Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Commander sleeps on his back. A white, silk blanket covers him up to his ribs, with his arms on top and laying on either side of his body and legs similarly straight underneath. He’s perfectly symmetrical aside from his head having just the slightest tilt to the side, giving room for the needle piercing the back of his neck which is connected to his spine. The frown which usually paints his face has been smoothed out, all thanks to the new painkillers he’s been given. It’s a gas infused with magic from nymphs and naiads which hypnotizes and puts sailors to eternal rest. They knock him out completely with just three breaths and he will stay asleep until the medicine wears off in the morning. No matter what, he will not wake. 

“This will give you access to my chambers, in case something happens, ” were the exact words he used when he gave Homare the keycard. Right before she reached to take it, he held it up and she halted. “You are the only one with this key. Neither Egyn or Iblis were given one. I want you to think about that.” And thinking she did. Her first thoughts weren’t exactly pure. A key to his bedroom where he’s fully incapable of moving or saying anything, and Homare is in the position to enter without suspicion. She would never do such a thing, unless. Unless. The Commander told her to think about it. Demons are tricky in that sense, planting ideas in your head so subtly you believe they’re your own. 

The entire walk to his chambers was nerve-wracking, in spite of the guards merely acknowledging her presence with a respectful bow before she used the card and wordlessly entered. Usually she presents herself and asks, but the Commander is sleeping. This should feel like a breach of privacy, because it is. 

“Good evening, sir,” she mutters, as if he’ll hear her. He’s faced away from her, features illuminated by the faint glow of the elixir tanks. It makes his long eyelashes look even paler, almost white and glittering. He makes no sign of movement, not even a twitch of his tail that indicates he’s dreaming. Every limb of his is still, aside from his chest rising and falling, a habit the Commander has trained to not disturb the medical equipment connected to him. Usually he’s covered in needles, groups of three or four on either side of his arms, shoulders, legs and torso - but tonight they are only placed at the most effective places, one needle connected to each of the body’s largest veins, the jugular, the femoral and the basilic. It’s like he’s expecting his body to be moved around a lot. 

“To be honest, I did not expect such an invitation,” Homare continues to mutter, hunching over his body as she delicately raises one arm to move the blanket to the side. It would fall almost lifeless if she weren’t placing them back down with the same caution. “I’m still half expecting you to rebuke me, or for the alarms to go off…” She moves the second arm and frees his vessel, where it lies fully nude. There are no wounds, bruises or blisters tormenting him tonight, his skin is buttery smooth, he has his full head of hair and nails neatly cut into fine, short points. She has not met a man she deems as perfect as him. As Lucifer. 

“Is this really allowed, to marvel at you so indulgently?” After moving the other arm, she places a kiss into the wrist, then, losing herself a little, plants a soft kiss on each of his fingertips. Her kisses travel up the arm, avoiding the needle in the forearm, passing the elbow up to his bicep, soft and slow and tender, until she’s facing the arch of his neck. She finally lets his arm rest when she’s nosing the curve of his jawline. He smells clean, like laundered sheets and lavender shampoo.

“I’ve always wanted to do this, sir.” Her hot breath makes the ear twitch, out of some reflex the Commander has no control over. “O-oh,” she hears herself exclaim before laving her tongue over the pointed end, down, and nipping the earlobe with her teeth. One of her hands is used to support as she’s leaning over him, propped up on the elbow, while the other wanders to caress his chest, moving in light circles over prominent ribs and collarbone. Fingertips graces over a protruding adams apple, her palm is placed underneath it- And she catches herself before she applies pressure to the sides of his neck while there is a needle attached to his jugular. 

“Pardon. It’s just… you make me want to strangle you sometimes.” Leaning back, she sees the frown on his face has returned, but it doesn’t look pained. The ear she just paid attention to has become flushed pink. Homare’s mouth waters. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Her boots are hastily pulled off, along with her trousers. She climbs up, straddling him as she removes her jacket, mantle and gloves, and tosses them all on the floor. She doesn’t bother with the rest, shaking with excitement as she crawls on top of him. 

“How many times have I seen you naked, sir? And yet…” her train of thought falls apart as she snakes a hand under her panties, finding her clit already swollen and damp. Her breath shudders, her face burns from the sensation of masturbating over him, her beloved Commander, whose face is still angled away, unaware, unconscious. A choked moan forces itself out of her throat.

“Lucifer.”

His name rolls off her tongue naturally, so she says it again, and again, tasting it, savoring it. Her panties soak her arousal quickly, she will have an uncomfortable walk back to her dorms but she doesn’t care. See it as a punishment for lusting so intensively for her king. Sweat drips down her trembling thighs. At some point she closes her eyes, concentrating on reaching her peak. Momentarily, she opens them to look down at the Commander’s naked body. The green light catches his soft, almost invisible chest hair which continues on a thin trail in the middle of his defined abdomen. That trail expands to a trimmed bush, framing a sizable half-hard cock. 

“Is it a nice dream, sir?” Homare looks up at the Commander’s closed eyelids. The eyes move underneath, his brows unfurrow and frown. “Maybe this will help.” She presses her mouth to his quivering lips. They are just as soft as they look. Homare moves languidly against his mouth but he doesn’t kiss back as much as his body responds to her touches. Once his jaw drops it remains hanging, and her tongue slips into his mouth, sliding against his. He tastes like mint. 

“Hm..” Lucifer makes a faint moan as she licks into his mouth, which only fuels her arousal further. Her gut coils and clenches, and her peak is nearing rapidly. She rubs her clit desperately but she’s so wet there is no friction left to stimulate. Slipping into herself, three fingers stretch her without worry. It’s a lewd, wet noise, echoing in the big chamber as she thrusts them in and out. But it’s not enough. Her eyes land on her Commander’s cock once more. 

“Is this how big you get?” She grabs onto him with her slicked hand, stroking it up and down, up and down, slowly. “It doesn’t feel fully stiff, surely you got an inch or two more for me.” The need in her voice surprises her, but the cock in her hand responds to her pleas and sweet touches, swelling until it throbs.. “That’s more like it.” Homare leans onto her heels and aligns his length to her entrance. All she does with her panties is move them to the side. With her back straight she looks down on her Commander’s closed eyelids. His mouth is still half open, panting softly. 

“Will you come with me, sir?” And she sinks down on his cock. 

