its crazy to me how some people can honestly say abortion is immoral, especially under fatal circumstances
its genuinely such a dehumanizing thing like
How can you decide for another mother that an unborn life is more valuable than hers? Its like people dont even view women/mothers as human beings, but just a vessel to carry out life
This is how people look when they GENUINELY say โjust put the child up for adoption!โ as an argument against abortion
I recently saw a video of these prolife protesters who had some adoption sign up and this guy went up to them asking them โhow many kids have you adopted?โ
AND GUESSS WHAT THEY SAID??? None of them had adopted!
if you wanna put your kid up for adoption, then ๐. But forcing that decision upon people?? No
especially since putting a kid up for adoption is not just easy peasy lemon squeezy as some people think. A lot of kids spend time in group homes or foster care that typically dont have the best conditions
so the excuse of โits whats best for the kid!!โ Is not always the case and is so ignorant to force upon someone
It was dumb how a five-word sentence could turn your thoughts into misty clouds, but here you were, in your boyfriendโs lap, whining as he finger blasted the fuck out of your sopping folds. ย
โAww, look at you. Youโre so fuckinโ easy, babe. Already making a huge mess. I havenโt even touched your sensitive spot yet... Iโm jusโ getting a feel, babe,โย
Adam crooned cruelly in your ear. You moaned in embarrassment, feeling an involuntary and rather enthusiastic flutter escape your pussy. ย
โOh ho, shit! Your little kitty must really like me, huh? I should visit it more often, sweet cheeks,โย
Adam purred. His fingers kept going, creeping deeper, the pad of his pointer and middle finger rubbing right against your g-spot. His thumb flicked your clit sweetly, making your voice crack in his shoulder. ย
โLook at you.โย
Adam panted, licking the shell of your ear, his saliva and the cool metal of his tongue piercing catching on your sensitive lobe. ย
โLook at this snatch... Fuckinโ dripping. Christ, youโre gonna kill my cock. Think I can make you squirt, huh?โย
His voice was full of pompous flairs, his sharp canines on display. You made the mistake of looking at his face as he fingered you. His dark brown hair was shaggy in the layers around his face, pearly white teeth, smooth lips, thick and dark brows that had a piercing through the left one, and a Roman nose that felt incredible whenever heโd eat you out. ย
โIโm not asking anymore, babe.โย
He cut in, snapping your thoughts off like a rubber band. ย
โYouโre gonna cum on my fingers. Cโmon, baby, I know you got it in ya. Donโt be shy sweet cheeks.โย
Adam cooed, almost mockingly, his fingers going a tad faster. You nearly squealed like a pig when the tips of them rutted against your cervix. ย
You let out a sharp cry, hips bucking and jutting, eyes rolling back. With the thick, gnarly digits pressing your g-spot, the tips brushing that silky lining that was the barrier between your walls and the point of no return, all with his thumb tenderly rubbing the arousal into your clit... It was too much. You could feel yourself spasming and sobbing, fists banging against him, cumming your fucking brains out. ย
Adam had proved himself right; he could make you squirt with just his fingers. ย
โDamn babe. Well, hey, good warm up. Letโs get to the real fun. Oh, come on! Donโt gimme that look, baby! Your pussyโs just too fuckinโ goooddd... Lemme just, Iโll be extra gentle, okay? Youโll squirt on my dick, wonโt you, babes? Pleeeaaaseee?โย
Adam notices you've been anxious lately... he does his best to help in his own ways <3
tags: mfa, gn!reader, comfort, fluff, SFW, stomachaches, cuddling, Adam lets you use his wings as a blanket, gut wrenching anxiety (literally), tummy rubs. CW: mild mentions of throwing up :(
wordcount: 1k
SFW โก๏ธ
It was safe to say that it had been a hell of a fucking week.
Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday were horrid. Absolutely horrible. It seemed like everyone had some sort of unknown grudge against you, only to find out that you were being excluded.
You had grown used to being the black sheep of the crowd. You knew you weren't like others, in which led to you accepting the fact that you'd often be alone or find friends in odd places.
This was just... Sad.
At first, it was mere annoyance. However, that annoyance grew into fear, which bubbled into anxiety, then curdled, becoming a nauseous rollercoaster of mental stability on a wheel of misfortune.
The best thing to do after throwing up at work from the stress was to go home.
