one might call an "unsporty" student. Thin, nerdy, and full of useless facts, I was the kid who always got picked last in gym class. Mr Coachman, a former athlete turned sport and philosophy teacher, had no patience for my know-it-all attitude. He believed that my incessant need to correct everyone was hindering the class and, quite frankly, his sanity. One day, Mr. Coachman approached me after yet another unnecessary correction during PE. He offered me a chance to improve my abysmal grades in sports by taking extra swimming lessons with him. Reluctantly, I agreed, desperate to boost my overall GPA. At our first swimming session, Mr. Coachman handed me a peculiar-looking swimming cap. He claimed it would allow me to hear and see his instructions directly in my head. I thought he was out of his mind, but upon putting on the cap, I realized it actually worked. It was a surreal experience, feeling Mr. Coachman's voice and visual cues echoing in my mind as I swam. The instructions were crystal clear, making it easier to perfect my stroke and improve my technique in record time. Weeks later, Mr. Coachman, noticing my progress, approached me with a new pair of swim goggles. He said they would help me focus better in the pool. Skeptical yet willing to try anything, I put them on and dove in. As soon as the water enveloped me, I felt a heightened sense of concentration. The outside world disappeared, and all that mattered was the water beneath me. Mr. Coachman's voice became a distant echo, guiding me through each stroke and turn. It was as if the goggles had transformed me into a single-minded swimming machine.

Mr Coachman observed my newfound dedication and satisfaction. I was exhausted from the intense swim training, which left me with no energy to display my usual know-it-all tendencies in class.

Several weeks later, Mr Coachman's next request gave me pause. He presented me with a slim blue Speedo and promised that it would enhance my speed in the water. There was just one catch—I had to shave off all my body hair. He argued that professional swimmers did it all the time for better speed and reduced resistance. I protested vehemently. "Shave off all my body hair? Are you out of your mind?" I exclaimed, my voice filled with disbelief. Mr Coachman, with a grin on his face, replied, "Of course not, Tristan! It's a small sacrifice in pursuit of greatness. Trust me, you'll thank me later." I crossed my arms stubbornly, determined to resist this outrageous demand. "Absolutely not! I'll wear the Speedo, but I draw the line at shaving my body hair. It's like asking a caterpillar to give up its fuzzy coat!" Mr Coachman's smile didn't falter, and he simply said, "Suit yourself, Tristan. But just remember, the pros do it for a reason." His words lingered in the air as an internal struggle waged within me. The temptation to conform and become the ultimate swimmer clashed with my natural inclination to rebel against such absurdity. In the end, though, curiosity won over. I figured, if I could endure the grueling training and wear these magical swimming items, what harm could a little body hair removal do? With a hesitant sigh, I finally agreed to Mr. Coachman's request. Trudging to the bathroom, I grabbed a razor, examining its gleaming blade with trepidation. As I stood before the mirror, thoughts of caterpillars and metamorphosis floated through my mind. I wondered if shaving off my body hair would truly transform me into a swimming powerhouse. With each stroke of the razor, I felt a mix of excitement and unease. Whiskers and hairs fell, leaving behind smooth, hairless skin. Trapped in my thoughts, I couldn't help but wonder what my friends would say or how they would react when they discovered my newfound aquatic obsession and hairless body. Finally, once all the hair was gone, I took a long look at my smooth reflection. It was a strange sight, almost otherworldly. I felt a mix of vulnerability and exhilaration, like a sea creature shedding its scales and emerging anew. Standing tall in my hairless glory, I slipped into the slim blue Speedo. Ready or not, I was about to dive into the next chapter of this bizarre journey, hoping that my shaved body would indeed prove to be a worthwhile sacrifice in the pursuit of greatness. Emerging from the water for the first time in my stylish Speedo, I had transformed. My physique resembled that of a Greek statue, not an ounce of body fat in sight. I was an athletic swimmer, a force to be reckoned with.

With my old clothes no longer fitting, Mr. Coachman outfitted me with a tight beige chino and a light blue shirt.

As I squeezed myself into the outfit, I couldn't help but complain about looking like a preppy dork. However, Mr. Coachman assured me that it was all about how I wore the clothes. Skillfully, he rolled up the sleeves of my shirt, unbuttoned the top buttons, and stood back to appraise his handiwork. "Aren't you a handsome devil?" he remarked with a satisfied grin.

