#yellow arch angel

[wherekizzialives]

The Small Things Spreading Joy: April 2024

[hazelfoureyes]

Besties get Banged

Angel Dust x FemReader Smut

➽─❥Angel Dust x MaleReader Smut version

You didn’t think Angel liked you the way you did him, how could you? While sharing a profession, he was nothing like you. He was the star in every room he entered. After being booked on a shoot together, you find maybe Angel wasn’t so ignorant to your existence.

Warning/Promises: Angel x Reader do not fuck but they do get banged, Val is going to ruin shit but I ain’t writing that part, Foursome but no one cares, handjob, cum countdown 💦, masturbation, making out, porno, vaguely threatening ending from Val

minors dni (👁️👄👁️🔪)

When Angel Dust slipped into the dressing room of Val’s ‘sex dungeon’, you struggled to keep your smile down. You’d never actually worked together. The two of you had attended the same awards shows, frequented the same clubs, danced the same stages. But never graced the same screen. Every encounter left you more and more enthralled. Always the life of the party, but when the crowds would die down Angel would become so sweet, talking with an emotional intelligence many sinners seemed to have lacked or intentionally abandoned at death.

Angel threw himself at many people, sometimes jokingly, sometimes not. But you’d be lying to say it didn’t sting he’d never propositioned you.

“Mornin’,” he plopped into the make-up chair beside you, hand lazily combing through his bedhead.

Angel hoped you hadn’t seen him pause when he saw you. He didn’t get butterflies often, but you always managed to make his stomach flutter. He felt so silly, a kid with a crush.

You knew Val wasn’t going to let it be just the two of you. He enjoyed watching you both get fucked too much. ‘Besties get Banged’ was written on the clapperboard. Angel gave you a wink, “Ooh besties! Is this work or just another Friday night?” His elbow hit a soft spot in your ribs, making you laugh.

“Stop— st-stop that. Get on the bed.” Val used all four arms to separate you, “Bitch number 1 on the left side, Bitch number 2 on the right.” He sat in his chair, arm angrily motioning for the large demons to enter the set already.

It was a standard enough shoot, until you and Angel found yourselves both on your knees, eye to eye from across the pink heart shaped bed. One yellow and one black eye looking back at you, hazy with pleasure as he was fucked dumb by some piece of muscle with a dick attached.

He looked so beautiful when he felt good. You reached out your hand to him, then the other. Fingers laced together, you both moaned into the space between yourselves. Angel’s eyebrows rose up, tongue coming out. His face was so flushed, cheeks pink. You weren’t sure it was an invitation, but you pulled yourself to him and ran your tongue over his. The demon behind you followed your body, trying to maintain contact.

Angel’s eyes rolled closed, tongue pushing into your mouth. The kiss interrupted again and again as the repeated pounding into your holes pulled your lips apart, your entire bodies moving in rhythm.

“Hey!,” Val yelled, “What the fuck are you doing?”

Angel smiled at you, “Whats the matter Val?” He strained forward, capturing your mouth again.

“Stop kissing! You’re ruining it!”

“You never kissed a bestie? Awww,” Angel kept his lips near yours. “Val’s never had a real good friend before.”

Val’s antennae bristled, “Pull em apart, they’re making googly eyes at each other. Killing my fucking hard on. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

Your bodies were slid away, fingertips still reaching out to each other. You were flipped onto your back, pacing brutal as if making up for lost time.

Angel watched you, mouth lonely. His cock leaking from just a kiss. Reaching down, he began to stroke himself while enjoying his own personal show. Your body bouncing with the thrusts, eyes watery. He arched his back, looking across to where your body connected with the other demon. You looked so wet, so inviting.

“Angel!” Val seethed.

Angel’s closed his eyes, imagining you around his cock and not his fingers. His eyes shot open when he felt hands on his face. His fear dissolved into relief as he saw you had scooted back towards him, pulling him down for an upside-down kiss. Breath hot, he moaned into your mouth.

“Uh Boss, should we stop em again? It’s kinda hot.” The shark demon behind Angel slowed.

Your fingers slipped through his hair, bringing him deeper into your kiss. There was nothing else in the room anymore but you and Angel. Tongue rolling over tongue, breathy moans exhaled and inhaled.

Val shook his head, “Let the little sluts kiss. If they wanna ruin my shoot so badly, be my guests.” His eyes aglow, Valentino exhaled his toxic smoke throughout the studio, sinister grin spreading across his face.

The demons continued as directed, you and Angel not having noticed the interruption you had caused. Angel’s mouth left yours, head resting on the mattress.

“Val’s going to kill us,” you tried to remember the name of the wolf demon pounding into you, knowing you had some sort of lines.

Angel’s teeth nipped your ear lobe, “He’s gonna do that anyway.”

You moaned, “Feels good when you do that.”

“Yeah?” The wolf asked. You wanted to kick him in the neck.

“Uuh, yeah. You… fuck me so good, Daniel.”

“Donny.” He corrected.

Angel got back on his elbows, “Literally no one cares, David.” Whispering now, “Roll over and come ‘ere.”

Douglas didn’t seem bothered, you using your feet to stop him and twisting around his cock to get back on your knees. The demons whose names neither of you cared to learn followed you again. Angel was pressed into you, two arms holding you against his body, one arm on your cheek, a fourth finding its way to your clit.

You gasped, Angel licking up your neck and chin as his hand expertly rubbed you. Regaining some bit of your brain, you reached down a hand to his cock. It was slapping against this stomach in time with the thrusts. Your hand only need to grip him, the other actor basically fucking him into your grasp.

Angel’s head craned down, sucking bruises into your collar bone, “I wanna fuck you so bad, it hurts.” Another whisper into your skin.

“I thought you didn’t like me,” your words faded in and out, volume jumping as your pussy took hit after hit. Angel’s hand electrifying every part of your body.

Angel pulled you as close as he could, bringing your hand from his cock to hold in his. Now him and his pre-cum were rubbing along your stomachs, pressed together tightly. “Wrong. So wro-uh.” Eyes rolling back, Angel’s words fell apart.

“You close?”

He nodded.

“Want me to count you down?”

A more frantic nod.

“Five”

You leaned in to kiss at his neck.

“Four”

A long drag of your tongue up to his ear.

“Three”

A kiss to his cheek.

“Two”

You bit at his lip, pulling it with you before letting it go.

“One”

Angel clenched his eyes, grip on you tightening as he came across your stomach, thick and hot. You heard the other actor moan, Angel’s ass tightening with his release.

You took the chance to kiss Angel again, lips soft and swollen from the long shoot. His cum dripped down your stomach and found its way to his hand, adding more lubrication to your wet pussy. Angel’s fingers eagerly used his seed to slip and slide over your clit.

The feeling pushed you into your orgasm, legs shaking as you tried to stay up. “For fuck’s sake,” Val could be heard shouting just past the studio lights.

Drawing him in for another kiss, less deeply now, lips sometimes on lips, and sometimes the chin and the cheek.

You stayed, holding each other, through the shoot. The other actors finishing their parts, cumming and making some puns about bosom buddies. When everyone else left the scene, and you two broke apart your hungry mouths to consider getting cleaned up and dressed, the air grew thick around you. Heads swimming now, a horny haze fell on set.

“Bravo, bitches. You ruined my shoot, only fair I get to ruin something now.” You both turned to see the lights gleaming off Val’s glasses. “Where should I start?”

༻Masterlist༺

My general tag list is called the Horny Little Deer Cult! To be tagged, you are more than welcome to ask to join

[lovebugism]

hehe for your summer fic fest!

 “are you okay? is the heat getting to you?”  w/ shy!reader x steve harrington! <3

maybe something like established relationship (or not) and he knows shy!reader won’t ever complain :)

love ur writing <3

thanks so much for your request angel! hope you like it!! — the one where you get sunburnt and steve calls you his lobster as a declaration of love (shy!reader, hurt/comfort, 2k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Steve emerges from the blue pool water with oversized goggles covering the top half of his face. They leave a soft red indention around his eyes when he shoves them to his forehead to push back his wild strands of wet hair.

His chest heaves with labored pants, lungs aching after being denied air for over three minutes. He blinks salt water from his eyes and squints across the patio. Your lounge chair has your beach towel thrown over it but is entirely vacant of you. 

His heart deflates with a boyish disappointment when he realizes you weren’t around to see him break his breath-holding record.

“Where’d she go?” Steve shouts to Robin over the sounds of splashing water and roughhousing teenage boys. 

The brunette girl looks up from her book and glances at the empty chair beside her. She turns back to him and shrugs, all cool with dark sunglasses over her eyes. “Um, I don’t know… She went inside, like, a minute ago, I think.”

Steve pouts. “So no one was keeping time?” he wonders with an unabashed whine.

“I was... Then I got bored.”

“Great. Thanks, Robin,” the boy deadpans. 

He backstrokes to the steps of the pool and tries to avoid the splash war between Lucas and Dustin on the way there. 

He wipes his dripping skin with a fluffy towel before wrapping it around his waist. His wet feet leave dark prints against the burning pavement, drying just as quickly as they’re made. He walks by Mike and Will sitting beneath the poolside cabana, and then by Robin who doesn’t look up from her book, as he heads to the backdoor.

Steve stumbles backward when the glass entrance slides open. Max and El giggle into their ice cream cones as they walk by him, paying him exactly zero attention as they go. They both wear matching Xena Warrior Princess t-shirts over their bathing suits.

“Can you guys save me one of those? Jeez,” Steve asks with a laugh, only half-joking in his complaint. “You’ve both had, like, ten since you got here.”

El smiles shyly at him, tilting her chin to her chest as she peers up at him through her lashes. Her cheeks reddened — a combination of misplaced embarrassment and sun exposure. 

Max is a lot more sneering with her glare. She arches an auburn brow in a challenging leer. “You should go get your girlfriend,” the redhead monotones just before licking at her vanilla cone.

Steve’s brows furrow. “What?”

“She looked sick,” El concurs with a firm nod.

“What do you mean she looked sick?”

“She means that she looked like she was seconds away from puking her guts out,” Max explains in her usual dramatic inflection. Her lip quirks at the look on Steve’s face, the corner of it stained with ice cream.

“Oh. Jesus. Okay,” Steve murmurs with a scrunched face — a mixture of concern and disgust. 

Worry blooms in his chest at the thought of you being unwell. He hates the idea that you might’ve felt sick and were too nervous to tell him. He loves how soft you are but despises how polite you are shyness. You’re still frightened of being a burden, even though Steve tells you all the time you don’t have to be scared of being human.

The cool air of his house makes his skin prickle with goosebumps. It soothes his reddened skin as he ascends the stairs on a quest to find you. The door to the main bathroom is shut. A yellow light glows beneath it. The soft hiss of the faucet sounds muffled in the hallway.

Steve taps his knuckles at the closed entrance — gently in a mindful attempt not to frighten you.

“Babe?” he calls, face absentmindedly contorted with worry. “Are you okay?”

You mumble something unintelligible in response. He can’t quite make it out. The distance and the sink drown out your soft voice.

“Can I come in?”

Again, you just mumble. 

Steve’s chest burns with a fleeting panic. He’s momentarily terrified that you’re halfway passed out on his bathroom floor, lying barely conscious on the tile. He opens the door, slowly at first, just in case you want to slam it in his face for barging in. He knows you’re too soft for that, though. 

When you don’t protest, he walks all the way in. The door squeaks when he shuts it behind him.

He finds you, not on the floor, but leaning against the sink. You’re drowning in the t-shirt he gave you to wear as a cover-up. It’s oversized even on him, so it swallows you whole entirely. You blink at him with wide, glassy eyes while you press a damp rag over your face. Your skin is tinted a warmer red after spending the afternoon in the sun.

You look beautiful, but very unlike yourself. Max wasn’t lying — you looked like you were seconds away from being sick all over his bathroom. He rushes to you, anyway.

“What happened?” Steve wonders quietly, brows pinched in concern. “Are you okay?”

You shake your head, slow and lazy.

“Was it too hot outside? Is the heat getting to you? Do I need to fight the sun?”

You nod this time, holding the cloth to the burning apple of your cheek.

“Shit, babe. I’m sorry—” He doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for, only that he feels the need to say it. 

He reaches out to touch you, to hug you to him so he can absorb all the sick you feel and take it all for himself — but you jerk back before his fingertips can reach you.

“Don’t,” you tell him quickly as you step backward. You drag the wet rag down to your chin and pout. “Don’t touch me. I think I might burn you.”

Steve grins a lopsided and very pink grin. “Yeah, I’ll take that risk, babe.”

When he reaches out to touch you this time, you don’t protest. 

You feel like an inferno. The cold rag is hardly making you cooler. Actually, you think your fiery skin might just be warming it all over again. 

It makes you feel sick — not a stomach kind of sick, or a simple-head cold kind of sick. Those you can fix pretty easily. This is different. Whatever this is. 

You feel icky all over, and with no real root to the problem, you don’t know how to fix it. You just have to hope the A.C. will eventually break through the barrier of fire dancing over your skin and that Steve’s magic touch will be able to help you through it.

His hands curl around your elbows, much cooler compared to how hot your skin feels. His fingertips just barely graze your arm before he jerks them away again. His face scrunches in a halfhearted frown, feigning hurt as he pulls back like you’ve burned him.

“Ooh,” he winces playfully.

You pout while Steve laughs at his own dumb joke.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he assures through his laughter.

He swipes his fingers over your cheek to smooth the damp hair sticking to your temple — maybe from sweat, or water from the rag, or a combination of both. His face contorts with concern all over again. “You are warm, though, babe. Like, crazy warm.”

“I think the sun is trying to burn me alive,” you monotone, only half-joking. 

Steve takes the damp rag from your weak, trembling hands. He sticks it beneath the running faucet to rewet it for you. When it’s sufficiently soaked, he wrings it out with one hand and turns the sink off with the other.

“Here. Up,” he commands with a halfhearted wave, motioning you to sit on the counter. 

You try your best to abide him, but you’re too tired to do anything more than rise to the tips of your toes. Steve helps urge you backwards with his broad hands on your hips, encouraging you further back until your feet are dangling off the ground.

He stands in between your thighs. You lean into his touch when he dabs the colder rag against your forehead.

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Steve wonders with worry softening his tone. “I coulda got you inside before it got this bad. And I would’ve made all those shitheads go home before they made it worse.”

“That’s why I didn’t wanna tell you,” you confess, slurring from the sudden exhaustion that settles heavy on top of you. He brings the rag to your right cheek and presses it there for a few beats. “Everyone’s having such a good time. I didn’t wanna ruin it because I’m a baby…”

Steve scoffs out a laugh and holds the cloth to your left cheek. “You’re not a baby because you’re melting like an ice cream cone, babe. That’s not your fault.”

“Well, no one else is getting a cold rag pressed against their face by Steve The Hair Harrington,” you retort in a tone so soft that he can’t tell if you’re joking or not. He figures you might be toeing the line between both, still halfway delirious in your heatstroke.

“Yeah. ‘Cause I don’t love them like I love you.”

You cower at his words, not expecting him to be so suddenly affectionate. 

You’ve had a hard time getting used to that — his incessantly flirtatious disposition. It’s hard having an aversion to compliments, but it’s harder dating someone who loves to give them. 

Steve smiles when he watches you go all shy. You always get so sheepish when he loves on you, so pretty in the way you get all bashful. It isn’t any wonder why he loves to do it so much.

“Feel any better?” the boy asks when the corner of your lip quirks in a shy half-smile.

“A little… Do I still look sick?” you question, blinking at him with your eyes not as glazed over. “Maybe don’t answer that,” you protest quickly after.