Your boss just thought it was a bug and knew that it would be best if you went home to rest, not wanting to get others sick. You knew better though. The only bug that was going around in the stupid heavenly office was cliques and the disease of popularity infecting your once beloved friends.
Going home was a long drive. Your hands shook on the steering wheel. That gut-dropping feeling came back, and you had to resist the urge to keel over at every red light. Every pedestrian, every winner, every angel... They all seemed so happy. They all seemed to be enjoying each other's company. You swore you almost felt a flicker of envy in the depths of your chest, the ache threatening to swallow you whole.
The door slammed on its own, you swore on that. Your bag hit the ground a tad harder than you meant it to. Maybe your eyes were welling up for the wrong reasons. You couldn't even be mad! Why were you crying? You felt sick all over. The paranoia was clawing at your body like some sort of shadow creature. The ringing in your ears was faint yet present. Your hands shook as goosebumps prickled your biceps, and you audibly whimpered when your head hit the pillow of your bed that you shared with your boyfriend.
You prayed that Adam wouldn't take long getting home... Adam was really bad at keeping track of time and getting home. He'd always get busy talking to Lute or stopping by the store to get a cake for his 'little treat' before dinner. What a gluttonous beast.
He always got the same cake, too. Strawberry shortcake with vanilla buttercream, perfect little swoops around the entire cake, a heart carved into the top, filled to the brim with sugary, sickly sweet tart strawberries that are dripping with red 40 sauce. Decadent and delicious.
The tears were pouring now. You missed Adam dearly. Even though he'd be home in a few hours, you wished he was here now. He hadn't seen you cry like this before though... What if he didn't like it? You should probably call him and just tell him that he should go to the bar or something with Lute while you pull yourself together.
Then the door opened.
You kept your head down in the pillow. But then the bed dipped, and you felt someone's warm hand, free of a leather glove, tenderly rub your back.
Adam.
"... I thought... Don't you-?"
You babbled, whimpering. Adam tenderly shushed you and carefully scooped you up into his arms. He was still in his Exorcist robe, but he sweetly maneuvered his wings so that they could cradle you. You found yourself nestling into Adam's fluffy wings, the feathers soft like sheep wool.
"I saw your location, babe. It's not like you at all to leave work so early."
Adam's voice was still gruff but tinged with a sense of empathy that you hadn't ever heard before. You wiped your eyes, but the tears seemed to keep coming.
"It's okay baby... Was it a bad day? I know you mentioned last night that this week hasn't been the best."
Adam said. You nodded. Choked up, you garbled,
"... People... They're-"
"Dicks? Yeah, I know it, sweetheart. Fuckin' assholes. Who do I need to punch, huh? Uh, unless if it's a chick. 'Cause if so then I'll just pay Lute to do it. Fuck that, I probably won't even have to pay her-"
Adam's protective behavior made you smile the teeniest bit. You shook your head, letting out a weak sigh as you said,
"It's nothing like that... I'm fine."
"'Fine'? Clearly not. It takes a lot to make you cry. You're a tough cookie, babe! I've never seen you cry like this. Tell me what's up?"
"Well... My stomach hurts."
Ah, classic.
You saw Adam's face shift behind his mask. Using one hand he slowly pulled it off, revealing his sweat-slicked hair, those gentle light brown eyes, and that cute goatee stubble that you enjoyed whenever he kissed and tickled you.
He brought a gloved hand to your cheek, gently wiping the moisture away.
"I'm sorry, babe,"
Adam said. He then asked,
"Do you need painkillers? Or will my hand be enough?"
You were confused at first, blushing. Then Adam snapped,
"Do you wanna be rubbed or nah? Jesus, babe, making this shit harder than it already is!"
You couldn't help the laughter that came from your throat. You nodded up at him, smiling tenderly.
Adam's hand went above your shirt, resting there. He had huge hands, and they were great. Warm, slightly rough with guitar callouses and from his job as the leader of the Exorcist Army. But they got the job done. He smiled when he noticed that you were visibly relaxing and some blood was coming back into your cheeks.
Adam pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, whispering,
"I took the next few days off work. I'm gonna help you get this all sorted out, okay? I don't care what it is."
He then perked up before adding,
"Oh, I meant what I said by the way. Lute will do it for fifty Heavenly Bucks. Actually? Fuck that, she'd probably do it for one Heavenly Buck. Hah! Imagine that?"
