#and now after 4 hours of sleep i’m at work!

[peonierose]

How are Bryce and Luna coping during the first month of being parents, and to twins no less?

”Love Me Tender“

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce Lahela (M!MC) x Luna Auclair (F!OC)

Words: 2,428k

TW: None. Mentions of breastfeeding.

Summary: Bryce and Luna are newly minted parents and weren’t prepared of struggling to put their twins to bed. Will they succeed?

A/N: Thanks so much for your ask @liaromancewriter it inspired me for two fics actually. ”Love Me Tender“ is one of them 🥰 The Title was inspired by one of the greatest artists and hot guys who’s ever lived, Elvis Presley 🩷

Bryce

It was 4:35 in the morning, and both Lunes and I were still awake. Trying to put the twins to bed. 

I sighed. 

How‘d my life come to this? Don’t get me wrong. I love our girls more than anyone I could ever love, but getting them to sleep is a real struggle. 

We put them to bed hours ago and put them on the mobile, letting pretty stars and moons go by, but their sleep didn’t last long. 

They woke up two hours ago and won’t fall asleep.

What happened to peace and quiet? One week prior, everything was great. They didn’t mention this quick transition in the pregnancy books I read. Maybe I read the wrong books? 

Well, I guess they covered other stuff, but not what to do when your kids wake you up at 4 a.m.

Luna suddenly sits up with Kehlani and walks her around the room. With Alaia in my arms, I go and get the bunnies they got from Ethan, their godfather, hoping that’ll soothe them into sleep. 

They hang onto the bunnies for a few seconds, but they’re still fussy. It didn’t work. Alaia's little face was still red from crying. 

So maybe plans c or d could work? Damn, we could really use Keiki’s help, but she’s on a field trip with her study group. 

Luna’s voice brings me back into the moment. 

”They’re not hungry, right? We changed them, and now what?“ Luna asks while I’m holding Alaia close to my chest. As I place kisses on top of her head, her soft blonde hair smells of lavender shampoo. 

I read somewhere that babies like skin-to-skin contact. So that’s why Lunes and I are basically standing in the middle of the room in our underwear. 

”I don’t know. Honestly, I’m close to crying with them. Then it’ll be a duet.“ Luna says it with a sigh. 

I exhale a long breath I’ve been holding in because I’m frustrated too. God, I‘ve never appreciated sleep more than I do now.

”What if we show them a video with marine animals? They seemed to love that last time.“ I suggested it, and I could see Luna’s shoulder droop in relief.

”Let’s give it a try.“ Luna adds, and we walk downstairs and sit down with the twins as I turn on Disney+ and select a nature documentary about marine animals, one that’ll last for at least two and a half hours. 

Soon, both twins' eyes are glued to the screen. 

We didn’t want to start them too early on screen time, but sometimes you have to in order to function as a human being and get some rest. 

After 30 minutes or so into the documentary, I saw both their eyes drooping, and they fell asleep.

”You’re a genius.“ Luna whispers, scared to wake them up.

"Well, this genius is too scared to move.“ I say frozen in place.

Luna sighs.

”Is now a bad time to have to pee?“ She says it with a guilt tinge in her voice.

I close my eyes. 

"Oh, come on, Lunes. Couldn’t you have peed before they fell asleep? What if we wake them up? Look how long it took before they fell asleep.“ 

Luna softly moves around.

”I’ll be quick, I promise.“ She says this and gently places Kehlani on the couch. As soon as her feet hit the floor, Lani stirs and starts to cry. Rosie isn’t far behind. 

”I hope your pee is worth waking the twins over.“ I'm trying to massage their little backs, hoping it’ll soothe them. 

Twins are funny in that regard. They have a special bond, especially if they’re identical twins, like our girls. 

But the downside is that as soon as one is ill or cries, the other does as well. 

They’re creepily in sync. Hopefully, it won’t stay like this forever—the crying, I mean. I know Kehlani and Alaia will turn out wonderful.

I turn to my wonderful girls.

”Why don’t you stop crying? Daddy would really like to get some sleep. So I can wake up pretty.“ 

They look up at my words and then continue crying. 

That’s when it hits me amidst the crying. I remember when Keiki and I were little, my mom used to sing to us »Love Me Tender« by Elvis Presley; it always calmed us down. Maybe we can try it with the twins. 

As soon as Luna is back from her bathroom break, I gently take the twins into my arms.

”I think I have an idea.“ I say the idea for the song is taking root. 

We walk upstairs, and Luna eyes me skeptically. 

”You know how to brew a potion that will make them sleep for seven hours straight?“ She asks excitedly. 

I gave her a sideways look. 

"Yeah, that was a little bit unrealistic.“ She shrugs, and I laugh softly. 

”Let’s try singing »Love Me Tender« by Elvis Presley.“

”Why that song?“ She asks as we reach the twin's bedroom. 

I breathed out, and as I laid the twins in their beds, I turned towards Luna, who never looked more beautiful. 

With wild hair, just in her underwear, illuminated by the light from the hallway. 

I put a strand of her hair behind her ear, and she smiled tenderly at me. It’s these moments I treasure the most, even with the twins crying. 

I pulled her closer as I told her about the idea I had. I want to reveal a bit more about myself and my childhood, which I don’t talk about nearly enough, but I should, because whether it was good or bad, memories are important to talk about. 

”My mom used to sing that song to me and Keiki all the time. Whenever we were sick, or when we were sad and had a hard time, it just always made things a bit easier.“ I explained.

Luna‘s smile reached her tired eyes, and she cupped my cheek to give me a soft kiss. 

”Let’s give it a try. I think I’ve still got my ukulele somewhere. Let me go grab it, and we’ll try singing that song. To be honest, it’s one of my favorite songs by Elvis. He was such a hot guy and so sweet. And what a voice, my god! They just don’t make them like that anymore.“

"Hey, I’m trying to save the world, and you’re calling another man hot? Shame on you, Lunes.“

”You didn’t let me finish. They don’t make them like that anymore, but you are the exception.“ She grinned. 

”You were always my favorite.“ I smiled and slapped her butt, making her laugh out loud as she went to look for her ukulele. Her laughter was still echoing from the walls, making me grin too. 

After a minute or so, Luna came back with her pink ukulele, adorned with flowers, hearts, and moons. She sat down in front of the twin beds and played the first tunes.

”I had no idea you played the ukulele.“ I was surprised to see her play the ukulele like a pro.

”I learned it along with Hula dancing.“

“Can I get this as a late birthday present?“ I imagined her in a hula get-up. The best image ever. 

Luna sighed.

"Really, that’s where your mind went to?“ She chastised me.

”Don‘t blame me. I’m tired and horny. And I’m not sorry.“

She shook her head, grinning. Soon the first tunes of the ukulele joined with her soft voice, and the twins stopped their crying. Too fascinated by what’s going on to keep crying. 

Yes, I pump my fist in the air; it looks as if the plan worked. Luna and I fist-bumped each other because our plan turned out better than expected. 

As the last note echoed in their bedroom, they soon fell asleep, and it looked as if we could go and catch some sleep too. 

”Thank God for our parents, who had good ideas.“

Luna nodded. 

We put on the mobile with the moon and stars spinning around softly and didn’t close the door entirely as we went to our bedroom. 

When we were lying down in bed, Luna turned to me, and I put an arm around her to pull her closer to me. 

”Let me guess you have a million questions.“ I said, and she elbowed me in the side. I laughed and kissed her on top of her head. 

”You miss her, don’t you?“

I don’t even try to act as if I don‘t know who she’s referring to.

"Yeah, I do, more than I care to admit.“ I turn around, so we’re lying face-to-face. 

”Maybe you need some love me tender too.“ Luna says this as she’s leaning into me. 

”That would be nice.“ I smiled against her lips.

Two days later...

Luna

We’re both leaning on the kitchen counter, bleary-eyed, and with our eyes half closed. 

”This is the second time in a row we haven’t slept.“ I mumbled. 

Bryce doesn't even look up from his coffee. 

”I mean, we knew this was going in, but it still stinks sometimes.“ 

I nodded and almost missed my mug in front of me.

”Damn. I never appreciated coffee as much as I do now. I love our kids, but I’d give my left kidney for two hours of sleep. Not even night shifts are this bad.“ 

”Come on, we'll get through this.“ I tried to sound more cheerful but just ended up sounding tired. But from the smile tugging at Bryce’s lips, I could still make him smile, which is a win in my book.

I’m about to take another sip from my juice since I‘m nursing when our doorbell rings, and I just grumble. 

”I’ll go get it.“ I said, and Bryce just mumbled incoherent words. 

I opened the front door, seeing my cousin Skyler, or Sky for short, stand in front of me.

”Good morning, sunshine.“ He looked well rested, with no dark circles under his smooth tan skin. His piercing dark blue eyes shone as if he sprang from the youth fountain. It’s so unfair how good he looked compared to my tired self. 

I groaned again and shielded my eyes from the glaring sun coming inside our house.

I stepped aside, and Sky walked in. 

”Is it a good morning? Huh. It’s already morning, and the sun is shining. Gosh, I’ve lost all feeling for what time it actually is or what day.“

Sky turned my way and only raised his eyebrows.

”You’re being weird.“

I sighed and joined Bryce in the kitchen. I grinned as Bryce held on to his steaming coffee mug, half asleep. 

”I came to the rescue. I thought I’d have to send a search party after your radio silence.“ 

”Please make him stop saying words.“ Bryce groaned.

”Come on, I’m good with kids, and I’m offering to help.“ Sky grinned. 

”So they sent you?“

”B!“ I exclaimed.

”Look, man. I’m really sorry. I’m just so fucking tired.“ Bryce sighed.

”Me too.“ I joined in while taking a sip of my mango and pineapple juice. 

"Yeah, Luna too.“ Bryce said while smiling tiredly. 

”No hard feelings. It’s all good. You‘ll get a free pass. This once. I know mom and dad struggled with us; you know, we're triplets, so I thought I’d help you out.“ Sky explained. 

Bryce’s eyes were tired from being up all night helping me change the twins and trying to make them fall asleep. 

We’re exhausted, and it’s only been four months since we brought the twins home. 

Sky looked from me to Bryce.

”You guys look as if you’ve partied all night. And it was a weird theme party.“ He teased. 

"Yeah, if you count changing, breastfeeding, and getting the twins to sleep, and it takes almost all night? Yeah, then we partied real hard.“ I sighed.

And then I added. 

"Damn, breastfeeding really hurts. Who knew? I really hope the pain lessens a bit.“

”I’m even too tired to make a dirty joke about breasts and make you feel better.“ Bryce sighed and smiled softly but tiredly.

”I don’t need to know about your…uhh…anatomy. Or your female body parts.“ Sky winced. 

”Who’s being weird now?“ I smirked.

”Fair.“

We were all startled when we heard the baby monitor on the kitchen counter squeak. 

Both Bryce and I groaned.

Sky smiled.

”You know what? Why don’t I check up on the little angels? While you guys do whatever it is you do, make out or something.“

”We’re way too tired to make out.“ Bryce and I said it at the same time. 

The fog in my brain lifted, and it hit me. 

”Wait, are you here to babysit?“ 

Sky shrugged. 

"Yeah, why not? I have the next two days off, so I thought I’d take over, and you can go and do whatever it is you’re doing.“

”You’re an angel, and I love you.“ I smiled and hugged him tight. Sky grinned and hugged me back. 

Yep, he’s my favorite cousin. At least right now. 

”She doesn’t mean it.“ Bryce commented with a mischievous glint in his eyes. I grinned, so that’s where Lani and Rosie got it from. 

”Stop being mean.“ I said this to Bryce without any real heat behind my words. 

”Sorry. If you’re true to your word, I’ll go take a nap.“

I stopped hugging Sky for a minute to give B a look.

”Not even showering?“

”I love my bed more than my shower right now.“

"Well, I don’t. So let’s hit the shower.“ 

Sky looked from me to Bryce.

”You are weirding me out. I’ll go look after the twins.“ 

”Thanks Sky.“

”You got it.“ He yelled. 