Steve drops the rag to the counter and drags his knuckle across your cheek. Your skin isn’t quite as warm, but it still glows a faint red — obviously sun-kissed. “You look beautiful, babe. You always do. Even though you kinda look like a lobster.”

“I just said not to answer!”

“Lobsters are cool!” Steve defends at your pouting. “I like lobsters! Everyone likes lobsters!”

You don’t want to laugh, still feeling a bit too sick, but he makes it dreadfully hard not to. A halfhearted giggle sputters from your lips at his high-pitched assurance before you can stop it.

He smiles at your smiling, wide palms squeezing gently at your knee. “Lobsters actually mate for life,” he singsongs with raised brows and a crooked grin. “Betcha didn’t know that��”

“I think that was disproven, actually,” you squint.

“No, it’s true! Wanna know how I know?”

He’s fishing for a reply. You know it, but you bite anyway. You humor him with a nod, the corners of your lips lifting in an anticipatory smile.

He steps closer to you. His hips press into the edge of the countertop as his palms smooth up your thighs and settle on your waist. His honey eyes sparkle at you when he tilts his head and peers at you from beneath his lashes. 

“’Cause you’re my lobster,” he confesses with a scrunched nose. “And you’re also my soulmate— and one plus one equals two, and blah blah blah…”

“I’m your lobster?” you humor in a high-pitched whisper, eyes twinkling with fatigue and adoration.

Steve beams, grinning at you like the lovesick idiot he is. “Yep. You’re my lobster. Take it or leave it, sweetheart.”

“I’d love to be your lobster, Stevie,” you tell him, giggling through your promise.

“We’ve said that word too many times, I think. It’s started to lose meaning now,” he says with his own breathy chuckle right before pressing his mouth to yours. He tastes like sunscreen, blue skies, and vanilla ice cream — like heaven and the rest of your life.

Steve kisses you breathless, telling you all the words he can’t say out loud with his pink lips slotted between yours. 

He hopes you know that was his dumb, roundabout way of promising forever with you. You kiss him like you do, anyway.

[dear-slim]

birthday surprise - m.m

Warnings: Smut, 18+, no protection 👀, blowjob

Pairing: Eminem x fem!reader

A/N - Still using ‘Em’ as a nickname and it’s 2000s Eminem

@lifeisabitchsoareyou @anjee0

You’d managed to get Hallie to go to bed a little early under the guise of having some ‘big plans’ tomorrow, which you needed to sort out. Thank goodness she wasn’t a brat, anyways, right? Em was out at the studio, messing round with some tracks with Dre and 50, and he’d messaged you to say he’d be back soon.

But when did? He’d be in for a surprise and a half, to say the least.

And surprised he was, when he found your bedroom door slightly ajar, candles illuminating the room, and you, wearing a gorgeous dark blue lingerie set, waiting for him with wide, doe eyes. “Well, look what we have here,” he said slowly, eyes narrowed almost suspiciously.

You hummed, brushing a strand of hair over your ear as your diamonds earrings caught the yellow light of the candles, sending an almost angelic glow across your face. “Hallie asleep?” he asked, wanting to make sure as you nodded, moving to sit on your knees on the bed as his eyes dropped to your chest.

“Suits you,” he said, voice deep and almost longing as he traced your curves in the set, his eyes darkening, pupils dilated, “almost don’t wanna take it off ya,”. You hummed, eyes locked on his expression as you blushed. “Yeah, but if you don’t take it off, you don’t get to see what’s under,”.

“Fair point,” he said, one hand wrapping round your throat so he could push you onto your back, your head with the pillow as he threw his shirt off, his body already shimmering with a thin sheen of sweat. You let him tug the bra off of your body, taking your tits into his hands as he slowly worked on pressing kisses to your neck and shoulders.

“Wish it was my birthday everyday,” he growled, his voice deeper than usual as he tugged your panties to the side, his index finger tracing over your sensitive clit as you gasped, body jerking slightly at the feeling of it, his other hand moving to unbuckle his trousers.

His cock sprung up hard in his palm, close to your face as he ran the tip over your lips, your eyelashes fluttering as your closed your eyes. “Fuck, you look so beautiful,” Em hissed, holding one hand on your cheek, the other holding his cock for you to take small kitten licks round his throbbing head.

You let out a small moan, enabling him to slide his cock into your mouth, a bulge in the side of your cheek as his head hit the back of your throat, the sound of you gagging sounding like damn heaven to him. You moved your head slowly, almost tantalisingly slowly, eyes staring up at him from your placed on the bed.

Your movements reciprocated his - whenever his finger sped up round your sensitive bundle of nerves, your tongue sped up round his head, tracing the vein along the underside of his thick member. “Turn over,” he suddenly pulled out of your mouth, your legs squeezing together as he moved his hand too.

You whined at the loss of contact but complied, your back facing him as he admired how you looked, his hands coming to trace the soft flesh of your ass, tongue dipping down to lick up your thighs. “Need you so bad,” you gasped, back arching at the feeling of his tongue tracing small, almost teasingly slow circles round your clit.

Em was more than happy to give you want you wanted, slowly running his throbbing tip through your folds, coating himself in your juices before he slid in with much ease, his hands squeezing firmly and harshly at your ass. “Can come home to this every day,” he groaned as you moaned.

His hand came to push your head down into the mattress, partially to stifle your moans so Hallie didn’t wake up, and partially because he enjoyed the power play. You hissed as he started moving, your cunt clenching round his hard member, slick and easy as he pushed in and out of you.

“So fucking tight, Y/N,” Em groaned, his cheeks flushed red as you nodded, no words forming on your tongue. You hissed again as he reached his hand between your legs to caress your clit. “Just wanted to see how wet you are,” he mumbled, “always do wet f’me, aren’t you?”.

Anyone would be soaking if they had a man like Em.

You nodded, almost frantically, as you both chased your orgasms, Em’s hips ricocheting into yours, his hips snapping against yours thighs from behind, your eyes rolling as your lips parted. “Gonna c-cum,” you managed to choke out as he nodded, words seeming to die on his tongue.

Your cunt clenched round him once more as your heat enveloped his cock like a warm greeting, eyes rolling back as your orgasm hit, body falling forwards as he held your hips in his so he could finish. He didn’t pull out, not that you cared, as his cum spilt in thick, hot ropes down your thighs, spilling down your legs.

Your body spasmes slightly, collapsing in half-awe at the god-like orgasm the man behind you had just given you. “That’s a great present, darling,” he smiled, kissing your neck softly as you nodded, too tired to formulate a sentence.

[aluciahaz]

Sub Adam smut pleasepleasepleaspelalslePLEASEPLEASE i NEED that dickhead to be put in his place I am BEGGING (fem reader<3)

my favorite genre is putting adam in his place 🤝 also how do writers make text yellow on mobile all i could find was orange 💀

know your place

— adam x f!reader

—includes : pegging, crying, begging, bondage, edging, bottom!adam, dom!fem reader

he’s pathetic.

adam, the first man, seemed more like an annoying bird than an angel as he kept boasting about his status and yapping about his dumb stories. how could someone so renowned as him be such a brat?

it was clear he needed some training.

and if no one was going to teach him on how to shut up, you’ll do it yourself.

“mfph—! mmmh!”

adam’s incomprehensible whines sounded better than any foolish joke he’d try and tell you.

his mouth was covered, his hands were bound, and his eyes were blinded with the fabric ripped off of his ostentatious clothes.

the tears stemming from his woeful desperation soaked into the makeshift blindfold, but still streamed down his face like a weak river. the way his mouth quivered around the spit-covered cloth was so pathetic that it was almost endearing.

almost.

if only he wasn’t such a dick all the time, maybe you’d have some more empathy.

his body is trembles as he arches his back again, a loud cry leaving his restrained mouth once more as you drive your strap inside of him, constantly hitting the spot that made him feel like he was in heaven. or well, another heaven.

the vibrator on his tip certainly was helping him feel like he was ascending too.

although, unfortunately for him, the cock ring stopped him from truly meeting god. or maybe lucifer, considering how sinful this all was.

his wings would flail beneath him like a caught dove, flapping and batting against the soft bedsheets every time he got close.

which of course, you’d follow it up by slowing down both the vibrator and your hips.

it made him wail every time, slamming the back of his head down onto the pillow as he begged for you to let him come.

but how would you know? you couldn’t hear any words coming from his mouth.

“i didn’t quite catch that, what did you say?”

“mphf—mm!! mh—hm—hmm!”

he couldn’t speak even if he didn’t have the fabric between his lips. his mind was thoroughly melted, swirling with only thoughts of you and the pleasure he was experiencing. there was no way he could possibly be coherent.

the night keeps going like this. adam, the self-proclaimed best playboy around heaven, getting absolutely ruined by a woman. his weary moans and frail keens fell onto deaf ears. his begging, simply incomprehensible as you show him how weak he was under your touch. he doesn’t know how long it’s been, but surely too long!

too bad you don’t think so.

later, you finally pull off the makeshift gag after what you deem is enough time for him to remember that he’s just a feeble man when it comes to you. that you were the one who truly had the power around here.

“PLEASE! please—please please oh, fuck please—!” his voice would fray as it got higher, drool slipping down his bottom lip as he pleaded.

“please what?”

“plea—please…ha, lemme cum—ngh!” he grits his teeth as you thrust particularly roughly, raising the speed of the vibrator as you do so. it drives him insane, your cruelty.

“no.”

you could only describe his sound as a guttural scream, crying for you, his true goddess, to let him cum. it reeks of desperation, his writhing, his now jumbled mess of begging, his now breaking spirit.

he’s yours, yours, yours.

he doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud.

“i’m sorry—i’m sorryi’msorryi’msorry—PLEASE!” he whines, hoping that you’d take mercy on someone like him.

and finally, you do.

you were a kind angel after all, unlike him.

you rip the blindfold off of him, welcomed with his perfectly debauched face before lifting his legs over your shoulders—he really was flexible!—and taking the cock ring off, reveling in his beautifully demolished state.

“what do you say?”

“THANK YOU! thankyouthankyooou—fuckfuck FUCK!” he sucked in a breath before a long drawn out cry tumbles past his cracking lips, and for once, you like what’s coming out of his mouth.

with your word, adam finds his release, falling from his already corrupted grace. his eyes roll back like he’s died once more, his body, once so animated and jumpy, now stiff for a brief second as he rides his high.

you grab his chin, forcing him to look at you with that glazed over look in his eyes. you don’t even know if he can see you, but the action alone made him groan weakly in response.

“know your place.” you say, releasing his chin.

adam, once so full of himself, nods in agreement, sniffling as he tries to stop his crying.

a lesson well done, you think.

sorry if the words get repetitive ive been having headaches the past few days 😭 ill pull out my thinking cap soon

tags— @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I'm so disappointed in HGTVs new "Zillow Gone Wild" show. It's only 30 min. and they run thru the house w/o showing half of it. I posted this little beauty before. It's a small 1938 fairytale castle in Los Angeles, CA. 2bds, 1.5ba, recently sold for $1.1M. Let's take a proper tour.

Enter the living room with a fireplace and some storage under the stairs. Note the window seat and shelving for display.

Look at the cute molding around the windows and doors. HGTV missed all that.

That little yellow arch & turret room is such a cute feature.

The kitchen has cottage-like cabinetry, a sunny yellow backsplash, dining area, a door to the garden and back stairs to the 2nd level. Also, note the wood ceilings throughout the home.

Look at this beautiful arch on the 2nd level.

This is so lovely. HGTV didn't show any of this. Door to a terrace.

Out on the terrace.

Bedroom #1 is very nice. It's not very large, but large enough.

For a small house, it has many nice architectural features.

This larger room with an alcove is the primary bedroom. But the single man who lived here must've used it as a guest room.

I'm so sad, this was the original bath with gorgeous original tile. Love the arched Art Deco shower.

They renovated it. Wait, am I seeing a glimpse of the original tile behind the pedestal sink? Maybe they saved some of it.

The grounds are just gorgeous. Look at this cute door and path to the upper floor.

Details of the door.

Cute little garden and you can see the terrace on the house.

Isn't this lovely?

There's a pond.

Colored glass window on the house and a fountain. HGTVs new show didn't do this home any justice.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/6937-Vanland-Trl-Los-Angeles-CA-90068/20045599_zpid/?

[keeksandgigz]

it's you and me (that's my whole world)- day 1 of keeks's lover house series♡

Day 1 of my Lover House Series♡

♡rockstar!eddie munson x famous!fem!reader♡

allusion of smut, r and eddie are in a secret relationship, disgustingly fluffy, kinda sad and angsty<3

"the whole school is rolling fake dice/ you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes"

You don't know how much longer you can go on with this lie.

"A PR Relationship for the ages" it was called on every single tabloid, everyone knew it was fake. Yet, you deluded yourself nobody did.

You deluded yourself that nobody knew it was to cover up the disastrous encounter with the paparazzi, catching you stumbling out of a dingy club hand in hand with Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie Munson- your secret boyfriend. In those pictures he sported various lipstick marks on his face and neck. Your management team was furious.

To keep up the "American Sweetheart" image, you'd been persuaded to date some airhead quarterback, up and coming NFL star. And you'd tried, tried to hard to be able to establish something with this guy, but there wasn't much there there to begin with.

But you catch yourself running back to him. Every Wednesday night, he meets you at his New York apartment, adrenaline and fear thrumming within you as you enter through the back alley of his building.

Feeling safe in the comfort of his home, it's like a fortress where no one can reach you, a place where you can forget about the rest of the world and their demands and lay in his arms.

It's a swirl of lips, hands, tongues and limbs once you step foot in his door. The desperation to feel him as close as possible, starved for his touch, needing to feel him close. You seem to crave him with every fiber of your being as you often waste no time getting each other's clothes off.

Feeling the warmth of his skin, tracing the ink of his tattooed chest. He handles you with such gentleness and care that you can't fathom how a man like him could easily tarnish your image.

"Beautiful girl, missed you so much this week" he mumbles against the soft skin of your abdomen as he kisses down your body "Wednesday never comes fast enough, does it?" he chuckles, caressing the sides of your thighs, peppering kisses from the arch of your foot to your knee.

A slow tease, as it may seem, but in reality, it's just a way to make time go by more slowly, an illusion to grant yourself a longer night with him. A prayer to make your Wednesday nights never ending.

That's why you're tangled in sheets at 3 AM, while Eddie draws circles on your arm. "Y'know I don't mind having to hide, right?"

You sigh "I know, I just wish we could come clean, so I don't have to fake date that piece of shit" a gentle kiss is placed on your forehead.

"Soon, angel, I promise. M'fixing my image for you, so we can show up to your fancy events hand in hand. Everyone's gonna wish they didn't make shit up about us" he smiles, cradling your face in his hands. He is fighting sleep tooth and nail to be able to steal a glimpse, one more look, see how beautiful you look in the glowing yellow light of his side lamp.

"It's always gonna be you and me, baby" that's what he'd often say. A promise that things will eventually go your way.

It's too late to turn on the big light. So he allows himself one more touch, one more look, a caress.

Damning himself for falling victim to sleep, he looks at you one last time, already in the arms of Morpheus, as he lets himself sleep.

He doesn't hear you stir at 6 am, like clockwork. You grab your clothes and make your journey down the back stairs of the building, where your driver is waiting for you.

You look up. One day you'll get to wake up with him.

Day 2 is Reputation! Find the form here!