Now you remembered why you were missing him so much. Everything was going to be okay, and it was all thanks to your beloved boyfriend.
Adam comes back... And he's very pleased to see just how much you missed him.
tags: angst, gn!reader, afab!reader, dom!Adam, inappropriate use of guitar, mean!Adam, he's an asshole i'm sorry, voyeur!Adam, guided masturbation, dry humping, slight themes of grief, Adam is a sick n twisted man okay???
wordcount: 1.2K
NSFW, 18+ โก๏ธ
You missed your boyfriend more than you should have.
Could you even call him your boyfriend? More like a situationship. Or a hookup. No, hookups were occasional... Adam kept going back on his so-called 'one chance' rule, always coming back, somehow ending up in your bed, and a few of his feathers found in your sheets when you would wash them in the following days. His scent lingered as well, a potent musk of mahogany wood, cinnamon bark, and dried vanilla bean. A man with that face of his smelled way better than he should have.
Adam had you fucking hooked. Then he decided to go and die on you! Knowing Adam, he was impulsive and stupid, but this? It was a wholly unexpected. Even Lute hadn't been expecting it, and she was Adam's right hand. She had been bitter to you recently. You couldn't figure out why though...
You had a key to Adam's office. You knew Lute had broken a lot of things in there after her breakdown. For some reason, you were genuinely concerned about Lute. Grief was the monster that was clearly destroying her, and restricting her abilities to serve under Abel, the new leader of The Exorcist Army.
The door opened a little too easily to Adam's office. Fuck, it hadn't changed aside from the shattered records, glass, and torn curtains that were in the room. You swore you could still smell the faintest bit of Adam's fresh robe and a Coca-Cola soda somewhere on his desk.
Just the mere smell made you close your eyes and think of him. You missed every bit and piece of him. All from his stupid grin that he'd show when rage baiting you, to his deep, husky growls whenever he'd pound your-
No. No, no, no. This was not the time nor place.
"Wow. Missing me that much, hm?"
Your head perked up at that all-too familiar sound. You saw Adam's ghost. Was it even his ghost? Or were you just going insane?
"Adam?"
The voice that came out was a stranger to you. It was choked, desperate. The same voice that you'd hear whenever Adam was plowing your fucking guts inside and out. The ghost merely smirked and floated closer, only to go right through you, making a startled squeak leave you.
"Me? Nah. Sorry sweetheart, but I'm just a part of your imagination. Going that crazy over me, hm?"
He cooed. Fuck, he hadn't changed... A sick part of your brain wanted to believe that this was Adam. But it wasn't. Adam was dead. Adam was gone...
Your swallow was hard enough to hurt, fresh moisture filling your soft eyes and coating your lashes.
"I... But..."
You were cut off by him again. His stupid, mocking voice, the one that was somehow turning you on even though you were about to cry.
"Missed me enough to use the spare key I gave you?"
Even though you couldn't feel him, he was right next to you, the horns of his mask phasing right through your hair. You could only nod, remaining quiet.
"I love that. Y'know, Lute was a real menace in here. She broke all my records 'n shit.. Even my fucking limited edition 25th Anniversary Queen Record-WOAH! She even broke my goddamn guitar?! What the fuck!"
Adam could throw a temper tantrum later. Your eyes were dragging over the broken guitar, specifically the girthy handle. The strings had all broke and were torn off. You shakily dropped to your knees and picked up the handle. It was smooth, had a few ridges from the golden knobs, and the shimmer on it was undeniably gorgeous.
He smirked when he saw the familiar flush on your cheeks, the way your eyes grew slightly dazed, and how your lips starting to tremble on their own.
"You missed me."
His voice was a sickly-sweet coo that left your thighs squishing together, making you whimper weakly,
"... I did."
You admitted, swallowing again. The wetness in your eyes had traveled down to the folds between your thighs, your walls involuntarily clenching.
"Well? I didn't come back to watch you cry,"
Adam sneered, his form floating over to the nearby desk, lounging over it like a tomcat. He smirked as he purred,
"Go on. Give me something that'll make me wanna come back again."
The gasp that left your lungs was hard enough to make any remaining moisture leave in the process. You nodded rapidly, wanting to do anything to appease this vision in your frontal lobe, one that you prayed would come back. You didn't even care anymore if you were sick. You just wanted Adam back.