Chapter Text

Despite the night before, Homare arrives early to work with no headache. That speaks volumes considering the nuisance which was the gala. The furnace has been completed and green lit by the engineers and researchers, provoking a large celebration by everyone who worked on it. Homare has never been a particular fan of parties, but the Commander insisted she showed face, and apparently she was involved enough to deserve a moment in his speech. Those he thanked are due to a promotion for their contributions, which is possibly the last aspect of her work Homare has any interest in. Soon enough, she’s standing before the King of Light, beginning this tiresome conversation. He’s still clad in his robe, with considerately more pillows in his bed than normal. The gala must’ve strained him.  

“Do you have anything in mind for your bonus?” he asks. 

“I hardly think I could live any better than I already do, sir. I have more money than I can spend and benefits that keep me content.” That is the best explanation she can give, but he leans forward a little, raising a brow. 

“An award? A statue? A parade in your honor?” Homare can’t help a small smile. 

“Very funny, Commander. I must say, the things that keep me from being satisfied aren’t things the Illuminati could provide for me.” Anyone else wouldn’t dare to say that in front of the leader of the organization, but Homare isn’t anyone. 

“That is a bold claim to make,” he says simply. 

“And I believe I’m quite right.”

“Is it perhaps connected to what you told me at the gala?”

“I…” she halts. Thinking of what possibly he would refer to. “I recollect little of that night, sir.”

“I believe you. Lundström told me you only drank hard liquor. It sounds quite unlikely of you.” She averts her gaze as she thinks of a good excuse. Something that isn’t the embarrassing truth, that had she known Lucifer was going to spend such a long time thanking her in his speech, she would’ve stayed sober. 

“It had been a long month and I wasn’t ready to mingle with the rest. I thought dulling my senses would refrain me from leaving too early. Did I do something distasteful, sir?” Again the Commander has that look in his eyes. 

“No, you just sat at your table the entire time. For a while, I thought you had fallen asleep. I came to ask how your evening was going and you told me you had an idea for what your bonus would be.”

“...I did?”

“Indeed. You told me you wanted to be dicked down.”

This is why Homare never drinks. 

“...I’m sorry….” She bows her head. “That was unprofessional of me.” Instead of noting her apology, Lucifer shifts in his bed, looking behind him on the lumps and lumps of pillows… or are they…? They’re certainly shaped up like a person. 

“It is understandable. You’ve been neglecting your sleep and peace of mind throughout these past few months, it’s unsurprising to me that your carnal desire has been suppressed as well.” Lucifer shakes the sleeping figure under the blankets as he speaks. “However, I keep my promises. Though it may be going against general work ethics, I’d rather have rumours spread of my indecency than that my word cannot be trusted. It would be demeaning if the Illuminati couldn’t provide something so simple as this…” 

From the blankets emerges a very familiar individual, blonde hair falling over its face, round ears, a blush visible on its cheeks, blue eyes blown wide and staring blankly ahead. It groans sleepily and crawls on all fours to get closer to the edge of the bed. Though newly awoken, it looks at her curiously.

“Sir.” Homare’s voice is reduced to just a husk, eyes fixated on the sedated clone. “This cannot be allowed.”

“Why not? It is my body, I can give it to whomever I want. Don’t worry, he’s been injected with both aphrodisiac and morphine. He should play nice.” To prove his point, he cups the clone’s cheek and Homare nearly faints seeing it nuzzle into the palm, brows furrowing. “I even taught him a trick. Hey-” He lightly taps its cheek. It blinks owlishly. “Speak.”

“H-homare?” The exact same voice of her beloved Commander leaves the clone’s lips, though much less confident and way more emotional. It sounds needy. Clones shouldn’t have any more intelligence than their survival instincts. How Lucifer taught one to say her name is unbelievable. 

“That’s her, she’s Homare.” He points at her while tilting the clone’s chin so its eyes fall on her. “She’s here to help you. Don’t you feel hot? Show her what you suffer from.” Not waiting for an answer, Lucifer tugs the blankets away, revealing the clone’s nude body. Not a single word is coming out of Homare’s mouth as her eyes drop to its large, reddened, leaking cock. Her head is completely empty. What is there even to say?

“Homare…” The clone speaks again, its eyes haven’t left her and it reaches out. Its nails aren’t long and clawed like Lucifer’s. She gasps when it grabs her arm, tugging on the uniform sleeve, like she’s waking up by a loud alarm. “Homare, Homare.” It moans, it moans too sweetly. 

“Commander, you must be joking.”

“I’m not, he’s all yours.” With a flick of the tail and his eyes set on her, he props his chin on the clone’s shoulder. The clone is blushing harder and they nuzzle each other like two cats greeting each other. “I’d like to watch, unless you wish for me to join as well. I switched this morning, just to be sure.” He’s prepared for each and every one of her opposing arguments, huh?

Homare takes a step closer to the bed, allowing the clone to roam its hands shamelessly over her curves, chest, neck, legs, anything it can reach while she undresses herself. Her face heats up out of embarrassment for the clone’s brash eagerness. Once shedding her upper layer, standing bare-chested, it uses its strength and pulls her into an embrace, its mouth attacking her neck and shoulders with uncoordinated licks and light bites. Her gut coils in arousal feeling its cock against her stomach, hot to the touch. Lucifer has reclined to lie down, watching on a propped elbow as she strips for him. And him. 

“You’re really using one of your perfect clones for this,” she thinks out loud. He hums absently, more focused on her steady disrobement. Not that it could look sexy with the clone gnawing on her like a toddler, keeping her upright so she can’t pull her trousers off. It doesn’t feel particularly good until it reaches her jawline, mouthing it and its low hums reverberate into her ear. She stifles a whimper, which makes the clone pull her even closer, up on the bed. She hastily tugs her boots off and manages to unceremoniously kick her trousers off. Instantly, the clone’s hands explore newly exposed skin, slipping underneath her panties. Constantly, it makes whining noises, mumbling nonsense as if copying their conversation. To shut it up, she licks into its open mouth, which makes it freeze in its tracks, but only for a second before enthusiastically failing to kiss her back. 

“Mmngg, mhh, mmmeh, M-mma, Homa-” It whines against her mouth, embracing her, lifting her up on top of him. Lucifer helps out by pulling it onto its back. Homare presses her hands onto its chest to keep it still, then sits down onto its shaft, experimenting with different paces as she grinds on it. “Hahh, hahhh! H-homare!” The relief makes the clone stop struggling, only moving its hips against hers. She sighs against the friction, moving more earnestly as she goes wetter. 

