Chapter Text
“Vaggie, it’ll just be for a while,” Charlie pleads. “I’ll be back before you can even say ‘Hazbin!’”
“Hazbin,” her girlfriend immediately deadpans, arms crossed and brows furrowing in displeasure.
Charlie lets out an exasperated sigh. Oh, how she wishes her girlfriend was more amenable to her (more spontaneous) initiatives. “I know you’re not the biggest fan of hosting these exercises, but it’s not every day that my dad calls asking for me to visit him instead of coming to stay here. Besides, you always do amazing whenever you’re in charge!” She assuages, instinctively moving to hold her girlfriend’s hands in her own.
"But—" Vaggie starts.
“No ‘buts!’” She interrupts before the other woman can begin attempting to convince her to stay. “I trust you, and like I said, it’ll only be for a few hours…hopefully,” Charlie adds on that last part mostly to herself. She knows how carried away her father can get in his enthusiasm to spend time with her.
Unimpressed, Vaggie lets out her own sigh, shoulders slumping in tandem. “Fine,” she grumbles, still unwilling to release her beloved’s hands.
“Yay!” Charlie cheers and moves to peck her girlfriend on the cheek, internally grateful that it didn’t take too much convincing to get her to agree. Vaggie slips out a soft smile in return.
“Just don’t take too long, Cariño. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep Baxter from blowing up that ‘wall,’” Vaggie points to the infamous hotel wall, “with one of his new ‘inventions,’” she emphasizes the last word with air quotes. The two quickly glance at the fish demon, who’s currently engaged in an animated conversation with an entirely uninterested Cherri Bomb. Maybe Vaggie has a legitimate reason to worry about Charlie’s absence. Oh well! She trusts that her partner will be able to handle the scene if it ever comes to.
Charlie looks back to her girlfriend. “I’ll try not to. We’ll probably just catch up over some tea or something,” Charlie muses before letting her reluctant girlfriend go and making her way toward the hotel doors. “The sooner I leave the sooner I’ll be back!” She twists her head around and winks saucily, earning her an eye roll and amused huff from her girlfriend.
“I’ll see you all later!” She yells to the room, receiving only a few half-hearted waves in return. She offers one last smile to Vaggie before stepping outside into Hell’s heat.
Although she'd promised to come back as soon as possible, Charlie couldn’t help but take the more “scenic” route to her childhood home. Well, as scenic as Hell can be.
During her journey, she notices that a few people offer a wave or a head nod in her direction, and it makes her heart swell. Ever since the hotel’s successful defense against the extermination was broadcasted, her people have grown to respect her more. And now, more demons than ever believe that redemption is possible!
After about an hour of walking, the princess finally finds herself standing in front of the familiar pair of imposing black gates guarding her family mansion. A spark of delight rises as she takes in the sight of the luscious flowers flourishing behind them—their presence implying that her father’s been tending to the family garden even after all this time. The thought of him watering and singing to the little plants (“It helps them grow!” he used to insist) in his free time has a wide smile forming on her lips. Her dad can be so darn cute sometimes.
Once striding past the gates and taking some time to admire the beautiful bloomage, Charlie makes her way to the front doors of her once-home. Before she can grab hold of the golden handle, however, she hesitates. While she and her father have rekindled their relationship—especially after the extermination and their subsequent rebuilding of her dreams—there’s just something…daunting about meeting him outside of the hotel walls. Charlie can’t really put her finger on it, but there’s a mild sense of unease stirring within her. It’s probably some form of nervousness—which is honestly to be expected when coming back home for the first time in decades. There’s no need to overthink it. So, taking a deep breath, she continues onwards and slams the dangling metal handle against one of the iron doors, alerting her father to her arrival.
She doesn’t need to wait for long before they open to reveal the King of Hell’s grinning face, his pointy teeth on full display, as he proudly stands in front of her.
“Charlie!” Her father rejoices, hastily bringing her into a bone-crushing hug that squeezes the air from her lungs. She returns his embrace with an exasperated grunt.
“Dad! It’s so nice to see you!” She wheezes. “How’ve you been?”
“Simply splendid, but even better now that my beloved daughter has come to visit me!” He cheers, leaning slightly back to take in all of her glowing features. Memories of her youth—of constantly being graced with the sight of her father’s blinding smile—arise, blurring together with the present image of the toothy grin in front of her now. The sense of Deja vu that washes over her leaves Charlie feeling a bit dizzy, but she mirrors his expression happily.
Her father is surprisingly dressed down, donning a pink button-down vest—the sleeves pulled back to his elbows—and white slacks. It’s a nice change to his usual three-piece suit, especially without the presence of the usual gloves, although Charlie isn’t above admitting that a part of her misses his kingly hat.
“Come in!” He beckons, stepping back from the doorway to allow her entry into the palace and waving her in with an enthusiastic motion. She follows willingly.
Upon passing the doors, bittersweet nostalgia floods Charlie’s senses as she takes in her childhood home. Her heart aches at the sight of the walls, filled with portraits of the happy family that once was. She’s also slightly taken aback by just how many rubber ducks litter the place; perhaps she should discuss the extent of her father’s “obsession” with him later.
But she’s mildly startled out from her musings when a wry arm wraps around her lower waist, pulling her ever closer against her dad’s warm body. She spares a quick glance down, but that’s also when he chooses to press his cheek into her side, blocking her view of whatever expression he may be harboring. He continues to bring them further into the palace, her stomach performing little flips all the while. Was he always so…clingy? Well, she’s never been one to complain about affection of all things—that would just be hypocritical—especially when it’s coming from one of the two people she’s missed most these past seven years. So, Charlie hums and leans in, letting herself be guided by his touch.