Your hands shook as you slowly lifted up your angelic robe. You saw Adam lick his lips beneath his mask. You tried to slide your hand down into your underwear only for him to click his tongue in disapproval.
"Nuh uh, babe. Use that."
His finger pointed to the guitar. He saw your expression, scoffed, and said,
"What? Did you think I was gonna let you use some vanilla ass bullshit like your fingers? That's adorable, but I wanna see some excitement."
Adam said with a cruel grin.
"C'mon baby. Don't get all shy 'n shit on me... Press that pretty little pussy against my guitar. Go on, I know you wanna. You wanna feel my fuckin' guitar rub that clit, don't you? Makes it even better knowing my hands were on it, doesn't it?"
It sure as hell made it better.
You didn't even care if you were hallucinating, sitting here in your dead lover's office, moaning as your robe was hitched up, swollen, puffy folds rubbing over the knobs of Adam's guitar. One of the golden knobs caught your clit and momentarily made you shudder in pure bliss. It might've not been the most comfortable thing to hump, but fuck, Adam had touched it... You swore you could still see the slight sweat and dirt imprints from where Adam's hand had gripped the metallic material too tight during performances.
You were close. Oh, so close. Your poor pussy was aching from the cold metal, but the wetness gushing past your vibrating walls made up for it.
"Yeaaahhh... That's it, sweetheart. Fuckin' rub that clit on my guitar,"
Adam's voice made your eyes weakly follow up to where he was, his robe pulled up as well, revealing that fat, leaking dick you missed more than anything. You moaned, your head hanging low, your humping growing feverish and near animalistic.
You were gonna cum. Adam's scent, his stupid voice, his grin, that fat cock... You couldn't stop it. You missed him. You missed this.
Your orgasm was explosive. You choked on your own breath, tears welling up in your eyes, shaking like a leaf as your cunt squeezed and covered the guitar handle in your release. You took a few moments to catch your breath, the shaking in your thighs only subsiding when you managed to close them and fall to the side, sliding off of the guitar.
Looking up to see Adam once more, he was gone. So, he was in your head after all, and that was enough to make you want to do it again, again, again, and again...
Adam will do just about anything to get his crybaby partner to stop babbling. Even if it means letting you play with his hands <3
tags: sensitive!reader, Adam is a cuddle bug, comfort fic, tooth rotting fluff, bad day comfort, r is made of glass (jus like me fr), modern au, gn!reader
wordcount: 1k
SFW โก๏ธ
The tears weren't what came first.
What had you choked up in the middle of the day first was your breakfast not being perfect like usual. It was so odd. You hadn't changed a single thing when it came to making it... so why was the universe deciding the test you? Of all days, why today?
Then the dryer didn't run overnight, so your clothes now needed to be rewashed to get rid of the faint mildew smell. Great! Oh, and of course the light bill is due today too!
Work felt crippling. An endless cycle of what you had expected. Yet this felt more unbearable than usual. It was almost pathetic how much you were struggling in terms of coming up with any bit of happiness left in your body. In a way, it could be seen from an outsider's point of view as exhaustion or lack of determination. All you really wanted was to go home and see your beloved boyfriend.
Adam. Adam was your savior, and you always meant that literally. If it wasn't for Adam, you'd probably be stuck in bed most of the time. He was always there to hold your hand on those days that felt like too much to tackle on your own. The glasses of water he would force you to drink out of concern didn't match the description of the sodas or teas you'd request, but he cared and that was what mattered most. You saw the facade through his filthy potty mouth. You saw, heard, and was constantly held by a man who had put his heart in your hands. Adam knew that you wouldn't break it.
You came home. You assumed that the silence was because Adam wasn't home yet, or he had gone out, or...
God, you were spiraling again. Sometimes the silence was suffocating compared to an overstimulating office environment. A part of you missed the road rage. At least it had distracted your eyes from getting blurry. You tried to blame it on the stress of it all. Yeah, stress. Totally not being sensitive in broad daylight.
Your face hit the pillows harder than intended. One deep breath, then two. Another deep breath, and a flow of water came with it. Trying to keep it quiet would've been the dumb move. Why on Earth would you even attempt to tame a cracked sprinkler that was comparable to a dam that had a blow in its side?
You can't. It's impossible. Controlling an aggressive dog? Doable, just make sure it doesn't bite anyone. Control your facial expressions. Make sure your voice is neutral. If you see something, say something.