Bryce and I walked outside to our shower while Bryce mumbled and was grumpy until the water hit his face. 

When we came back from our shower and were settled in our bed, Bryce checked the baby monitor, but the monitor was quiet. It looks as if Sky is a wizard when it comes to calming down kids. 

”It’s so quiet.“ I turned to Bryce.

”What did we do before we had kids? Look at me, sounding pathetic.“

”You don’t sound, and you aren’t pathetic. It’s a new routine for us. And I guess we just have to find our balance.“

We both nodded.

Bryce drew circles on my skin, and I curled up into him, and seconds later we were already asleep while holding hands. 

Life is good when you’re with the people you love. Whether you’re blood-related or not, cherish those moments. 

[tormiller]

i’m literally so sad about my eras show experience like it was a great concert but so many things went wrong trying to get there and then getting back home was even worse and on top of it all the surprise songs were lame

[deus-ex-mona]

if you ever think things can’t get worse, don’t worry!!!! they can!!!!!

[milo-is-rambling]

Made myself ramen noodles bc I’ve only had toast really since i got sick but I actually had standing energy today so I made a ramen noodle brick real quick and it’s raining and I’m watching all of the midnight gospel (like starting at first episode and curling into bed to watch the entire show) and I’m smoking a little bit bc my throat hurts but my body hurts more so I’m gonna smoke a little so my muscles will relax

[tojikai]

SUNDERED

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 ...+

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, mean!gojo(kinda), babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments

word count: 3.2k

One woman’s life lesson is another woman’s better man.

❧ babydaddy!Gojo intentionally runs into you when you’re buying groceries just to show you his girlfriend. The woman was your classmate from high school. At the first meeting, she was shy and tried avoiding your gaze but Satoru just had to call you and ask something about your daughter. Completely unnecessary but he’s just that much of a jerk. Once was considered an accident. But when it happened two, then three times, you already know that you have to change your shopping schedule.

❧ babydaddy!Gojo picks up his daughter from your house an hour late, rubbing on your face that he overslept because he spent “some time” with his girlfriend last night. Distasteful and disrespectful, but you let it slide cause he seems happy. You don’t want to be a killjoy, right? You were never his girlfriend, to begin with. Just someone he got pregnant from a one-night stand. 

❧ babydaddy!Gojo posts pictures of his day out with his daughter online. His girlfriend carrying your kid as the three of them wear matching Mickey and Minnie Mouse headbands. You could only scroll past and continue your work to busy yourself. Maybe you should stop lurking around social media and just use your phone for important messages. Maybe you should also lose feelings for someone who never harbored genuine ones for you in the first place.

❧ babydaddy!Gojo always lets his girlfriend open the door for you when you’re picking up your daughter from his house on weekends. He leans back on the couch, watching you grab your daughter’s things, opening his arms to cuddle with his girlfriend before you even get to walk out the door. It made you feel pathetic and small but what can you do? There’s simply no place for you in that house.

❧ babydaddy!Gojo insists that you spend more time together for the sake of your daughter. You agreed to it and now, you had to sit in the back of the car with your daughter as he drives his girlfriend to work. It made you feel sick and nauseous that you were only able to spend half a day with them before you decided to go home and sleep the day away. Maybe when you wake up, you’ll find it in you to hate him.

“Mommy? Call her, love.” Gojo used a higher voice to encourage his daughter to call you. He knows that he was foul for what happened earlier. But what is he gonna do? He can’t reject his girlfriend’s request, plus it was only a ride. It’s not like she was with you for the whole day. Still, he doesn’t think it’s the reason why you left early. You might be feeling…tired. Even if it was Saturday yesterday and you have no work. You might still feel fatigued on Sunday, right?

“Mama!” The little girl mimicked pointing upstairs. Satoru sighed placing her little bag on a nearby chair as he made his way upstairs. He figured that if you’re still asleep, he could just wait for you to wake up and just look after his daughter here. You’re a single mother for 4 days a week, and on top of that, you also have work. You literally don’t have time to rest. He told himself that he needs to stop messing around just to get a reaction from you. 

Reaching your room, Satoru knocked on the door three times, calling out your name when you didn’t answer. “Wait a second.” You voiced out from the other side, “I’m just gonna call my mom, can you wait for her?” You suppressed a cough at the end of the sentence but it didn’t go unnoticed by Satoru. “Are you sick? I could take her back to my house, we’ll look after her until you feel better. ” The suggestion made your stomach churn. They get to play house with your kid and here you are, being miserable.

You shook your head, realizing how bitter you sounded. She wasn’t unkind in any way to your baby but something in you hurts when you think of them giving your daughter the family experience that you cannot provide. You and Satoru tried to work things out but you just can’t get on the same page. Instead of trying to be better for you and your daughter, he decided to fuck around and date someone else instead. 

You wouldn’t say that your name was clean. What with a couple of threats such as finding someone who could act right. You just didn’t think that he’d really leave. It hurt but now you’re getting yourself used to the feeling. Maybe he just couldn’t act right with you. Because why is he so good with his girlfriend now? She tamed him, as he once boasted to you during a fight.

“I’m stuck with a child that I have with you, but not with you.” He pointed out, leaving a searing pain in your chest. “There’s no way I’m letting that happen.” Tears were starting to form in your eyes as the words come out of his mouth. How could he say something so cruel to you, the mother of his child? All you did was tell him that his girlfriend was getting kind of too much after she told you what to do with your child. And now he’s making you the villain.

“I just told her that—” You tried to explain, voice starting to shake. “If that’s all you did, she wouldn’t come to me crying, Y/N.” You just can’t believe that you’re fighting over this. You already have so much to think about and now this, you also have to be cautious about his girl. “She told you herself, I just didn’t want her telling me how to raise my child!” 

“Of course, she wouldn’t tell me that you’re being harsh to her. Unlike you, she’s actually kind and considerate of other people’s feelings.” You looked down, letting out a strangled sob escape your throat before quickly wiping away the forming tears in your eyes as you turn away from him. Why was he never this defensive of you? He didn’t even try to fight for you when his girlfriend convinced him to take your daughter with them on a trip. Without your permission.

And now he’s talking as if you’ve been nothing but a disturbance in his relationship with her. Everything's just unfair. Yet, you just let it slide because you wanted nothing but peace for your baby. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you anymore, Satoru. You’ve said enough.” You sniffed, walking to your daughter’s room to check if the noises woke her up. Satoru was left standing there, processing all the things that he said.

He watched you disappear into the dark hallway of your apartment, shoulders shaking with your head hung low. Even if he can’t see your face, he can tell that you’re crying and it made him feel like shit. He went overboard, didn’t he? “Fuck.” He threw his keys on the couch, running his fingers through his hair. He wanted to apologize but at the same time, he wanted to prove his point. His girlfriend was only trying to help and you took it the wrong way.

At that time, Satoru thought that maybe she was right. You’re just getting kinda jealous that she could spend time with your daughter and Satoru more and now you’re being too sensitive, letting out your irritation on her. She said that it was a natural feeling for a mother to feel that way but Satoru can’t let you treat his girlfriend like shit just because of your pettiness and jealousy. You have to learn to adjust and accept that some things are gonna be the way they are because of your setup. 

As for you, you felt hurt. Neglected even when you know that you’re not supposed to receive as much attention, much less protection from him. His priority is your child, but not you. You have no choice but to talk and work everything out with them for the sake of your daughter. You know that you could start dating someone of your choice but you wished that it would be that easy. You just want to focus on your daughter and if you’re gonna find someone, you want them to love her as much as you do. 

You wonder what you lacked that couldn’t soften him the way he did to her. You started to think that you’re the problem and that is why you couldn’t fix him as easily as she did. 

You stood up, opening the door for him seeing your two-year-old reach out to you. “Mama’s sick, love, sorry.” You covered your mouth, blinking away the heaviness in your eyes. Satoru watched you pack your daughter’s things. “If you’re gonna be busy, just tell me. I’ll just contact Mom. She can be with you for a few days, just until my cold is gone.” You murmured, counting the diapers to put in her baby bag. 

You don’t want to be away from her, but letting her stay with you when you’re like this puts her at risk and that’s the last thing you want. You can’t stand seeing your daughter through pain and you’re pretty sure it’s the same for his dad. Begrudgingly, you placed the bag in front of Satoru before reaching over for her favorite toy. You smiled at how she squealed when she saw it.

“You know we’re never too busy to take care of her. Just rest, so you’ll get better soon.” You swallowed, nodding your head slowly as you thought of what else they should take. “Yeah, I’ll be picking her up.” You kept your distance from her, sitting down as you felt your head spinning a bit. “Do you...do you have medicine, though? I could get some if you want,” Satoru can tell that you’re really sick and despite his situation with you, he can’t just let you be when you’re like this. You’re still the mother of his child. 

“No, it’s fine. I have some here. Just take care of her.” Your voice was hoarse and your daughter was starting to reach out for you again as if sensing that something was wrong so you urged Satoru to get going. “Be good, okay?” You waved as she watched you with her curious eyes but waved back, nonetheless. You wouldn’t admit it but you feel envious that they could be happy together with her. You’re afraid that one day she’ll prefer being with them over you.

As for your feelings for Satoru, you hated thinking or talking about it. You’re obviously in love with him, but you wouldn’t acknowledge that yourself, either. You fought too much, you hurt each other too much. Other than that, there’s no point for your feelings now that he has someone he really loves and truly cares about. 

You never experienced the boyfriend-girlfriend stage with Satoru. It’s like one day, you just woke up and you’re already parents. You can’t blame him for not having real feelings for you. You do your best to be as civil to them as you can be but sometimes his girlfriend’s just out of bounds. And after a couple of painful fights with Satoru regarding her, it just became too much for you. 

You’re just tired of feeling like a wedge to someone’s healthy relationship. That’s how Satoru makes you feel and you just can’t take any ache from that. 

Another thing that you deny to yourself is the hope that you might fix this all. There are always what-ifs in your mind, and you would never tell Satoru about them. He’ll probably laugh at you and your threats that you’re gonna be with someone who truly makes you happy. You would never destroy his relationship just because yours didn’t work. If you have to cover your eyes, look away and pretend to be deaf every time they’re around you, you would. 

You often think about what it would be like if he settled down with his girl; if they decided to get married and have a family of their own. You don’t want your daughter to feel left out. You don’t want her to feel like she doesn’t have her own family in the middle of them. You also wondered if you’d have moved on by then. You hope so. You don’t want to be this pitiful and heartbroken forever.

------------------------------

After a couple of days, you’re finally feeling well. You got up early and sent Satoru a text that you’ll be picking up your baby in a few hours. You missed her and her giggles so much. The house was clean during the past days but you very much prefer it to be messy, as long a she’s there. You’ll never mind getting up in the middle of the night or waking up extra early for her. 

Arriving at Satoru’s residence, you rang the doorbell as you waited patiently for someone to open the gate for you. You were hoping that it would be your baby girl, extending her short, chubby arms to you but instead, it was Satoru’s girlfriend. “Come in, she’s still playing inside.” She smiled at you, opening the metal door wider. “Thanks, I messaged Satoru that I was coming to pick her up. Is she ready?” You asked her as you walked to their front door.

“She is, but she’s kinda fussy about it. Satoru bought her a huge playpen and she just wouldn’t get out of it. She’s enjoying a lot.” She tucked a hair behind her ear and you can’t help but feel conscious of how you look. Opening the door, you were welcomed by the sight of Satoru lying down with his daughter in the said enclosure. She was fiddling with a toy as they watched on the big screen. 

Her favorite toy was at the corner, and for some reason, it left a pang in your chest.

“Sweetie, someone’s here for you.” You hated the way she phrased it but you know that she doesn’t mean for it to be offensive or rude to you. The little girl looked up with her binky in her mouth, blinking before smiling at you. “Oh, you’re already here. She wouldn’t let me out of the playpen.” Satoru explained, probably thinking that you didn’t appreciate that it had to be his girlfriend opening the door for you. 