[papil0nglegs]

Fallen angel!Adam x Nature healer!Reader

Chapter 1: Friend

(Part 1) (part 2)

Warnings: Swearing, Adam (lmao), major injuries, angst

A/n: Im like rlly new to this whole writing thing so feedback is appreciated 🙏 also one of the lines are from atla cuz I’ve been rewatching it and it still holds up today lol (edit: holy fuck I did NOT expect this thing to get this much attention, Tysm <33)

3rd pov:

It was the day after the extermination. Charlie and the gang had won against the angels, killing Adam along the way. Or at least that’s what everyone thought.

It was around midnight, the streets of hell were as quiet as they could be (which wasn’t that much). That’s when a scream can be heard from the sky, it appeared that another ‘sinner’ had joined hell as usual. However this was a special case..

Adam

He had been screaming for his dear soul, confused on what had been happening. First he had been accepting his fate, by giving a warm smile to an old friend. But now, he was falling hundreds of feet from the air. All he could see were flashes of red and yellow.

Once he hit the ground, he felt a sharp pain on his hip-

“FUCK!”

-He yelled, breathing rapidly while arching his back and placing his hands against his hip. He tried looking down at whatever was causing it, but it was too much, even for him. His eyes started to water because of how much it hurt, his head from hitting the ground, his hip from whatever he fell on that stabbed him, his eyes because of the city lights hitting them.

His breathing then slowed, but not in a way that was calming him down. But like his body was ready to give up on him once again. He tries to open his eyes, looking up at the red sky, staring at the heavenly moon above him.

He sighs, closing his eyes. Trying to get some rest, his body might give up on him during his sleep, but he can’t think about that right now. All he wants is rest.

That’s when a green figure comes before him, he opens his watery eyes, not being able to see well, but just enough to know that someone is in front of him.

All he could see were Luna moth wings, a pair of antennas, and droopy eyes, one being light pink, and the other being a light green. He watches as the figure crouches down to him.

A small glow comes from the strangers hand, as they place it up against Adam’s injury. His pain quickly goes away as he groans in relief. He tried to get a better look at you by turning his head a bit, not seeing much.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

You say with a smile from what seemed to be heaven, your voice sounded so gentle yet so firm. You then stand up, carrying him on your back with you. You knew you couldn’t just let him rot here, he needed help. Your help.

After a ROUGH trip, you were finally able to get him to your apartment. You then laid him gently on the couch, him groaning and sighing while settling in.

You then get on your knees while staring at him, laying your middle and index finger against his chest, feeling and understanding him.

“Oh no,” you say in a sad tone, “you’ve been through so much recently, hurt and betrayed, so twisted up inside.” You whisper to his now sleeping body.

As you remove your hands from his chest, you stand up sighing.

“It’ll be alright, I’ll help you

Friend.”

[rainforestakiie]

AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Devil's Night~

gosh, i'm so happy. i really love this idea. it is inspired by @things-arent-what-they-seem66's AU of adam and lilith switching places.

i know harvest is over but i have a few more things to write!

hope you all enjoy it!

part 01 - part 02

@adamsappleweek

Hell felt different now. Smoke hung heavy, thicker than usual, as though mourning in silence, and the very ground under Lucifer’s hooves pulsed with a faint, restless throb, like a wound struggling to close. He stood in solemn stillness, his back perfectly arched, hands folded over the twisted surface of his apple-wood cane, fingers tapping rhythmically as if to an unseen clock counting down something. His gaze, red and yellow like smouldering embers, fixed on the lifeless form of Adam sprawled on the darkened ground, surrounded by a shimmer of golden liquid and the soft glint of fallen feathers.

Adam lay motionless, eyes shut, lips the colour of a fading bruise. Lucifer’s throat tightened. Part of him wanted to whisper thanks to his daughter, Charlie, for guarding Adam’s body from the ravenous cannibals of the underworld, but he knew if he opened his mouth, his voice would crack, betraying him.

The silence pressed in, cold and oppressive, creeping into his bones. Hell was hot, stifling, but Lucifer felt chilled to his core—a hollow, biting emptiness that gnawed at him. His gaze remained unbroken, staring with a strange, desperate hope that this was some twisted joke. Perhaps any moment now, Adam would shift, laugh in that carefree, Edenish way of his, and sit up, as vibrant and stubborn as ever. But Adam remained still, silent, chest unmoving. An uncontrollable shiver ran through Lucifer, twisting painfully in his stomach.

He had never truly believed Adam could die. He had always assumed—no, convinced himself—that Adam would outlive them all, his spirit too relentless to surrender. And somewhere, hidden in the darkest corners of Lucifer's heart, was a naïve sliver of hope that Adam would eventually come back to him. That the bond they had once shared in Eden, a bond so profound it had nearly eclipsed the heavens themselves, would find a way to mend. They would rebuild, somehow. It would be different, yes, but they would laugh together again, walk side by side once more. Those stolen moments in Eden, when Lucifer was Adam’s guardian angel and Adam, his purpose… those memories clung to him, a bittersweet poison he couldn’t let go of.

Back then, Adam had been his everything. His duty, his joy, his reason to exist. Lucifer remembered the thrill that had sparked through him, the first time he heard the voice of God declare his purpose. He was to be Adam’s protector, his guide, his companion in that boundless garden. And he had thrown himself into that role, relished it. He had loved Adam in a way he hadn’t understood at the time. The garden had been theirs alone. No one else existed in that timeless paradise, only him and Adam, with eternity stretched out before them like a golden promise.

But then Lilith entered the garden, and everything had unravelled. He thought he had loved her, thought she understood him, saw him for who he truly was beneath the wings and heavenly light. He had let his heart slip through his fingers, foolishly entrusting her with every secret, every fractured part of himself. He had given her everything: a home, a family, the taste of power. Yet, for her, it was never enough. She wanted more, always something beyond his reach, until she had finally abandoned him and Charlie the moment something more alluring came her way. The emptiness she left was raw, a void gnawing at him even now.

He had tried to convince himself he deserved it—that he was vile, selfish, the snake of Eden. He had thought he deserved every torment she dealt him, every moment of betrayal. He had hurt Adam, and that wound, though buried, had never fully healed. He could still see Adam’s green eyes, filled with tears and betrayal, piercing through the centuries. That look had seared itself into Lucifer’s soul, a scar he tried endlessly to ignore. The first betrayal had been shattering. But there were others. With each one, he had watched something precious in Adam’s eyes die, replaced by a steely resolve, a silent ache that mirrored Lucifer’s own.

During their last battle—the one that had forever severed the fragile thread between them—Lucifer had let slip a remark about Eve. He had done it to provoke Adam, to elicit some reaction, any reaction, just to feel Adam’s gaze on him again, even if it was filled with fury. But Adam’s reaction hadn’t been what he’d expected.

That fleeting hint of betrayal in his eye—the exact shade Lucifer knew so well—had cut deeper than any physical blow could. Adam hadn’t been blind to it, hadn’t let it slide as Lucifer had hoped. The anger had transformed into something colder, something Lucifer couldn’t quite name, but it lingered, long after they parted.

Now, standing here, watching Adam’s motionless form, Lucifer felt the full weight of those mistakes crashing over him, a tidal wave of remorse he could no longer fend off. Every unspoken word, every fractured promise, every fleeting glance they had shared in Eden came flooding back to him with agonizing clarity. The irony was sharp—Adam, his purpose, his only joy, lay gone, and Lucifer was left adrift, lost in a void he had fashioned for himself. The garden, their laughter, their whispered secrets beneath the endless, star-strewn sky… all of it had turned to ash, leaving Lucifer alone with nothing but the ghosts of memories that would never fade, haunting him like shadows he could never escape.

Lucifer clenched his eyes shut, the whispers of memories swelling in his mind, pressing into the silence until they filled the air around him. He could hear it all—every laugh, every teasing remark, every stolen moment under Eden’s endless skies. The phantom echoes of their laughter rang through his ears, so vivid it felt as if Adam were right there beside him again, as though any second he’d feel Adam’s hand slap his back or hear him call his name with that familiar, playful lilt. He could almost smell the dewy grass and the scent of fresh, untainted earth that had once been their playground, their sanctuary.

They had been so close, he and Adam, so tightly bound by a friendship that felt eternal, unbreakable. Lucifer’s heart had belonged entirely to Adam in those days, every bit of him dedicated to his charge, to his purpose. Adam had been his light, his reason to be, his only true companion in the vast, bewildering beauty of the garden. And yet, Lucifer had lost it all, torn it apart with his own hands, with his own selfish heart. He’d destroyed something precious, something he thought could never be lost. He’d always believed they’d somehow find their way back to each other. That one day, Adam would look at him with those green eyes, softened with forgiveness, and they’d be… something again. Friends, perhaps. Or more.

A soft, broken sniff escaped him, and he forced his eyes open, the agony tightening in his chest as his gaze fell once more on Adam’s still, lifeless body. His sharp teeth clenched as his hooves trembled beneath him. He took a faltering step forward, his legs weak, as if the weight of centuries was pressing down on them, the memories and regrets dragging him down. His knees felt brittle, ready to buckle as he moved closer. His eyes burned, a stinging heat prickling at them, growing worse with each step until he found himself standing directly over Adam’s body. He looked down, his chest tight, his breath ragged, hardly daring to believe this was real.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice barely a rasp, clinging to some thread of hope that seemed to slip further from his grasp. His gaze was fixated on Adam’s chest, willing it to rise, to betray some hidden breath.

“Hey, oi… this isn’t funny.” His claws tightened around the apple-wood cane, his knuckles whitening, desperate to ground himself against the unrelenting horror of the truth. “Adam, this isn’t funny. Stop… stop playing around.”

His voice cracked, shaky and hollow. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as he searched Adam’s face for any sign of movement, any flicker of those warm, golden eyes. But Adam remained still, lips tinted blue, his skin pallid under the dim, smoky light. Lucifer’s hands trembled, and with a sharp intake of breath, he dropped to his knees, his cane clattering to the ground beside him.

“Please…”

The word slipped out, soft and broken, barely a whisper. He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against the cold skin of Adam’s cheek. The chill bit into him, a harsh, unyielding reminder that this wasn’t a nightmare he could wake from. He closed his eyes again, unable to bear the sight of Adam like this, and the memories surged back once more, flooding him with bittersweet echoes.

“Do you remember, Adam?” he murmured, voice barely holding together, his hand resting gently against Adam’s cheek. “Do you remember… the nights we’d talk until the stars began to fade? When we’d chase each other through the trees, laughing like nothing else in all creation mattered?”

His voice wavered, choked by the memories, by the weight of a love he’d buried so deeply he’d almost forgotten how much it hurt.

The memories of Eden shimmered behind his eyes—memories of Adam grinning, his face lit up with that carefree, boyish charm that Lucifer had adored. Memories of Adam leaning on him, both talking under the vastness of the heavens, lost in their own world, a world they had once believed would never end.

But it had ended. He’d been the one to end it.

And now, here he was, left alone with nothing but his regrets and the fading whispers of a love that could never be repaired. His shoulders sagged as he leaned closer, his forehead almost touching Adam’s. He spoke again, his voice barely more than a breath, as though he feared the silence would shatter beneath the weight of his words.

“Adam, I’m sorry,” he whispered, the confession torn from him like a piece of his soul. “I’m so… sorry.”

But Adam remained silent, cold, unyielding, and for the first time, Lucifer understood the full extent of his loss, the emptiness that would haunt him for eternity. His hand slipped from Adam’s cheek, his head bowing as the first, silent tear fell.

Lucifer shuffled closer on his knees, inch by inch, his face warming with a painful flush as his eyes misted over.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked, voice quivering as he leaned over Adam’s body.

His fingers trembling as they reached out, brushing just the edge of the bloodstained fabric. He wanted to touch Adam’s hand, to feel that familiar warmth once more, but he couldn’t bring himself to close the distance. His breath hitched, his hands hovering, shaking, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

“I was supposed to be your guardian, Adam,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath. “I was made for you… to protect you, to be whatever you needed, whatever you deserved.”

He swallowed, his chest tight as the words clawed their way out, raw and unfiltered. “But I failed you. I failed you in ways I can’t even… can’t even justify.”

His fingers trailed across Adam’s robe, tracing the familiar folds, the dark stains of blood, each one a reminder of how far they’d fallen from what they once were.

He took a shaky breath, his mind dragging him back to the painful memories, to Lilith.

“She was… God, she was everything to me then,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I thought… I thought I loved her. I thought she saw me in a way no one else ever had. I thought she understood me. She was fierce, and powerful, and beautiful, and I thought—”

His voice broke, and he looked down, the shame tightening like a vice around his heart. “I thought she would stay. I thought… I thought she wanted me, that she wanted what we could build together. I cut off my own wings for her, gave up everything I had, my power, my place in heaven. And then, at the first chance she got, she left. Left me and Charlie as if we were nothing.”

He let out a bitter laugh, empty and hollow. “But maybe… maybe I deserved it. I had it coming, didn’t I? For what I did to you.”

His gaze flickered to Adam’s face, hoping desperately to see a flicker of forgiveness, but Adam remained still, cold and lifeless. Lucifer clenched his teeth, forcing himself to keep going, to lay everything bare before him.

“You saw us, didn’t you?” he whispered. “Back in Eden. You saw Lilith and me… together. And I knew. I knew it wasn’t fair to you, that you didn’t understand. You didn’t deserve that, Adam. You didn’t deserve to be hurt like that, to be left alone, wondering what happened to me, wondering why everything changed.”

He looked away, ashamed. “And I can’t explain myself. I wish I could. I want to, but… I don’t know what happened. I was so… blinded. I couldn’t see you, couldn’t see what was right in front of me. I was too wrapped up in her, in what I thought I felt for her.”

His voice dropped to a whisper; his words laced with regret. “But before Lilith, it was always you. It was always you, Adam. I was so… so sure I loved you, I just didn’t know it then. I loved every moment we spent together. I would have done anything for you, anything to make you happy. And then Lilith appeared, and it was like… I lost sight of everything, even myself. And I’m so sorry, Adam. I’m so sorry for hurting you like that. I can’t… I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

His breath came faster, his heart racing as he leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching Adam’s.

“Please,” he gasped, desperation bleeding into his voice. “Please believe me, Adam… please, just believe me.”

But Adam didn’t move. His chest remained still, his lips unmoving, his eyes closed. Adam was gone, lost to him forever, and there was no forgiveness left to give.

And the truth was, it didn’t end there. He knew that. It had only gotten worse. With every betrayal, every hurtful word, he had crushed any possibility of Adam ever forgiving him. The garden’s peace had been shattered the day he offered Eve the apple of knowledge, sealing their fates, twisting their lives in ways they could never repair. And… he’d done worse, so much worse. Seducing Eve, leading her astray beneath the same tree where he and Lilith had once been together—it was a cruelty he couldn’t justify, a cruelty he could barely comprehend. God, what had he been thinking? What kind of twisted satisfaction had he found in that, in taking from Adam everything that mattered?

He had shattered Adam’s life piece by piece, and yet, even then, Adam had been forced to face him time and time again. When Heaven and Hell would meet, when Sera dragged Adam into those dreadful meetings, he’d seen the reluctance, the pain in Adam’s eyes, how he didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to face either him or Lilith. But he had no choice. And Lucifer… he hadn’t been kind. Neither he nor Lilith had shown him an ounce of mercy. They had ridiculed him, humiliated him, found twisted joy in watching him squirm, powerless and betrayed. And why? Why had he been so cruel? What purpose had it served?

He looked down, his heart aching as he remembered those meetings, the way Adam had silently endured every word, every insult, sitting there, taking it, never once fighting back. Adam had suffered, and Lucifer had watched, almost revelling in it, as if punishing Adam would somehow heal the cracks in his own broken heart. As if hurting Adam could numb his own pain. But he had only hurt himself in the end, lost the one person who had ever mattered to him.