Surprisingly, I found myself thanking him, swallowed by a sense of excitement and self-confidence that I had never experienced before. Something about Mr. Coachman's approval made me feel alive and validated, even if I couldn't pinpoint exactly why I had become so susceptible to his influence. And thus, Mr. Coachman's cunning plan had come to fruition. Those magical swimming accouterments had not only transformed me into a skilled swimmer but also had slowly but surely chipped away at my once-sturdy resistance. When I wore all three items—cap, goggles, and Speedo—I was utterly beholden to his every command, a true embodiment of the "perfect student-athlete" he had envisioned from the onset. Now a member of the swim team, I had gone from a nerdy outcast to a charming and good-looking athlete, the joy of all my teachers. But deep down, I couldn't help but wonder if Mr. Coachman's methods were entirely ethical. Regardless, I was living proof of his success, and the sensation of hearing Mr. Coachman's voice and visualizing his instructions while wearing the cap and goggles had left an indelible mark on my perception of swimming, forever changing the way I experienced the water.

[beepersteeper]

Digits -- Astarion x Tav smut

Astarion was reading a book across camp. Nothing out of the norm. He was fidgeting with a coin aimlessly to keep his hand busy.

Tav watched completely entranced in watching the coin move so smoothly over each slender finger, being flicked into the air and caught seemingly without any attention given by Astarion. Her concentration was broken when the hand with the coin stopped and waved at her with the coin between his pointer and middle fingers. Her cheeks flushed and she sheepishly waved back mouthing “sorry. Zoned out." Across the camp. Astarion waved the thought away and continued into his studies.

Tav turned a quarter turn to face Karlach to strike up conversation to distract her from his gorgeous hands. The next day she caught herself staring again as he picked several locks throughout their adventure.

“I could teach you, if you wanted." Astarion stated right before hearing that successful click of the lock releasing “its like magic every time." 

“Huh?" She says hiding her startle

“Lock picking" he states handing her a tool set “you'll get the next one" leaving his hand on hers just longer than necessary.

The party continues along their path, when they ultimately come across a locked chest and Astarion ushered Tav to kneel in front of him. He knelt behind her, pressing his body to hers guiding her hands through the motions of the task.

“You really just have to listen and feel what the lock is saying. Figure out what is a good resistance and what is a resistance that will make you start over” he says too quietly into her ear, his cold breath caressing her skin.

When the lock clicks and falls open Astarion whispers in a husky soft tone "good girl."  And quickly stands trailing his fingers up her arm and across her shoulders before he walks away talking over his shoulder "there will be more for us to practice with.”

Back at camp for supper, Astarion seems to be constantly doing something with his hands. Twirling a dagger between his fingers, tapping his finger tips on the table. Running his finger over the rim of his glass and bringing the liquid to his lips to lick it off of his fingers, meeting Tav's eyes with his own. 

She retired first to her tent before the others saying “I'm just awfully tired. I'll see you all in the morning." A chorus of goodnights follow her to her bedroll. She ties the flap closed and rests into her bedroll, pulling out her sketchbook. Without really thinking she sketched his hands as best she can from memory. The perfectly manicured nails, the marble smooth skin, and a few thick veins covering the back. She was finishing sketching his nimble fingers and rounded knuckles on his ring finger when she hears a voice from outside her tent

“Tav, are you awake?" Astarion whispers.

Shit she whispers to herself and tucks the notebook under her stack of books “yeah, come in." she calls to him.

He ducks to get under the knot “I was hoping you were. You ran off pretty quick from dinner, everything alright?" Sitting behind her as he usually does for his supper. 

“Yeah, like I said, just tired. Those goblins really took it out of me" she half lied and I couldn't watch your fingers anymore without wanting to put them in my mouth she thought as she braided her hair off to the side opening her neck for him.

He notices the notebook to the side of the bed with a detailed image of what looks like his right hand. 

He traces a finger along the vein on her neck feeling her pulse race. He grabbed her jaw tightly, leaning her head to the side to expose her flesh completely. He slid a finger under her top to open the place even more. He rested his other hand on her thigh adding pressure and squeezing slightly as he punctured her already scared skin.

She rested her hand on top of his, relishing in the tender moment she's allowed to have with him. Feeling his hands on her.  He finishes and adds pressure to the wound with his tongue to stop the bleeding.

When he would usually let her chin go, he didn't. He instead put his thumb on her bottom lip slightly opening her mouth. “I've seen you staring.” He whispers. Tav's shoulders tense. “I've got to say. I've been told that almost every part of my body is desirable, but I think my hands…” he moves his hands from her, completely pulling the sketch book in front of her to see “is a first." 

Tav tried to fold into herself out of embarrassment only to be stopped by his strong hand returning to her jaw holding her still facing forward. "What do you want to see these fingers do?” he purrs “I know you've thought some dirty things darling, practically undressing me with your eyes at dinner.” Before she could answer he put a finger in her mouth pressing her tongue down, opening her mouth rendering her mute. “Well if you won't answer I guess I'll just have to figure it out myself.” 

He lets her close her mouth and slides two fingers in and out of her lips, making her suck on the fingers that she's watched for days. She moans, enjoying the invasion of her mouth. 

“Is that what you wanted?" He asks, knowing she still can't talk “nod." She nods moving her tongue as much as she can, feeling his fingers across her hungry tongue. 