She ends up missing the golden blush that blooms across the man’s cheeks.
“Sit!” The king orders her flippantly once they reach the living space, moving both of his hands onto her shoulders and using the momentum to push her down onto a chair. “I’ll make us some tea,” he tells her, already bounding off to the kitchen with a peppy walk. Charlie lets out an amused chuckle at her dad’s obvious excitement, the flutters from earlier starting to die down with the growing distance between them.
Not long later, he comes back sporting another grin, holding a white teacup in each hand, and moving to sit down in the chair across from her. Graciously, she accepts the tea and takes a sip—the citrus-like flavor of Earl Grey flooding her taste buds. She hums in approval (despite the large gap in time since they last had tea together, he still managed to remember her favorite) while allowing the comforting heat of the liquid to urge her body to relax. Her dad, seemingly appeased at her enjoyment of the beverage, lifts his own cup to take a drink.
“Well!” he starts, after placing it back down, “I think we spend more than enough time together talking about the hotel and all. So why don’t we talk about something different this time ‘round? What do you say? Hmmm?” He waggles his eyebrows at her in such a goofy fashion that leaves Charlie choking on the giggle bubbling its way up from her chest.
She nods with a snort, more than happy to oblige to her father’s request. Most of their conversations post-reunion really have just revolved around discussing her future plans for the hotel. And although her dad has been incredibly supportive of her dreams as of late, it’s been a long while since they just talked about their lives—since they talked about them. And so, still smiling, she places her teacup onto its saucer and prepares to ramble about whatever she can possibly think of.
They spend hours just talking together, their radiant energy working off each other as they bounce from topic-to-topic, ranging from random retellings of humorous encounters to reminiscing about the happier moments in her youth. And wow, Charlie comes to realize just how much she’d missed this. Being able to talk with her father so carelessly without the constant presence of her mother’s separation or her dad’s subsequent isolation looming over them is so liberating. Sure, she always enjoys whenever he spends a few nights at the hotel, but there’s just something different about their dynamic right now. Perhaps it’s the familiar environment bringing it out of them? Or maybe it’s the way he looks so enraptured with her—staring at her lips like he’s hanging off every word that comes out of her mouth. Regardless, Charlie is happy, and judging by her father’s animated movements and never-ceasing smiles, he probably feels the same way.
After a small lull towards the end of a conversation, her dad stands up to retrieve both of their teacups. He takes the one from Charlie’s hand, and in the process, brushes his fingers against her own. But, then he pauses, letting the touch linger and staring at their point of contact with intent. Charlie stills in confusion with the sudden shift in mood—what was happening?
The moment ends almost as abruptly as it had started, however. Her dad withdraws with her cup in hand, loudly clearing his throat with a forced cough (she cringes at the sound) before making his way towards the kitchen. Charlie watches him go—the same fluttering from earlier returning in the aftermath of their strange interaction. Something compels her to follow, so she does.
She trails after the shorter man as he comes up to the sink, where he begins to wash the cups. Her father can easily just use his magic to clean them up, but his decision to do the task manually is strangely domestic—it’s…nice. And something about the sight of his bare arms in action makes the fluttering inside her grow stronger. Charlie hastily pushes the sensation back down though; she doesn’t know what made things so tense between them right now, but this is not the time to be weird about it, stomach!
The seconds of silence where Charlie just watches him work begin to drag on, and with them, the tension starts to bite at her conscious.
She starts up another conversation.
“Have you been to Cannibal Town lately?” she asks with a bit of strain to her voice. Charlie herself has frequented that side of the pentagram quite often, mostly to visit Rosie, but also as a subtle way to express the immense gratitude she harbors for its inhabitants. It’s not uncommon for the princess to strike up a conversation with some of the people there (although she deliberately steers away from any discussions that include anything about their cannibalistic tendencies. She loves them, but having to listen to their enthusiastic retellings of their previous meals makes her queasy). Even though she has an inkling that her father doesn’t venture out to tour his kingdom much—even after the rebuilding of the hotel—she would love for him to take a look around said town. Perhaps she could join as a fun little day trip for them both?
“Hmmm, can’t say I have,” he answers her, albeit with some disinterest.
Undeterred, she continues, “Well you should! I mean, obviously everyone there is kind of a murderous flesh-eating cannibal, but they’re really all so lovely once you get to know them!”
Her dad nods along to what she’s saying, grabbing a hand towel to dry the cups before moving to place them back into the cupboards above the counter. Charlie bites back a groan; can he at least pretend to be invested right now? He seemed to be really interested in her—uh, their conversation—earlier…
But she’s not letting him shut down again, so she trudges onward with whatever other details she can pull about the topic.
“Alastor was the one who first brought me there!”
And that finally catches her dad’s attention.
“Alastor?” he growls, posture stiffening as he twists his head towards her. “You went with the radio demon to a town full of cannibals?”
…whoops.
“Well, when you put it like that…” she chuckles nervously, wringing her fingers. Oh Lord. She already feels the heat of her father’s anger emanating off him. She scrambles to work on damage control: “But he was a complete gentleman! He made sure I was okay and kept me beside him just in case anything happened!”
“He what?!” Lucifer bellows, his sclera glowing red and—oh fuck—Charlie should’ve known better than to bring up the overlord to her overprotective father (even if it was enough to bring him out of his little slump).
“Dad, you’re missing the point!” she counters, her own frustration beginning to rise at his reaction. He can be so damn dramatic sometimes, and especially over the most mundane details.
“The point is that…that freak,” he spits out, “brought my daughter to a town full of flesh-eating demons and took it as an opportunity to put his filthy hands all over her!” He roars, wings unfurling as a result of his escalating temper. Charlie really ought to learn how to word things better.