And when the Extermination finally came, when the heavens unleashed their wrath, Lucifer had known, deep down, that they deserved it. Every drop of blood, every scream, every life lost—he and Lilith had brought it upon themselves. They had forced Adam’s hand, driven him to the breaking point. And now, here he was, kneeling in front of Adam’s lifeless form, begging for forgiveness that would never come.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to Adam’s cold chest, his voice barely a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his words broken and raw. “I’m so sorry… I’m so… so sorry…”

And there, in the quiet, he finally allowed himself to cry, his tears falling like ashes, a silent lament for the life he had destroyed, for the love he had lost forever.

With trembling hands, Lucifer finally reached out, his fingers brushing over Adam’s chest, desperate to feel any sign of life, any hint of warmth. But there was nothing. No steady drum of a heartbeat, no soft rise and fall of breath. Just silence, a vast and hollow silence that ripped through him like a jagged blade.

His eyes widened, hot tears spilling down his cheeks as memories surged to the surface. In Eden, he had often rested his head against Adam’s chest, lulled by the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. It had been one of his favourite things, to lie there and listen to that soft, steady pulse. It had felt like… like home. It had felt like safety, like something real and lasting. He had loved it, loved Adam, loved him more than he had ever been able to admit.

But now—now there was nothing. Just silence.

Lucifer's throat tightened as he leaned down, pressing his face against Adam’s chest, willing the warmth back, willing that familiar heartbeat to start up again. He held his breath, straining his ears, hoping, begging for the faintest thump of life. Just one beat, one inhale, anything. But there was nothing. Nothing.

Nothing.

A sob wrenched from his throat, harsh and broken, as the realization finally crashed over him, too powerful to deny. Adam was gone. Truly gone. There would be no laughter, no teasing words, no forgiveness. The connection he had always felt with Adam, that subtle warmth in the back of his mind that told him Adam was alive, was… gone. Severed, leaving only an aching, freezing emptiness in its place. For the first time in eons, Lucifer felt truly, utterly alone.

He clutched at Adam’s robes, his claws slicing through the fabric as he buried his face deeper into Adam’s chest, his sobs tearing through him, raw and desperate.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a broken breath. “Please… please come back. Adam, please… I’m begging you. Just… just come back.”

But Adam lay silent, unmoving, his body a hollow shell. His soul, the vibrant light that had filled Lucifer’s darkest moments with hope, with warmth, was gone. Lost to him forever.

Lucifer clutched harder, his claws rending the cloth, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs.

“I’m so sorry, Addie,” he choked out, the nickname slipping from his lips as if by instinct, a final, broken plea to the friend he had loved and failed. “I’m so… so sorry.”

He lay there, crushed beneath the weight of his own grief, pressing his face into Adam’s chest as if he could somehow force life back into him, as if he could somehow undo all the harm he had done. But the silence was deafening, a cruel, unyielding reminder that it was too late. Adam was gone, and no amount of sorrow, no amount of regret could bring him back.

Lucifer’s cries echoed through the barren, smoking expanse of Hell, raw and unrestrained, like a wound torn open, bleeding out all the pain and love he had carried for so long, hidden even from himself. And for the first time, Lucifer understood the full measure of his loss. There would be no redemption, no second chance. The love he had been too proud, too blind to claim was gone, leaving him hollow, shattered in a way that no amount of time could heal.

And there, alone in the endless silence, Lucifer wept, clutching Adam’s lifeless form as if he could somehow hold onto him, even as everything he had ever loved slipped through his fingers, leaving nothing but an aching void where his heart had once been.

Lucifer’s body was numb, every muscle trembling and strained as he finally stepped back from Adam’s grave. Beneath the smoky sky of Hell, in his hidden garden—a small oasis of fragile memories and forbidden nostalgia—Adam now rested. The garden had been Lucifer’s sanctuary, his one secret, private place built from the remnants of Eden that still clung to his soul. It was his slice of paradise in the darkness, a testament to the life and love he’d lost. Lilith had scoffed at it, her distaste a constant reminder of their fractured souls and desires, but he had never let go. The garden had been everything to him.

Slowly, Lucifer lowered himself to his knees, his hand hovering over the freshly turned earth. His claws brushed the soil, and as his fingers spread, a stream of red carnations and roses bloomed from the earth, unfurling over Adam’s grave like blood-red whispers. The blossoms curled around his fingers, soft and warm, almost as if they carried Adam’s presence.

"I’m so sorry, Addie,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, hoarse from days of weeping. He traced the petals with delicate care, caressing the earth as though it were Adam himself. “I wish things had been different. I wish I’d known… I wish I’d understood what you truly meant to me back in Eden.”

Lucifer’s voice cracked, and he closed his eyes, the weight of his regret pressing down like an ocean. He had always thought he had time, always thought he could mend things one day, that somehow, he could make Adam see the love he had hidden, buried deep under pride and mistakes. But there was no longer time—just this garden and a grave he had made for the only one who had ever really understood him.

“I turned you into something you weren’t,” he continued, his tears flowing freely. “You were gentle… so full of life. That angel who became a soldier, who destroyed so much—he wasn’t you. He was my shadow, my mistake. You deserved so much better.”

He wiped a tear away, though more kept coming, unbidden. “I wish I could have made you happy.”

He struggled to his hooves, his body exhausted, but as he rose, a glint of gold caught his eye. He paused, his heart lurching painfully. A golden feather lay on the ground, dusted with earth yet still gleaming faintly in the dimness. He bent down and picked it up with reverent fingers, holding it to his chest as his vision blurred with fresh tears. Adam’s feathers had always captivated him, their radiance beyond anything he had seen. They had been perfect, beautiful… like Adam himself.

With a shaking breath, Lucifer held the feather close, pressing it against his heart as though it could fill the empty void that Adam’s loss had left behind.

“I love you, Addie,” he whispered to the flowers, to the silence, to the golden thread of memory still tethered to his heart. “I know you never believed me… but I did. I do. Even if I ruined everything, even if I hurt you. I love you.”

A tear slipped down his cheek, and he bowed his head, clutching the feather as if it were his lifeline. He had made terrible, unforgivable choices—choices that had cost him Eden, that had shattered whatever Adam, and he had once shared. And now he was alone, doomed to live in a Hell he could never escape.

A quiet, desperate plea escaped his lips, broken and raw. “I wish… I wish I could die too. To be anywhere but here, to be free… but Hell won’t let me go.”

Lucifer’s shoulders slumped, weighed down by endless despair, and he closed his eyes, cradling the feather as though it were Adam himself. He cast one last lingering look at the grave before he disappeared in a shuddering burst of golden flame.

He reappeared in his chambers, the cold and darkness pressing in on him as he sank down onto his bed. Around him, rubber ducks filled the room in bright, absurd little heaps, mocking him with their silly smiles. They were his only companions now, his only solace. Adam was gone. There was no one left.

Lucifer crawled into the pile, uncaring as the ducks scattered and tumbled around him, and clutched Adam’s feather to his face, breathing in its faint, lingering scent. He curled up tightly, his wings folded around him as he nestled into the feather, as if trying to burrow into the memory of the man he had lost.

In the silence, he closed his eyes, willing the pain to ebb, but it only sharpened, growing more intense as he nuzzled the feather, desperate for any remaining trace of Adam. He lay there, alone, his broken heart bleeding into the darkness, haunted by the love he had lost and the choices he could never undo.

Lucifer’s eyes felt gritty, his head pounding as he slowly stirred from a cold, fitful sleep. The darkness seemed alive, pressing in on him like a weight, filling his chest with a pain that twisted and grew until he whimpered, his claws clutching at the thick blankets tangled around him. As he drifted into sleep, his mind unravelled into strange, painful visions—memories and dreams stitched together into a haunting tapestry.

He saw Adam, standing in Eden’s sunlight, looking as he had in the earliest days—soft, serene, his golden wings shining as he laughed, his warm gaze fixed on Lucifer. Lucifer reached out, heart swelling with a desperate need to close the distance, to be with Adam again in their paradise. He stumbled forward, calling out promises he’d failed to keep, promises to do better, to be better for Adam. But Adam only stood there, smiling that same distant, heartbreaking smile, as though Lucifer’s words were a faint echo.

The harder Lucifer tried to reach him, the further Adam seemed to drift, like a mirage on the edge of his vision. Lucifer’s six wings beat furiously as he tried to fly, but the space between them widened, and his strength faltered. He stumbled, his robes—once pure and pristine—dragging him down as he fell to the earth. Mud splattered over him, and when he looked down, he saw his hooves—his demonic, twisted form reflecting back at him. One of his eyes had turned red, dark and unholy, a cruel reminder of what he had become.

Adam stood there, golden and radiant, watching him with unreadable eyes before turning, his wings folding as he started to walk away.

“Wait,” Lucifer gasped, his voice raw, clawing at the earth to pull himself forward. “Please, Addie, wait! Don’t leave me!”

But Adam only grew smaller, his image fading until there was nothing but a memory slipping away like sand through his fingers. Lucifer screamed into the darkness, his voice breaking with grief.

With a strangled gasp, he jolted awake, heart pounding as he sat up, clutching his chest. His chamber was dim and quiet, the dark blankets draping over him like the weight of his despair. His skin felt clammy and wrong, as though he were covered in a thin layer of despair he couldn’t shake. Curling forward, he hugged his knees, his claws digging into the quilt as choked sobs slipped from his lips. The pain of loss, of loneliness, stabbed into him like shards of ice.

Suddenly, a gentle, almost ethereal touch grazed his shoulder, soft and warm. Lucifer froze, his body going rigid as a familiar voice broke the silence, filled with tenderness.

“Luci… did you have a nightmare?”

He dared not breathe. His pulse roared in his ears as he slowly turned, his gaze locking onto a pair of golden eyes—soft, kind, impossibly familiar. For a moment, he could only stare, feeling as if he’d slipped into yet another dream. The face before him, full of compassion and warmth, was one he’d thought lost forever.

“A-Adam?” he stammered, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes grew wide, disbelief painting every line of his face.

Adam looked at him with gentle concern, his golden eyes glowing faintly. “Hey, Luci… you look pale. Are you alright?”

He raised a hand to touch Lucifer’s face, but Lucifer jerked back, as if burned. His heart raced, his mind reeling as he scrambled backward, his gaze darting around the room.

He blinked, noticing that the cramped piles of rubber ducks—his bizarre, lonely treasures—were gone. In their place were shelves filled with carefully arranged, exquisite little ducks, each displayed with precision and care. His chamber seemed larger, familiar yet somehow transformed, warmer.

"Luci?" Adam’s voice brought him back, and Lucifer turned to see Adam still sitting there, his eyes filled with a soft, steady patience. He was so close, so real—Lucifer could almost feel the warmth radiating from him. Adam poked his cheek playfully, brows knitting in confusion.

“Are you alright? Did you hit your head?”

Lucifer’s breath caught. He stared at Adam, searching his gaze for some sign, some confirmation of what he was seeing.

“What… what’s going on?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Why are you… why are you here? Why are you in my bed?”

Adam chuckled softly, his expression as open and pure as it had been in Eden. “Luci, how hard did you hit your head?”

He reached out, his hand brushing Lucifer’s hair with a tenderness that made Lucifer’s heart ache.

Lucifer swallowed, his mind racing. This couldn’t be real—it was impossible. But as he looked into Adam’s golden eyes, feeling the soft warmth of his touch, he felt something long dead flicker within him, fragile and terrified of breaking.

“Addie…” he breathed, reaching out, his fingers hovering just inches from Adam’s cheek, too afraid to touch. The reality of Adam’s warmth, his nearness, felt like a forbidden dream. "Is it… really you?"

Adam smiled softly, the warmth of his presence settling around them both like a balm. "It’s me, Luci. I’m here.”

Lucifer’s heart skipped, his chest tightening with an emotion he hadn’t felt in eons. The ache that had haunted him for so long began to soften, the darkness retreating just enough to let in a flicker of hope.

Lucifer’s body surged forward with a frantic energy, scrambling onto the bed with a clumsy urgency. His usually pristine golden hair was a dishevelled mess, wild locks sticking out as if echoing the storm of emotions within him. Reaching for Adam’s hands, Lucifer clasped them tightly, his fingers trembling. He let out a shaky, half-choked laugh that dissolved into a sound halfway between wonder and despair.

“You’re… you’re alive! Addie, you’re alive,” he whispered, his voice thick with disbelief, each word a shuddering breath as though speaking might shatter the fragile reality before him. His heart, long numbed by guilt and despair, throbbed now with a vulnerable intensity.

Adam’s golden eyes, warm yet puzzled, met his with a quiet concern, his gentle gaze unchanging, almost cautious. But Lucifer couldn’t stop. Words spilled from him like a dam bursting, rushing forward in an almost feverish cascade.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so—so sorry. Please, forgive me. For everything I did, everything I didn’t do. I never wanted to hurt you; I just… I just wanted us to be close again. I ruined it all, Addie. I don’t deserve—”

His voice cracked, the words piling up, unable to keep pace with the grief he’d buried so deep.

As Lucifer leaned forward, trying to draw closer to Adam, he suddenly stopped, his chest jolting as something solid pressed against him, keeping him just out of reach. His brows furrowed in confusion, and he glanced down, seeing the curve of the blankets bulging slightly, pressed firm against his stomach. Whatever was hidden beneath them felt solid, almost weighty, and he instinctively reached to pull the covers back, baffled.

Adam giggled softly, a rosy blush colouring his cheeks. “I think I’ve gotten… bigger,” he murmured, an air of shy humour in his voice.

Lucifer blinked, his gaze darting from Adam’s face back down to the mysterious curve beneath the covers. It was then he noticed how strikingly different Adam looked: healthier, more radiant, his cheeks free of the hollow shadows and weariness Lucifer remembered. Adam’s skin seemed to almost glow, and atop his head were two delicate horns, a soft shade of blue that stirred memories of his own former self, back before the fall.

Adam fidgeted slightly, his expression shifting to one of slight embarrassment.

“You don’t think I’m… fat, do you?” he asked, eyes dropping self-consciously, though they glimmered with a touch of humour.

Fat? Lucifer thought, dazed. He remembered a time he’d teased Adam about putting on weight, but now his throat tightened with remorse. Shaking his head, he murmured, “No, Addie. You’re not… you’re not fat. You’re beautiful, like always.”

He leaned forward, but again that mysterious object kept them apart. Growing impatient, Lucifer carefully drew back the quilt, eyes widening as the reality settled over him.

The rounded swell of Adam’s stomach was unmistakable, pressing against the soft blue fabric of his shirt. It wasn’t the softness of excess but rather a firm, natural curve—like a promise, a secret harbouring a fragile new life. Lucifer’s mouth dropped open as he stared in shock.

“You’re… you’re pregnant,” he whispered, a high, incredulous pitch to his voice, awe and disbelief mingling in his words. “How—how did this happen?”

Adam laughed, a soft, musical sound that seemed to fill the room with warmth. His cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink, and he reached down, placing a gentle hand over the curve of his stomach.

 “I think you know exactly how, Luci,” he teased, voice tender, but with a knowing light in his eyes. “Six months ago… don’t you remember? It was after our anniversary.”

Anniversary? What did that even mean?

Lucifer’s mind spun, the ancient gears in his head struggling to find traction. His brow furrowed as he tried to grasp Adam’s words, though they slipped through his understanding like sand. The weight of confusion pressed on him as he blinked furiously, shifting his gaze to steady himself, to ground himself in Adam's presence.