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.” This place always made you feel like you’re an outsider. Probably because you are and it didn’t help that they’re making you feel like it. “Mama!” She waved at you, pointing at the screen as she sat down. “That’s a nice show, love. Maybe we could just continue watching it at home?” You know that she doesn’t have a big playpen there. The screen isn’t that big, either. She suddenly lied back down, whimpering as she kicked her tiny feet. You felt like telling her that you’d work hard to buy her that too.

She doesn’t want to go home yet and that’s what you feared. 

“Baby, mom’s here. She missed you.” Satoru called out but to no avail. He came to lift her up, trying to see if she was just being too lazy to get up. Her eyes were glued to the television as she sucked on her pacifier. She was too into it, pointing the show to everyone before smiling at you. Oh, how you missed that smile. “Let’s go, now.” You cooed at her, softly clapping your hands.

When you tried to reach for her as Satoru leans her close to you, she started wiggling around. “Down, Mama! Wait.” Her cute language never ceases to make your heart swell with joy despite the fact that she’s trying to get away from you. She runs away, stopping to look around before going to Satoru’s girlfriend and hugging her leg. She was in awe when she picked up your daughter. 

So… she’s who your daughter’s referring to by…Mama. You could almost hear your heart shatter at the realization. Since when did she start calling her Mama?

“You don’t wanna go home yet? But Mom’s here.” She talked in her baby voice and you don’t know if you’re gonna be happy that she treats your daughter really well or jealous that she came running to her when she don’t want to do something. Satoru went up to them, leaving you standing a few meters away. You don’t like what you’re seeing aside from your daughter.

“It’s not good to ignore Mama.” Satoru tapped her nose with his finger which she cutely swatted away, eliciting a chuckle from him. “Y/N, I was thinking… maybe I could just, uh, take her home later in the day. This playpen just arrived yesterday and you know how kids are…” He laughed nervously, struggling to find a nice way to say that your daughter won’t be coming home yet.

“Yesterday, I was joking about giving her playmates and she was so excited, she was running around.” His girlfriend giggled as she shared. It was a simple story yet it was a thorn to your heart. Why does it seem like your every nightmare is coming to life? You just smiled at her, understanding that she was talking about giving your daughter siblings. Satoru was silent, but you didn’t dare look at his face. You know that it’s in their future plans and you don’t have to see him smiling about it too. 

“That’s adorable..” You don’t know what else to say, so you just nodded your head slowly, blinking quickly so as to bring yourself back to reality. His place was huge compared to your apartment. The playpen looks so much more comfortable than the crib she has at your place. She has new toys and a mom and dad by her side. So, now she doesn’t want to leave. Suddenly, you can feel the weakness in your knees from when you were sick starting to come back. You cleared your throat as you straightened yourself.

“J-just take her home later. I, uh, bought something for her.” You lied, knowing that you still have to go looking for something you can buy for your lovely child. You wanted to snatch her away from Satoru’s girlfriend, her other mom, but the giggle flowing out of her lips are too precious for you to ruin; the smile on her face as she tickled her tummy was too priceless. Look at them, you told yourself as you started to feel farther and farther away from their little world. They’re a picture of a happy family. 

“I’ll see you later, honey…” You whispered, giving her head a pat as she looked up at you with her big, cerulean eyes. You didn’t wait for any of them to walk you out, you just let your feet take you out of their home, not daring to look back for the fear of breaking down. Your fingers tremble along with your lips and the tiny droplets of rain felt like acid on your skin. Maybe what they say was true. We experience people differently.

One woman’s life lesson is another woman’s better man.

NEXT

[saltofmercury]

Pairing: König x reader

Plot: Someone breaks into the house at night while you and König are sleeping.

A/N: Had a random idea about what would happen in this scenario.

“The Break in.”

Over three break-ins had happened over the weekend. All unfortunately 4 blocks away from your apartment. Break-ins didn’t scare you. You felt like your apartment complex was in better condition than most of the apartments surrounding the neighborhood. In addition to that, you weren’t too concerned because you were tucked away for the weekend with König.

You didn’t think a person who saw him would even attempt to do something, especially at his own house.

König, on the other hand, was worried sick.

“Maybe you could stay here for a couple more days. It wouldn’t be a bother, honest.”

You didn’t like the sound of it. Breaking into his routine which he then would be uncomfortable with. You knew how he liked his space. He needed a couple days to recharge, be with himself, and then come back to you.

You remember how antsy he got when you overstayed your welcome one weekend. He kept finding excuses to be alone.

“I’m going to read in my office. I’ll be back in about an hour.”

“I’m going to the gym for a workout. I'll be back soon.”

“I know you want to finish your show, I’ll be watching the game in my bedroom.”

It wasn’t until you were getting the shower that he had crept up and asked shyly if you needed company.

You laughed.

“Oh now you want my company?”

He traced his finger along the bathroom counter looking down.

“I never said I didn’t want your company, we just always shower together.”

So you knew keeping yourself here would only have him finding excuses in his own house to find privacy.

König would deny this. He loved your company, he loved waking up next to you with your legs on top of his. Seeing your toothbrush next to his on the counter. He loved seeing your products lined up on the bathroom shelf next to his. Your clothes piled on his dresser, your bras hanging on the doorknobs in his bathroom, or scattered around the floor after hastily getting to devour each other in bed. Small little pieces of you throughout the house reminding him you were home.

Sure he liked his space, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t distance himself from another room for him to recharge and come back to you.

He was adjusting rapidly to you being around him all the time. He wanted you around all the time.

Which is why he wanted you to stay here, in a house, where someone could protect you.

*

König never told you the missions he was on. You sort of preferred that way. He would just tell you the gist of the mission. He was very careful about not scaring you away with what his real job was. He was good at what he did, but he preferred to keep what he was out on the field away from you.

Calmly, while watching you, he gave you just enough to not try and scare you.

“It was a room of about 15 people. I was first one in.”

You stared at him. You knew he was hiding the real him. “Mercenary” was the word he used, however he never described the things a mercenary did.

There was nothing scarier knowing König was a shark at sea but there could be a bigger fish that would one day end it.

Part of you was glad he could protect you and himself from anyone and anything given his training and ruthless alter ego out on the field, but another part of you was worried someone out there would be quicker or one step ahead of him.

*

You packed your overnight bag with your dirty clothes.

“Where are you going?” He stepped out of the bathroom watching you collect your clothes.

“Home, I have a lot of work to catch up on and do laundry.”

“Okay we bring your laptop back here and we can start a load of colors here.” He replied so casually.

You laughed.

“Although that is tempting, it’s fine. I’ll be back this weekend.”

He didn’t like hearing that.

“Baby please, you know how dangerous it is around where you live right now. Just stay one more night. I’ll go pick up your laptop and —“

You cut him off:

“It was 4 blocks away, König. It wasn’t even my apartment. I know I’ll be safe.”

“Well I don’t care if it was in another town, I don’t like the idea of you staying alone when someone is out there like that.”

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t like the idea of someone robbing houses when your job is ten times scarier?”

He leaned against the bathroom doorway, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Exactly. What if this guy is like me and he’s out there attacking houses because he knows how to do it so well that he’s not getting caught?”

You rolled your eyes

“I'm sure a trained military man is out there robbing houses for fun.”

“y/n!” He stopped you. “This is serious, would you want to run into me?”

You smirked, stood up, and went over to him.

“Yes I would actually, because I know your weaknesses.”

You gently ran your fingers down his stomach.

“I would know how to take someone like you down so easily.” You whispered.

You stood on your tip toes and kissed his chin.

He didn’t like the idea of you flirting when speaking about your life. With that, he took your bag and shoved it into the top shelf of the closet.

“You’re staying here and that's final. I’m not going to risk anything.”

He ended up taking you to your apartment, telling you to get extra clothes, your laptop, and anything else you needed. You settled back into his house again.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” You asked one last time.

“Of course not. I can never have enough of you.”

*

You both had dinner, showered, and got in bed.

He pulled you against his chest and held you close.

“Thank you for staying here. It gives me peace of mind. I enjoy your company.”

You blushed, leaned in for a kiss, and mumbled “if it’s not bother then okay…”

You settled into the night routine you both had. He watched a show on his iPad, while you read through a book before both falling asleep.

*

It was around 3AM when you heard the speakers in the living room turn on. Your eyelids still closed, you searched for König with one arm. An empty space in bed. You sat up, fear crawling up your throat.

König was already up and placed himself by the doorframe, a bat in hand, mask covering his face, and shoes on.

Had someone come inside the house? Another crash, scratches on the floor, and some scrambling.

König looked back at you, told you to stay put.

“Do. Not. Leave. This. Room.” He said it low, his accent had come out. He looked at you, but you didn’t recognize this König. He stood different, sounded different. You felt your stomach turn, the hair on your neck rise.

Where did he get the bat from?

Now you were scared. You weren’t ready to see this kind of person he was.

You heard his calculated footsteps as he checked the hallway bathroom and guest room, slamming open the doors so hard and loud they bounced against the walls. He continued to stomp all the way down towards where the sound was.

You suddenly felt safe, how thorough he was checking all the rooms and how bravely he went into each room announcing himself with just his body. You were now glad you stayed with him.

… then out of nowhere, you heard him laughing. A loud, boisterous, breathless laugh.

You shouted from the room “Who is it?!”

You hear him drop the bat, the bat clinking on the floor. Footsteps followed closer to the door.

“Not who schatz, but what.” His voice had come closer. Standing there, he was holding a small baby raccoon. The raccoon was being held up by his neck with one hand, and his other hand placed underneath him.

You screamed —“Becareful! We don’t know where it’s been!”

König tilted his head at you and then mumbled “it’s only Monty’s baby.”

Monty?

König went to the backyard and placed the small raccoon outside. He came back into the house, washed his hands, and walked into the room.

What just happened?

“What was that?!” You were confused, at a loss for words.

He settled himself back into bed and pulled you close.

“Monty is the raccoon that lives in the backyard. She had babies.”

You looked up at him still confused.

“All this time you’ve been staying here and you haven’t seen Monty and her family?” He asked innocently.

“I’ll tell you all about them.” He turned the light off.

What was happening? Was this a dream?

Part of you was still confused but you settled in and relaxed anyway. The other part of you was secretly relieved that because of him, you felt safe enough to go back to sleep.

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer with an artist reader

・❥ You’re hosting an art class, and the nude model is someone you never expected

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

xx: it’s a long one y’all 😭 we’re still in the pre-dating era! Slowburn, anybody? Forget the crumbs, have the whole loaf of bread, my swans ☺️

warning: brief mentions of nudity & mild swearing

After Lucifer’s initial tour of the hotel, he started coming around much more often.

He was beginning to reconcile with his daughter, and that meant making up for all the years he had missed out due to his self-isolation.

When Lucifer came to the hotel for Charlie, he always made time for you.

At first, when you had still been busy working away at the paintings for the hotel, he had used the excuse that he was just coming over simply to “admire the art.”

Nevermind that he crossed the entire hotel just to look at some paintings, but you never pried him about it. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t waiting in anticipation for his visits.

Sometimes, he would lean against the door frame in silence, watching as your brush glided across the surface of the canvas. He dared not to disturb you while you worked. Too afraid he’d cause you to slip up and place your brush in the wrong spot, ruining your piece.

He never would admit it, but the soft, feather-like strokes you made always seemed to lull him into a state of tranquil bliss.

If he had the opportunity to sit there for hours and watch you paint, he’d probably drift off into a peaceful sleep.

It was ASMR for the King of Hell.

You weren’t always sure whether he was admiring the painting, or you. You were too concentrated on making a leaf of a tree, or the surface of the water just right to trace his gaze.

You’d think with Lucifer being the embodiment of pride and his rank as ruler of the realm, he’d have demanded your attention instantly.

Instead, it was you who usually spoke first. “Are you going to sit down?” You’d tease with a warm smile, greeting him with a bat of your eyelashes as you soaked your brush with fresh paint.

“Of course, I just wanted to see your progress, it’s looks beautiful as always.”