A hand comes to view and Lucifer tilts her head up to catch her mouth to his. Now it’s her turn to moan, as he’s so much better at kissing it’s jarring. She loses herself in his touch, leaning forward as he pulls away. When she opens her eyes, his dilated pupils stare back underneath half-closed lids. 

“May I please join, Homare?”

-

The clone’s heart beats fast inside its ribcage which Homare is lying on. At the same beat, she feels its thick length throb inside her. She feels so full, yet Lucifer hasn’t bottomed out inside her ass yet. His clawed hands rests on her hips, nails digging into her when she clenches around him a little too good. Loud whines and moans have been reduced to whimpers and harsh breaths. Looking up she sees tears running down the clone’s eyes, frustrated with not having reached any climax yet. Too bad, it gets to feel her warm, tight pussy as her beloved Commander is stretching her hole out, who she has a slight hunch is a little peeved at the position she chose them to be in. He had to watch her finger herself wide, since his nails are too sharp to do such a thing. When she glanced back at him, his eyes glowed red like he was ready to kill the clone to fuck her pussy. 

It all goes according to plan, as the moment Lucifer’s hips thud to her bottom and he can slide in and out of her without any tightness, the rhythm he sets knocks the air out of her lungs. The same goes for the clone, who grips her thighs and thrusts up. Their rhythms are off, desperate and aggressive, taking her without regard for how she feels, which is exactly what she had in mind when she drunkenly confessed wanting to be dicked down. To be handled without respect and courtesy, like a set of holes to be used. Homare lies limp as her Commander stills his hips just a few paces after the clone and warmth fills both of her holes, threatening to spill over. None of the three have the capacity to clean up once they all separate, not Lucifer who passes out shortly after pulling out, definitely not the clone, and not Homare who is enjoying the warmth of two bodies entangled with her in bed. She feels so full, so sweaty and oh so satisfied.

Chapter Text

Homare began sleeping in Lucifer’s bed much quicker than she anticipated. To be frank she didn't think it would be so miserable, never bothering learning of the hardships since she never thought she'd ever end up in this situation. From the moment she started menstruating at 11 years old, she knew the man she'd let afflict her like this would have to be extraordinary, and not long after that she joined the Illuminati, which snuffed that idea out of her mind almost immediately. For the following 10 years, she imagined she'd die a virgin and be completely content with that.

Never would she have imagined herself waking up from a nap mid-day in her Commander’s big bed, finding him there wide-eyed to tell her he sensed a demonic presence sprouting out of nowhere. Within the same hour, all symptoms worsened. 

Now the second trimester is passing by and new difficulties face her, the nauseas have morphed into a high libido. The nights were already long and now they’re dragging on for even longer. An hour has passed into the night and she's still awake, twisting in the sheets, too hot and too sensitive. 

Lucifer arrives in his chamber and curls up behind her, careful and quiet. With the elixir rapidly improving and her symptoms worsening, she's now resting more than her feeble Commander. His arm is welcoming to restrain her constant fidgeting, sure and heavy. Her hand on her belly is covered by his, tangling their fingers together. He places a kiss on her neck.

“Did I wake you, my dear?”

“No,” she answers simply and feels a squeeze of her hand. 

“You smell nice.” As if he hasn't said this at least once per day since she started expecting. In fact, that was how they knew, how he was insisting her scent was so irresistible two whole weeks earlier than one normally develops symptoms. 

Now mentioning her scent is his go-to to insinuate he's in the mood. Every day. Since day one. Homare can't imagine why she was ever upset with him for asking, now that her core coils in arousal so intensely it could make her cry.

“Go ahead, then.” 

“Really?” Her answer shocks him despite him just asking for it. His neck cranes to look at the side of her face, searching for contact. His eyes emit a faint glow, she sees the shadows they cast. She turns to look at him, and whatever expression she makes has his pupils dilate.

“Please.” 

“I see,” his breath ghosts her skin and he moves a little closer, his naked body pressed up on hers. “So that is why the whole bed smells of you.” Homare grimaces, patting the sheets in search of damp spots.

“Am I sweating that much?”

“No, you're-” his hand moves to her hip, grasping it and bringing her back. She feels his cock against her ass. He sighs from the contact. “It's good. You're good.” Another intense rush of arousal coils into her as she feels the length twitch. That first trimester was both hell and heaven for Lucifer, as his wish for a strong body was coming true before his very eyes, but all excitement and energy couldn’t be let out on the woman he wanted. The notion she’s finally willing is making him want even harder, rutting absently against her soft ass. Hand on her hip resumes its regular position over her lower belly, doing circling touches. Then it travels down, fingers slipping between her thighs, sliding over her folds. Homare shifts, spreading her legs to give him more access. The moment his fingers put pressure on her clit, even though it's not directly in contact with it, makes her keen, arching her back to rub his member more.

“It's marvelous that the instinct to mate is still active despite your womb holding our little dove.” 

“It's counterproductive,” she objects, but he’s circling her clit now so she doesn’t sound very convincing.

“Is it not useful to desire closure with the father of your child? Spending time together, developing the bond as parents?”

“I'd rather not think of the child right now.” Lucifer hums in contemplation as he splays her folds apart, dipping them into where she's wettest. He speaks then in a lower voice, mouth against her shoulder and aimed down.

“Can you believe it, dove? Mommy won't even acknowledge you're here.”

“Don't call me that..!” Her breath catches as he thrusts forward, slipping his cock between her soft legs that have since long been slick with her wet pussy and sweat.

“It’s just the correct title, why can’t Daddy be honest?” He’s setting a slow pace, moving back and forth, rutting his length into her soft skin. The swollen head pokes her clit when he thrusts deep enough, and she stubbornly stifles her moans. 

“Y-you’re not bringing those n-names into the bedroom.” 

“Why not? Why can I not call the mother of my child what she is?” He moves his hand up and plays with her firm nipples, the slick coating his fingers making them glide nicely. “Your body is responding to it - it knows what it looks like. Growing belly, large soft breasts, fertile scent.” Every word he murmurs is both pissing her off and making her tremble. What does fertility even smell like? Demons and their heightened senses.  

“I… I wouldn’t have said y-yes if you were going to act like a, a, ah…” 

“Like Mommy's good boy?” Mouth on her ear, biting and licking. She gasps. The absence of his fingers on her clit is unbearable and she reaches down to touch herself.