"It was just after our 300th anniversary," Adam murmured softly, a warm hum that filled the room. He wore a gentle, almost shy smile as he glanced down at the small but unmistakable swell of his belly. "It was… a bit of a surprise. Neither of us expected it—not after Charlie. But we’re happy, aren’t we?”

Adam’s gaze lifted, and Lucifer caught the flicker of vulnerability there, the unspoken fear that nestled in his husband’s eyes. The usually composed Adam looked almost… fragile.

His voice quivered, softer now, as he asked, “You’re still happy, aren’t you, Luci? About the baby?”

Adam’s hand drifted protectively to his stomach, his brow creased with worry. “You… you haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

Lucifer’s throat tightened. The question held weight—no, not weight. A gravity. He didn’t fully understand what was happening, but he could see how much it mattered to Adam. Whatever was going on, he would figure it out. Somehow. Later.

"Of course, I’m happy!" he said, his voice cracking slightly, and he winced at the sound of it. Still, he moved closer to Adam, his hand instinctively reaching out to rest on his shoulder. He let his fingers slide to Adam’s stomach, his touch cautious, reverent. “I’m… I’m so very happy about… our baby.”

Adam released a slow breath, his tension ebbing away. He leaned into Lucifer, who quickly wrapped his arms around him, supporting him as though he were cradling the most delicate treasure. For a moment, Lucifer felt unsure, but Adam's warmth, his trust, softened something deep within him.

"I love you, Luci," Adam whispered, his voice thick with sleep and sweet with affection. His eyelids fluttered, and he yawned softly, pressing closer to Lucifer. "I’m so happy we… fell together.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened. Fell together. The words struck him as if he were hearing them for the first time. He took in their room—a chamber he knew well, yet tonight it was somehow transformed, bathed in a serene, tender shade of blue. Every edge of the room softened, a haven unlike any place he'd ever known.

"Luci…" Adam murmured, tugging him down toward the bed. "I’m tired. Let’s go back to sleep.”

Lucifer nodded slowly, lowering himself beside Adam. His gaze stayed glued to his face, mesmerized by the peaceful smile that lingered on Adam’s lips, the faint glow of pure contentment that radiated from him.

“I love you, Luci,” Adam whispered, eyes finally closing, his breathing slowing as he drifted into sleep.

Lucifer swallowed, the words catching in his throat as he reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as he gently stroked his hand along Adam's arm. "I… I love you too," he whispered, his voice fragile yet earnest.

Adam sighed softly in his sleep, and as Lucifer held him close, he felt something blossom inside him—something ancient, eternal, but also achingly new. An inexplicable longing settled over him, as if he were relearning the meaning of love in the warmth of Adam’s steady breaths, the rise and fall of his chest.

ucifer lay still beside Adam, watching his husband slumber, mesmerized by the soft rise and fall of his chest, the faint smile lingering on his lips even in sleep. Lucifer didn’t know how long he lay there, simply unable to look away. He couldn't. Not when, in the life he remembered, he had just been kneeling by Adam's corpse, his face drenched in tears. What was going on? Adam had died… hadn’t he? Lucifer had buried him, laid him to rest in the heart of Eden, his most cherished garden, a place he had never allowed anyone else.

Carefully, Lucifer slipped from the bed, ensuring he didn’t disturb Adam. He swung his legs to the floor, glancing down and feeling the faintest flicker of surprise. He was shirtless, and instead of his usual dark pajamas, he wore an unexpected pair of bright, duck-themed boxers. They were… adorable? He squinted, not recognizing them at all.

He padded softly across the room, his hooves sinking into the plush carpet that covered the floor. This, too, was new—a rich, comforting shade that he’d never seen before in his chamber. His gaze drifted to the walls, noticing how they were no longer draped in the austere, heavy tapestries he remembered. Instead, they were painted in soothing colors, warm and soft, lending the room a sense of calm he hadn’t known he craved. Lucifer frowned, his chest tightening, feeling both out of place and strangely at home.

His eyes caught on a golden-framed portrait on the wall. He knew this painting well—or at least he thought he did. The original painting had been a bittersweet reminder of his life with Lilith and their young daughter, Charlie, back when she was just a toddler. A painful relic. But as he approached, he realized this was… different.

Adam stood beside him in the painting, taking Lilith’s place. His face radiated joy, his arm around their daughter. And Charlie—her hair wasn’t the familiar gold from his memories but a soft hazel, like Adam’s. Lucifer’s heart skipped a beat, his pulse thundering in his chest as he stared at this family that, impossibly, seemed his own.

He tore his gaze away and slipped out of the chamber, the quiet of the corridor wrapping around him like a gentle mist. As he wandered through the halls, he noticed more and more differences. The cold, intimidating decor Lilith had favored was gone, replaced by something warmer, softer, and infinitely more welcoming. The walls, once adorned with shadowy tapestries and harsh colors, now bore gentle hues, punctuated by warm lights that cast a peaceful glow along the polished floors. Lucifer felt his chest tighten, an ache he couldn’t quite name blooming within him. The more he saw, the more he found himself… liking it. It was a home, not just a fortress.

Eventually, Lucifer found himself at the door of his office—the room where he’d spent countless hours handling his duties as King of Hell. He reached out, grasping the door handle, and pushed it open. The moment he stepped inside, he froze. His office, once chaotic and piled high with endless, neglected paperwork, was now spotless. Everything was in perfect order, from the neatly stacked files to the immaculate desk. His neglected paperwork—months, no, years of backlogged duties he’d ignored in his grief—was nowhere to be seen.

His eyes drifted to a shelf by the window. A collection of small, duck figurines, each carefully placed inside a glass box, caught his eye. They looked rare and almost precious, and as Lucifer studied them, he felt an unfamiliar sense of warmth, almost amusement, stirring within him. There was something endearing, something so distinctly Adam about their presence here.

Slowly, Lucifer moved to his desk, trailing his clawed fingers along its smooth surface before picking up a small picture frame. He lowered himself into his plush chair, his eyes fixed on the photo. In the picture, he was cuddling up to Adam, who was visibly pregnant, his belly round and full. Adam looked radiant, though there was a hint of tiredness, even fragility, in his face. But they both looked… happy. So happy it made Lucifer’s chest ache.

He set the frame down carefully, his gaze flicking around the office once more. Books he recognized lined the shelves, yet they seemed to have been meticulously organized and, shockingly, read. The daunting pile of work he had once allowed to fester was not only done but years ahead. How… had that happened? He swallowed, feeling an odd mixture of awe and unease.

Standing up, he left the office and drifted back into the corridor. His eyes caught on more paintings adorning the walls—scenes of a life he had never lived, and yet somehow they felt achingly familiar. One painting showed him standing beside Adam, each with an arm around Charlie, who was beaming with happiness, her red and yellow eyes bright with love. Another showed them all on a picnic under a willow tree, Charlie tugging at Lucifer’s hand as she laughed. There was one where a teenage Charlie, looking every bit like her mother, was rolling her eyes at Lucifer, though her mouth held a small, affectionate smile.

Lucifer’s steps slowed as he studied each painting, heart thudding as he took in the thousands of moments they depicted. They painted a life he had never dared to dream—a life where he had fallen not with Lilith, but with Adam, a life where they had been damned together and yet had somehow found a way to build a family, a future, a love that shone even here, in Hell. In this life, he had watched Charlie grow, had raised her with Adam by his side, had been part of her life even in her teenage years, when she’d likely rebelled against them both. And she looked so… happy. Every image radiated the joy she’d shared with them, a warmth that lingered in her gaze, a trust and love she had for her parents.

In his own life, there had been no paintings of those years. No laughter, no memories captured of a teenage Charlie by his side. He had lost her trust, had watched her pull away, leaving him with only the shadow of what might have been.

But here… here she was, smiling. Bright-eyed. Free.

Lucifer's breath hitched, a wave of raw emotion rising within him, fierce and unfamiliar. He reached out, fingers grazing the frame of a painting where they all stood together, a family complete, unbroken by the pain that had shadowed his own life.

How was any of this possible? Had he been given another chance, a glimpse into what he could have had? Or was this some cruel illusion, designed to haunt him? As he stood in the corridor, surrounded by memories of a love and a family he had never truly known, he realized that he didn’t care whether this was real or not. This life, these moments—it was a world he wanted to live in. A world where he was loved and had chosen love in return.

He inhaled slowly, his gaze lingering on one last painting—one where he and Adam were dancing, eyes locked, laughter spilling from their lips. In that moment, Lucifer vowed that, however this had happened, he would not let this world slip away. Not again.

Lucifer returned to his chamber, standing outside the heavy doors as he drew a deep breath, his heart pounding wildly at the thought of what awaited him within. He reached out, his hands trembling slightly, and pushed the door open, slipping quietly inside. His hooves felt strangely unsteady, and his fingers twitched at his sides as he approached the enormous, inviting bed.

There, nestled in the tangle of blankets and quilts, was Adam, still fast asleep. The sight made Lucifer pause. Adam looked so peaceful, his expression soft and untroubled as he burrowed further into the cozy warmth of the bed. It was endearing, seeing him like this, utterly relaxed. Lucifer felt a pang of something sweet and gentle, something he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Adam looked… perfect, like he belonged here, like he had always belonged in Lucifer’s bed, in his life.

Swallowing the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm him, Lucifer reached down, gently pinching the corner of the blankets, lifting them, and sliding himself under. He moved slowly, carefully, until he was right beside Adam. Close enough to feel his warmth, to catch the faint scent of him. And then, with a trembling hand, he reached out, brushing his fingers against Adam’s cheek. The skin was soft, warm, alive.

He’s really here.

He could feel the gentle heat radiating from Adam, the slow rise and fall of his chest, each breath a quiet reminder that Adam was, impossibly, still with him. And as he lay there, watching, he heard something else—a soft, sleepy hum, an occasional quiet laugh, as though Adam were lost in a pleasant dream.

Lucifer’s heart fluttered, a warmth spreading through him. He realized he was smiling, his own breath catching in his chest as he whispered, “I want to see more.”

He inched closer, and as he did, Adam shifted, instinctively snuggling into him, pressing against him with the innocent trust of someone who felt safe, completely at ease. Lucifer’s heart swelled, and he couldn’t resist the urge to nuzzle into Adam’s hair, letting its softness tickle his face, breathing in his scent.

“I want to see more, Addie,” he murmured, his voice low and full of wonder. “I want to see more, Addie. I want to see what else is different.”

He let his fingers trail gently through Adam's hair, the silky strands slipping through his claws as he breathed in the familiar, comforting scent of him. It was an intimacy he’d never quite allowed himself before, a closeness he hadn’t known he craved until now. He nuzzled his face into Adam's hair, letting the warmth settle into his bones as he wrapped his arms around Adam, holding him like a lifeline.

“I want to see how our lives have changed… together,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, but the words felt monumental, a promise spoken into the quiet stillness of the room.

As he lay there, breathing in sync with Adam, Lucifer felt the exhaustion of countless lifetimes begin to ebb away, replaced by a warmth that wrapped around him like a blanket. A life like this… it was something he’d never allowed himself to even imagine, but now, in this quiet moment, it felt possible. Real. His eyelids grew heavy, and his breathing slowed, matching Adam’s as he drifted closer to sleep, nestled against the man who had always been his tether.

Just before sleep took him, a thought drifted through his mind—a wish, a quiet yearning, Please… let this be real.

And as he surrendered to slumber, Lucifer felt the unfamiliar but deeply welcome sensation of feeling safe, cocooned in a warmth that he wanted to last forever.

When Lucifer awoke, his whole body felt uncommonly… good. There was no lingering ache, no dull exhaustion pressing on his bones, and the familiar cold pang that usually twisted in his chest was… gone. He shifted within the warm embrace of the blankets, savoring the comfort of the bed. A soft, contented yawn escaped him as he rolled onto his back and opened his eyes, taking in the hazy morning light filtering into the room. He blinked a few times, rubbing his face with one hand, feeling well-rested in a way he hadn’t known in what felt like ages.

But then he noticed something amiss—his side felt unusually cold, the spot beside him vacant. Lucifer frowned and rolled onto his side, sliding his hand across the sheets in search of the warmth he expected to find there. Only emptiness met his touch.

His heart leapt into his throat, panic flaring in his chest as he scrambled upright. The sheets tangled around his legs, and before he could steady himself, he stumbled, crashing to the floor in a tangle of quilts and limbs. He winced as his chin hit the ground, but the urgency pulsing within him was far too strong to let that stop him. Ignoring the faint ache, he quickly scrambled to his hooves, his gaze darting around the chamber, anxiety tightening in his chest.

The room was just as it had been last night—spotlessly tidy, softly inviting, as if crafted to hold a sense of peace he’d longed for but never believed he could have. Yet something was wrong.

Where was Adam?

Just as he was about to rush out the door in a desperate search, it swung open, and there stood Adam, looking somewhat startled as he took in the sight of Lucifer, wide-eyed and slightly dishevelled, in the middle of the room. Adam’s golden eyes flickered over the mess Lucifer had made in his hurried rise from bed. He blinked, then met Lucifer's gaze with a concerned, puzzled expression.

“Um… a-are you okay?” Adam asked softly, his brow furrowing as he took in the room and then settled his eyes back on Lucifer.

Without hesitation, Lucifer crossed the room, grasping Adam’s hands as if afraid he might vanish if he didn’t hold on tight. “Where were you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with relief yet tinged with the lingering panic that had clawed at him moments before.

A sheepish smile curled across Adam’s lips. “I had to… you know, pee.”

He gestured toward his round belly, and the explanation clicked into place in Lucifer’s mind. Oh. Of course. That made perfect sense. Lucifer’s face flushed, and he released a small, embarrassed whine, his head dipping as he let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice softened with self-consciousness. “I woke up, and you were gone, and I just… I thought…”

Adam reached up, his hand gentle as he cupped Lucifer’s chin and tilted his face up to meet his gaze. The warmth in Adam’s golden eyes melted away any lingering fear, the softness of his expression like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. He smiled, a soft, loving curve of his lips that made Lucifer’s heart skip a beat.

“I’m fine,” Adam reassured him, his voice gentle and soothing. “I’m not sick or anything. You’ve got to stop worrying so much.”

Lucifer trembled under that affectionate gaze, his own heart beating so fiercely he was sure Adam could feel it through his hands. Then, without warning, Adam leaned in, his lips brushing over Lucifer’s in a brief, feather-light kiss that sent shockwaves through Lucifer’s entire being. Adam’s lips were warm, softer than he’d imagined, and the brief press of them against his left him frozen, every thought scattering like dust on the wind.

When Adam pulled away, Lucifer’s face burned crimson, his mind still reeling. He’d just had his first kiss with Adam—a kiss he had never dared dream would happen. It was perfect, in every way he’d never imagined it could be.

“I love you,” Adam murmured, his hands giving Lucifer’s a gentle squeeze. “But remember, I’m not made of china. I’m just… pregnant.”

He smiled with a playful glint in his eyes, as if inviting Lucifer to relax, to let go of his worries.

Lucifer nodded slowly, his face still a bright, unmistakable red as he absorbed the warmth of those words. Adam had kissed him. He had actually kissed him. And, more importantly, he’d said… I love you.

Lucifer could barely breathe, the words echoing in his mind, wrapping around his heart and lighting something within him that he’d thought long dead.

Before he could respond, Adam chuckled softly, stepping back and giving Lucifer a teasing smile. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“Maybe I have,” Lucifer murmured, more to himself than to Adam, his voice still laced with wonder. This felt like a dream, a vivid and impossibly sweet vision he feared would dissolve if he blinked too hard.