You had hummed a thanks as he strode over to the flat cushion in the middle of the room, and collapsed in it. He had now claimed it as his personal spot ever since he had first used it when you let him use his wings for reference.

Every time he made himself comfortable, he would exhale a large sigh of relief, like he just walked out of a noisy and over-stimulating circus show.

His tolerance for people in general was still pretty dicey, but here, in the quiet corner of the hotel, he could reset his mind.

And with you there? He didn’t feel so lonely. Even in your silence, your presence and the multitude of large paintings leaning against the walls was all he needed to keep his mind from drifting off into darker thoughts.

“Boy, do you work fast. I can’t imagine what Hell would like if you were the one running things.”

“Probably terrible,” You had laughed, “I may be able to create art under time constraints, but the pressure of an entire realm on my shoulders? We’ll let the super-powerful-fallen-angel deal with that.”

“There goes my vacation,” He had sighed dramatically.

Sometimes, he’d catch you humming to an ancient tune, and every time he’d ask you about it.

“What song is this?” He’d ask, genuine interest lacing his voice.

“Innsbruck, ich muss dich lassen”

“I’m not even going to pretend to know what that means”

“ ‘Innsbruck, I must leave thee’ ,” you’d laugh, “It’s a German song and is, you guessed it, from the Renaissance.”

“Oh, right. Germany. Yeah, they were our biggest influx of souls back in the early 1900s,” He replied, “Must’ve been fun people.”

You shook your head at that. Right, ‘Fun’, that was a rather.. surface-level take on what that country had gotten into during that period of time.

“You should tell me more about the Renaissance.” He’d ask with puppy-dog eyes, which always made you set down your brush and turn to him. A content smile spreading across your face.

Your knowledge of such a time always intrigued him, the Renaissance as a whole did. For so long, he had desperately clung onto the hope that some of humanity would go on to create great and beautiful things due to his actions. That his Fall wasn't all for nothing.

Slowly, that hope fizzled out, and Lucifer’s growing delusion that Earth mirrored the sinful realm of Hell in more ways than one plagued his mind.

And then you appeared, passionate about Man’s most beautiful creations. Art, music, long-ago writings of sappy declarations of love in the form of poetry, and times when humanity’s intellectual and innovative nature flourished.

“It was absolutely magnificent,” You’d start, drawing from the depths of your mind all the imagery you could remember from when you were alive, “Filled with all kinds of artistic expression, painters that filled the ceilings of churches with heavenly imagery-“

Lucifer had snorted at that. This era in time had such a romanticized idea of what Heaven and their Creators were like. He pitied their ignorance.

“-and beautiful music. They were known for bringing to life a worldview known as Humanism. It was meant to bring back ancient philosophy — like from the Greeks — to uplift people to participate in the betterment of humanity, and to perpetuate much more virtuous actions. There must be a whole city full of them up there, I can't imagine anyone from that period ending up down here with how protective they were of their moral code.”

He’d always listen attentively in silence as you educated him. Sometimes, he’d even pull out the classic yellow rubber duck toy he held so close to his heart, and begin to fiddle with it as you spoke.

When he worked on them in your room, he’d curate them especially for you.

“Look! This one can refill your palette with the bestest freshest paint!” He’d exclaim as he wiggled it in the air, “And it still quacks!”

Every time, you’d pull up a cushion across the table from him, and rest your chin on your hand as you watched in amusement as he demonstrated his work.

In this instance, he squeezed the sides of the duck and it let out a pathetic Sqeaaooo and a glob of paint slid out of its mouth and plopped right onto the table. It splattered, leaving a few droplets on his pretty white overcoat.

Lucifer was a messy fella, and times like this made you growl quietly and reach for a wet cloth from your cleaning bucket. Hastily trying to rid his clothing of the bright red paint. Your movements across his sleeve made his body tense, and his breath quicken.

For someone who easily flustered you with abrupt acts of affection like the first time you met, Lucifer had the uncanny ability to turn his face as red as his cheek spots when you displayed such care towards him.

“It's still a work in progress.” He’d bashfully assure you every time something like that wouldn’t go as planned.

You’d wish Lucifer displayed such creativity outside of the yellow bath toy, but you promised yourself to help him down that path.

You could only imagine how many ideas this man had stored in that head of his, and you had a feeling you’d get him to wake up eventually. The thought of being there for him — with him, made your cheeks hot.

When it was finally time for him to leave the hotel — sometimes hours later, you’d walk him to the door of your little atelier and he’d turn to you, with that charming smirk and half-lidded look.

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Charlie?” You had ask, as he adjusted his hat and coat to depart.

“I already did before I got here,” he replied nonchalantly, as if you two existed in completely different buildings. Nevermind that she was a flight of stairs and a few halls away.

There were no more bold kisses to the limbs from him after your first meeting, to your displeasure. Even thinking about it gave you feelings that tugged painfully at your heartstrings and made you beg internally for more.

You desperately wished for him to softly hold your hand once more, to feel his lips graze your knuckles, to drink in the warmth of his touch.

Instead, he clutched his staff tightly, and dipped his hat to you.

“Until next time, Darling,” his voice, like silk, had echoed as waves of gold surrounded him. In a blink of an eye, you were left alone once more. Your heart pounding just like the first time, and every time after that.

Today, your heart was pounding just as fast. Except there was no Lucifer in sight.

Three days ago, you got a call from a good friend of yours who ran an art studio on the other side of Pentagram City. She realized she had double booked her classes, and had begged you to take over one for them.

“I’ve never taught anyone before…” You had trailed off over the phone, apprehensive to the idea.

“Nonsense! You are so well spoken, and you’re fantastic at this kind of stuff,” She exclaimed, “It’s not that hard, all you have to do is sit there while they trace the model and step in a few times to give them some tips on techniques. They aren’t a beginner class, so they shouldn’t need much instruction. You’re also in charge of guiding the model with the poses, but I already have a sheet that has them all, so you just need to follow along.”

You stood there for a moment, thinking. This was something totally strange to you. What were art classes like in Hell, anyway?

“Oh, AND they are going to be nude. At least partially, we make them cover their um, nether regions. That shouldn’t be a problem for you, right? I mean, you get paid for it so…”

Your friend trailed off, and the line went quiet for a moment as you mind raced. You looked around the now -empty atelier, your paintings finished and hung up around the hotel. You had nothing that was stopping you from doing it, not your skills, your time, or even the fact that the model was going to be exposed. You were in Hell, seeing someone like that was an almost daily occurrence. Telling her no just because of your nerves was a douchy thing to do, and you were far above that.

“Fine.” You conceded.

“YAYY!!” She shrieked in happiness, and you had to yank the phone away from your ear before it could start to bleed.

The next few minutes were her telling you where, when, and what to do. You had listened intently, memorizing her words. You didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of strangers that you were teaching.

After hanging up the phone, had you went downstairs and to the hotel’s lobby to inform Charlie of your new job.

“I’m really sorry if this interferes with me working here, but I just couldn’t leave her hanging.”

“Pffft, it’s fine,” Charlie had waved it off, “You accepting the position as my new interior design manager is more than enough, i’m just glad you’re getting out of your comfort zone like this!”

You sighed a breath of relief. Good, no issues. You were worried she would have said no, and the fact she knows about Lucifer visiting you? Well, you weren’t sure how she was taking that. You never dared to ask, nor did she make any kind of indication her feelings about that.

“What’s it like?” She had asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“It’s nothing too bad, I think I might actually like it. I just help them with their techniques on mastering figure drawing by using a model as a reference. My friend says they are still looking for one to pose, so hopefully they find one in the next few days.”

“Interestingggggg” Charlie responded, her eyes holding a mischievous glint to them. You could see the gears turning in her head, but what for, you had no clue. You didn’t ask either.

You had spent the next few days preparing, you even had visited the studio. It was very pretty, and the room you were in was small, but rather homey. You had more confidence with your ability to lead the class now after locating specific areas of importance.

Which lead you to present day. You were hurriedly scrambling around the room, grabbing anything of necessity.

Your eyes jumped to the clock, and a squeak of panic escaped you as the class’ starting time got closer and closer. Finally placing the last pencil in your bag, you raced down the stairs, beelining for the door.

“Where you going in such a rush, Hot Cakes?” Angel Dust called out to you from the bar, Husk next to him as he poured Angel another drink.

“To class, do you know where Charlie or Alastor is?” You questioned them.

A rush of wind tickled your back, and you whipped around to see the Radio Demon himself looming behind you.

“Hello, my friend!” Alastor’s toothy grin on full display.

“I heard you were looking for Charlie, unfortunately she left not too long ago. She said it was something of great importance, and that it could shape the future of the hotel. But do not worry, I am here to assist you!”

You placed your hands together into a praying motion, trying your best to appeal to the demon’s better nature. If he had one.

“Can you pretty, pretty please send me to the Regal Fortune Studio? I’m doing a class there and I need to get there on time.” You begged.

Alastor’s eyes squinted in thought. Before his smile widened more than ever.

“Alright, I suppose so.”

You didn’t get to utter a thank you before the demon snapped his fingers, and dark energy crackled around you. Cold suddenly gripped at your shoulders, and your vision blurred.

You squeezed your eyes shut, unsure of what would happen next.

‘Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me’

Suddenly, light hit your eyelids and you slowly opened them to see the studio before you, just steps away from the front door.

You exhaled a sigh of relief, before yanking open the door.

The door to the classroom was slightly ajar, and you could hear faint voices inside. Indicating that everyone but you was ready to begin.

You crossed the lobby, ready to pull on the handle of the door, before a slight movement in the corner of your eye caused you to turn your head.

At the far end of the room, you could partially see long, blonde hair sticking out into view. Then, you heard the stranger speak to herself. Quiet grumblings of a feminine voice as they berated themself.

You raised an eyebrow.. could it be?

“Charlie?” You asked slowly.

The stranger squeaked, their hair pulled out of view. You heard a thump against the wall, as though they’ve pressed themselves against it in an attempt to hide.

You slowly tip toed the hallway, before whipping your body around the corner, surprising the mysterious figure.

“Charlie!” You shrieked in surprise at the sight of her, crouched against the wall. Her eyes widened in shock, and she let out a shriek of her own. Her eyes darted around, before she pulled herself up to meet your gaze.

“Oh my gosh heyyyyy, I didn’t expect to see you here!” She mocked innocence.

“Bullshit,” you retorted, “I told you where I was going like three days ago. Why are you really here?”

Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she bit her lip. As if she was deciding whether to tell you the truth, or another lie.

Suddenly, she let go of the breath she held, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

“Okay.. the truth is, when you told me you were hosting an art class I was so thrilled! For you, of course. But then, I thought about how much you and my dad were getting along! Then, I thought about how you guys seemed to have the shared interest of art. So I.. told him about the class?”

“And?” You questioned, irritation lacing your voice. You really did not have time for this.

“And I told him about how you were still looking for a model, and you know how he is. He doesn’t have a problem doing things like that in front of people, and he’s getting better at being around people in general..”

You gripped Charlie by her shoulders when she trailed off again, shaking her.

“Spit it out! What about your dad?!”

“HE AGREED TO BE THE MODEL FOR YOUR CLASS BUT I HAD NO IDEA THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE NUDE UNTIL WE SHOWED UP BUT HE JUST SAID GOODBYE AND WALKED INTO THE BACK ROOM!!”

You stopped dead, your breath caught in your throat. You turned your head slightly, eyeing the classroom door.

“Your dad… is in there… naked?” You finally managed to get the sentence out, your gaze returning to Charlie in a look of disbelief.

This was a joke, right? There was noooo way you were going to walk in there a minute and see Lucifer there. This was just a terrible (-bly good?) dream.

Charlie nodded in defeat, her head hung low.

“I don’t even have the mental strength to go in there. I couldn’t stop him, even if I wanted to. He was dead set on this.”

You rubbed a hand along your face, gathering your thoughts.

“Well, there’s no stopping it now,” You said, rolling your shoulders in preparation, “Guess I have a class to teach.”