All of these sayings had one thing in common: you are in absolute control of it all. The reality is that you can't control everything. You just can't. Its inhuman. Tears are in this category. After today, it's become clear that the second your breakfast doesn't taste right, that maybe you should stay home... it'll cost you a day's worth of pay, but you'll earn some of your mental wellbeing back in the end.
The large fingers in your hair went unnoticed for another minute or so. The sobs were consuming your brain now. You were probably suffering from water damage or something, your throat wrecked.
"Shhh.. c'mere baby, I know,"
It was Adam. You'd recognize that voice anywhere. The familiarity in that gravel, those large hands, the band shirt that smelled faintly of Calvin Klein 'Eternity'; those faint notes of leather and rugged daffodils clinging to the fabric. It was a smell of comfort.
"I know sweetheart, I know. Poor baby.. you haven't been this upset in so long. No, no-hey, it's okay. Don't fight me, please, you're choking.."
He sounded just as upset as you. He wasn't mad at you; he never could be. He was concerned. Adam wasn't used to seeing you cry until the point of walking in on you nearly choking on your own spit.
It took a few minutes for Adam to get you upright, your face in his shoulder, one hand smoothing over your back, the other adjusting you so that you would remain sitting in his lap. He felt terrible. He should've known something was wrong the second that you made a face this morning when it came to your usual pallet...
"Talk to me, baby. What happened? What's got my badass angel so upset, huh?"
Adam's voice lingered on notes of desperation. When he noticed that all you did was burrow your head in his chest, he sighed and nodded internally. You didn't wanna talk. That's okay.
"Okay, uh... what can I do to make the waterworks stop, baby? I'm not trying to be mean, okay? I'm asking out of care."
You sniffed and wiped your eyes, finally coming up for air again. You hesitantly felt his wings. Adam knew this ritual. He knew that you were trying to ground yourself.
"Yeah. Yeah, that's it baby.. You're here and you're safe. My perfect little angel, shhh.."
Adam crooned, his wings curling protectively around you. But he noticed you were rather enamored by his hands. He grinned like the smug fucker he was when your fingers began interlocking and running over the veins in his forearms.
Adam knew that this was just a sensory experience to get you calmed down again. He was thankful that you had coping strategies like this. You were definitely more emotionally regulated than he was sometimes.
"That's it, baby. Is my little angel feeling a better?"
He asked. His voice was only this gentle with you. Maybe Lute sometimes if it was a bad day and she asked for some encouragement. You were his sweetheart though. He'd give up the entire world for you if it meant seeing your cheeks rise, your eyes cheese, and those adorable teeth show off to the light. You nodded meekly in response. Adam pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. His stubble scribbled against you in the sweetest way, your cheeks rising in temperature the teeniest bit.
i saw ur post answering cosmiiโs ask and im so sorry to hear about your period of bad mental health, that must have been so hard to endure and i hope you achieve peak joy status soon ๐
take all the time you need, weโll all be happy to welcome you back when the time comes!
thank you splooge <3 Iโm planning on posting a little smthing tonight.. Iโm not fully back on my writing grind, but Iโm definitely learning to love it again
hi cosmii <33 im ok.. could be better, but not the worst. thank you for checking in on me <3
its kind of obvious that i abandoned this blog and i'm really sad about it :( i had a horrible period for my mental health ever since last december. i kind of stopped writing for the helluverse all together. i'm okay though. i hope i can write again soon. i don't know when. my hyperfix on the walking dead has kind of taken over. the helluverse still holds a huge place in my heart, adam especially >< what matters though is that i'm slowly coming back, and i don't hate the way i write or pull myself anymore (plus i had a moving scare, new relationship stuff, etc....) you guys get it. life gets cruddy, busy, and messy </3
5 Tiny Writing Tips That Arenโt Talked About Enough (but work for me)
These are some lowkey underrated tips Iโve seen floating around writing communities โ the kind that donโt get flashy attention but seriously changed how I write.
1. Put โhe/she/theyโ at the start of the sentence less often.
Try switching up your sentence rhythm. Instead of
โShe walked to the window,โ
try
โThe window creaked open under her touch.โ
Keeps it fresh and stops the paragraph from sounding like a checklist.