“Lucifer, don’t..!”

“Say it, just once.” He kisses her from shoulder to neck, not adding teeth just yet. “I know you will like it. Call me Daddy.”

N-no..” she's breathless, Lucifer’s girth sliding frictionlessly between her legs, against her spread folds, teasing her so good. His own breath is getting ragged, so she doubts he'll keep this up much longer.

“I won’t fuck you until you say it.” A whine escapes her. 

“Y-you’re -hahh- just going to c-cum and lea-hahh- leave me l-like this?!”

“If Mommy won’t play along, why should I play with her?” He stills his hips and slips out from her warm, snug legs, and his hand retreats from her boob. The lack of touch is almost painful. She hears the slick slide of his hand pumping his cock, then rapid tapping on her ass cheek. “Though I’ve been looking forward to breeding you, I’m nothing but patient.” Her face heats up as she can practically hear the teeth showing when he talks. 

“I can’t get pregnant twice.”

“Thus the perfect opportunity to fill you over… and over… and over…” His voice is a low rumble, reverberating though her whole body. She can’t reach her peak with just her hand, not at this state with this angle. 

“Please…” and Homare tries to say it but the name catches in her throat. Her face is burning and she must close her eyes, concentrating. “Please, Daddy… please fuck me Daddy-” Lucifer wraps an arm around her after her first attempt and he slides his cock back in place between her legs, thrusting in once, twice, after she says it a second time. She lifts her leg, and mouth falls open as the blunt head of his cock finds her entrance and penetrates her. The sound she makes would have been the most humiliating thing she’s said tonight…

“Mommy must be so needy tonight, she’s usually much more stubborn,” Lucifer’s smirking against her neck, skipping a breath as he sets a steady, rather rough pace. Her eyes roll back into her skull, the pressure on her sweet spot almost too much to handle. “She must be aching for this as much as Daddy. To be connected, inseparable - to be stuffed full with the seed nowhere to go but leak out and make a whole mess. Little dove is already here yet my desire to fuck a baby into her hasn’t ceased. Mommy’s going to drive me insane-” It shouldn’t make such a rise out of her, but Homare can feel the familiar tightness build in her core, his thick cock giving her the fullness she’s been craving. Her heart swells from his words and with two hard thrusts, hips slamming against her ass, she cums with a strangled cry. Eyes screw shut, all limbs clenching, sweat dripping from her skin, then everything goes limp, all muscles relaxing. Her mind swamps and thoughts slow to a mush, only registering Lucifer’s voice coming apart by the seams. “Ohhh Mommy please let me fill you, let me breed you, it’s all I want, all I’ve been thinking of for weeks, please, please I beg you-”

“Daddy can cum now,” she hears herself say, exhausted yet mirthful. 

“Thank you, Mommy, thank you, thank you-” Lucifer rambles on as warm wetness spills into her pussy, overflowing just as anticipated. Both of them moan from it, voices mingling like their sweat and heartbeats. Then the chamber falls into silence. 

“Alright, until the dove is born, you may call me that in bed. But no more after that.” Lucifer’s tail thumps happily against the sheets. 

“And you are certain you will not change your mind until then?”

“Positive.” 

“Hmph,” he hums, not convinced. “I must savor it then.” He gets up on all fours to trail kisses from her cheek, over her sides and to her belly bump. He whispers to it while he gently slips his fingers between her legs, scooping his seed up to eat. “What if you get a sibling from the mess I make of Mommy? I don’t think I could handle staying absent for so long-”

“Will you not speak to the dove at least?” 

“It's alright. She won't remember.” Homare opens her eyes and turns her head to look at him, brows furrowed. 

“How on earth do you know it's a girl?”

“I just know.” She turns back, not wanting to listen anymore, but Lucifer gets down on his stomach to lap her pussy clean, laving his seed up slowly, humming at the taste of himself.

“Mmh, Daddy is being ignored during bonding time.” Homare stifles the urge to kick him. 

Chapter Text

Light. Blinding, warm and welcoming light. In the in-between of Lucifer transferring from one vessel to the other, he manifests into his true form, a beam which he can control the velocity of. Like all else about light, its speed, its strength, its lethal radiation, the very concept of it, he’s the king of. And an ancient being like himself still becomes curious every now and then. Can he befall his gentle light onto a person? 

Homare is his perfect test subject. She stands in the middle, awaiting his move and to tell him her reaction afterwards. No one else is there but his two bodies and her. The room is dark, then her Commander leaves his vessel and everything goes white. She closes her eyes but doesn’t move from her spot. Indeed, it’s warm, like the sunspots through a window. But as Lucifer stalls to settle in his next body, more sensations can be felt. 

Fingers that aren’t there slip underneath her trousers, the white material allowing the light to travel through better than her jacket and black turtleneck. These fingers are knowing, they have touched here before, enjoyed the softness of thighs and trimmed hairs around her vulva. They’re also more than 10, odd but not unwelcome. It goes to show they’re not actually fingers, but Lucifer’s desire to have hands to touch his beloved Homare with. That very will is moving her now, warming her from the inside. Teeth nip and gnaw at her jaw, leaving hickeys and marks. She gasps and twitches, staying still is getting harder and like noticing her struggles she feels an arm wrapping around the small of her back. The light is holding onto her, touching her, slipping into her. Homare is breathing hard now, jaw dropping as a tongue that she shouldn’t be able to feel dances along hers. Moans are echoing in the room of two voices, one that is here and one that is elsewhere. 

Eventually, Lucifer must settle, or else he will fall into Gehenna. He takes his first breath and finds his heart beating quickly and blood rushing south immediately. Memories of embracing Homare return to him like remembering a lovely dream. His subordinate is leaning over his body and her blushing face is the first thing he sees. 

“I felt it,” she says quickly. Her body is still trembling. Lucifer cups her cheek and kisses her. The touch of lips, here, in Assiah, cannot be beat. But the experiment was pleasant.

Chapter Text

The Paladin had never acknowledged Homare’s face. That night on the bridge, his gaze was dead-set on the King of Light who was just about to leave, his attention could not be split and shared with anyone else. This is good, because two years later, Homare infiltrates the Vatican with its vaster security without any difficulties, and Arthur meets her professional femininity with urgent interest. Her disguise is of a nurse who will handle his intensive care for temptaint, thus they grew close by proximity. Uzai had assured her this plan would work, if the Paladin’s ego is as aligned with the Commander’s as predicted, then their desires should align as well. 