“Have fun..?” Charlie smiled innocently at you. Her plan was working, after all.

You shot her a glare before crossing the lobby once more, and pulled open the door. You stepped inside, breath hitched, and gently shut the door behind you.

In front of you, four older women sat behind easels with a blank white canvas attached. If they noticed your arrival, they didn’t show it. Instead, they giggled in the direction of the slightly lifted stage. You couldn’t see who was on the stage, but the familiar voice with giddy amusement told you exactly who it was.

“You’re finally here!” Lucifer called, and you did nothing but stand there for a moment.

Straightening your back, you exhaled a deep breath, and walked forward. Right past the stage. You kept your eyes in front of you, ignoring the golden gaze that trailed your figure.

You positioned yourself between the platform and the women who had finally stopped giggling and whispering to each other, and cleared your throat.

“Hello, everyone. I’m your instructor for today, unfortunately Renee couldn’t be here today. We’ll be going over the usual though, figure drawing with the model present today.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, before opening them with renewed energy.

Slowly, you turned on your heels and pivoted in the direction of the platform. Your eyes widening at the sight.

Before you, on a long, red couch lay the King of Hell. Lucifer Morningstar, in all his glory. Shirtless, with no pants in sight. Thankfully, a thin, barely-hiding-anything sheet covered his waist section.

You met his gaze, a playful smirk etched on his lips. He wiggled his eyebrows at you, gauging for a reaction.

You made sure not to give him one. If he thought he was going a reaction from you in front of all these people, he was wrong.

“Let’s start by doing a quick sketching exercise, take about ten minutes to do your best and draw the model in front of you. Once the timer goes off, we’ll review and go over some techniques, before switching to a much longer pose.”

You clicked the timer, and the faint ticking of its gears cemented you into reality.

“Is that Lucifer?” One of the ladies whispered to her friend a chair over. Her friend shrugged, “I have no idea.. but boy, is he handddssoomee.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to ignore their gossip.

Sitting in the chair farthest from the group, you crossed your arms, your gaze resting on the floor. Was he looking at you right now?

You sat there for a moment, before realizing you couldn’t ignore him forever. He was the model after all. Soon you’d have to be helping him change poses anyway.

You looked up, drinking in the view. He was lazily leaning against the back of the velvet couch,

His hair, with no hat to cover it, stuck to his face messily with sweat. As he adjusted his head, a few strands of curls fell in front of his eyes. His intense stare slightly masked.

Was the room getting hot, or was it just you?

His eyes were locked on you, that stupid smirk still on his face. You sent daggers back to him.

He replied with a wave of his fingers.

You refused to let yours eyes travel any farther than his face, not ready for what kind of images your mind would give you regarding what was underneath the sheet.

“Did you know the Renaissance was pretty famous for constantly expanding its artistic art forms?” A voice smooth as butter filled the silence.

What the hell was he doing?!

“Believe it or not, the naked human was a very big inspiration for many of their paintings. No sheet in sight.”

Some of the women perked up in interest at Lucifer’s words. You couldn’t tell if they were actually interested in what he had to say, or just to hear his voice as it commanded the room’s attention.

“For an era so virtuous,” He teased the last part, reminding you of your discussion days earlier, “They so did love their scandalous marble status.”

He let that sink in, and you rolled your eyes dramatically at him. You couldn’t believe this was how Charlie planned on setting the two of you up.

A candle lit romantic dinner? Nah. A trip to the movies? Boring, apparently.

Were you against the idea of getting closer with the ‘Big Boss of Hell’? Of course not! He made you laugh and was actually interested in your ideas. This was just not how you expected it to go down.

“Keep talking, pretty boy!” One called from behind her easel.

Before he could speak again, the timer shrieked in your palm. You shot up from your seat, clasping your hands together loudly.

You turned your back to Lucifer as you began instructing the class, showing them a few techniques on how to straighten their lines, and how to hold their pencil just the right way that would give them a much thicker line for specific parts of the body.

“Alright, now, we’re going to have the model switch positions.”

Grabbing the paper that held all the different poses, you held it out to him, your finger tapping against the specific one in question. It showed the figure in a front facing view, one hand closed in a fist supported their chin, the other tucked neatly underneath. As if they were listening intently to some hot gossip.

“I’m afraid I can’t see what‘s on the paper. Perhaps, if you come a little closer and show me?

You groaned internally, he was enjoying this too much. You strided over to him. His gaze followed you, his grin only widening as you closed in on where he laid.

“You need to turn facing them,” You commanded the King himself. He pivoted, his body fully facing the group of gawking onlookers. He gave them a wink, and they hid behind their easels, their whispers fast and beathless.

“Now, you have to move your arm.. like this.” You spoke, reaching out one hand. You hesitated for a minute. You’ve never been so.. upfront with like this.

Reaching down, you gently circled your fingers around his wrist. Slowly, you allowed your hand to slip down, reaching his forearm.

His body was hot to the touch, and you felt like melting right then and there. Maybe it was time just to accept defeat, this man was just too good looking.

You felt the muscles of his arms shift, and you halted for a half a second.

Did he just tense?

Maybe you weren’t the only one who could be teased.

You guided his arm forward, and then up. Sliding your fingers, ever so gently, around his knuckles. You squeezed, and his hand enclosed into a fist. You guided it underneath his chin.

“Touchy today, aren’t we?” He spoke quietly to you, his voice dripping with velvet allure as you positioned him as the image on the paper showed.

“You be quiet.” You scolded him, trying your best to bring on your most serious face.

His quiet chuckle in response made you drop the face instantly. It was obvious you were pretty bad at this kind of thing, at least compared to Lucifer.

You grabbed his other arm, and gently tugged it underneath. Letting it lay neatly below him.

Taking a step back, you admired your work.

You were going to return to your seat, before a thought crossed your mind. You took a step forward, closing in on Lucifer again.

“And one more thing…” You started.

Using two fingers, you grazed the bottom of his chin, firmly pressing upward. Instinctually, his head followed the motion. He met your eyes, his gaze intensifying.

“Good boy.” You teased, your voice laced with a hint of sultry satisfaction.

You didn’t miss his pupils dilating into slits and his breath hitching slightly. You just turned on your heels, not giving him a second glance before returning to your seat.

You tilted your head at him slightly, looking at him through your eyelashes. Your lips curling into a provocative smirk as you gripped the timer.

Maybe now this would be an even match.

“Begin.”

Time flew by once more, and this time, Lucifer refused to meet your gaze. Instead, he was purely focused on the easels in front him.

“Tell me, my dear artist,” He began, addressing the demon woman before him. Her eyes widened when she realized he was speaking to her.

“If we were back in the Renaissance, would I make quite the muse?”

“Pardon?” The lady asked timidly, her voice coming out in a whisper.

“How about a statue? Think about that. Tall, Marble-skinned, and… lacking this rather uncomfortable cloth.”

The woman’s face turned bright red. Her mouth opened and closed, her tongue refusing to cooperate. Lucifer knew how to play this game well.

Then, he turned his head to you.

“What about you, stranger? Would you think i’d look good in such a form?”

You crossed your legs, leaning back in your chair.

“If the statue could stay quiet, while the class finished their work. Then, perhaps.”

The angel huffed, averting his gaze. He blew a few strands of hair out of his face, before continuing his blank stare at the wall.

The timer in your palm rang once more. You lifted yourself out of the chair. This was it, the last pose.

You strided back to Lucifer, his smoldering gaze on your figure as you approached.

For this pose, he needed to be off his stomach. You weren’t going to roll him like a log, or go anywhere near his torso. That was too brazen of an act for you to commit to, at least with all the eyes on you. Instead, you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the white sheet. You tugged with all your might.

With an oomph he rolled along with it, he shoulder blades digging into the cushions as he landed exactly where you wanted.

Before the ladies could get even a glimpse, you hurriedly adjusted the sheet back onto him.

“Impressive, bending the devil himself to your will.” He commented as you continued to adjust his arms.

Ignoring him, you moved onto his legs, positioning them slightly.

“Careful~” He chided.

You said nothing to that either. Once he was in the correct pose, you released him. You glanced at his hair, now messily covering his face.

You reached forward and, splaying your fingers, pushed his hair back behind his head. You let your nails softly graze his scalp before you tugged them free.

“Sorry, can’t have your curls covering your face for the girls back there.”

“I bet they wished they were in your position,” Lucifer hummed “Few rarely are.”

You chuckled softly, “Please, the view looks better from back there.”

He let out an audible “Ha!” as the words left your lips and you turned away from him once more. You knew that must’ve stung, sending a blow to the prideful king’s ego.

Thirty minutes went by as you sat there, you spent more time examining your hands than meeting the gaze of the angel across the room.

This had turned into quite an eventful class, you couldn’t lie. You also didn’t expect such a shameless attitude from Lucifer, he was much more timid back in your painting room. Perhaps there was a side of him you still had yet to meet.

To be honest, sitting here, watching the clock tick by, you were pretty surprised this man had managed to stay near-perfectly still these past few hours.

Another thirty, and the timer rang its last chime. You had been positioned behind the drawing ladies, giving them critiques on their work.

You ignored the fact it was Lucifer you kept staring at on their canvas, instead simply regarding it as charcoal lines in need of straightening.

You wished them farewell at the doorway as they left. You hoped they had at least a pleasant time, since they’d have at least a good story to tell to their girlfriends over the phone.

Shutting the door with a soft thud, you sat there for a moment before your shoulders dropped in exhaustion. You honestly weren’t used to that kind of atmosphere, since your work consisted of you alone in a quiet room all day.

Taking a few steps backwards farther into the room, your gaze landing on the couch atop the platform. It was empty. Your eyes widened, did Lucifer just leave you here?

You rushed out of the classroom and strode into the lobby, searching for any signs of him.

“Wow, that little sneaky piece of-”

“I’m right here.” Came a familiar voice behind you.

You jumped, whipping around to find Lucifer dressed fully. Hat and all. Now this is what you were used to. Crossing your arms, you raised an eyebrow.

“What was that back there?” You motioned to the room behind you.

“My daughter invited me to look good in front of people and I did an outstanding job, as usual.”

“As the model? You couldn’t have just used your position as King to get a spot behind the easel instead?”

Lucifer grinned widely, leaning back against the wall. Could this have been his plan, and not Charlie’s? Now you weren’t so sure.

“Unfortunately, not many of us have a skill as perfected as yours with a brush.”

You accepted that praise. You had worked hard for it.

“And, not many people have as great of a photogenic face as me. So, we’re square.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you walked away. Lucifer kept pace as you both exited the studio, heading toward the curb.

“That reminds me,” Lucifer halted, reaching into his pocket to fish for something.

You stopped beside him, the mystery item in his coat pocket piquing your interest.

“I fixed it!” He held the the paint-vomiting rubber duck out to you, wiggling it in delight.

“You did?”

“That’s right. This bad boy can now pop out six different colors, you just have to pull its beak.”

“That actually really cool,” You laughed, taking the rubber toy from him. You turned it in your hands, maybe later you’d pretty it up with some fresh paint.

You looked up at him again, his golden eyes shimmering from the bright neon backdrop. You have much more to say to him, but your thoughts were jumbled from the day. There was one, though.

“You know, next time you should just ask.” You gripped the duck firmly in the palm of your hand, lowering your arm.

“Ask what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Luci. You’re telling me you hijacked my class because you had a change in career choice?”

His smile turned playful again, and he pivoted to face you, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Maybe, maybe not. That depends if i’ll be seeing you next week?” His eyes met yours with a questioning stare.

You gave him a warm-hearting smile, nodding your head.

“As always.”

His smile widened, and with a tap of his staff. Golden waves cascaded around you. It wasn’t cold, like Alastors. Instead, it was warm and relieving, like face planting into your pillows after an exhausting day.

As your vision began to obscure, you saw his face peak into the cascades of light, his hand reaching forward.

“I almost forgot.” His voice echoed, distorted by the magic as it circled them.