Adam laughed, shaking his head as he rubbed his belly. “Well, this ghost is starving. Come on, Luci—let’s go see if there’s anything good in the kitchen.”

He started to shuffle toward the door, glancing back with a playful smile, and Lucifer, still reeling, followed.

As they walked through the halls, Lucifer's gaze lingered on Adam, unable to look away from the quiet beauty of this life. He was here, in a world that felt too beautiful to be real, and for the first time in what felt like centuries, he allowed himself to believe it was possible.

Lucifer followed Adam down the hallway, lingering a step behind, still grappling with the strangeness and sweetness of this new reality. As they entered the kitchen, Lucifer paused, taking in the space with a faint frown. The room was cozy, modestly sized, a far cry from the grandiose kitchen in his dominion. Here, everything seemed designed for warmth rather than grandeur—cabinets of warm wood, a sturdy stove, countertops speckled with flour dust and softened by the morning light filtering in through the window.

He barely had time to absorb it all before Adam made a beeline for the cupboards, his movements full of purpose and energy. Lucifer watched, feeling a strange fondness wash over him as he saw Adam pull out ingredients with practiced ease, his hands working with a confidence that seemed almost ritualistic.

“Adam, you’re pregnant,” Lucifer began, stepping forward and watching Adam stack flour, eggs, and milk on the counter. “You should be resting.”

Adam glanced over his shoulder, an easy laugh escaping him as he shook his head.

“You know I don’t like to rest, Luci. I need to be doing something—always,” he said, his golden eyes dancing with amusement.

Lucifer’s chest tightened. He didn’t know that. He didn’t know this about Adam. The realization settled over him, heavy and unsettling. There were layers, entire dimensions of this man, that Lucifer hadn’t known in his former life. His voice softened as he reached forward, taking Adam’s hand in his own.

“We could just… call for a servant to do it. You don’t need to strain yourself.”

Adam’s brows arched. “Servant? What servants?”

Lucifer blinked, caught off guard. “I… well, I mean, I assumed…”

He trailed off, searching for an explanation. “I could conjure whatever you want to eat. It’d be nothing.”

But instead of agreeing, Adam laughed again, a sound so pure and sweet it made Lucifer’s heart clench. Adam reached up, gently patting Lucifer’s cheek. “Oh, Luci, you always know how to make me laugh. But you know I don’t like it when you use your magic for things I can do myself.”

Lucifer’s gaze held a flicker of confusion. He wasn’t joking, yet somehow, without even intending it, he’d managed to make Adam laugh.

“But, I just… I really want you to rest,” he muttered, shifting his weight, his hooves shuffling on the floor. “You’re six months pregnant, Adam. You should be taking it easy.”

Adam’s gaze softened; his expression so tender that Lucifer felt his resolve begin to melt away.

“Luci, we’ve talked about this,” Adam murmured, reaching for his hand and lacing their fingers together. The warmth of Adam’s hand in his own was grounding, an anchor in this unfamiliar world.

“Cooking… it makes me happy,” Adam continued, his voice filled with gentle reassurance. “It’s how I show my love. And I know you get worried, but you don’t have to. I’m alright. I’m stronger this time.”

Lucifer swallowed, his gaze lingering on their intertwined hands. The love and confidence in Adam’s tone soothed something restless within him. This Adam was gentle but unwavering, full of strength yet tender—a warmth Lucifer hadn’t dared let himself imagine before. Lucifer took a shaky breath, squeezing Adam’s hand, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I… I guess I just want to make sure everything’s perfect for you,” he whispered, his voice raw with an honesty he hadn’t realized he’d been holding back. “This… everything about this—about you—means more to me than I can even say.”

Adam’s smile widened, and he reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair back from Lucifer’s face. “I know, Luci. And that’s exactly why it already is perfect.”

Lucifer’s face flushed, his heart racing as he let Adam’s hand slip from his, watching as he returned to the counter with that gentle, devoted smile. Standing there, seeing Adam pour love and care into every movement, Lucifer felt a new determination settle in his chest.

He would protect this, Lucifer vowed silently to himself, this world, this life, this love.

He would do whatever it took to keep it safe, and perhaps, just maybe, let himself believe he truly deserved it.

Lucifer slipped around Adam with practiced finesse, his fingers closing around the bowl before Adam could react.

"How about I make breakfast for a change?" he suggested, his voice smooth and enticing as he flashed Adam a charming, radiant grin—the kind that could melt anyone’s heart.

Adam raised a sceptical eyebrow, not in the least bit swayed. He snorted, reaching to reclaim the bowl. "Oh, really? And what exactly would you make, hm?"

With a playful wink, Lucifer twirled out of Adam’s reach, holding the bowl just out of reach.

"Only my specialty... pancakes!" he announced with an exaggerated flourish.

Adam’s laugh was pure and warm, bubbling up despite his efforts to keep a straight face. “Pancakes, you say? But Luci, you can’t cook."

Lucifer's face morphed into a mock expression of scandalized surprise. "What? Of course I can! I'm an amazing cook!"

Adam laughed harder, clutching his side as if to contain the joyful sound.

“Oh, Luci…” he managed between giggles. “Have you forgotten what happened the last time you tried? Whatever that was supposed to be, it ended up… well, let’s just say it was a bit of a disaster. Black as a hockey puck."

Lucifer pouted, folding his arms in playful indignation. Then, as he caught sight of Adam’s still-giggling face, he let his pout melt into an amused, toothy grin. Ah, so it seems his other self couldn’t cook to save his life. How fascinating.

His eyes glinting with devilish excitement. “But, trust me, I’ve been practicing.”

Adam narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms as he tried to look stern, though his smile betrayed him. "Alright, alright. I suppose I’ll give my lovable husband a chance."

Lucifer practically skipped with joy. "Wonderful! Now, go sit down, put those feet up, and let me take care of everything!"

He leaned in and pecked Adam on the cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin linger against his lips. "Trust me, Addie—you’re going to love this."

Adam let out a resigned sigh, but his eyes were filled with affection as he settled himself at the small kitchen table, resting his hands on his belly. His sceptical smile followed Lucifer as he moved back to the counter, fully claiming the kitchen as his temporary domain. As he glanced back, Lucifer’s heart skipped—a sight that, for all his centuries, felt thrilling and entirely new.

Determined to impress, Lucifer turned to the stove, summoning a light flicker of flames with a single snap of his fingers. He poured flour and cracked eggs with careful focus, hoping his newly claimed cooking confidence wasn’t just bluster. As he whisked the batter, he stole a glance over his shoulder to see Adam watching him with quiet amusement.

There was a softness in Adam’s gaze as he observed Lucifer’s every move, as though watching someone he loved and trusted implicitly. And for the first time, the weight of that trust hit Lucifer with stunning clarity. Here was a man who knew his every flaw and, despite everything, still loved him fully, without hesitation.

After a few moments, Lucifer poured the batter onto the sizzling pan, smiling as the pancakes began to rise and golden, filling the kitchen with the faint, sweet scent of vanilla. He added a bit of flair, flipping each pancake high into the air, turning just enough to catch Adam’s eye. Adam’s chuckle was immediate, and the warmth it sparked in Lucifer’s chest was indescribable.

When the pancakes were finally done, Lucifer arranged them on a plate, meticulously layering them with a pat of butter and a drizzle of syrup, along with a handful of fresh berries he found tucked away in the fridge. He set the plate down before Adam, who looked at him with eyebrows raised in surprise and amusement.

“There you go, Addie,” Lucifer said, sliding into the seat across from him and looking at him expectantly. “The finest pancakes in all of Hell, made by yours truly.”

Adam lifted a fork, spearing a bite of pancake with a hum of approval as he took his first taste. A look of surprise flashed across his face, quickly replaced by delight. "Oh, Luci… these are actually good!"

Lucifer preened under the compliment, his grin widening. “See? What did I tell you? Only the best for my beautiful Queen~”

Adam leaned forward, reaching across the table to brush his hand over Lucifer’s. "Thank you, Luci. It’s perfect."

Lucifer’s heart skipped again, his pulse thrumming in a way it hadn’t in centuries. He squeezed Adam’s hand, the realization dawning on him all over again: he was living in a world he never knew he wanted, with a love he’d never dared believe he deserved.

In this life, every moment was something precious, and he vowed then and there to cherish every single one.

As Lucifer watched Adam from across the table, every glance, every subtle movement of his was a treasure. He leaned forward, his chin resting on his hand, careful not to let his curiosity spill over into suspicion. He wanted to drink in this new life, to savour the unfamiliar tenderness between him and Adam, and he was desperate for more details.

"So, what’s the plan for today?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

Adam’s face lit up immediately.

“Charlie invited me to her hotel!” He beamed; eyes sparkling. “I’m really excited to go!”

The mention of Charlie sent a thrill through Lucifer. His grin spread wide, his mind spinning with questions. Charlie had opened her hotel here too—had it succeeded? What was it like in this world? Was her vision the same as in his own? His heart pounded with anticipation.

"That's wonderful, Addie," he said warmly, eager to learn more but reining himself in. "You know, I’d love to see Charlie too. It’s been… too long."

Adam tilted his head, a bit of confusion creasing his brow.

“You’re… okay with me going, right?” he asked, a hint of apprehension in his voice. “I didn’t want you to be upset.”

Lucifer chuckled, surprised. “Why wouldn’t I be? She’s our baby girl, after all. I’d never stop you from seeing her.”

Relief washed over Adam’s face, and he released a soft laugh. “Oh, that’s good! I was worried you’d get mad…”

Lucifer’s smile slipped ever so slightly, something prickling at the back of his mind. “W-why would I be mad?”

Adam’s gaze dropped to his lap, his expression clouding over.

“It’s just… after the last time I left the mansion…” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

A pang of protectiveness surged in Lucifer, but he held himself back, sensing it was a sensitive subject for Adam. He offered a gentle smile instead, brushing his fingers over Adam’s hand.

“Well,” he said softly, “You’ll be with Charlie. I’m sure she’ll keep an eye on you.”

Adam’s face brightened at that, a grin breaking through the worry. “That’s true! Charlie’s got a good head on her shoulders. Besides, I miss her so much. She’s been so busy with… with the redeemed souls.”

Lucifer’s breath caught. Redeemed souls?

His eyes widened just slightly, the implications overwhelming. Had Charlie actually managed to redeem souls in this world? How had Hell—how had Heaven—reacted? His mind buzzed with a thousand questions, each one more urgent than the last. But he kept his expression calm, pretending as if this was all perfectly normal.

“I really wish you could come too…” Adam’s voice pulled him from his racing thoughts, his words laced with a faint sadness.

Lucifer felt his chest ache, wanting to join him, to witness this new version of Hell alongside his family.

“Why can’t I?” he asked, his tone almost teasing.

Adam arched a brow, giving him a knowing smile. “Luci, you know you can’t just cancel another meeting. I know how you feel about running Hell, but with all the changes going on, it’s… important, right?”

Lucifer quickly nodded, mimicking the confidence he assumed his counterpart would’ve had.

“Of course,” he said, his voice steady. “I can’t neglect my duties.”

Adam let out a quiet sigh, his eyes dropping to the plate of half-eaten pancakes. “Just… don’t work yourself too hard, alright? We hardly have time together as it is, and… I miss you.”

There was a vulnerability in Adam’s tone that struck something deep within Lucifer, a quiet ache that told of lonely nights and missed moments.

He reached across the table, letting his hand rest over Adam’s. “I promise, Addie. I’ll make time. For us.”

Adam’s eyes softened as he squeezed Lucifer’s hand.

“You better,” he teased gently. “Because once this little one’s here, they’re going to want a lot of time with their father.”

Lucifer's heart clenched at the mention of the child—their child. A sudden wave of protectiveness and tenderness washed over him, and he fought to keep his voice steady. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Adam's smile returned, warmer and brighter. "Good. You’d better keep that promise, Luci.”

They finished breakfast in comfortable silence, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air. As Adam cleared the plates, Lucifer couldn’t help but steal another glance, his mind awash with the marvels of this new life. This world was everything he hadn’t known he wanted, a world where love and redemption were not merely ideas, but truths shaping their lives.

He’d do anything to stay here, to see what other beautiful moments were yet to unfold.

...there was only one problem.

What has happened to the other Lucifer?

[pupsmailbox]

WEIRDCORE ID PACK

NAMES ⌇ abigail. abyss. achlys. adam. adelaide. adeline. agatha. agnes. albert. alexander. alfred. alice. amelia. angel. annabelle. apparition. arch. archie. arthur. atticus. aud. augustus. babel. babylon. barren. beatrice. benedict. benjamin. blanc. bliss. bubbles. bug. bunny. cain. calvin. cassian. cassius. catherine. cecilia. celeste. charlotte. chimera. clara. clementine. cloudi. cloudy. crow. dahlia. daisy. daphne. darcy. daze. deja. delusion. dorothy. dove. dream. echo. eleanor. elizabeth. emily. enigma. ernest. error. eve. evelyn. exite. eyes. felicity. felix. flaw. flower. gideon. glitch. glitchy. graham. harriet. hattie. haven. haze. hazel. henry. hmone. hollis. hugo. hun. illusion. imogen. inara. ink. iris. itzal. ivy. izhi. jane. juliet. juno. jupiter. kai. kasumi. kasumu. ka’awa. kgodi. kiri. kohu. kora. lilione. link. lucy. lulu. luminal. mabel. margaret. mars. matilda. matrix. mazin. meglena. mercury. miglė. mihika. mirage. misty. mok. mold. moon. moss. moth. muggur. nameless. nebula. neptune. niara. nihari. nihilo. nihira. nirav. nix. nobody. noir. noire. noiresse. noirette. nostalgesse. nostalgette. nothing. nox. ocula. odditie. olive. oliver. olivia. orion. oytuman. penelope. phoebe. pluto. poppy. portal. pujoq. raven. rinan. rinku. rūkas. salem. sanoe. saturn. senka. serene. shroom. shrum. shunya. sierra. sky. smile. socket. sophie. spook. spookie. spooky. spotty. stitch. sugar. sumu. sunny. suong. taktuq. telle. terhi. theodore. thoka. tomanbikä. tooth. tripp. tuban. unknown. usva. vacara. vacio. vega. venus. victoria. vivian. void. vortex. walter. xihir. yogiri. zero. zeta.

PRONOUNS ⌇ ?/?. ?t/?t. [redacted]/[redacted]. abandon/abandon. backroom/backroom. being/being. bizarre/bizarre. blank/blank. blur/blur. clock/clock. cloud/cloud. creature/creature. daze/daze. deja/vu. deranged/deranged. dim/dim. dizzy/dizzie. dream/dream. eerie/eerie. empty/empty. entity/entity. error/error. eye/eye. familiar/familiar. float/float. flower/flower. fog/fog. forget/forget. glitch/glitch. gone/gone. gray/gray. haze/haze. hush/hushe. it/it. ix/ix. jpeg/jpeg. lim/liminal. liminal/liminal. lost/lost. miss/missing. mush/shroom. no/exit. nostal/nostalgia. nostalgia/nostalgia. null/null. o/o. odd/odd. one/one. rem/ember. shush/shushe. space/spacey. stat/static. static/static. strange/strange. stuck/stuck. surreal/surreal. tele/vision. th?y/th?m. that/thatthing. thing/thing. thon/thon. tooth/tooth. tv/tv. un/canny. un/un. uncanny/uncanny. vague/vague. voi/void. void/void. vor/tex. watcher/watcher. weird/weird. where?/where?. x/x. yellow/yellow. zero/zero. ⏺️ . ☁️ . ⚪️ . ⚫️ . ❓ . ❔ . 🌁 . 🌫️ . 🏚️ . 👁️ . 👤 . 💨 . 💭 . 🔇 . 🔲 . 🔳 . 🕳️ . 🗝️ . 😶‍🌫️ . 🚪 .