It took a laughable 2 weeks for Arthur to invite her for dinner, but a respectable additional 3 months for her to spend the night at his house. Homare goes quiet at those intimate moments, biting her tongue when muscle memory threatens to blow her cover. His moans, his habit of nipping at her neck, his firm grip, his girth- are all indistinguishable from her former Commander. Still one night did not falter his mind. There is something missing which will overlap their egos fully. 

In month 4, Homare fakes a vulnerable moment where she confesses her most “heinous” and “darkest” desires - that of making tall, bold men submit to her. Unsurprisingly, Arthur accepts her without judgement, though he’s hesitant to try at first. So this is the missing piece, the Paladin is too vanilla? Why is that so amusing to her, that a human cannot yield but the King of Light could? Pride really is the sickness of men. No matter, this is not her first time, her path is laid out in her favor. 

“No, I dislike pain,” Arthur says, but his eyes aren't leaving the implement she’s holding in black leather gloved hands. The rest of her body is also clad in leather, tightly wrapping her curves and giving sheen to important features by the dim light. 

“It doesn’t have to be painful. A riding crop is relatively harmless compared to a whip or a cane. What I think you will come to enjoy is the anticipation and impact. Besides,” she taps the crop to his collarbone, which is peeking out from his buttoned down white shirt - the only thing aside from his underwear that he’s wearing. “You can handle far worse, can you not? What is a small test of patience?” The crop is pushed back by a deep breath making his chest rise. 

“Where,” he swallows. “Where would you hit me with that?”

“We can start with your back, but I much prefer somewhere more sensitive.”

“Where?” There’s been a spark of suspicion against her that Homare has never been able to tear out of him, probably because he doesn’t trust anyone in general. But Homare isn’t anyone. 

“Your chest, your legs, your ass, your cock. Will you let me? We can stop whenever you’d like, but I dearly wish for you to try.” Arthur’s eyes soften and finally leave the crop to look at her face. What he sees makes them soften fully. He wants to be good, she knows this. 

“You needn’t coddle me, it’s as you said, I can take a lot.”

“Very well,” she murmurs and uses the crop to open the shirt like a curtain, revealing a muscled, healthy body. “Lie down.”

She’s gentle at first, watching him hold his breath as he waits for the next hit. Many times she must remind him to breathe and eventually, she hits him on an inhale, making him gasp. The sound he makes on the exhale makes her body heat up. Oh, how she misses her Commander. Soon enough, he’s hard and wanting, and Homare wraps her fingers around him, stroking slowly. But he doesn’t get to come just yet and he knows that, so he doesn’t beg. She varies her hits from gentle taps, to stroking the crop over his legs, to striking over his belly. Within the hour, his skin is painted with red spots and he’s breathing hard, looking up on the ceiling. As she moves her crop to more sensitive parts, from chest to belly to thigh, she hears him plead-

“Homare…” 

She once more wraps her hand around his throbbing cock and earnestly strokes him, lying beside him so her warm presence elevates him further. They’re looking into each other’s eyes, she can see him reach his peak faster and faster, until, “Can I come, please?”

“You’ve done so much more than I thought. You deserve it. Go ahead, come for me.” Her voice never softens anywhere else but here, for him. Arthur goes rigid and cries out, his eyes shut and he spills onto his abdomen in long white ropes of cum. Homare meets his thrusts with her hand and continues to stroke as he falls apart next to her, only slowing to a complete stop when his hips shy away from the stimulus. She kisses his temple and whispers, “Good boy.”

Then a small light emits from his chest, blossoming into a beautiful heart.

Chapter Text

“This is Homare Todou speaking.”

“Hello, it is I. Are you busy?”

“No, it is well past midnight in my timezone. I was just about to retire for the evening.”

“Then I will assume you are alone.”

“I… yes. None else is here in my hotel room.”

“Is it frugal or comfortable?”

“For the price I’d say it could be worse. The bed is large, I can give it that… Is there a reason you called? Should you not be starting your day by now?”

“I am unwell from your departure.”

"Oh. My apologies, I made sure to divide my responsibilities between you, Lundström and Egyn to strain you as little as possible, but I understand it must be hard for you right now. It won’t be long, I suspect I will return by the end of the week. Have you switched?”

“No, I am not to that point yet. What ails me is not my body but my heart. I miss you dearly.”

“Okay… Well, my visit will be short, as I said, I- Ah… I miss you too, sir.”

“Have you settled in bed already?”

“Just about. I had come out of the shower when you called.”

“So you have not dressed yet?”

“No. I didn’t bother to pack much so I’ve slept naked here.”

“I see. That is… You must be smelling like the hotel by now. No trace left of me.”

“No, unfortunately. Though it’s not foul, it’s unfamiliar. Unhomely.”

“Have you slept well there?”

“Not particularly. The meetings are sporadic, there’s evidently no order in the company’s management. I’ve had to redo a lot of work in the evening to be presentable for the next meeting, hence why I’m still awake though I must be away early in the morning.”

“Would it be too forward of me to ask you to stay up just a little longer?”

“No, of course not. What is it that you need?”

“You. I need you, Homare.”

“Oh? Oh. Then… Will you describe it to me, in what way you need me?”

“Right now, my mind is still on the idea of scrubbing you clean of that unhomely smell.”

“Would that happen in your shower then? Using your soaps and perfumes?”

“I was thinking more of using my own body. Allowing my sweat to mingle with yours on your back, down your legs…”

“You’ve put much thought into it, we have not spoken for long. Is it a recurring fantasy of yours?”

“I quite frankly wonder why you still live in your own quarters. When will we share beds? I long for waking up to your warmth.”

“That can be arranged, but you will not be let go of your nightly needles. Are there any other ways you need me, aside from showering and resting in bed?”

“How cruel. First I will not be permitted to sleep skin to skin with you and now you tease me. What has come of you?”

“I’ve a hunch you’re into it, with the way you’re gasping. A nice change from how you wheeze when you’re in pain.”

“Oh, but I also have a hunch; that you like my voice. Is it true you have saved every voice message I have sent you?”

“...Perhaps.”

“So it is, and yet you torment me here, as I writhe naked and think of you.”

“Well, sir. You called me for a favor, so clearly I’m not half as perverted as you are.”