“I’m gonna make piece of shit regret being born,” her father snarls, conjuring up a portal and already bounding towards it.
“No!” The princess yelps, lunging to wrap herself around his arms and shoulders before he can teleport to the other demon’s whereabouts. Her father immediately stills at the contact.
“Dad!” She hurries to explain. “It was just to introduce me to his friend—Rosie! The one who helped me convince the cannibals to help us fight against Adam!”
The portal shuts in the seconds after the words ring out, her father’s body softening in her hold. If Charlie wasn’t so quickly pumped on adrenaline, she might’ve noticed how the man subtly leans himself back against her chest.
Once somewhat convinced that her father isn’t making it his personal mission to obliterate the radio demon from existence, Charlie relaxes her embrace, releasing an exasperated sigh. “Dad…” She growls out, irritated beyond belief and ready to scold him for his melodramatic behavior. Does he really need to get so hostile whenever something has to do with Alastor? He’s her friend for crying out loud!
Sensing his daughter’s disapproval, Lucifer realizes that it’s now his turn to placate. He tucks his wings away and faces his body towards hers. “Look,” he moves to hold her hands within his own, “I’m grateful for the cannibals’ help—at least for until I was able to get there,” that last part leaves through gritted teeth, “but for....Alastor to have taken you to such a dangerous place—I mean, Charlie—you’ve gotta understand my anger!” His grip tightens, and for a fleeting moment, she feels a twinge of fear.
But she doesn’t budge. If anything, she feels even more defensive. “Yeah, well at least he’s always been whenever I’ve needed his support!” Her dad visibly deflates at that. She continues with a softer tone, “Dad…I know you don’t like him, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s someone I care for. Maybe it isn’t for the ‘purest’ reasons—sure, but he and Vaggie have been there for me and the hotel since day one. You’re…just going to have to accept that.” She finishes her statement by squaring her shoulders some, showing that the verdict is not up for debate.
Things remain tense for a moment before her father’s shoulders slump in defeat and he pulls his hands back from her own. Despite her current frustration with him, Charlie already itches for their warmth back.
“Okay,” he sighs, brows furrowing with disfavor, but Charlie will take the victory anyways. “But,” he stares back up at her, eyes blazing with intent, “I am here now, and sweetie, I want you to come to me whenever you have a problem or need someone to talk to, well, besides Maggie, of course.”
“It’s Vaggie, Dad.”
“Whoops! Yes—Vaggie! Haha!” Charlie can’t help but let out an eye roll at his slip-up, the corners of her lips quirking up despite their earlier frown. Her dad has always been the best at making her smile.
“Anyways,” he grabs her by the shoulders, “I know I wasn’t really there for you in the past, but I promise that I'll do whatever I can to make it up to you now.” Warmth spreads from Charlie’s chest at his words.
For decades, all she ever wanted was his support. And now that she has it? Well, Charlie is over the moon.
“There’s that smile,” Her father trills, causing a giggle to erupt from her throat. Her father’s expression softens, his eyes twinkling over his victory at getting his daughter to brighten up (especially since her ruffled mood was his doing). He seemingly decides to drop the earlier topic in favor of remaining in her good graces.
With his own smile, her dad’s hand reaches up to rest on the side of her face, tenderly moving to rub his palm up and down her cheek. She leans into the touch, those happy flutters from earlier return in full form. But slowly, her father’s expression falls, his gaze becoming more pensive, though the rhythmic movement of his hand remains the same. Ruby eyes flit downwards before becoming transfixed on something. When Charlie follows their line of sight, she realizes what’s caught her dad’s attention. He’s staring at her lips.
Something entirely warped from the flittering sensations starts to build in her pit. It’s when a thumb swipes across her bottom lip and her father's face starts to move in closer that Charlie hastily places her hand over his to pull it away. She hurryingly steps back and attempts to calm her rising heartbeat.
But her father stares at her retreat looking…disappointed.
“Charlie—”
“So!” she quickly interrupts, not liking how there’s a different kind of heat beginning to spread in her belly. “Have you made any new ducks lately? Anything cute?” She presses, a pinched smile overtaking her facial features.
Her father looks startled at her sudden change in demeanor but chooses to accept the bait. “Well, I’ve made a couple,” he looks askance, eyes skirting elsewhere as a small blush forms on his cheeks, “but, I’ve been spending most of my time here with the garden.”
Back on familiar territory—good! Charlie is quick to regain her footing, “Oh yeah! I saw it on my way here. You did a really good job! All the flowers look so beautiful! Especially compared to when I was last here.” Her dad gives a genuine smile at her praise, his expression beginning to glow.
“I’m glad you like it, sweetheart,” he moves to rest the small of his back against one of the kitchen’s marble countertops before continuing, “I’ve actually been having some rarer species imported from the other rings! Who knew that Envy grew such beautiful marigolds?!” His arms start to rise in tandem with his words, and Charlie’s earlier apprehension begins to evaporate the longer she listens to him ramble about the types of plants native to the other rings. Maybe what happened earlier was merely a slip-up, a result of some...misguided emotional residue of his anger.
Her attention refocuses once her father’s excitement begins to wind down, the change in tone setting her back on alert. “Y’know, taking care of these flowers,” his words start to trail off “…well, they remind me of you, Charlie. Of our time together...”
The temporary distraction could only work for so long.
“I—I’ve missed you a lot, Charlie.” He murmurs. The same, intense look from before returns to his eyes. And when catching sight of it, Charlie swallows thickly.
He looks down solemnly as if preparing himself for what he’s going to say next, and a small, terrified part of Charlie hopes that he loses the courage to do so.