[adnehellena]

Hello! I really love your previous work on Chaos!Valentine so I would like to ask for a Chaos!Valentine with a flirty SO please 🥺 like how would this baby handle that?

Hey, hello, there! 😃

Sorry, it took me a while to think about this ask and answer it. I tried to wrap my head around the idea, and tried my best to sound flirty (I'm very, very, very bad at dirty talks, so being flirty is something I easily wouldn't excel at, and had to resort to some cheesy, cringe pick up lines).

But I tried, and this is the result.

Sorry about the brevity of it, but it was a busy week. I hope you are, at least, satisfied with the outcome.

See ya! 😘😘

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

The first time you saw him, you were both fighting a gruesome monster inside an underground mako pond, and the Limit Break of Vincent was inevitable. As his body started to shine, you prepared to watch, fascinated as the man-turned-beast slaughtered the enemies into a cruel, gore-ish frenzy. But that wasn't what happened and you were stunned when the demon-like creature, armored and crowned as a dark king, descended upon the cave, so fast and efficient, moving graciously as dancer, light as a feather, in a way that made your mouth dry and your insides throb with the sparks of arousal.

Vincent had warned you about Chaos' form, but he never said ot was so deliciously masculine and powerful, captivating and beautiful. Those yellow, eerie eyes that look at you with a veiled curiosity, a bit of awe as the way you gaped at him. You smiled, and it was a new, good feeling as you walked to the demon with a bit more of sway on your hips, taking in his guarded, waiting expression.

"Hello, handsome! Fancy see you here."

The silence between you two was deafening, and the strange pupils focused on you, your proximity to the strong body of the entity without an ounce of fear in your scent. That was enough for him to tilt his head, regarding you with a tiny fleck of interest.

"Never knew I'd have proof that angels really do exist, but here you are!"

You smirked, and the demon blinked in confusion, yellow eyes trailing your small hand in his chest, the finger outlining the red of his suit with an intimacy unknown to him. He blinked again, leisurely, and suddenly Valentine was back, both of you covered in purple dust as the demon receded. The gunslinger arched an eyebrow, caught surprised only by your naughty laughter.

After that, things spiralled fast.

It wasn't unusual that you both fought together. Valentine was good with guns, you were good with daggers, so the forest outside your house often held your fights, being it a hunt or only for fun. That's when, while cleaning yourself by the clear pond two miles away, you perceived the demon's reflection on the water, approaching your crouching figure with something aching to protection in his eyes.

You knew Vincent's demons had an oath of loyalty over those the man protected and cherished, but the twitching of Chaos' hands was something new. You stood up, and took your opportunity, swirling around and glueing yourself to the demon's figure, hand traveling from his firm waist to his butt. Your small fingers wrapped in supple leather, squeezing it with a naughty wink.

In seconds, Chaos was gone, and Valentine frowned to your bright, mischievous eyes. He sighed, walking back to the hunted prey and lifting it over his shoulders as you scurried to keep his stride.

On the course of weeks, the dynamic suffered little shift, except for it seemed that Vincent started to rely more on the demons inside him, leaving them to share his senses even outside battlefields and near your presence, letting them watch your day-to-day tasks.

Well, one demon, specifically.

Chaos was surfacing more and more, for short periods of time, the strange yellow of his pupils overpowering the crimson of Vincent's with ease whenever you two were close. You smiled whenever you felt that heavy, confused stare on your person, and emptied your most cheesy lines with the demon.

It started with a "Hey, gorgeous. Do you have a name, or can I just call you 'mine'?

To which he only blinked and frowned, answering with an uncertain, low and timid "Chaos."

And God, what a voice he had! It reverberated in your bones like a call of the graveyard, low and rusty, with too many souls behind it, an echo that should've caused you fear, but only increased your desire.

The next time you caught him staring at you were in the kitchen, cooking dinner with Vincent cleaning his guns over the tiny table and, as you turned, the demon's eyes were glued to your figure, quickly turning away.

"Did the sun come out, or did you just smile at me, beautiful?"

Chaos frowned - and that was a natural expression by now, whenever you brought a cheeky, flirty line between you and him. It always took him a few seconds, sometimes a little over a minute, to comprehend the sentence and answer. "I didn't smile."

You laughed, leaving the confused demon to receding back in the depths of Valentine's mind as you searched the fridge for the eggs.

On a cold, rainy day, you were drawing some sketches over the couch, the ravenette reading behind your back and trapped by his long legs, as the body stiffened suddenly. You paused, some primal recognition tingling inside you, and turned to see the red eyes turned yellow again, with the creature blushing faintly at the position you were both.

You snuggled closer to the slim chest, making sure to rub your body against the gunslinger's and sighed, coming to kiss the skin below Vincent's jaw. "Did it hurt? When you fell from heaven?"

"I... Never fell from heaven. I was born from disgrace."

"What about you disgracing me, then?"

You completely missed the red of the demon's cheeks, the shock he felt when Vincent's body responded to your smuggling and the small bites you left on his neck. The gunslinger moaned, forgetting the demon's antics as he closed the arms around you, pulling you up for a full kiss and more.

---

You were dozing on Vincent's chest, legs tangled to fit the small couch and Valentine's arms around you when he squeezed your neck gently, bringing your eyes to his relaxed, satisfied face. He turned, pulling you over his body to watch your reaction closely.

"...What have you done to Chaos? He's hiding the time he possesses me."

"Is he...? Huh." You frowned, red nailed fingers tapping on his chest as you thought. "Maybe he's liking it?"

"Liking it what, bumblebee?"

"Oh, nothing special. I just have been... Flirting with him?" You trailed off, hoping the gunslinger would leave the subject alone and wouldn't mind you sweet-talking one of his other personalities. You sighed as the man frowned more. "You know, calling him beautiful, pinching his butt, asking him on a date... On our bed."

You mumbled the last part, but forgot how good Vincent's hearing was. You winced, expecting the long argument of how inappropriate and how dangerous that was, and etc, etc, but frowned as the man just stared.

"You're insane."

You laughed, forehead hitting the man's collarbone as his hands carded through your hair, pulling it a little. You expected a fight, some strong opinions and all you received was the baffled, far away shine of ruby eyes as Vincent looked at the vast whiteness of your ceiling. You knew what that look meant, and if it wasn't chased by a storming face, it was something that pleased both Valentine and his demons. So your idea of bedding one of them wasn't so out of the picture like you thought...

"Hey." You straightened yourself and put a small hand on his face, forcing yourself up to kiss his mouth with a sweet, quick peck. "I love you, and your demons. If it makes him uncomfortable, I'll stop. But I stand my ground, Vincent. I want both of you."

"You're insane. And I'm even more, because Chaos is loving your flirtatious persona, so I'll leave him have a little time with you."

You smiled, making sure the next kiss was a big one, just in case the demon was near.

[hazelfoureyes]

Besties get Banged

Angel Dust x MaleReader Smut

➽─❥Angel Dust x FemaleReader Smut version

You didn’t think Angel liked you the way you did him, how could you? While sharing a profession, he was nothing like you. He was the star in every room he entered. After being booked on a shoot together, you find maybe Angel wasn’t so ignorant to your existence.

Warning/Promises: Angel x Reader do not fuck but they do get banged, Val is going to ruin shit but I ain’t writing that part, Foursome but no one cares, handjob, cum countdown 💦, masturbation, making out, porno, vaguely threatening ending from Val

minors dni (👁️👄👁️🔪)

When Angel Dust slipped into the dressing room of Val’s ‘sex dungeon’, you struggled to keep your smile down. You’d never actually worked together. The two of you had attended the same awards shows, frequented the same clubs, danced the same stages. But never graced the same screen. Every encounter left you more and more enthralled. Always the life of the party, but when the crowds would die down Angel would become so sweet, talking with an emotional intelligence many sinners seemed to have lacked or intentionally abandoned at death.

Angel threw himself at many people, sometimes jokingly, sometimes not. But you’d be lying to say it didn’t sting he’d never propositioned you.

“Mornin’,” he plopped into the make-up chair beside you, hand lazily combing through his bedhead.

Angel hoped you hadn’t seen him pause when he saw you. He didn’t get butterflies often, but you always managed to make his stomach flutter. He felt so silly, a kid with a crush.

You knew Val wasn’t going to let it be just the two of you. He enjoyed watching you both get fucked too much. ‘Besties get Banged’ was written on the clapperboard. Angel gave you a wink, “Ooh besties! Is this work or just another Friday night?” His elbow hit a soft spot in your ribs, making you laugh.

“Stop— st-stop that. Get on the bed.” Val used all four arms to separate you, “Bitch number 1 on the left side, Bitch number 2 on the right.” He sat in his chair, arm angrily motioning for the large demons to enter the set already.

It was a standard enough shoot, until you and Angel found yourselves both on your knees, eye to eye from across the pink heart shaped bed. One yellow and one black eye looking back at you, hazy with pleasure as he was fucked dumb by some piece of muscle with a dick attached.

He looked so beautiful when he felt good. You reached out your hand to him, then the other. Fingers laced together, you both moaned into the space between yourselves. Angel’s eyebrows rose up, tongue coming out. His face was so flushed, cheeks pink. You weren’t sure it was an invitation, but you pulled yourself to him and ran your tongue over his. The demon behind you followed your body, trying to maintain contact.

Angel’s eyes rolled closed, tongue pushing into your mouth. The kiss interrupted again and again as the repeated pounding into your holes pulled your lips apart, your entire bodies moving in rhythm.

“Hey!,” Val yelled, “What the fuck are you doing?”

Angel smiled at you, “Whats the matter Val?” He strained forward, capturing your mouth again.

“Stop kissing! You’re ruining it!”

“You never kissed a bestie? Awww,” Angel kept his lips near yours. “Val’s never had a real good friend before.”

Val’s antennae bristled, “Pull em apart, they’re making googly eyes at each other. Killing my fucking hard on. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

Your bodies were slid away, fingertips still reaching out to each other. You were flipped onto your back, pacing brutal as if making up for lost time.

Angel watched you, mouth lonely. His cock leaking from just a kiss. Reaching down, he began to stroke himself while enjoying his own personal show. Your body bouncing with the thrusts, dick swinging against your stomach, eyes watery. He arched his back, looking across to where your body connected with the other demon. You looked so wet, so inviting.

“Angel!” Val seethed.

Angel closed his eyes, imagining you fucking him, not whoever that was behind him. His eyes shot open when he felt hands on his face. His fear dissolved into relief as he saw you had scooted back towards him, pulling him down for an upside-down kiss. Breath hot, he moaned into your mouth.

“Uh Boss, should we stop em again? It’s kinda hot.” The shark demon behind Angel slowed.

Your fingers slipped through his hair, bringing him deeper into your kiss. There was nothing else in the room anymore but you and Angel. Tongue rolling over tongue, breathy moans exhaled and inhaled.

Val shook his head, “Let the little sluts kiss. If they wanna ruin my shoot so badly, be my guests.” His eyes aglow, Valentino exhaled his toxic smoke throughout the studio, sinister grin spreading across his face.

The demons continued as directed, you and Angel not having noticed the interruption you had caused. Angel’s mouth left yours, head resting on the mattress.

“Val’s going to kill us,” you tried to remember the name of the wolf demon pounding into you, knowing you had some sort of lines.

Angel’s teeth nipped your ear lobe, “He’s gonna do that anyway.”

You moaned, “Feels good when you do that.”

“Yeah?” The wolf asked. You wanted to kick him in the neck.

“Uuh, yeah. You… fuck me so good, Daniel.”

“Donny.” He corrected.

Angel got back on his elbows, “Literally no one cares, David.” Whispering now, “Roll over and come ‘ere.”

Douglas didn’t seem bothered, you using your feet to stop him and twisting around his cock to get back on your knees. The demons whose names neither of you cared to learn followed you again. Angel was pressed into you, two arms holding you against his body, one arm on your cheek, a fourth finding its way to your half hard erection.

You gasped, Angel licking up your neck and chin as his hand expertly jerked you off. Regaining some bit of your brain, you reached down a hand to his cock. It was slapping against this stomach in time with the thrusts. Your hand only need to grip him, the other actor basically fucking him into your grasp.

Angel’s head craned down, sucking bruises into your collar bone, “I want you to fuck me so bad, it hurts.” Another whisper into your skin.

“I thought you didn’t like me,” your words faded in and out, volume jumping as your hole took hit after hit. Angel’s hand was electrifying every part of your body.

Angel pulled you as close as he could, bringing your hand from his cock to hold in his. Now him and his pre-cum were rubbing along your stomachs, slipping past your member, bodies pressed together tightly. “Wrong. So wro-uh.” Eyes rolling back, Angel’s words fell apart.

“You close?”

He nodded.

“Want me to count you down?”

A more frantic nod.

“Five”

You leaned in to kiss at his neck.

“Four”

A long drag of your tongue up to his ear.

“Three”

A kiss to his cheek.

“Two”

You bit at his lip, pulling it with you before letting it go.

“One”

Angel clenched his eyes, grip on you tightening as he came across your stomach, thick and hot. You heard the other actor moan, Angel’s ass tightening with his release.

You took the chance to kiss Angel again, lips soft and swollen from the long shoot. His cum dripped down your stomach and onto your throbbing cock, adding more lubrication to your slippery stomachs. Angel’s fingers eagerly used his seed to slip and slide over you.

The feeling pushed you into your orgasm, legs shaking as you tried to stay up. “For fuck’s sake,” Val could be heard shouting just past the studio lights.

Drawing him in for another kiss, less deeply now, lips sometimes on lips, and sometimes the chin and the cheek.

You stayed, holding each other, through the shoot. The other actors finishing their parts, cumming and making some puns about bosom buddies. When everyone else left the scene, and you two broke apart your hungry mouths to consider getting cleaned up and dressed, the air grew thick around you. Heads swimming now, a horny haze fell on set.

“Bravo, bitches. You ruined my shoot, only fair I get to ruin something now.” You both turned to see the lights gleaming off Val’s glasses. “Where should I start?”

༻Masterlist༺

My general tag list is called the Horny Little Deer Cult! To be tagged, you are more than welcome to ask to join

[venvellan]

Anniversary - Sunday

fluff ♡. wedding anniversary cuddling w sunday it's actually that simple. gn reader. reader is halovian bc it makes the most sense for sunday (to me) for,,, family reasons. let sunday be happy and in love or motherfucker i will do it myself

cw: none, except love and joy. slightly suggestive at the end ig but it's tame. word count: 780.

(happy boothill day!!!! :D we will pull him in one warp :3♡♡)

Today marks your fourth year as Consort to the Oak family, and it's been a wonderful day. Your doting husband presses a line of kisses up your neck, stopping in the middle to run his fingertips over the soft arch of your wings, before he takes your chin in his gentle grasp and turns your head to him.

"Angel," he mutters. His eyes linger on your lips, then rise to finally meet your own, and he smiles. Aeons, his smile.

You smile back at him reflexively. You feel utterly exposed under his gaze — not because it's scrutinizing, and not because it makes you uncomfortable — it's simply his effect on you (that, and those gorgeous yellow eyes, no doubt). Something in him has always stirred you. Something in you has always stirred him. You wouldn't want it any other way.

"Sunday," you whisper back. Your arms rise to wrap delicately around his neck and rest atop his shoulders.