His hand enclosed around your own, and planted a kiss right onto your wrist. His lips lingered for a moment, as did his grip around your hand, as if your time together was too fleeting to let go.

You promised silently it wasn’t.

The light rushed over you suddenly, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut to keep from being blinded. Lucifer’s touch vanishing with your sight.

Feeling your feet planting on solid ground, your eyes widened to familiar surroundings of the hotel lobby. You were home, and Lucifer was no where in sight.

“Hey, Hot Cakes!” Angel Dust called, still seated in the same spot at the bar, “How’d it go?”

——————

🤍 alright, let me know what you think of this!! your comments are appreciated, esp if you have any ideas on what to do next!

💜 the kisses are getting higher! part 3?

[moonstruckme]

Thanks for being patient with me! This is edited on about four hours of sleep so apologies for any errors <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words

Water sizzles on the stove. You reach over to turn down the heat, your side heating from its proximity to the boiling water, before spinning back around to keep speed-chopping onion. This is a result of poor planning. 

It’s possible that some of your nerves could be reinterpreted as excitement. Giddiness, even. You’re finally—finally—doing something to try and repay all the kindness James shows you. You’ve felt like such a mooch, eating his cooking and stealing his time with his friends, but last week had been too much for you to take. He’d discovered the stomach bug you were weathering, and James had completely devoted the next two days of his life to making sure you were looked after. 

Your fever had gotten so out of hand he’d very nearly followed through on his favorite threat (going into your phone while you’re sleeping and phoning your mum), and though you’d done your best to downplay it at the time there are admittedly gaps in your memory wherein you think you were simply too out of it to know what was going on. It’s not a very comforting thought when you’re harboring a humiliating crush on your roommate; you may well have been just as talkative as James always is, you don’t know. At least he hasn’t said anything. 

He had, thankfully, managed to avoid catching it. You’re not sure how he managed what no one on your shift at work did, but you assume it has something to do with all that kale he eats. Which is why you’re doing your best to make the thank-you meal you’re making him as healthy as might suit his standards. 

You hear his key in the door, and a little frisson goes up your spine. 

“You’re early,” you accuse as he walks in. 

“Since when do you know when my training ends?” James asks. You sound like you’re sniping at one another, but as usual the joviality in his tone is unmissable. 

The sounds of his entrance are familiar, perhaps more ingrained in your mind than they ought to be. Keys jingling as he hangs them on the hook, shoes toed off and left by the mat, heavy footsteps headed for wherever you are in the apartment. 

When he finds you in the kitchen, you both speak at once. 

“What happened to your shoulder?” 

“You know how to cook?” 

“Hurt it at training,” James answers, shrugging with the shoulder that doesn’t have an ice pack held to it. He’s probably too nice for it to occur to him to withhold his answer until you’ve given yours, as had been your first thought. “What are you making?” 

“How did you hurt it?” Worry pries at your tone. Your hands have stilled on the cutting board. 

“We had a scrimmage, and I got shoulder-barged.” He gives you a smile, a shadow of the real thing, but gentler. Reassuring. “It’s not bad.” 

You frown. “I don’t know what that means.” 

“Didn’t expect you to, love.” 

“Why do you need to ice it if it’s not bad?” 

There’s a look in James’ eyes that’s wavering between smugness and softness. You balk at the sight of it. “I need to be a bit careful with it,” he hedges, “but it’ll be good by morning. Now, you’ve distracted me. Do you mean to tell me you’ve known how to cook this entire time?” 

“Yes,” you concede with a laugh. “I’ve always said I cook for myself when you’re not around.” 

“And here you are, doing it right before my eyes.” James leans on the counter with his good arm. He looks immensely entertained. “I’m honored.” 

“This isn’t just for me,” you say, looking down to resume chopping onion as your face warms slightly. “It’s for—” Another remonstrative hiss from the stove, and you whip around, moving the pot off the hot part entirely. You’re a bit relieved for the excuse to face away from him. “It’s for both of us. Also, I just want to provide a disclaimer right now that I never said I was good at cooking, only that I knew how.” 

James’ laugh rumbles behind you, just as you knew it would. He’s too easy. You can practically feel the force of his smile hitting your back, like the sunshine brought inside. 

“Here,” he says, taking a couple of steps toward you, “let me help.” 

“No!” You whirl again, stopping him before he can actually enter the kitchen. “No way. James, I’m trying to do something nice.” 

“And it is very nice,” he says, earnest. “It just seems like you could use a hand.” 

“I’ve got it,” you insist. Your hands are up to ward him off, but you put them at your sides when you realize how close they’re hovering to his chest. “It doesn't count as doing something for you if you do it yourself. Anyway, you’re incapacitated.” 

“I’m…” James looks confused, but then he glances down to his icing shoulder. “Oh, come on. I’m hardly immobilized.” 

“For all intents and purposes, you are.” You do your best to infuse your voice with conviction. You’ve found that’s usually the way with James. If you show any hesitation, he’ll turn on the charm and have you eating out of his hand before you know what’s happened. You herd him away from the kitchen. “Go sit down. Dinner will be ready soon.” 

You can’t help but be aware of him as you finish up, knowing he has to hear the sizzling when you accidentally spill things onto the stove or the one mumbled curse you’re not quick enough to bite back. All evidence that you’re not nearly as practiced a cook as James. You can practically feel his grin from a room over. Still, when it's done you’re fairly proud of yourself. 

James is beaming as he accepts his bowl. He hikes his knees up so you can pass between the couch and the coffee table, making a show of sniffing the steam rising from the food. 

“Is this risotto?” he asks, waiting for your little nod before his mouth drops open in astonishment. “You are so sneaky! I didn’t know you could cook at all, let alone fancy shit like this.” 

“It’s not that hard to make.” You look down at your fork as you raise it to your lips, blowing. 

“Sure it is! Loads of people have a hard time with it.” 

“Do you?” 

James grins, caught. You feel your own smile tugging at your lips as you take a bite.

He follows suit, forking a bit of the risotto and blowing to cool it before taking it in his mouth. His eyes dip closed, head lolling back, and he moans. 

“Oh my god, this is good. I’m never cooking again, now that I know you can do this.” 

You take another bite to avoid a response. You’re fairly sure the heat from your face could power the apartment for a month. 

James makes a few more over-the-top compliments of your culinary skills, which you deflect as best you can. As always, you eat mostly silently while he chatters, but when you look over your attention gets snagged on his shoulder. 

He’s only using the one hand to eat, bowl resting in his lap while you hold yours up closer to your face. His ice pack sits beside him now that he can’t hold it on anymore. You catch yourself gnawing on the inside of your lip. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask. 

James looks over, following your gaze. “Yeah,” he admits. “Nothing I’m not used to, though.” 

You feel your eyebrows pinch. “You get hurt often?” 

He smiles bemusedly. “It’s rugby, love. Getting a bit roughed up is part of the deal.” 

This doesn’t sit right with you. Though you hadn’t pondered it much before, you realize you’ve sort of been thinking of James, with his muscles and constant smiles and easygoing manner, as somewhat invincible. He seems like such a source of light in the world, it hadn’t occurred to you that anything bad could happen to him. You don’t like the idea of him being hurt. In any capacity. 

You realize this is likely playing out on your face when you notice James watching you. His eyes are soft. “As much as I would love to milk this for attention and maybe a sponge bath,” he says, setting his fork in his bowl, “it’s really not that bad. See?” 

He pulls down the sleeve of his shirt, and the effort to placate you is wasted. You take in a quiet, horrified gasp at the deeply colored bruise on James’ shoulder. One of your hands raises as if to touch it. It hovers in the space between you. 

“That’s not that bad?” you look at James in alarm. “It looks broken.” 

“It’s not,” he laughs. It’s a bit awkward, as close to self-conscious as you’ve ever seen him. “Trust me, I’ve had a couple broken bones in my time. It’s only bruised, and the muscle’s a bit strained.” 

The muscle, you’re noticing now, is quite substantial. Your focus is on the bruise, but the shoulder beneath it is eye-catching as well, hefty and taut-looking, presumably from the strain. That, or James is flexing. 

You raise your gaze quickly to his. Brown eyes tinged with smugness. 

“You’re worried about me.” His lips stretch into a grin. Not your favorite one in his arsenal. “Aw, sweetheart, I love you too.” 

You direct your attention back to your food, face hotter than hot. “I have justification for worry,” you say, the teasing tone you were going for undercut by the unintentional softness of your voice. “You’re voluntarily participating in a sport that seems like it’s trying to kill you.” 

James takes a self-satisfied bite of his risotto. “I don’t know, I was pretty worried when you fainted in my arms last week.” 

You side-eye him suspiciously. “I didn’t actually do that.” 

“Guess you’ll never know.” 

[ellemj]

Needs & Wants - Sex Pollen Trope Pt. 5

Bucky Barnes x Reader

**Read part 1, part 2, part 3, and part 4 first for the full effect.**

Summary: As the night drags on, Bucky continues helping you through the peak activity of the chemical compound that you were both exposed to.

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex, oral sex, profanity, sex pollen (dubcon), near-somnophilia, dry humping, praise, possessive!Bucky, use of y/n, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Special thanks to @littlemiss-yeehaw for helping with the warnings &lt;3

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires more warnings.

Word Count: 3.6k

Author's Note: I'm living for y'alls reactions to this series over the last few days. Thank you all SOOO much for the continued support and unbelievably kind words. I hope this part does something for you all, hehe. Also, I apologize for any errors you may find. I only proofread it once and I kinda half-assed it. I hate proofreading my own work.

After sleeping the longest stretch so far tonight, you wake up at 2 am with excessively sore legs and a dire need to pee. You debate for a moment whether or not it’s smart to get up, taking into account how unstable you feel as soon as you push the covers back and seat yourself on the edge of the bed. You’re beginning to realize that maybe 75% of your pain and soreness is from the chemical that’s still working in your system, while the other 25% is from having sex with a super soldier. You peek over your shoulder at the man who lays on the other side of the bed, sleeping soundly with his lips parted the tiniest bit. Something stirs deep in the pit of your stomach when you look at him. That’s new. You brush it off as being another onslaught of arousal that you’re going to be experiencing against your will. You lean over and retrieve your panties from the floor, sliding them up your legs silently. You’re sure that they’ll just end up right back on the floor, but with two loads of cum having been thoroughly fucked into you in the last few hours, you don’t want to risk anything dripping down your leg on your trek to the bathroom.

            You move slowly, pushing yourself up to a standing position and steadying yourself with a hand on the bedside table before making your way to the door. As you reach the threshold, the pain in your legs intensifies to a much less bearable level and you freeze, your right hand raising up to grip the door frame for support. You just need to make it ten feet down the hall and into the bathroom and you’ll be fine. Of course, it’s not going to go that easily for you. Has anything gone according to plan tonight? No. You hear Bucky stir behind you, the covers rustling as he awakes.

            “Where are you going?” His sleepy voice tugs at you, making you look over your shoulder again. He’s propped up on one elbow now, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and then narrowing them in your direction.

            “I have to pee. I didn’t mean to wake you.” You whisper. Why are you whispering? You’re the only two people in this house and you’re both awake now. Maybe it’s the darkness of the house making you feel like it’s supposed to be quiet hours.

            “Why are you holding onto the door frame?” He questions. It takes him less than two seconds to figure out the scene in front of him. He doesn’t know why you have to be so stubborn and insistent on doing shit yourself all the time. You’re no different in the field. Before you can answer him, he’s climbing out of bed and slipping his boxers back on. You close your eyes and sigh, not even needing to look back to know what he’s doing. Suddenly, you feel the warmth radiating off of his body behind you, then his flesh hand lands on your lower back.

            “I’m not completely useless, James.” You mutter, letting go of the door frame and taking a step forward. The pain in your thighs makes you feel as though your legs might give out with just that one step. You suck in a harsh breath and freeze for a second time.