“That may be true. I wanted you to instruct me. You have a way with words, a way to lead people to do your bidding that even a demon can admire. That’s why I called you.”

“Your praise is… well, it’s hot when you say it like that.”

“I can praise you however much you’d like, if you assist me.”

“Of course, sir. Have you taken yourself in your hands yet?”

“That I have.”

“Good. Good boy. Now, you keep the pace slow, in the tempo that I speak. I want you to use your other hand to circle over your chest and stomach. Is that nice? I heard you moan.”

“I’m shivering...”

“Then pick up the pace just a little. Get your blood flowing faster, feel your heartbeat quicken. How are your legs? Are they still like usual, or are you trembling like a leaf?”

“I.. N-not still…”

“And what fantasies are you thinking about now? New ones, old favourites?”

“M-my mind is -hahh- blank. Just y-your voice…”

“You sound wonderful, sir. If I knew you’d call I could have started a recording.”

“Aah- A-are you touching y-yourself, Homare?”

“Just a little teasing, that’s all. And you?”

“F-firm grip, same pace a-as you said.”

“Do you want to go faster?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then what do you say?”

“Ohh Homare, may I please go faster?”

“Go ahead. What do you say?”

“Th-thank you, H-homare, Homare-”

“Don’t cum. If you get close, stop right away.”

“Cruel, y-y-you’re so cruel to me.”

“Tell me where your other hand is.”

“On -ohhh- o-on my tail…”

“Interesting. I’ve heard it should feel similar to touching your prostate. What do you think would happen if you touched both at the same time?”

“I w-wouldn’t last, not for a second…”

“So you’d let me? I may fuck your ass nice and hard and stroke your tail the way you like it?”

“Yess… yes, please Homare. Ohh-”

“Yeah? You’d be good and stay still like you always do, and let me take care of all the hard work? Would you bend over so I can see your back arch prettily?”

“Yes! Y-yes I would..! Ohh- please, please-”

“What do you say?”

“Please Homare let me cum, I need to cum, please, please-”

“Hmm, I’ll allow it. Go ahead, Lucifer.”

“Oh- Homare…! Hahhh, th-thank you, thank you, thank you, Homare, thank you-”

“There you go. Good boy, let it all out for me. Don’t forget to breathe. Hmm… Well, that wasn’t so bad. If I sleep now, I will not murder the chairman as soon as I see him tomorrow.”

“You– do you need any assistance? I can be of use.”

“No, you must start your day even if you’ll stay in bed, and I must sleep. I will take up your offer when I return. In the meantime, I will remember how you whimper.”

“Delete those voice mails too. You’ll need the storage for what I will be sending you until you’re home.”

“Oh, you spoil me, Commander.”

Chapter Text

The desperation found in Lucifer’s eyes could almost be described as mania. Not that Homare hasn’t seen such intense emotions on his face before, given the nature of what they’re trying to accomplish at the Illuminati, but never for something so… trivial as this. 

“Sir, you need to rest if your body is failing you, not further exert and exhaust yourself.” Her hands are firmly around his wrists as Lucifer is trying to cling to her, peeling him off as gently as she can. He’s panting now, pupils blown as he looks at her. 

“It will not be long, Homare. I can’t go on for another day without you.” Words that pierce her heart like no other. It’s grating on her when he demands something so sweet when she knows it will cause terrible health problems for him. Sure, they have the stock to replace his vessel if the times are dire, but this situation is so trivial it’s hardly even an inconvenience, no matter what Lucifer pleads. 

“Are you even able to get it up, sir?” She thought her stern look and clenched jaw would’ve discouraged him but no, he is unrelenting, clasping at her clothes and pulling her closer. 

“My tail. If you’re gentle, it will be enough.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Homare.” Red rings in his eyes flare as if he’s about to unleash something on her, but he takes a breath and settles. Something brushes against her leg. She looks down to see golden fur, ending in a tuft of silky smooth feathers. “Do not reject me.” And it is here Homare must consider his meaning and realize how out of line she is. A demon king has put so much trust into a human he can offer his tail to her without a second of hesitation. It’s an honor, no, a blessing to be in this position. Though her caution goes to show she isn’t gluttonous for this opportunity, any more stalling will unintentionally humiliate her gratuitous Commander even further. 

With shaky, warm hands, she removes her gloves and Lucifer lets go of her to hang his legs over the edge of the bed. He lets go and guides her hands behind his back, placing his chin on her shoulder. They’re so close she’s standing between his legs, his ankles crossed over one another, keeping her in place. Looking down his back she sees his spine dotting down until meeting with a furry tail base, which is where her hands are being led. Whispering to her, he instructs, “Go with the growth, starting from the beginning and stroke slowly as far as you can reach.”

“Understood,” she mutters back, still not entirely believing the situation she’s in. Her bare hands pass each vertebrae from neck and down until her fingers touch fur, and his tail responds instantly, the mid-section arching as if seeking her touch, or trying to get away. Lucifer sighs as she does as she’s told, following the length in a slow manner, applying just enough pressure to wrap her hands around the tail. Her left hand is first, following the curve of the tail and tries not to bend or redirect it in any way, but at the mid-section the end of the tail responds and wags side to side. With the base also billowing as if to pull away, she wraps her right hand around the base quickly after and follows suit, starting at the base and stroking out. 

Instantly, having both hands on the tail, she finds the pattern it moves in. Her touch is making it twitch randomly, but with her slow stroking, it bends to her touch, allowing it to billow like a wave. 

Then, it twitches hard, almost breaking free from her grip and she reacts by squeezing the tail, and she panics-

“Ohh, Homare…” Lucifer keens in her embrace, his hands moving up to cling to her once more. “Don’t stop.” Homare is sure her heart could leap out of her throat, but she follows orders. Her hands remain firmly gripping the tail, restricting its movements to bend into a wave as she stroking along its length. The tuft of feathers at the end are unbelievably soft and smooth, and when she passes through them, Lucifer whines into her shoulder. “That’s it, keep going. Just like that…” His body is hot against hers, reacting strongly to her touches. Glancing down she finds his cock still fully soft between his legs, yet a few drops of precum have made a strain on the sheets. She wonders how much pain he must be in to not even be able to get hard right now, and how much pleasure his tail is in for him to respond like this. 

“Do you want more, sir?”