He pulls you in by your waist and holds you against him. His nose meets yours in the middle and the tips of your noses rub lightly against each other. It's playful. Innocent. It's the gentlest kiss he can give you. He closes his eyes and in his softest voice, the one you've been missing — aching for — for weeks now, he breathes, "I love you..."

He closes the short distance between your lips with a kiss and hums into it, and his hands press against your lower back as he keeps you flush against him.

You had plans for the day. A romantic breakfast, a walk together across the city, a big lunch — a whole day filled to the brim with activities — but you only made it to lunch before losing steam.

It's his one off day. The one day in months that he's been able to promise you, "Yes, my love, the day is yours," and in theory, it sounds wonderful to spend it wandering the town, looking out at the people and breathing the cool air in. In practice, however, you're both exhausted, and you both know it.

When he's not knee-deep in paperwork, he's out on the town anyway, doing one of a million different things. And you, quite frankly, are just sick of his absence. You'll do anything he wants today, as long as it means getting to be with him, and you know that deep down, he just wants to lay in bed all day.

You acquiesce to him. It's only just after noon, but already, you two decide the day is done. You remove your jewelry and outerwear piece by piece, placing it to the side haphazardly, and pull your halo off from where it floats atop your head. You do the same for Sunday, saving him the effort, and lay his things in a pile with yours. Even your items are happy to cuddle up together.

You pull him backwards onto the bed. He catches himself above you, smiling warmly, and buries his face into your neck. His breath tickles the sensitive skin of your wing and it reflexively grazes his face in return.

Your heart swells, knowing you've won; knowing he's happy with this. "Sunday?"

He hums softly against your skin. His wings flutter ever so lightly.

You bring your hand up into his hair and comb through it gently. "I love you more."

You feel his smile against your neck and can't resist smiling back. You could hold onto this moment forever, if it were possible. You could, in fact, live this moment over and over again forever in the dreamscape if you wished, but you don't. The moment is beautiful, not in spite of, but rather because of its fleeting nature. You will cherish it in your loneliest moments, when he spends days in a row working from dawn til dusk.

Loving Sunday means missing him, aching in his absence, and you will do it proudly.

He relaxes fully into you and you immediately sense him falling asleep. Oh, how sweet he is, how intimate an experience to share.

Already half asleep, he mumbles against your neck, "Wake me up soon, darling... I will cherish this day with you. I will– I need to be with you... I love you..." His mumbles become airy whispers at the end, and in moments he's fallen asleep.

You turn your head slightly to rub your cheek into his hair and sigh contentedly, smiling still. This is all you need. You could die happily in this moment — holding him as he sleeps, petting his gorgeous fluffy hair, feeling his gentle breaths on your neck and admiring the blissfully serene expression on his perfect face. You will, however, honor his wish to be woken from his beauty sleep, as you honor his every wish always.

In a couple hours you'll wake him, gently, and he will have a renewed excitement to have you. To be your husband. He will wake up and remember his desire to honor — no, worship — you, as you do him.

It will keep you up, and then it will tire you out.

But you know that. He is your husband, after all, and you know him best.

[tokkiasficlets]

The chime of bells fills the cathedral, echoing off the walls, soft and delicate, full of joy and hope for the celebration of a new union.

It’s not a place that Natsu can see himself getting married in, but Lucy likes it, so that’s why they’re here.

A hush falls over the room as the music begins to play. The romantic notes of the organ begin to fill the air as the doors open and all eyes turn to Lucy as she is escorted through the door.

Natsu doesn’t hear the music. His mind is a blur, all the noise drowned out the very moment he watches her walk in.

She’s soft and elegant, she moves like water.

She’s glowing, just like she always is. She looks like she’s been blessed by the heavens themselves.

She’s a star, so brilliant and bright that he almost has to look away, lest he blind him with her beauty.

Her smile is beaming and it makes Natsu’s heart melt, just like it always has, and the moment her eyes meet his, he can see her eyes grow softer, the way they always do for him.

White is her colour, he decides. Gentle, delicate, pure of heart.

She looks like an angel and she fits the part.

Her dress fits all of her curves almost as if it was painted directly on her. Stones etch the dress and dazzle in the lights, but she outshines them all.

To say that he had not imagined this day would be a lie. Though he was not much of a romantic, visions of her walking down the aisle, clad in white, had plagued his dreams and fantasies for perhaps longer than it should have.

Marriage had never been an option in his mind until Lucy. He had assumed he would live out his adventures on his own, just him and Happy, until she came along and taught him that there was more to life than that.

She had saved him.

In more ways than one.

Now, seeing her walk down the aisle, holding her flowers close to her chest as her hands shake with anticipation, makes him want to cry.

He wants to wail and sob and have her as forever his.

But he doesn’t.

He holds himself together until she makes it to the altar, standing below an arch of flowers decorated with flowers and petals of soft pinks and yellows.

Her smile is soft and gentle and full of all the love in the world when she looks at him before she gently places her bouquet in his hands and turns to face a man who Natsu has long since deliberately forgotten the name of.

He can’t see adoration shining in her eyes when she looks at this faceless man, but he knows it’s there because it always had been. It’s the look that makes his stomach twist and turn and makes him want to wretch because he should be looking at him that way.

It makes him want to scream, to object, to take Lucy into his arms where she rightfully belongs.

But he doesn’t.

Because she’s smiling.

And that’s all that matters. 

[pictureinme]

kinktober day i. STRAP-ONS – patricia 'kitten' braden

word count: ~700 tags: dirty talk, somewhat rough sex masterlist | ao3

On her knees, Kitten tightens the harness around your hips and thighs. Content with her work, she motions for you to help her up.

“Tight enough, love?”

You move around, testing the limits.

“Perfect as ever, doll. You wanna get ready for me?”

She bites her lip and gets on her hands and knees on the duvet, her yellow slip just barely revealing the curve of her behind. The way she contorted her body for you, even when she was submissive, showed just how in control she was of the situation.

You get on the bed as well and begin to caress her body. Kitten’s figure always astounded you, the way her sharp angles contrast with the softness of her flesh. You roughly grab her ass, and she leans into your touch. Her knees open further, and she turns her head to face you.

“No teasing, pretty please… I’m ready.”

The desperation in her voice was palpable, and you chuckled, “Anything for you, my Kitten.”

You move her slip up, revealing evidence of her already preparing herself before you arrived. Her entrance glistened in the dim lighting, and you couldn’t resist the allure of it.

“Dirty girl.”

She whimpers gently, and you continue to feel her up, trying to elicit all the noises you could. You grab the lube from the spot next to you and begin to lube up your strap-on, spreading her open as you do.

Her impatience is evident by the movements she was making, trying to entice you into fucking her sooner. You gently slap her cheek, but that only encourages her.

“Come on, please, darling (Y/N)! Haven’t I been good enough?”

You line up at her entrance, teasing, “Patience is a virtue, dear Kitten.”

She mewls as you enter her slowly, making sure not to overwhelm her. This doesn’t seem to be a worry of hers, as she starts grinding back against you almost immediately. Grabbing her hips still, albeit harshly, Kitten relaxes into the feeling.

You scratch down her back and start to move. She relishes in the mix of pain and pleasure, and a moan erupts from her throat.

“That feel good, angel?”

She nods rapidly, “Yes, yes… I missed your cock so badly!”

You groan, moving in and out even faster. Her back arches into it, the eroticism of it all was almost too much to handle. You love making her feel good, especially in this position where you can grab her hair.

Doing so, Kitten whines, trying to meet your every thrust. As your fingers tighten around her blonde locks, you pull her up enough to kiss at her neck.

Your desperate thrusts into her were short and hard, and she wouldn’t have it any other way, especially not with you nipping at her most sensitive spots.

“Don’t stop, please… you’re filling me up so good!”

You see her length bobbing against her stomach with each thrust, and you start to lick up her neck, “Touch yourself for me, pretty thing. Wanna see you.”

Kitten is quick to obey, as always, and begins to fist herself. 

“Pretty baby, so good for me. You like feeling me deep inside, yeah?”

She nods, and you push her back down to the bedspread, her moans muffled by the fabric.

You fuck into her without abandon, and Kitten turns her face to breathe, “I’m so close, so close, lovely, sweet (Y/N)... can I?”

Beginning to deepen and slow your thrusts, you feign confusion, “Can you what, doll? Use your words like the big girl I know you are.”

She cries loudly at your teasing words, “Please, can I come? I need it, I need it while you’re inside!”

You hum, seeming as if you’re actually considering denying her.

“Come for me, pretty girl.”

You fuck into her harshly, reaching down to meet her hand pleasuring herself. The delicate touch you only just introduced caused her to shudder violently, and you felt her release all over your fingers. Her pants and shrill moans were a chorus you never got tired of.

Continuing to thrust, Kitten babbles nonsense until she reaches behind to grab you. Stilling, you catch your breath.

“Good girl, always love fucking you like this…”

She turns to face you from her position, smiling tiredly, “Love it when you fill me up, wish you could do it forever.”

You smile widely, kissing the small of her back as you exit her warmth, “Insatiable little minx, you are.”

[hirunoka]

"You're My Angel"

for @incidentale (Thank you so much for that ask and the inspiration ❤🌻 )

Words: 1323

(Ao3 link in reblog)

Characters: Simon (Dinner in America 2020), Patty (Dinner in America 2020)

Additional Tags: Fluff, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, They love each other so much, and I love THEM so much oh God we NEED a sequel, Also we need more fanfictions wtf, inspired by a song

“You know that I’m no angel, right?” Simon half-teases with an arched brow after she is done singing, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close on the bed.

“You’re a fucking angel, you’re my angel. All mine, mine, mine…” she sweetly sings into his ear this time. He can feel her smile against his ear and fuck him if it doesn’t make his heart race and ache like crazy.

Just like every time.

He decides that he’ll die a happy man if he can feel her smile like this every day.

“I’m no angel,” he insists.

“You are. To me. You saved me. You can’t deny that. No matter what you do and say, you’ll be always my angel,” Patty says as she nuzzles his neck and that’s what breaks him finally because fuck, he was no one's, and I mean no one's favourite person before: let alone an angel.

Sure, he had a few loyal fans maybe: fans who thought he was amazing and cool, but what the fuck did they know? They only knew John Q.  And they sure didn’t think he was an angel. Not that he wanted them to. He knew he was no angel, and he wasn’t aiming for being seen as one by anyone. That wouldn’t be very punk of him, right? Right. Fuck angels, anyway.

Simon is not sure who saved who, actually, so he just lets out a dry chuckle and swallows the lump in his throat as the tears he was holding back gently roll down his cheeks.

It’s a weird and holy feeling; being loved oh so much.

He doesn’t think he has been ever loved like this before; so truly, madly and deeply. Yeah he is quoting Savage Garden okay, sue him. Not even by his parents who were supposed to love him. Because that’s what parents did, he used to think. They would love and accept their kid. Well, apparently that was such bullshit.

Patty, on the other hand, loved him without trying to change him: she accepted him as a whole, loved him as a whole.

Being loved by her was a miracle. She was a miracle in his eyes.

Patty, Patty, Patty…

Kind, funny, sweet, sexy, patient, honest, and just his-kind-of-crazy.

They were living together in their small but cozy apartment for the past seven months and nine days, and yet she never ceased to amaze him every single day.

He buries his nose in her soft hair and sighs.

“I’m sure you would figure something out by yourself to save yourself from that pathetic shit that you used to call ‘life’, eventually. You are punk as fuck and smart as hell, after all. I just… made the process go faster. Diamonds don’t stay hidden all their lives. They can’t. They find a way to shine sooner or later somehow.”

“I don’t remember allowing you to make this about me,” she complains and slightly pulls herself away to look at him. Seeing his tears makes her frown, but she doesn’t mention it or asks if he is okay. She leans her forehead against Simon’s instead, her thump caressing the side of his cheek as he closes his eyes in content. “But hey, at least you didn’t deny that you’re mine.”

“I don’t remember askin' for permission. Everything is about you for me now.”

‘There is no me without you anymore,’ he thinks.

“Is that so?”

“Hell yeah,” he nods. When he opens his eyes, Patty looks at him like he has given her the whole wide world. “You see that streetlight?” He points at the streetlight across the street from their window. “Even that is about you,” he whispers. “It helps me to see you better when you’re sleeping. Big fan of that one, I swear. Beautiful warm yellow. Maybe I should write a song about it later. And of fucking course I’m yours, music girlfriend. Always. Hell, I was yours before you even knew it.”

“Ew, babe, you’re sooo cheesy right now. You’re like, as cheesy as mac and cheese, even.”

That makes Simon laugh. Teach Patty a word and voilà, just watch her start using it all the time.

“I’m just fuckin' with you,” she laughs back. “And I’m yours, too, angel,” she adds as she starts pressing soft kisses on his body: first on his naked chest and then his collarbone, shoulder and jaw.

“This better not become a thing,” feeling his cheek heat a little, he mumbles, his hands wandering up and down her sides.

“What? Me calling you ‘angel’? How about… ‘Punk Angel’ ‘Angel of Punk? But nah, I think I love calling you just ‘angel’ more. Sorry not sorry,” she says with a cocky smile that suits her so much that Simon falls in love with her all over again.

He is utterly captivated by her and her affection.

“Did I ever tell you that your voice is as deep as an abyss that I wouldn’t mind falling into for the rest of my life, angel?”

That sounds like a promise somehow and Simon’s heart suddenly skips a beat. He hopes and wishes it’s a promise because he would give everything for Patty to stay by his side for the rest of his life.

It makes him feel selfish to want her that much even when he has her now, though. He cannot help but feel like one day she will realize she can do better than him and then decide to leave his sorry ass because God knows she deserves better.

Even imagining that makes him feel like dying so he tells his brain to stop thinking such things and focus on the moment they are in instead.

“And you call me cheesy. Oh God, you’re ridiculous.”

“Goddess, you mean, am I right or am I right?”

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say, you adorable and sexy Punk Goddess.”

Satisfied with his answer, she locks their lips together finally. Simon kisses her back like her lips are oxygen and he is a dying astronaut.

“Don’t be surprised if I steal your idea about that The Streetlight song,” Patty lets him know when they pull away eventually. “I think I can pull it off before Saturday and sing it for you at my concert.”

“I have no doubt you could,” holding her close, he yawns and agrees as she lies on his chest.

“Now hush, I gotta watch you sleep while the streetlight accompanies me.”

“Whaa— You creep.”

“What can I say? You’re my inspiration, angel. And don’t act like I don’t catch you watching me sleep nearly every morning.”

“Who? Me? You can prove nothing,” he denies.

“Uh-huh, sure. Sweet dreams.”

“Being with you is like a sweet dream anyway, I need nothing else.”

And with that, he let himself start falling into the warm embrace of sleep. At this point he cannot even remember how he used to sleep alone before he met her.

“He sleeps soundly by her side, without a care,

While she traces his features with a loving stare.

In the quiet of the night, they're alone,

With the streetlight as their silent chaperone,” just when he is about to fall asleep, he vaguely hears Patty singing quietly.

“Sweet streetlight, keep shining bright

As I watch my angel through the night.

Guide him with your gentle light,

In this moment, everything feels right.”

“Wow, you’re fast. That terribly sounds like a gospel for some reason though,” he makes an honest comment, ignoring the way how it made him feel warm inside despite it really sounding like a gospel.

“Shh, I’m just warming up, ignore it. Sleep.”

Simon chuckles and does as he is told after planting a kiss on her forehead and whispering: “I love you.”

“I love you, too, my angel,” is the last thing he hears before falling asleep with a slight smile on his face.

He thinks he can get used to that.