He uses his free hand to loosen her pants and with her help shimmy them down her legs. He runs his nimble fingers across her thighs. Then he reaches across her body and drags his nails from her knee past her core and up her body grabbing a breast firmly causing her nipples to harden. “like putty in my…  well” he laughs, pulling his fingers from her mouth letting her lick each digit before he returns the two to her tongue holding it down again, holding her jaw open. 

He slid his hand down her body once more and easily inserted one, then two, then three fingers into her core. Causing her to let out warm breath and whimper from her mouth. He focuses on bringing her to climax with only his hands, the very things she's been idolizing. Arching his fingers into her hitting the spot deep inside that shoots pleasure through her core. Her breath quickens a bit and then more when he starts playing with her clit softly, barely touching her at first. And then rubbing circles into her tender flesh speeding up her breath. 

Electricity shoots through her body as she arches her back and lets out a loud moan, unable to muffle her pleasure because he had locked her jaw open. 

After she finished riding her high he brought his fingers out slowly, stings of her sex slightly hanging from his fingers. He brings his wet fingers to his mouth making sure she was watching him enjoy her taste cleaning every part of his skin that was covered in her sex, thoroughly and slowly keeping eye contact with her. He smiles as she watches him slack jawed. “Delicious. I'll see you tomorrow morning, do try not to stare too much darling." 

[k9divine]

could u write ellabs x reader? maybe the reader is dating them both and they get jealous bc some girl is flirting w the reader? maybe some fluffy after care at the end :)

YES 🦭

✦ | Cw; Dom!Abby/Ellie, Sub!Fem!Reader, Marking, Overstimulation, Mentions of blood, Multiple orgasms (?), Sorta fluff (?)

✦ | An; it’s SHORT (and maybe rushed) I’m sorry sowwy

"You're ours. Do you ever forget that," Abby growled, her fingers digging into the swell of your hips as she guided you along the length of Ellie's wet cunt, her own naked body pressed up against your back. You’d cum about three times by now, you mind has completely turned to mush, and all you can do is whimper and whine about how overstimulated you are. But you take what they’re giving you anyways.

Abby’s rough hands feel so good against your sweaty skin as you try to focus on the feeling of your pussy rubbing against Ellie’s, her sweet grunts and groans motivating you more despite the throbbing ache in your thighs.

“So pretty, sweet girl. Look so good on top of me,” Ellie groaned, letting Abby do the work for both of you, her legs quivering on your shoulders. You tell she was getting close by now, the subtle trembling of her legs, the occasional whimpers she let out, the way her back arched every time Abby pushed down a little bit too hard.

“Guys, please, I can’t—“

“You can, and you will,” Abby snarled, giving your ass a hard smack that’s definitely going to form a dark bruise later on. You really, and actually, couldn’t take this anymore. You’ve lost track of how many times you came tonight, your body was defiled in cum, sweet, and blood, and your body was burning for a break, aching even. Though, they wouldn’t stop, no. Not until every inch of your body and mind was branded in their marks.

After some time, Ellie finally came, about her second or third one this night. You whined and squirmed on top of her as her warm juices splashed against your swollen cunt, this also being the cause of your own orgasm. This left both you and Ellie breathless, Abby smirking as you admired how fucked-out you two looked.

“You think she’s had enough?” Ellie rasped, her hands smoothing down you quivering backside, easing the pain from the many, many marks that she’d left there. “Yeah, she’s good,” Abby responded, gently placing kisses on the back of your sweaty neck before dragging you off of Ellie and into her arms, carrying you into the bathroom for some much needed TLC.

“You did such a good job for us tonight, beautiful,” Abby praised, sitting you down on a towel on the counter and drenching a freshly cleaned washcloth in warm water, lathering it with soap and carefully slipping it over the curves and contours of your body, wary of the tiny wounds they may have left behind. The only thing you could really manage for her was a drowsy smile, your body gradually coming down from shaking as she deemed you clean enough as washed the soap off of your skin, wrapping you up in a fluffy pink towel, and carrying you back to your bedroom.

You were mostly sure you would find Ellie there, and you did. She looked like she’s already cleaned herself up as well as the bed.

“Come get in bed you two,” she hummed, patting the bed before she got into it herself, leaving the sheets pulled back so Abby could lay you down and tuck you in, making herself snug beside you, ultimately sandwiching you between the both of them. “Good night, princess. I love you,” Abby whispered, giving you and Ellie one last round of kisses before slowly drifting off into sleep. Leaving you and Ellie awake for a little while longer.

“Well, good night, I guess. Love you,” Ellie rasped, tenderly kissing your nose before falling asleep along with Abby, leaving you the last one awake.

Your eyes slowly began to flutter shut, body laying limply between the both of them, before remembering to utter your last words of love before drifting off into dreamland.

“Love you guys, too.. Good night.”