“It’s been so lonely, without you,” he continues, quieter, bringing his gaze back to his daughter’s. “Spending time with you today—just me and you—has made me the happiest I’ve been in years. I know we’ve only talked for a few hours,” he rubs the back of his head sheepishly, “but seeing your smile, hearing your laughter—Hell, just being with you again has made your old man so very happy.” He takes a step forward, smiling softly with a deep fondness, but all Charlie can focus on is the dread trickling up her throat. He presses his smaller body closer to hers, taking her hands in his, lidded eyes never leaving her own.
“Charlotte, I…” her father breathes, moving impossibly closer until she can feel the heat of his breath.
Then, chapped lips are pressing against her own. It’s chaste, but it’s more than enough for a bolt of electricity to singe at Charlie’s nerve-endings. Her shock at the unexpected contact leaves her paralyzed, which her dad takes as an initiative to deepen the kiss, slipping out his forked tongue to lick at her mouth. And Charlie…let’s it happen.
Then she’s shoving him off, panting and wiping the small trail of spittle dribbling down her chin with the back of her hand.
“Dad…what—“ She stumbles back, alarmed. A terrifying cocktail of fear and fire radiates from her core and up to her now-flushed cheeks. What was happening?
The man looks taken aback, floundering—as if he wasn’t the one who kissed her!—before whipping his head away from her and letting out a string of curses. His upper body moves to curl in on itself.
The two remain frozen in suspense. Charlie’s lips tingle with the pulse of her heartbeat as she watches her father dig his hands into the fabric of his vest, clutching over where his heart rests. He takes a minute, breathing heavily.
More time passes with them like this, and Charlie wants to scream, to demand an explanation for what he’s trying to do—why it’s making her feel like this.
There’s a moment where he glances at her from his peripheral and his eyes widen—almost as if he’s surprised that she's still there, watching him. His panicked face mirrors her own.
Ever so slowly, he straightens his posture and turns to face her; his expression is pinched, as if he’s in pain. “Charlie,” he begins, bringing his hands up in a way one would to calm a startled lamb. “I’m—I hadn’t,” he closes his eyes and takes a shuddering breath. A part of Charlie wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him violently—spit it out!
His throat clicks, body stilling as he stares into his daughter’s eyes, expression so raw that Charlie finds herself unable to look away. “No. You deserve to know the truth…even if you’ll despise me…you deserve to know.” He whispers, seemingly more to himself than to her. At this, sweat starts to build on the back of Charlie’s neck.
“I never recovered from your mom leaving me,” he spares a brief glance at the golden ring resting on his finger before looking back at her. “I’ve spent the last few decades depressed and so, so lonely. Days—weeks—years would pass, and I wouldn’t notice. All I could ever focus on was how pathetic I was—am,” he chokes the last part out. “How I failed your mother…and how I failed you.” Charlie feels the urge to interrupt, to stop him from vomiting out whatever is twisting within his insides. She can’t bear to hear her father talk about himself that way—the very man who made her believe that her dreams of redemption were ever possible in the first place—even if all she wants to do is flee from here. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter because he continues.
“Losing Lilith was something I couldn’t handle, but losing you is…it’s…I can’t even think of it, Charlie. I know we weren’t very close during your childhood, but you’re the one thing that makes my fall from Heaven something I could never regret. You mean so much to me Charlie, you…you have no idea.” Fresh tears start to well in her father’s eyes, and judging by the moisture Charlie feels clinging to her eyelashes, she’s not far behind. The power of his words on her are indescribable, and it’s what keeps her glued to the floor in front of him.
“Seeing the girl—the woman—you’ve become is something I’ve always dreamed of. And now that I’m part of your life? Charlie, it’s given me purpose again.”
“Dad–” She moves to hug him—kiss be damned—but he stops her with a quick raise of his hand.
“But—! But the way I feel about you now is so...different, and not in the way I should. My hands, they move on their own—I’m always wanting to touch you. When you smile at something I say, my chest feels like it’s going to burst. I get so giddy whenever I’m with you, but then, my joy morphs into something darker and—“ He quickly cuts himself off, bringing his hands to his hair in distress.
“And I know it’s not normal—I know!” Pale fingers tug the golden locks at his temples. “But, by God, Charlie, I’d be lying if I said that a part of me isn’t addicted to the way you make me feel. That I don’t desire you more than life itself.”
The kitchen goes quiet. All that remains to be heard is her father’s panting and Charlie’s own quickened breathing. She can’t think—can’t even begin to process all that her dad has confessed—and she doesn’t think she even wants to. She’s always desired to have his affection, but to have it like this? The dying embers of a love he has for her mother?
It takes a while for her dad’s own breathing to even out, and when he refocuses his gaze onto hers, Charlie can’t help but notice that he looks…lighter—like his confession had lifted a heavy weight off his shoulders. Oh, how Charlie wishes she could feel the same. All she can do is stare back at him. How is she supposed to react? Logic says to flee, to buy herself some time to process everything on her own, but deep down, her gut…it wants her to give in.
His expression changes once more, almost as if he’s able to read what’s going through her mind—her inner conflict between choosing to give into fear or her want.
“You,” her dad breathes out, startling her out of her thoughts, “are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Charlie.” And again, the look in his eyes morphs into something that makes her stomach drop.
Then, he begins to advance towards her.
The two fall into a dance—one steps forward as the other steps back—as her father slowly crowds her personal space yet again. His eyes, while kind, hold a hunger that Charlie equates to how a predator looks while stalking down its prey. Goosebumps prickle down her skin, but she’s too scared to break eye contact lest he take a moment of distraction as an opportunity to pounce. Yearning to find an out, Charlie begins crafting an escape using what she knows best, her words.