2. Donโt describe everything โ describe what matters.
Instead of listing every detail in a room, pick 2โ3 objects that say something.
โA half-drunk mug of tea and a knife on the tableโ
sets a way stronger tone than
โThere was a wooden table, two chairs, and a shelf.โ
3. Use beats instead of dialogue tags sometimes.
Instead of:
"I'm fine," she said.
Try:
"I'm fine." She wiped her hands on her skirt.
It helps shows emotion, and movement.
4. Write your first draft like no one will ever read it.
No pressure. No perfection. Just vibes. The point of draft one is to exist. Let it be messy and weird โ future you will thank you for at least something to edit.
5. When stuck, ask: โWhatโs the most fun thing that could happen next?โ
Not logical. Not realistic. FUN. It doesnโt have to stay โ but chasing excitement can blast through writerโs block and give you ideas you actually want to write.
Whatโs a tip that unexpectedly helped with your writing? Let me know!! ๐
i saw something that's like "Put your 4 favourite characters from 4 pieces of media as options and let your tumblr pals decide which one most suits your Vibe-- then tag 4 people" but the reblogs were turned off so I'll just do this
which suits me most
mike wheeler
sirius black
anne shirley cuthburt
pinkie pie
Voting ended onFeb 11
i know who i'm hoping will get picked but i think they wont be
Adam will do just about anything to get his crybaby partner to stop babbling. Even if it means letting you play with his hands <3
tags: sensitive!reader, Adam is a cuddle bug, comfort fic, tooth rotting fluff, bad day comfort, r is made of glass (jus like me fr), modern au, gn!reader
wordcount: 1k
SFW โก๏ธ
The tears weren't what came first.
What had you choked up in the middle of the day first was your breakfast not being perfect like usual. It was so odd. You hadn't changed a single thing when it came to making it... so why was the universe deciding the test you? Of all days, why today?
Then the dryer didn't run overnight, so your clothes now needed to be rewashed to get rid of the faint mildew smell. Great! Oh, and of course the light bill is due today too!
Work felt crippling. An endless cycle of what you had expected. Yet this felt more unbearable than usual. It was almost pathetic how much you were struggling in terms of coming up with any bit of happiness left in your body. In a way, it could be seen from an outsider's point of view as exhaustion or lack of determination. All you really wanted was to go home and see your beloved boyfriend.
Adam. Adam was your savior, and you always meant that literally. If it wasn't for Adam, you'd probably be stuck in bed most of the time. He was always there to hold your hand on those days that felt like too much to tackle on your own. The glasses of water he would force you to drink out of concern didn't match the description of the sodas or teas you'd request, but he cared and that was what mattered most. You saw the facade through his filthy potty mouth. You saw, heard, and was constantly held by a man who had put his heart in your hands. Adam knew that you wouldn't break it.
You came home. You assumed that the silence was because Adam wasn't home yet, or he had gone out, or...
God, you were spiraling again. Sometimes the silence was suffocating compared to an overstimulating office environment. A part of you missed the road rage. At least it had distracted your eyes from getting blurry. You tried to blame it on the stress of it all. Yeah, stress. Totally not being sensitive in broad daylight.
Your face hit the pillows harder than intended. One deep breath, then two. Another deep breath, and a flow of water came with it. Trying to keep it quiet would've been the dumb move. Why on Earth would you even attempt to tame a cracked sprinkler that was comparable to a dam that had a blow in its side?
You can't. It's impossible. Controlling an aggressive dog? Doable, just make sure it doesn't bite anyone. Control your facial expressions. Make sure your voice is neutral. If you see something, say something.
All of these sayings had one thing in common: you are in absolute control of it all. The reality is that you can't control everything. You just can't. Its inhuman. Tears are in this category. After today, it's become clear that the second your breakfast doesn't taste right, that maybe you should stay home... it'll cost you a day's worth of pay, but you'll earn some of your mental wellbeing back in the end.
The large fingers in your hair went unnoticed for another minute or so. The sobs were consuming your brain now. You were probably suffering from water damage or something, your throat wrecked.
"Shhh.. c'mere baby, I know,"
It was Adam. You'd recognize that voice anywhere. The familiarity in that gravel, those large hands, the band shirt that smelled faintly of Calvin Klein 'Eternity'; those faint notes of leather and rugged daffodils clinging to the fabric. It was a smell of comfort.