            “Right.” If you weren’t so focused on keeping your balance and fighting back tears of agony, you’d have already shoved him away from you. He keeps his hand on your lower back, not daring to scoop you up and carry you to the bathroom like he wants to. Instead, he lets you move at your own pace down the hall. As slow as a fucking turtle. James. You’ve never called him that before. Maybe putting his dog tags around your neck reminded you that he’s called things other than just Bucky, or Barnes, or ass. He takes that as you being one step closer to giving him what he wants most tonight.

            Once you finally reach the bathroom door, he lets you step inside alone. But as soon as you move to shut the door between the two of you, he stops it with his vibranium hand.

            “The door stays open.” His tone is no different than the one that you hear him use so often in the field, the one that he uses when he thinks he can give you orders like the sergeant he is. It’s never worked on you before and it sure as hell won’t now.

            “I’m not letting you watch me pee.” You argue, trying to push the door closed again. Your efforts are fruitless, no match for his strength and his determination to keep the door open.

            “Don’t flatter yourself, I don’t want to watch. I’m going to stand out here and wait, but I don’t feel like busting down the damn door if you fall.” You almost laugh. Not wanting him to see the small smile that’s beginning to turn up the corners of your mouth, you give in and turn around, heading over to the toilet. As you face the door once more, you watch Bucky step to the side so he’s just behind the wall, giving you the tiniest bit of privacy. You relieve yourself quickly, but as you’re standing up and pulling your panties back into place, a fresh wave of stinging pain travels down your spine, making you lurch forward and grab onto the edge of the sink for support. Bucky hears your hands land on the hard granite and he hears the way your breathing quickly changes from its usual calm rhythm to a quickened rhythm of discomfort. He wastes no time stepping into the small bathroom, placing himself behind you and looking at you in the mirror.

            “What is it?” He asks, looking you over with a worried expression. Normally that worried expression would annoy you out in the field. He gets the same look when you come to the end of a firefight and he isn’t sure if you’re injured or not, or when you haven’t been responding on comms. It’s always made you feel like he thinks you can’t handle yourself. So, why now do you feel cared for?

            “Just the same shit we’ve been dealing with all night.” You answer after taking in a deep, shaky breath. Unexpectedly, his hands end up on your hips. You’re starting to get used to him doing that. Instead of his touch giving you at least some minimal relief, your pain doesn’t subside. You wonder if maybe it’s because he’s touching you over your t-shirt. Maybe skin-to-skin contact is what you need right now. “Touch me.” Your words come out as a whisper, your eyes meeting his in the reflection of the mirror. Something flashes in his eyes, something that you think must be surprise at your request. Of course you’d write it off as that. It was actually a flash of desire, as your words immediately sent all of the blood in his body rushing straight to his dick. He knows that you only asked him to touch your skin, without any ulterior motives. He knows that. It’s his dick that doesn’t get the memo. He places his flesh palm across the middle of your back, pushing you forward gently until you’re bent over the sink. Adrenaline begins coursing through your veins and anticipation warms your core. You didn’t know how much you needed this again. He fingers the hem of your shirt, stealing one more look at you in the mirror before slowly sliding it up your back. As soon as your black panties are revealed to him, he lets out a barely audible groan. He closes his eyes for a second, gathering himself, before pushing your shirt up further until it rests near your shoulders. He lets his hands run down your back now, his flesh hand warm and soft and his vibranium hand cool and soothing. You feel the stinging pain along your spine easing in the slightest as you close your eyes and lean into his touch.

            “Where does it hurt?” As he bends his upper body over yours, you feel his bare torso making contact with your back, his crotch so close to pressing against your ass. His lips tickle the shell of your ear as he speaks in the most tender yet sexually-charged tone you’ve ever heard fall from a man’s mouth.

            “My back.” You answer him promptly, the pain evident in your voice. You’re ready for whatever it is that he might do to help you. As much as you hate to say it, you’re looking forward to whatever he might do. He slides his hands up your back again, before dragging them back down just like he did before. It’s not enough for you. You wonder if it’s enough for him, and the easiest way to get an answer to your question is to arch your back a little and push your ass back against him. You feel the hard outline of his cock line up with your ass and you can’t help the giggle that sneaks past your lips. Infuriating. He finds you fucking infuriating.

            “What do you think you’re doing?” His voice is tense and you note the way the muscle along the side of his jaw is flexed. He’s quick to grip your waist, holding you still against the edge of the sink. His gaze narrows at you in the mirror and you think he looks almost bothered, but a little voice in the back of your head is screaming at you to test the waters.

            “Hmm?” You grind your ass back again, expecting him to stop you by utilizing his hold on your waist, but he simply looks down at your ass as it rubs against his boner. You can’t read his face now. Is he bothered? Turned on? Does he want to fuck again? Bucky can barely even read himself. His cock is as hard as it’s been every other time you’ve been this close to him tonight, but within his mind, he’s warring with himself. He held himself back both of the previous times that you had sex. He was careful, diluting the strength and intensity with which he fucked you. He still fully enjoyed it, in fact, it was the best sex he’s ever had. But he was scared he’d hurt you, or even worse, that he’d get so lost chasing his own relief that he wouldn’t even notice he was practically using you.

            He lets you continue your ministrations for a few seconds, watching intently as you grind against him, your back arched and your hair cascading over your shoulder. You’re so damn pretty like this that it hurts him to look at you for too long. Especially when he’s not currently inside you. He could probably stand to look at you longer if he was buried deep inside of you.

            An idea crosses his mind. Something that he hadn’t been clear-minded enough to think about either of the other two times that you had sex tonight. He wants to taste you.

First, he’s going to make you scream his name while he draws an orgasm from you with only his mouth and fingers, and then he’s going to make you moan his name while he fucks your pussy.

            “You know, you’ve been such a good girl tonight.” Oh my god. He did not just call you that. Bucky fucking Barnes did not just call you a good girl while his hard-on is pressed against your ass. The movement of your hips falters, but he watches as your cheeks begin to burn pink in the mirror and your eyes widen at his words. He’s found a weakness of yours.

You feel his fingertips slide beneath the waistband of your panties, slipping them down your legs in one deft movement. You kick them off to the side and you don’t miss the smug smile painted across his face while he watches you comply so readily. His foot moves between yours now, nudging them further apart. You fully expect him to strip off his own boxers and fuck you next. Instead, he leans forward, placing a soft kiss on your left shoulder, then your right shoulder, and then he ghosts his lips all the way down your spine. A chill runs through your body, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. What the hell is he doing? You can’t even form the words to question him, especially not when his hands begin kneading your ass as he gets down on his knees behind you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You steal his last question, but your voice is far more shaky and unsure than his was. Suddenly, his hands spread your ass cheeks apart and he circles the tip of his tongue over your clit. “OH MY GOD,” you cry out, completely powerless to do anything other than grip the edge of the sink and scrunch your eyes closed, your back arching even more than it was before.

“Hmm?” The sound he makes causes vibrations to run through his tongue and straight to your clit, drawing another loud moan from you. You can’t think of a single thing to say, you can’t think at all really. He eats you out like it’s the sole cure for the damn chemical that he inhaled earlier tonight.  He focuses his mouth on your clit, switching between licking and sucking at it, memorizing the way you taste. You’re seeing stars less than thirty seconds after he sunk down to his knees. Bucky. His name is the only thing in your brain. You bite down on your bottom lip with a bruising force. As you fight to hold back from moaning his name, your right hand reaches up and grasps the dog tags around your neck, running your thumb over the inscription as he pleasures you with his mouth. James B Barnes. You feel yourself getting undeniably close to your orgasm, and he must realize it because he only increases his efforts.

“Are you gonna cum for me, baby?” He taunts, reaching up and rubbing circles against your clit with his fingers as he waits for your response. You nod, but knowing he can’t see you from his current position between your legs, you choke out a breathy answer.

“I’m so fucking close, J—” You cut yourself off abruptly before you slip up and say his name.

“What was that on the end there? Go on, say it.” He eggs you on, pride flaring in his chest at the fact that you almost said his first name. He was so close to hearing it. You shake your head, more to yourself than him, refusing to open your mouth again. “I thought you were going to be a good girl for me, Y/n.” You hear him tsk beneath you and you fear he’s going to stop everything. That is, until you feel his mouth attach to your clit once more and then…

            “JAMES!” You scream his name so loud that you’re sure any enemy surveillance within a three-mile radius heard you. You couldn’t help it, you didn’t even think about it as it left your lips. He plunged two fingers into you without warning and curled them, all while flattening his tongue against your clit and giving you the most perfect, wet friction there.

You screamed his fucking name.

            Bucky was full of pride and possessiveness, and so unbelievably horny. He put everything he had into drawing an orgasm out of you with his mouth and fingers, and in the end, he had you cumming so hard that you were grinding into his mouth with your left hand behind you, gripping onto his hair. You screamed his name a total of three times before your shaking legs threatened to send you tumbling to the floor, and Bucky couldn’t stand not being inside of you anymore.

            That brings you to where you are now: bent over the bathroom sink with Bucky thrusting his cock into you from behind. His right hand is fisting your hair at the back of your head, making sure you can’t move to look at anything other than the reflection of him fucking the shit out of you. It’s as if a damn broke when you screamed his name the first time and now his name falls from your lips repeatedly as you moan and meet each of his thrusts, desperately chasing your second orgasm. He nearly comes undone when he hears a soft Bucky, please under your breath.

            “That’s it, Y/n, say my fucking name.” He groans out, his hips snapping into you a little harder as you make eye contact with him in the mirror. Your eyes are begging him to let you cum. “You wanna cum on my cock, don’t you?” He goads, that familiar, frustrating smirk taking over his features. You nod your head as he fucks into you roughly, the sounds of his skin pounding against yours only making you wetter around his cock.

            “Please, please Bucky. I need to cum.” You beg. You beg. Shit, he’s going to lose it. A deep, guttural groan is ripped from his throat as his head falls back and he moves his hands to your hips, his fingertips digging into your skin and definitely leaving bruises behind.

            “Go ahead, cum for me.” He commands, rutting into you and hitting just the right spot to send you careening over the edge. Your orgasm washes over you and sends butterflies from your stomach, down to your pussy. You clench around him so hard that his own orgasm lurches forward. “Shit, just like that, baby, take it.” He lets go inside you, filling you up with more cum than the last two rounds combined. There’s so much cum that you can feel it dripping down his shaft as he continues to slowly fuck his hard cock into you. You’re so close to begging him not to pull out. You want to ask him to just stay here like this, to let you memorize what it’s like to have him inside of you like this. You’re falling off the deep end.

---

            “Shh, I wasn’t going to wake you.” Bucky whispers against the side of your neck. You blink the sleep from your eyes, trying to remember where you are. You’re wide awake once you feel the head of his cock slipping past your folds and sliding halfway inside you.

            “Bucky…” You whimper at the unexpected penetration, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in. Your entrance is so sore from the three other times that you’ve fucked tonight. The feel of his cock sliding in and out of you at a gentle, steady pace grounds you. He’s spoon-fucking you in bed. You both crashed after he took you from behind in the bathroom earlier, and instead of you being the first one to wake up this time, it was him. He woke up so hard and desperate to feel you again. He wanted to let you sleep as long as you possibly could, especially when you looked so comfortable and peaceful in bed next to him, but he needed to hear you say his name again. He fucks you so slowly and tenderly that you can feel every single inch of him as he takes his time with you. You lean back into him, hooking your left leg back and over his legs as he continues his work. He takes your change of position as a go-ahead and his vibranium hand travels up your side, slipping underneath your shirt and grasping one of your tits. Fuck. He hasn’t touched you there before. You moan as he does what he wants with your body, each of your orgasms building up at a leisurely pace. Something about the way he’s fucking you this time feels so much more intimate, so much more like making love. You know you should hate it. You should want to go back to the rough, near hate-sex you were having earlier tonight, but you can’t find it within yourself to change a damn thing.