“Dad, like you said—you’ve been lonely,” she desperately reasons. “You miss Mom, and I do too, but this…this desire you’re feeling is misguided—it’s not real!” Her heart rate increases with each successive step he takes towards her, the man seemingly unbothered by the words leaving her mouth. Except, he looks entranced with her lips themselves. A shiver wracks down her spine.
Charlie tries again. “This isn’t what you want! Dad, this is wrong–”
The insides of her knees get caught on the edge of the couch that her father has (strategically, she admits) cornered her against, and she all but collapses onto it. Just as she had dreaded, he takes advantage of the opening and hastily follows after her. Arms bracket her head as her father’s lean body hovers above her own, his warm breath fanning against her face. The princess snaps her eyes shut in a desperate attempt to will away the scene before her. Yet, to Charlie’s horror, the trickling of lustful heat has begun to pool inside her gut in earnest.
“Charlie.”
Her eyes remain closed despite already knowing what he’s asking of her.
“Charlotte.”
Timidly, she opens them back up and is startled by the desperation swimming in her father’s own pair. There’s a beat of silence where Charlie holds her breath in anticipation, but the king is quick to fill it with his voice.
“When I first saw that…that damned pig with his hands on you, I was terrified,” he shudders at the memory. “I’ve been ridiculed, abused—cast out of Heaven by my own father,” Lucifer leans in closer, still maintaining eye contact, “and even then, I didn’t feel nearly as scared as I did on my way to you. I can’t bear to imagine what might’ve happened if I hadn’t come when I did—if the angels hadn’t broken their end of the deal.” The tip of one of his fingers delicately caresses at her eyelashes. “I love you, Charlie. More than anything,” his ruby eyes darken, “and I want you.”
She’s trembling now.
“Dad…”
“Just let me show you,” He begs. “Please.”
Charlie swallows at the knot swelling in her throat, which he studies the movement of like a man starved. Finally giving into his hunger, he leans down for a taste, mouthing at the column of skin with a type of tenderness that one would offer a newborn fawn.
The warmth of her father’s mouth trailing down her flesh lights a fire that leaves Charlie’s abdomen searing in flames, which are quick to lick their way down to her lower parts—but she’s not supposed to be reacting like this! Yet, just as she finds the strength to push him off, her dad’s sharp teeth make contact against her throat, and Charlie finds herself melting into the sensation near instantaneously.
Because, despite everything she should feel, Charlie wants this. She wants her father’s undivided attention. Wants his touch—his warmth—upon her. Wants him to whisper how much he loves her while tucking her into bed, just like he did when her mother was still around and everything was right in the world. God, she’s craved having his love back in her grasp ever since it had begun to drift away all those decades ago. She knows now that he’s never stopped loving her; that he loves her so much he willingly supports her fantastical dreams despite having given up on his own so long ago. But Charlie’s always been greedy with love—could never get enough of it, even as a child. And while her mind is still desperate for the love of a father, her body is eager to accept whatever it’s offered.
Raw desire begins to flourish as her dad places one of his knees in between her thighs, just grazing at their apex. Although he purposefully avoids making contact, just the mere thought of him pressing it into her is enough to have Charlie letting out a pathetic whine and arching her back, right into his waiting arms.
“There you are,” he coos into her neck. Then he finally, finally, grinds his knee against her heat, the teeth nibbling at her skin morphing into a smile at her resounding moan.
Subconsciously, she lifts her hips upwards to meet his movement, and sparks shoot up her spine when he responds in kind. Charlie can feel herself moistening under her dad’s attention and allows herself just a few moments to let the pleasure overtake her. The fingers beginning to toy at the collar of her suit are quick to snap her back to reality, however, and she hurriedly braces her hands against the man’s shoulders with the intent to push him away.
“Dad, I–”
“Sweetheart,” he hushes, tucking a loose strand of hair back behind her ear, “just let Daddy take care of you, okay?”
She hesitates for a few heartbeats. It’s been a long while since she’s let someone really take care of her, not even Vaggie is often graced with the opportunity of witnessing Charlie with all her walls down. But deep down, she knows that her dad will take such good care of her. “Okay,” she acquiesces, lowering her hands from his shoulders and shifting her gaze to look at the floor beside them. Although she craves more of his touch, another part of Charlie is still mortified that she’s actually letting this happen.
Fingers snap above her, and within an instant, she’s being pressed against feather pillows and silk sheets. Startled, Charlie looks around at the new surroundings and recognizes her parents’ (well, now just “parent’s”) bedroom—her dad must’ve just teleported them here.
A thumb returns to caress along her bottom lip, bringing her attention back to the man above—and the pure euphoria glimmering in her father’s scarlet eyes catches Charlie completely off-guard. “That’s my girl,” he purrs at her. Then he resumes in his ministrations of unbuttoning her red tuxedo.
“Just you wait. Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good, Princess.” He continues with fervor, breathing huskily and punctuating his promise with a tender kiss to her forehead. Her legs quiver in its wake.
And she trusts him.
With gentle hands, her dad guides her to sit up—divulging her of her outer garment in the process—and quickly makes work of sliding off black suspenders to remove her white undershirt. “So many layers,” she hears him growl to himself as he dives back into the spot between her collarbone and neck. Kisses pepper up the expanse of her throat, causing a wanton moan to slip out before she can bother to suppress it. The vibration of her dad’s responding chuckle echoes in Charlie’s head, making her feel fuzzy, as her back bow inwards. She knows she shouldn’t be enjoying the sensations of her father’s lips and teeth pressing so intimately against her, but fuck, it feels so good.
Sensing a change in his daughter's body language, Lucifer becomes even bolder in his actions and moves to the side of her face to bite down on one of her earlobes, eliciting a gasp from his daughter that has heat pooling into both of their abdomens.