"I know sweetheart, I know. Poor baby.. you haven't been this upset in so long. No, no-hey, it's okay. Don't fight me, please, you're choking.."
He sounded just as upset as you. He wasn't mad at you; he never could be. He was concerned. Adam wasn't used to seeing you cry until the point of walking in on you nearly choking on your own spit.
It took a few minutes for Adam to get you upright, your face in his shoulder, one hand smoothing over your back, the other adjusting you so that you would remain sitting in his lap. He felt terrible. He should've known something was wrong the second that you made a face this morning when it came to your usual pallet...
"Talk to me, baby. What happened? What's got my badass angel so upset, huh?"
Adam's voice lingered on notes of desperation. When he noticed that all you did was burrow your head in his chest, he sighed and nodded internally. You didn't wanna talk. That's okay.
"Okay, uh... what can I do to make the waterworks stop, baby? I'm not trying to be mean, okay? I'm asking out of care."
You sniffed and wiped your eyes, finally coming up for air again. You hesitantly felt his wings. Adam knew this ritual. He knew that you were trying to ground yourself.
"Yeah. Yeah, that's it baby.. You're here and you're safe. My perfect little angel, shhh.."
Adam crooned, his wings curling protectively around you. But he noticed you were rather enamored by his hands. He grinned like the smug fucker he was when your fingers began interlocking and running over the veins in his forearms.
Adam knew that this was just a sensory experience to get you calmed down again. He was thankful that you had coping strategies like this. You were definitely more emotionally regulated than he was sometimes.
"That's it, baby. Is my little angel feeling a better?"
He asked. His voice was only this gentle with you. Maybe Lute sometimes if it was a bad day and she asked for some encouragement. You were his sweetheart though. He'd give up the entire world for you if it meant seeing your cheeks rise, your eyes cheese, and those adorable teeth show off to the light. You nodded meekly in response. Adam pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. His stubble scribbled against you in the sweetest way, your cheeks rising in temperature the teeniest bit.
Adam comes back... And he's very pleased to see just how much you missed him.
tags: angst, gn!reader, afab!reader, dom!Adam, inappropriate use of guitar, mean!Adam, he's an asshole i'm sorry, voyeur!Adam, guided masturbation, dry humping, slight themes of grief, Adam is a sick n twisted man okay???
wordcount: 1.2K
NSFW, 18+ โก๏ธ
You missed your boyfriend more than you should have.
Could you even call him your boyfriend? More like a situationship. Or a hookup. No, hookups were occasional... Adam kept going back on his so-called 'one chance' rule, always coming back, somehow ending up in your bed, and a few of his feathers found in your sheets when you would wash them in the following days. His scent lingered as well, a potent musk of mahogany wood, cinnamon bark, and dried vanilla bean. A man with that face of his smelled way better than he should have.
Adam had you fucking hooked. Then he decided to go and die on you! Knowing Adam, he was impulsive and stupid, but this? It was a wholly unexpected. Even Lute hadn't been expecting it, and she was Adam's right hand. She had been bitter to you recently. You couldn't figure out why though...
You had a key to Adam's office. You knew Lute had broken a lot of things in there after her breakdown. For some reason, you were genuinely concerned about Lute. Grief was the monster that was clearly destroying her, and restricting her abilities to serve under Abel, the new leader of The Exorcist Army.
The door opened a little too easily to Adam's office. Fuck, it hadn't changed aside from the shattered records, glass, and torn curtains that were in the room. You swore you could still smell the faintest bit of Adam's fresh robe and a Coca-Cola soda somewhere on his desk.
Just the mere smell made you close your eyes and think of him. You missed every bit and piece of him. All from his stupid grin that he'd show when rage baiting you, to his deep, husky growls whenever he'd pound your-
No. No, no, no. This was not the time nor place.
"Wow. Missing me that much, hm?"
Your head perked up at that all-too familiar sound. You saw Adam's ghost. Was it even his ghost? Or were you just going insane?
"Adam?"
The voice that came out was a stranger to you. It was choked, desperate. The same voice that you'd hear whenever Adam was plowing your fucking guts inside and out. The ghost merely smirked and floated closer, only to go right through you, making a startled squeak leave you.
"Me? Nah. Sorry sweetheart, but I'm just a part of your imagination. Going that crazy over me, hm?"