“Yes, more…! Faster-” his voice falters as Homare picks up the pace, enjoying the smoothness of his fur as she strokes his tail like one would do to a cat. The tail ceases to twitch and Lucifer’s whole body goes limp. He moans louder for every time one of her hands combs though the feathery tuft. 

“Yeah? Are you close?” she asks, licking the tip of his pointy ear.

“Don’t stop…! Don’t-” quickly Lucifer reaches behind him and she sees him rub his fingers around the base of the tail, like screwing a bolt in place. He wraps his legs around Homare’s waist, their chests touch and she can hear him hold his breath. Mere seconds later he gasps and cries out. "Ohh! Hhh, H-h-homare!!” He arches his back and his whole body emits light, Homare instinctively shuts her eyes. She winces, feeling his nails dig into her back through her uniform jacket and mantle, and she lets go of the tail, worrying holding onto it will harm him as it whips about erratically. Men typically don’t want too much touch right after orgasm anyway.

Looking between them as Lucifer catches his breath, she sees the stain on the sheets haven’t grown and his cock is still fully flaccid. That orgasm wouldn’t have happened without demonic biology.

Homare kisses his sweaty temple and gingerly ushers him back in bed by pushing on his chest. He follows easily, collapsing on his back. The moment his head hits the pillows, his eyes close and she knows for a fact she will not be able to wake him without causing great damage to his vessel. He’s lucky he isn’t deteriorating right now. 

Homare is also lucky. If he was still conscious he would’ve noticed how much this turned her on, and she would’ve never been able to object to his advances again.

Chapter Text

35 centimeters. A demon king doesn't need to be large to be imposing and yet the vessel Lucifer inhabits is a tall, fair man with golden hair. One inhabits what one is. Likewise a demon king shouldn’t feel such desire to overwhelm the small with his physical form, as he is the concept of something so vast it can barely contain itself in said form. And yet. Lucifer is crawling on top of Homare like a beast, a deep purr coming to life in his chest as his shadow covers her small frame. She looks up at him, not with fear in her eyes but nervousness. She should be nervous, as he grinds needily against her belly, and his length reaches past her navel. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, barely containing his excitement, achingly hard.

“I’ll make it fit,” his beloved Homare answers, both hands wrapping around him to stroke him slow and firm. Pressing their palms together, he could bend his first digits to hug the tips of her fingers. He could cover her fist until it almost disappeared with one hand, he could connect his thumb and middle finger when he held both of her wrists together, he could slouch his posture to rest his chin on the top of her head. With her dainty hands wrapped around his length, he just looks even larger. The reminder has him thrust impatiently into her grip. 

“Ride me. I wish not to hurt you.”

“That’s alright. You shouldn’t be exerting your vessel too much anyway.” Her eyes are half closer and she reaches over to kiss him, craning her neck up to reach up to him. “Is the view to your liking? Do you feel strong above me?”

“I do.” He’s breathless already, big drops of precum smearing over Homare’s hands, making her sticky. “Too strong. I’m reminded of… of what we are.” She hums, moving down to kiss his neck, down to his collarbone and shoulder. 

“Then you are thinking too much.”

They switch positions. Homare must raise herself onto her feet rather than her knees to align herself with his cock. She leans back, giving him ample room to watch the blunt tip splay her apart and inch… by inch… by inch bury inside her wet, welcoming pussy. He watches her give all of herself to fill up, bulging out of her soft stretching belly, creating a bump that he can press his hand into. Homare doesn’t wait long to raise her hips and sink back down, bouncing eagerly on his length, feeling him stuff her full every time she comes back down. Yet she stops a few inches short of his hips, not bottoming out completely. No, he’s just too big to fit all the way, but Lucifer is nearing his peak anyway, his beloved Homare is wet and warm and tight around his girth, squeezing and pumping him, encouraging him into completion. Homare isn’t listening when he cries out he’s getting close, the notion to be even fuller is doing the opposite of slowing her down. Cum spurts out and leaks everywhere, creating sticky trails as she rides them both to satisfaction, only stopping when her legs quiver and tremble weakly. Lucifer drags her down to a hug, not pulling out but wrapping his arms, legs and tail around her body. Her heartbeat is quick like a small rodent, her pleased moans sounding more like squeaks and whimpers. She’s fully covered by him, inside and out. He can reach everywhere and hold all of her in himself. She is his.

Chapter Text

Lucifer’s golden hair is silky soft after being washed and dried, long bangs fall over his face like airy curtains as his middle part hasn’t settled yet. Homare combs through the locks with both of her hands, his eyes are closed as she does so, relishing in her dull nails raking over his scalp. 

“Are you feeling any better?” she asks. 

“Just a little more, Homare.” His hands find her waist and fingers slip past her black shirt. The jacket and mantle has already been discarded. Lucifer himself is only wearing an open robe. There’s a pillow under his knees that he stands on. Even sitting on his heels, he reaches up to her chest, where he’s resting his cheek. 

“Let’s get you to bed.”

“No, not yet.” He looks up at her past his eyelashes. “Are you not warm in those clothes?”

“I’m a little cold, actually.” The corners of her mouth tilt up. “Would you warm me up, sir?” The nails on his scalp feel heavenly, scritching and scratching him gingerly. He lets out a low groan, eyes fluttering shut, tail thumping against the white floor, then he moves his hands up, pulling her shirt up and exposing her stomach. He tugs her bra up by his teeth, freeing her tits with a light bounce, then swirling his tongue over her nipples, feeling them stiffen to his wet touch and the cold air. Homare lets out an amused hum and rewards him by petting his hair more. 

The hands move down. They slide beneath the waistband of Homare’s trousers and slip them down to her knees, where the boots prevent them from going any further. Pungent smells of arousal hit his sensitive nose and his eyes dart to her trimmed bush. 

“Now, how are you going to warm me up?” she muses. “Getting on all fours for me?” Ignoring her, knowing she’s raising her brow without even looking up, Lucifer follows her suggestion and leans down until his palms are on the floor. He crooks his neck up and licks through her folds, spreading them apart. The tip of his tongue detects her clit and he hears her breath stutter. The grip on his hair tightens and she thrusts her hips forward, rutting against his face. “Yeah? You like the taste?”

“Mhh,” not bothering to fight her hands, he follows her lead, allowing her to get off on his tongue. He must slump his back and shoulders, shrinking into himself to get comfortable, settling in a bestial position. It’d be humiliating were it not for how the musky, thick juices coats his tongue and rids his mind of all higher thought. His entire world shrinks to the drop of slick trailing down his chin. Homare’s palm is put on his forehead when she decides she’s had enough. Looking up he sees her cheeks flushed pink. 