Pulling back, he gazes fondly at her with a satisfied smile—the flush on his little girl’s face making her cheeks even rosier than usual. In his desire to break her down even further, the fallen angel moves his agile fingers to start unclipping the back of her bra.
The feeling of cool air against her hardened nipples breaks Charlie out of her little stupor and she instinctively moves to squeeze her arms around herself—a pitiful and delayed attempt to cover her breasts from her father’s hungry gaze. Despite having her dad’s spit and bite-marks already decorating her pale neck, it’s only now that Charlie decides to be self-conscious (yes, she's aware of the irony). She can’t really explain it, but having her breasts bared so openly in front of her dad—her dad!—makes everything feel so much more…dangerous.
He’s quick to react, however, placing his hands on her folded wrist and lightly tugging at them. “Charlie, darling, there’s no reason to be shy,” he croons, reestablishing eye contact with her that she has no choice but to return.
“Let me see you, sweetheart.”
And just like last time, she hesitates…and just like last time, the desperation in his eyes leaves Charlie with no choice but to yield to her dad’s commands. She allows him to pull her arms back down her sides.
Now it’s Lucifer’s turn to flush as he fixes upon his daughter’s newly exposed flesh. A pang fills his chest as he is briefly reminded of her mother’s own beauty, but he quickly shakes off the thought. Her alabaster skin contrasts so beautifully against rosy peaks that are just begging to be worshiped. Never being one to suppress his desires (look at where that made him end up), Lucifer gives in to his want, eagerly wrapping his lips around a perky bud and using all of his weight to rest Charlie back down onto the bedsheets.
At the new contact, Charlie jolts upward as more pleasure shoots down her back and straight into her throbbing heat. Arching off the bed, and subsequently further into his mouth, she twists her fingers around her dad’s blond locks. She should stop it here, stop this before they can go any further—before they inevitably pass the threshold of no return.
Her Vaggie would—Oh, Charlie can’t even bring herself to think of the other woman right now. Not here, not when she’s letting her father touch her in places that she’s only ever promised to her lover. She’d give almost anything to return to her partner's side, to caress her cheek, to promise that Charlie could never love another besides her. Well, almost anything…except for the warmth of her dad’s mouth and the pressure of his hands and the feeling of his soft hair in between her fingers and—
Charlie cries out as said man bites down on her now well-loved nipple before moving to mouth at the next one, the king remaining blissfully ignorant of his daughter’s internal struggle. Ever the doting father, he makes sure that neither bud is left neglected, and goes to pinch his old affection, rolling the wet pebble between his forefinger and thumb.
Keeping his daughter occupied by the sinful pleasure being lavished upon her chest, Lucifer trails down his free hand to the top of her slacks, playing with the top buttons that're currently blocking him from his most coveted. Charlie involuntarily bucks up into the light pressure just as he hastily tugs down the zipper. Offering the bud in his mouth one last bite, Lucifer pulls back to focus on ridding Charlie of her pants, but not without eyeing his handiwork upon her marble breasts—the mounds already wet and flushing with such a lovely pink as a result of his attentions.
Charlie looks up at her dad through lidded eyes as he lifts up the small of her back to slide down the red trousers, tossing them carelessly somewhere to his left. His eyes are then immediately captivated by the growing wet spot on her panties.
Under her father’s ravenous leering, an overpowering sense of vulnerability pervades Charlie’s psyche that leads her to shift her body away from view, if only for a brief moment of respite. As expected, her dad is already moving to grab her. He impulsively yanks the younger woman to face her body back towards him, although he’s quick to catch himself before his enthusiasm leads to him ripping her undergarment in half.
Meeting Charlie’s panicked eyes (he feels himself twitch), Lucifer forces himself to dampen his excitement and redirect some of his energy towards assuaging his daughter. “Sorry, sweetie. I got a bit excited,” soothes, gently rubbing her upper thigh in tandem with his words. He pauses, giving his beating heart some time to slow down, and lets out a deep breath. “You don’t need to be nervous, Charlie. It’s just me,” he continues even softer. He slides the tips of his fingers into the hem of her panties. “May I?” He asks, offering her the gentlest smile he could possibly conjure at such a moment.
Charlie looks down at the fingers hooked against her waist. Her skin, where his knuckles brush, is warm—a hum of arousal simmering underneath that seeps into her veins. She wants this, so why keep fighting it? There’s no point in denying herself.
Charlie lets out a sigh and gives her father a hesitant nod. There’s no going back from this.
His smile grows sharp. “Good girl.”
He tugs the panties down and pulls them through her hooves, unsubtly pocketing the soaked cloth in his pants once the action is complete. Charlie has half the mind to tell him to take them out—that is, until he leans in for an open-mouthed kiss. She accepts him breathlessly, and more of her arousal dribbles out from her as he licks into her mouth skillfully, his tongue caressing every crevice that it can reach. Nibbling on her bottom lip as a farewell gesture, Lucifer leans back to take in all that he can of his daughter’s form. Enraptured, he trails his gaze down to her most intimate parts. Her puffy folds are glistening with slick, which build up with even more drool the longer her fixes her with his unabashed stare. Lucifer is straining against his briefs at this point—staining the fabric with the evidence of his own excitement—all while his swollen cock twitches at the heavenly sight before him.
Charlie’s chest heaves as her father stares at her, his look completely besotted. But then, his eyes take notice of something…on her face? And whatever it is, it makes him release a snicker.
She instinctively clamps her legs shut, immediately feeling self-conscious from her father’s sudden amusement. Why is he laughing at her? Does he see this as a joke? She lets out a distressed whine as shame crawls its way up from her gut.