He cooed. Fuck, he hadn't changed... A sick part of your brain wanted to believe that this was Adam. But it wasn't. Adam was dead. Adam was gone...
Your swallow was hard enough to hurt, fresh moisture filling your soft eyes and coating your lashes.
"I... But..."
You were cut off by him again. His stupid, mocking voice, the one that was somehow turning you on even though you were about to cry.
"Missed me enough to use the spare key I gave you?"
Even though you couldn't feel him, he was right next to you, the horns of his mask phasing right through your hair. You could only nod, remaining quiet.
"I love that. Y'know, Lute was a real menace in here. She broke all my records 'n shit.. Even my fucking limited edition 25th Anniversary Queen Record-WOAH! She even broke my goddamn guitar?! What the fuck!"
Adam could throw a temper tantrum later. Your eyes were dragging over the broken guitar, specifically the girthy handle. The strings had all broke and were torn off. You shakily dropped to your knees and picked up the handle. It was smooth, had a few ridges from the golden knobs, and the shimmer on it was undeniably gorgeous.
He smirked when he saw the familiar flush on your cheeks, the way your eyes grew slightly dazed, and how your lips starting to tremble on their own.
"You missed me."
His voice was a sickly-sweet coo that left your thighs squishing together, making you whimper weakly,
"... I did."
You admitted, swallowing again. The wetness in your eyes had traveled down to the folds between your thighs, your walls involuntarily clenching.
"Well? I didn't come back to watch you cry,"
Adam sneered, his form floating over to the nearby desk, lounging over it like a tomcat. He smirked as he purred,
"Go on. Give me something that'll make me wanna come back again."
The gasp that left your lungs was hard enough to make any remaining moisture leave in the process. You nodded rapidly, wanting to do anything to appease this vision in your frontal lobe, one that you prayed would come back. You didn't even care anymore if you were sick. You just wanted Adam back.
Your hands shook as you slowly lifted up your angelic robe. You saw Adam lick his lips beneath his mask. You tried to slide your hand down into your underwear only for him to click his tongue in disapproval.
"Nuh uh, babe. Use that."
His finger pointed to the guitar. He saw your expression, scoffed, and said,
"What? Did you think I was gonna let you use some vanilla ass bullshit like your fingers? That's adorable, but I wanna see some excitement."
Adam said with a cruel grin.
"C'mon baby. Don't get all shy 'n shit on me... Press that pretty little pussy against my guitar. Go on, I know you wanna. You wanna feel my fuckin' guitar rub that clit, don't you? Makes it even better knowing my hands were on it, doesn't it?"
It sure as hell made it better.
You didn't even care if you were hallucinating, sitting here in your dead lover's office, moaning as your robe was hitched up, swollen, puffy folds rubbing over the knobs of Adam's guitar. One of the golden knobs caught your clit and momentarily made you shudder in pure bliss. It might've not been the most comfortable thing to hump, but fuck, Adam had touched it... You swore you could still see the slight sweat and dirt imprints from where Adam's hand had gripped the metallic material too tight during performances.
You were close. Oh, so close. Your poor pussy was aching from the cold metal, but the wetness gushing past your vibrating walls made up for it.
"Yeaaahhh... That's it, sweetheart. Fuckin' rub that clit on my guitar,"
Adam's voice made your eyes weakly follow up to where he was, his robe pulled up as well, revealing that fat, leaking dick you missed more than anything. You moaned, your head hanging low, your humping growing feverish and near animalistic.
You were gonna cum. Adam's scent, his stupid voice, his grin, that fat cock... You couldn't stop it. You missed him. You missed this.
Your orgasm was explosive. You choked on your own breath, tears welling up in your eyes, shaking like a leaf as your cunt squeezed and covered the guitar handle in your release. You took a few moments to catch your breath, the shaking in your thighs only subsiding when you managed to close them and fall to the side, sliding off of the guitar.
Looking up to see Adam once more, he was gone. So, he was in your head after all, and that was enough to make you want to do it again, again, again, and again...
NO ITHO WHEN I TELL YOU I WAS (S)CREAMING. WHEN I WATCHED THE TEASER I WAS LIKE โoh! he sounds oddly familiar. letโs see who voices himโ AND I SEE JEREMY FUCKING JORDAN OML๐ญ i fucking knew his awkward laugh was too lucifer like
my two worlds colliding i canโt handle this SKDJKSSJDJ
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