“Bed now, darling?” she asks, panting. He hasn’t the thought capacity to respond, only nodding and getting back up on his knees. Homare places a hand on his shoulder as she tugs her boots and trousers off. She heads towards the bed, tossing off the rest of her clothes while Lucifer waits patiently on the pillow. Once she’s seated on the edge, she curls her finger up. “Here, boy.”

He gets on all fours and crawls.

Chapter Text

Back against the door, Homare hears her heartbeat thump in her throat. Sweat has accumulated in the back of her neck from briskly walking to her private quarters. In her hands is a starch white shirt, newly worn, with a few drops of blood around the collar, which is the reason said shirt was discarded in the laundry cart. She had walked past the wash room to leave her own dirty clothes, finding the Commander’s hamper awaiting dry cleaning. There was a whiff of something in the air, then her hand had moved on its own, snatching one shirt on the top before scurrying away like a coward. Now that she’s alone, it feels like no time has been spent at all, like she headed to the wash room and now she’s here. What even happened?

There’s no denying it, she stole an item of clothing from the Commander. The smell had caught her interest, which isn’t surprising. Demon pheromones stick to everything and linger well past several washes, now that it’s unwashed the smell is much more… there. Even without raising her arm, the smell is filling the air of her dorm. It’s faint, sticking to her nose like pleasant smoke.

How long will she be staying here with her back against the exit door? She has work to do, can’t just stay here wallowing in her shameful impulsions. Either she hurries back to to the wash room and returns the shirt, leave it here to keep filling her room with irresistible smoke, or she-

Well. 

That option is so selfish and shameful it’s hard to even consider it. Yet her eyes drop to the shirt, then her knees buckle and she drops to the floor. 

Homare’s heart is quick like a rodent as she brings the center piece of the white fabric to her face and takes a shaky breath. The smoke fills her lungs and she picks up a leading note of vanilla, fading to leather which she can sense at the back of her throat. From inhale to exhale, the sensation reminds her of downing a fine whiskey. Her chest swells with heat, then it spreads to her face and deep into her gut. She presses her legs together and sniffs the shirt again. And again. And again. And- until she gasps for air, panting hard to make the smoke fill her faster. Slowly, she has moved up the shirt, past every button until she’s pressing the pressed collar to her nose. 

It smells so good, right there. Is there a reason for that? She’s half foolish to ask when she meets the Commander again. She wonders with wild excitement how he would react to such a question, as her hand snakes down to palm against her groin. There must be a scent gland, so perhaps the armpits smell nice too? Hmm, no, not there. But there’s a sweetness past the sleeves which she follows all the way to the cuffs, where that vanilla is fronting again. The right cuff is significantly more pungent, so much so it drags a whine from her lips and she must take a pause to catch her breath. Her gut coils almost painfully in arousal, far stronger than the shame she cannot shake. The Commander would rebuke her for stealing, for hiding herself away and rut against her hand to his image in her mind. She can so vividly imagine his disappointed frown, or even worse, his red glare as he puts her in a chokehold, demanding to know what exactly she did to his belongings. That image has her finally drag her trousers off, kicking her boots away and stumbling into bed. 

It cannot take longer than five minutes getting off on that vanilla sweet scent. Homare is left swamped and sweaty, her face still hot from embarrassment. She frowns at her wet fingers as if they’re at fault, spreading them apart, watching strings of slick thin out until it breaks apart. With the same impulsivity she dries off her fingers on the shirt, the right cuff specifically. She jolts as if struck when she realizes what she’s doing, but her curiosity takes a strong hold of her. What would they smell like together? The answer is disappointing, just his magical pheromones and her primitive musk. 

She leaves the shirt in her dorm and comes home that afternoon with the Commander’s smell having filled her room as if she has emptied a whole bottle of perfume inside. There’s no trace of her own smell left inside. She gets used to it, until she wears it to bed, bringing the collar up to her nose and darts her tongue out to taste the tangy blood stains. Every morning she wakes up to the smell of the Commander wrapped around her. For several days she does so, telling herself this will be the day she will return the shirt before getting caught, then in the evening she finds an excuse to postpone it. 

“Homare, I must ask.” Lucifer tugs on her sleeve one afternoon seemingly out of nowhere. “Are you in need of a new shirt yet?”

“Pardon? Sir?” 

“You smell of me,” he says simply and Homare’s body goes cold. “I asked the laundry staff to count my uniforms and they found one shirt missing, so I imagine you took one.”

“My apologies, I-” her mouth is dry, her face is getting warm. “It was a moment of weakness. I will return it right away.”

“So it isn’t fresh anymore?”

“What?” Lucifer’s brows crease slightly, getting just a little frustrated.

“Homare, I was asking if you want a new shirt. It must have lost a lot of its scent by now.” To say she’s at a loss of words would be an understatement. She just nods. This smoothes his frown. “Good, I will be heading to bed after dinner, you may have this shirt that I’m wearing right now. Is there something you’d like me to add to it?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m having a difficult time processing your reaction to this.”

“No need. You have been in such a good mood recently, I hope that is because of me.” There is no tactical way to phrase herself, so Homare answers honestly. 

“I… wear it when I sleep.”

“Does that bring you comfort?”

“It does, yes.” Lucifer smiles, that was the answer he’s been looking for.

“Then, I shall smother it in calming pheromones for you. Anything else?”

“No, thank you,” Homare’s voice breaks in nerves as he leans forward expectantly. He’s still smiling and it has now reached his eyes. His tail is flicking in thought and playfulness.

“If I may be so bold to offer a trade, would that be alright with you?”

“Of course. Anything you need.”

“Your panties.” Homare would ask him to repeat himself hadn’t he spoken to clearly. “In the evening when I give you my new shirt, return the old one too and give me one pair of your used underwear.” And he squints his eyes further, pupils dilated on her, chin in his hand. “Preferrably the ones you’re wearing as we speak.” Once again, Homare can only nod for a few seconds, but as the silence lingers between their eye contact, she gathers some courage. 

“Will they bring you comfort?”

“No, far from. Satisfaction is wishful thinking, knowing my vices I am leading my senses to addiction.” The second she processes his meaning the tips of her ears bloom into a pinking red.