Quick to pick up on his daughter’s embarrassment, the King of Hell hurriedly lifts the underside of her legs to re-expose the bottom of her folds and ushers out an explanation. “Sorry, darling. It’s just that…your “color” matches the shade of your cheeks.” He chuckles, switching his gaze between her lower parts and the aforementioned features.
The meaning of her father’s words as well as her new position hits her, and turning even redder, Charlie goes to cover her face with her hands. “Oh, God,” the princess cries out. Mortified, the realization dawns on her that everyone she’s ever met now knows the exact shade of her…her pussy!
Why haven’t any of her lovers told her this?!
Laughter reverberates from above and her hands are gently plied away as she comes face-to-face with her dad’s teasing grin. Charlie wants to slap it off.
“Aww, Charlie, dear, I think it’s cute,” he coos, winking at her and moving to spread her legs back open, baring herself to him. She obliges despite her embarrassment—there’s no point in hiding her arousal when she’s already soaking the bed sheets beneath her.
Fortunately, her father’s amusement starts to slip away the longer he stares at her intimate parts, seemingly entranced by her pink lips as well as the pool of slick forming underneath porcelain thighs. Once again, he shifts to look back up at her with a grin, but this time, his eyes hold something more sinister than they did minutes ago. Charlie hackles rise in suspense.
Without warning, her father swipes his thumb against her entrance, sliding it up past her folds and reaching her swollen clit, before delicately swirling the nub with the pad of his finger. Charlie’s already brimming with so much sensitivity that the light touch is enough to set her nerves ablaze. She releases a high whine in response. Captivated by her reaction, Lucifer starts to speed up his movement until Charlie is bucking and squirming underneath him, tears forming at the corners of her eyes from the overwhelming sensation. A crescendo is beginning to build up in her core, climbing up towards its peak, and her father is serving as the conductor.
“Look at me.”
Charlie’s opens her eyes—she hadn’t realized that she’d closed them—and does what the king wills of her. Reinitiating eye contact, she’s greeted by the sight of raw adoration in her father’s eyes, and what a huge contrast it serves against the filthy movements of his thumb. Her dad is looking at her like she’s the greatest gift one could ever have bestowed upon him. And that’s what sends her flying over the precipice as uncontrollable tremors leave her muscles trembling in pleasure.
“There you go baby—just like that,” she hears him purr in the midst of her descent.
Charlie comes back to panting, silk bunching between her fingers. Her body is still quivering. She feels her dad kissing the inside of her shaking thighs, his light touches a soothing balm to the fire blazing underneath her skin. He waits patiently as she catches her breath, occupying his time by trailing his mouth down her legs and to her hooves, littering them with more and more of his kisses.
It doesn’t take much time until arousal starts to rebuild itself inside Charlie’s core; her succubus lineage peeking out via her incredibly short refractory period. And it isn’t long until she begins to crave more than his fingers and lips, but he’s too transfixed on worshipping her flesh to take notice of her desire. So, she tries to bring him out of his revere by asking something she neglected to mention earlier.
“D-Dad? Can you take off your clothes?”
Momentarily caught off-guard by his daughter’s timid voice—having been too lost in the taste of her skin and sweat—Lucifer retreats from his exploration of her marble flesh and lets out another snap of his fingers, removing his attire within an instant. Minute disappointment flits past Charlie’s periphery at the fact that she wasn’t given the privilege of seeing her dad strip down like the way he did her, but her attention immediately shifts as she takes in his nude form.
The paleness of his lithe figure matches her own, but where her body is soft and full of curves, her father’s is firmer, more solid, and accented with hints of muscle rippling underneath his skin. Quite simply, he was beautiful—a man truly befitting of his once-angelic title.
She brings her wandering gaze up to meet the slits of his pupils. There’s a smirk stretching across his lips as he catalogs his daughter’s response—prideful of the fact that he can elicit her admiration so easily. “Like what you see?” He teases, although his smile softens at her blush.
Embarrassed at being caught ogling him so openly, Charlie can only give a shy nod in return. His grin grows wolffish.
As he leans back to position himself against her bottom half, she takes note of her father’s cock, flushed and swollen. It’s…big, especially for what one would expect from his shorter-than-average stature. The head is shiny, wet with precum, which he uses to smear across the rest of his shaft as a form of natural lubrication (not that Charlie really needs it at this point).
Her awe of her father’s arousal is interrupted when nimble fingers return to her opening, this time pushing in until white knuckles are pressed snug against her outer lips. But before she can adjust to the feeling, her dad curls them inwards, hitting a spot that has Charlie seeing stars and tightening around him in a vice-grip. The digits shallowly thrust in and out, stretching her walls and making her whimper. “Nngh, Dad…”
Lucifer continues to play her like one of his fiddles, twisting and turning his fingers inside of her. He’s been with other women before—one of which he deliberately avoids conjuring the image of—but there’s something so intoxicating about having Charlie sing for him like this. Her whines and gasps compose the most beautiful symphony that the heavens could only ever hope to summon into existence. And he needs to be inside her—right now.
Charlie sucks in another whimper as his fingers leave her insides, already feeling their absence. But then his wide tip is resting against her entrance—completely soaked from anticipation—and she lets out yet another whine as he begins to teasingly drag it up and down her lips before finally breaching past.
“Fuuuck,” Lucifer hisses, teeth grit as he desperately holds himself back from ravaging his daughter. He wants—no he needs to be gentle. He needs to have his Charlie trembling beneath him from pleasure that only he can ever give her. He’ll make her feel so good that she’ll have no choice but to come back to him just so she can experience it again and again. He’ll give everything to her, and all she’ll ever have to do is ask.
He gives her time to adjust to the size of his girth, of which Charlie accepts with gratitude. After a few minutes of them like this, her tight walls start to clench around him in anticipation, eliciting a groan from deep within his throat. With an uncomfortable mixture of impatience and eagerness starting to gnaw at the back of his mind, Lucifer begins to gently pull out before pressing back inside; just the sensation of his daughter’s wet embrace already has the king panting above her in pleasure.
It doesn’t take long for his movements to start speeding up, however—excitement quickly replacing his initial desire to take things slow with the precious girl beneath him.
High-pitched squeals leave Charlie’s parted lips as pleasure climbs its way up through her body with each new thrust. And her beautiful sounds motivate her father to increase his pace even further.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he gasps out, his sounds of pleasure rising in volume alongside her own. “You’re doing so good for me—don’t hold back, baby. I’ll take care of you.”
Skilled fingers return to crowd at her swollen clit, using the excess slick dripping from her pussy to aid in their circling of the twitching nub. After just a measly few seconds of his touch, a scream rips itself out of Charlie’s throat as pure ecstasy explodes from within. Her legs wrap themselves around her dad’s waist, hooves harshly digging into his sides as another climax seizes up her body.
“Oh—Dad!” She keens, spasming around his length as her father continues to eagerly fuck her through her shaking orgasm.
The sight of his daughter in the throes of her climax—from pleasure that he’s giving her—kicks Lucifer into gear as he begins to slam into her with reckless abandon. The sound of their wet flesh slapping together only heightens his arousal and makes him sing out an endless string of moans and whines to compliment the slick tempo.
Beyond sensitive, Charlie’s slack mouth can only offer her father breathy "Ah—"'s that align with the rhythm of her father’s merciless thrusting. Fresh tears trail their way down her flushed cheeks from the overstimulation she’s made to bear. Her father, after noticing the glistening liquid, moves in to lick at them—releasing a hearty groan at the combination of their salty flavor coating his tongue as well as the whimpers of his most beloved reverberating within his ears.
The sounds of their union echo off the bedroom walls as her dad moves to tuck his face into the dip of her neck, littering gentle bites all the way up to the underside of her jawline. “Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” he groans huskily into her skin, and all that Charlie can answer him with is a gasp and the arching of her hips—desperately grinding against the addicting pounding of his cock. “Such a good girl, taking Daddy so well.”
More praises fill the air between them, each one sending almost painful jolts of pleasure up Charlie’s spine, only adding to her overstimulation. Overwhelming emotion begins building up in her throat until there’s no choice but to let it spill from her lips.
“I love you, Daddy,” Charlie sobs out.
With a surprising burst of strength, Lucifer hastily pulls his daughter against him, sitting up and placing her on his lap, her insides remaining snug around his length all the while. Charlie lets out a cry and tosses her head back, for the new position makes her feel her father even deeper. Lucifer's thrusting grows more erratic as his own orgasm edges closer, and he presses his sweaty face into the softness of her abdomen.
“I love you too, Charlie,” he gasps out, mouth agape in complete ecstasy, “I love you so much, my beautiful, darling girl.” His voice trembles. “You mean more to me than life itself. And now, you’re finally mine.” He growls as sharp teeth dig into her quivering flesh.
The dam holding her at bay collapses as pleasure peaks and surges throughout her body once more, traveling from her heated cheeks all the way down into her curved hooves.
“Oh–!”
Charlie's legs tremble around her dad’s waist as a blinding white overtakes her vision. Sharp nails begin to scrape down his shoulders in a desperate attempt for her keep herself grounded. Distantly, Charlie feels her horns erupting from the top of her head.
“Daddy’s got you,” Lucifer groans into her ear, tightening his grip before hastily lifting her up off of his cock with a wet sound. He releases onto the sheets below with a bellowing cry, narrowly avoiding his daughter’s insides.
The two remain suspended in time, both panting as the aftershocks of their orgasms continue to pulse throughout their shuddering bodies. Lucifer still has Charlie lifted above his lap, her residual slick dripping down onto his legs—the fingers digging into her hips sure to leave dark bruises on the porcelain skin. Tenderly, he lowers her back down onto his legs and relaxes the hold on her waist.
Without his support, Charlie has no choice but to flop down back onto the bed with a huff, her bones weak with fatigue. Her insides are still twitching from the residual pleasure of her third climax, but her erratic heartbeat is at least beginning to subside. Not long afterwards, her father follows, crawling on top and trapping her in a loose cage composed of his arms and knees.
Charlie doesn’t know how much time passes with them in this state—all she can register is the humidity of her father’s sweet breath mingling with her own, as well as the weight of his heated stare boring into her soul.
Once the sweat sticking onto her flushed skin has begun to cool down, her father shifts his position to cup a hand against her face, absentmindedly circling his thumb into the red of her cheek.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” He asks with a whisper, his body and facial expression emanating pure contentment. Charlie hesitates for a moment, for her ears are still ringing and the ache within her core has begun to make itself known. But deep down, she feels warm and...satiated.
Guilt is too distant for her to feel in her exhaustion.
“Yeah,” she breathes out in response, tiredly placing her hand over the his own with a shy smile.
Her dad returns her smile softly as he moves to lie down next to her, adjusting their positions until his front is pressed against her back and silk sheets are tucked around them both. One of his arms wraps over her waist, while the other rests itself underneath her head.
“Rest now,” he rumbles. A tender hand strokes her stomach as soft kisses begin to pepper along the back of her neck, the pleasant sensations lulling her into an even deeper state of relaxation.
Her eyelids grow heavier.
Charlie doesn’t know how she’ll even begin to proceed past their sinful actions once she wakes up again, but for now, she lets herself melt back into her dad’s comforting embrace. She’ll at least allow herself to enjoy the feeling of their warmth melding together in this shared moment.
The last thing Charlie registers before finally succumbing to slumber is her father's quiet “I love you” ghosting her ear.