            “You’re so perfect…” Bucky whimpers in your ear. He attaches his lips to the skin just below your ear. You feel his tongue on your skin, licking and then sucking far too gently to leave any visible mark. He wants to mark you up. God, he wants to mark you up. But he knows better than to let anyone find out about any of this. While Bucky is busy reminding himself not to leave any visible marks on your skin, you’re seconds away from giving him the only other thing he wanted tonight. He keeps massaging your neck, the curve of your jaw, and the shell of your ear with his lips and tongue. Without a single thought in your mind, you turn your head to him and press your lips against his. Every muscle in his body freezes, but you feel his cock twitch inside of you. You know you shouldn’t have done it, but now that you’re doing it, you can’t stop. You kiss him harder, sucking on his bottom lip and moaning against him. Bucky thinks he could cum just from this, from being inside you completely still while you kiss him. He wastes no time now, his vibranium hand tilting your chin up for him and giving him a good angle to slip his tongue into your mouth.

Fuck.

Your mouth tastes as good as your cunt.

Next Part

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[atomicladytimetravel]

The Best Part of Waking Up

Summary: Joel comes home exhausted after working fourteen hours, but reader is in the mood. After some begging, reader gives up. Joel wakes her up in the middle of the night to give her what she asked for.

Warnings: Mature content. Porn with very little plot - like is the plot in the room with us? 18+ ONLY. MDNI. Unprotected p in v, creampie, use of the word ‘whore’ (once and reader likes it), use of ‘daddy’, dirty talk, spanking, slight ass play.

Word Count: 1,851

It’s finally Friday, your favorite day of the week. Your husband Joel usually comes home at around 4:00 PM and the two of you have takeout, watch a movie and then fuck like rabbits. Sometimes you just fuck like rabbits. Either way, your body has basically been programmed to expect dick every Friday evening.

You glance anxiously at the time on your phone - 6:55 PM. Joel should’ve been home almost three hours ago, but something had gone wrong at the job site and he had to stay and deal with it. He promised he would be home by seven, but he hasn’t even called to say he’s on his way.

Finally, at 9:00 PM, you hear Joel’s heavy footsteps on the front porch. He opens the door, a sheepish look already on his face.

“I’m so sorry baby,” he apologizes immediately. “Being the owner isn’t all it’s cracked up to be sometimes.”

“It’s alright Joel, you’re home now.”

You cross over to him and hook your arms around his neck. His arms circle your waist and he gives you a lingering kiss. You’ve been horny all day and the slight bit of affection sends you into overdrive. You try to initiate sex, but he gently pulls away from you.

“I’m sorry honey, but I’m exhausted. Let’s get some sleep and we’ll have tomorrow to ourselves, yeah?”

“Mm, pleeeease Joel? I’ll do all the work.”

“As tempting as it sounds, I’m just too tired. I worked fourteen hours today,” he protests.

“But daddyyyy,” you pout, but he puts a finger to your lips.

“No whining. I’m going to go lay down and tomorrow, I’ll fuck you all day. I promise.”

“Fine,” you agree and he kisses you again. He bids you good night and you watch a few more episodes of your favorite show before joining him.

Joel wakes up a few hours later with his cock throbbing between his legs. He tosses and turns for another half hour, trying every method he could think of to make a hard on disappear.

“I should’ve fucked her when she was begging for it,” he thinks to himself. He turns and snuggles close to you, his hard on pressed into your ass. He kisses your neck, reaching underneath your sleep shirt to fondle your breast.

“Wake up baby girl,” he whispers in your ear when you start to stir. He nibbles your ear while he rolls your nipple between his fingers and you can’t help but let out a soft moan.

“What are you doing Joel?” you giggle sleepily.

“‘M just tryin’ to give you the cock you were beggin’ me for earlier.”

“Mm, but ‘m sleepy now baby,” you whine. You don’t protest when his hand wanders underneath your panties, however. He drags his middle finger through your wetness and uses it to circle your clit.

“Seems like you could use some help t’me,” he mutters into the crook of your neck. “She’s so wet baby. She wants t’be played with.”

You drape your leg over his in response, opening yourself up to him.

“There ya go baby, let me have it,” he rasps in your ear. You whimper quietly as he rubs slow circles on your clit. He dips his finger into your entrance and marvels at just how wet you are.

“Mmm, yeah she wants it bad darlin’.”

You whine as he removes his hand from your panties and he shushes you.

“I’m gonna take care of my baby girl, don’t worry. I just wanna get you naked first.”

You feel him shuffle behind you and he turns on the lamp on his bedside table. You roll onto your back, squinting and groaning at the sudden brightness.

“Sorry, I just wanna be able to see my beautiful girl,” he says, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. He pulls the comforter off your body and hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs. He tosses them aside and you sit up, pulling the shirt over your head as he sheds his boxers.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he compliments as he moves toward you on his knees. You lie back as he settles between your legs. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him toward you; he collapses on top of you with a chuckle and quick kiss.

“Thought you were too sleepy,” he teases. You pull his head down for a hot, opened mouth kiss.

“Not anymore,” you mumble against his lips. “Want you so fucking bad.”

“Yeah angel? You wanna feel daddy’s cock?”

“Yes…please,” you respond. He settles onto his knees and wraps a hand around his cock. He pushes the tip through your slit, using it to rub your clit. You grip onto his forearm and moan his name as he continues using his cock to rub your clit.

“Fuck it feels good just like this,” he groans. “Might make you cum like this before I fuck you. Pussy’s so fuckin’ slick.”

You don’t protest; the head of his cock on your aching clit feels too fucking good.

“Yes, please daddy don’t stop. It feels so good, been needing you to touch me all day.”

“Aww, you needy little thing,” he coos. “Always so ready for my cock, my good girl.”

You whimper in response, head tipping back as you feel the beginnings of your orgasm approaching.

“You’re gonna cum, aren’tcha baby? I can see it on that beautiful face. Go on, let it go for me so I can stuff that tight hole.”

“Yeah baby, I’m gonna cum. Keep going just like that, I’m so fucking close.”

He slides his cock through your folds once, twice, and then on the third time, you’re coming undone.

“I’m cumming baby, fuck!”

“That’s it darlin’ - fuck baby girl, you’re gettin’ my cock so wet.”

He slaps the head of his cock on your clit as you cum, prolonging your orgasm. Once you’ve come down, he aligns himself with your entrance and pushes in slowly, groaning at the feeling of your tight walls around him.

“Always so tight f’me,” he grunts. “Fuckin’ perfect pussy made just to take my cock.”

He rocks into you slowly at first, burying his face in the crook of your neck to suck on the skin there.

“My pretty, perfect baby girl,” he whispers. “Oh baby, you feel so good.”

“Oh god,” you whimper. You hook your ankles together behind his back, allowing him to push deeper. You drag your nails down his back and he snaps his hips forward in response; he loves the stinging feeling of your nails on his skin when he’s giving you his cock. He’ll have red scratch marks for a day or two, but he loves the reminder of how good he makes his baby feel.

“Do it again,” he hisses, and you oblige. He snaps his hips forward again with a growl.

“H-harder Joel, please,” you beg.

He sits up and hooks his forearms underneath the crooks of your knees and starts pounding into you. The headboard bangs against the wall with the force of his thrusts and you grip the sheets for dear life.

“Yeah baby? Like this? You wanna get fucked like a little whore?”

“Yes daddy, oh my god!” you cry.

“Fuck yeah, take this fuckin’ cock. Such a good fuckin’ girl.”

“Keep going baby, ‘m gonna cum,” you pant.

“Rub that pretty clit for me baby,” he instructs through gritted teeth. “Cum all over daddy’s cock pretty girl.”

You reach between your bodies and rub fast circles on your clit. Coupled with his hard thrusts, the action causes you to tumble over the edge, legs shaking and wild moans escaping your throat.

“Oh my god Joel, ‘m cumming so fucking hard!”

“Oh god yeah, I feel that pussy squeezin’ me,” he moans. He pulls out when you’ve come down and strokes himself slowly.

“Turn over and throw that gorgeous ass in the air for daddy.”

You obey quickly, arching your back and giving him the best view of your ass. He smacks it appreciatively, the sting making you moan. He spreads your cheeks and whistles lowly.

“Mmm, look at that pretty little ass hole.”

He slides his cock back into your pussy and grabs your hips, setting a steady pace.

“One day I’m gonna stuff both of your little holes at the same time,” he promises. The thought makes a fresh surge of arousal course through you.

“Oh, you like the thought of that, do ya little one?” he chuckles, feeling the rush of wetness that came with your arousal.

��Yes daddy,” you whimper. He stuffs the tip of his thumb into your ass hole and you gasp.

“Feel good?” he questions.

“Yes, please leave it there,” you respond.

“So fuckin’ hot baby. Oh fuck, I love you,” he whimpers.

“I love you Joel.”

His thrusts speed up and your head falls into the pillow below you, muffling your sounds. He grips your hair and pulls hard enough to lift your head.

“Keep that head up. I wanna hear how fuckin’ good I’m makin’ you feel.”

“Yes daddy,” you obey. He doesn’t release his grip, however, and with his hand in your hair and his thumb in your ass, you cum hard around him.

“Oh shit, oh shit, I’m cumming daddy!” you wail.

“Yeah baby, that’s my good girl. Daddy loves listening to you cum.”

He fucks you through your orgasm and keeps pounding into you until you’re having another. He spanks you repeatedly while your pussy clenches around him and you babble mindlessly about how good his cock is.

“I know baby, and you take it so well,” he smirks. “Best god damn pussy I’ve ever fucked.”

“Mmm, fuck, I can’t stop cumming,” you moan as a fifth orgasm hits. “Oh god daddy, I’m cumming so good.”

“That’s my fuckin’ girl,” he grits out. “Fuck, I’m gonna unload right in this little pussy. Gonna fill you so full of my cum. My balls are so fuckin’ heavy.”

“Yes daddy, give it to me. Give me your cum.”

His thrusts become sloppy until an animalistic sound tears from his chest. He grips both hips as his balls tighten and ropes of cum fill your pussy.

“Baby girl,” he rasps. “God damn, I’m blowing a fuckin’ load in your pretty pussy.”

You feel some of his cum trickle down your thigh, but he doesn’t stop.

“Fuck baby, it’s already spilling out and I’m not - nnngh - not done yet.”

He finishes with a final thrust and pulls out of you gently. Cum immediately starts dripping from your spent hole and he gets up to grab a towel. He cleans off your thighs and wipes off his dick before finding your panties and helping you into them.

“Keep as much of me in there as you can baby,” he says, patting your clothed pussy. He settles into bed behind you and wraps his arm around your waist.

“Get some sleep my love,” he whispers in your ear. “I still intend to keep my promise about tomorrow.”

[pyro-chaos]

Mike Schmidt x Reader

Pt. 1: And They Were Roommates…

Summary: Prologue. How it all started.

Or, Mike and you develop the foundation for a relationship.

Tropes: Fluff, angst if you squint,

And they were roommates…

Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5.

A/N: I’m actually super proud of this one haha, feedback is never required but appreciated anyway!!! Thank you!! Enjoy your read

-———-———

Mike knows you, but not well.

You live in a nicer house than his. Abby likes how your TV has more than just the news channels.

Max stopped answering Mike’s calls, and his aunt wasn’t around anymore.

You’ve babysat Abby before, but only briefly. Times that Mike needed to go to a job interview or pick up an extra shift and he couldn't find anyone else. Planned situations.

You were a last resort. He didn’t mean to overbook himself, but he did, and now he’s desperately hoping you won’t turn down a few extra dollars.

You answer Mike’s frantic knocks with wide eyes. You still have your work uniform on, and Mike has to actively suppress his wince.

“I’m so sorry,” he feels Abby squeeze his hand, “I didn’t know who else would be available.”

Mike doesn’t even try to suppress his relieved sigh when you wave him off and usher Abby inside. You - albeit awkwardly - invite him in, but he’s already running late.

You ask when he’ll be back for Abby, but he doesn’t know, so he says, tonight, I’ll call you and speed-walks to his car; tail tucked so far between his legs that he almost feels like crying.

When he returns to your home, he thanks you with a check and assurances that it’s just a one-time thing, and he couldn’t think of anyone else who’d be willing, but you just smile and offer him some dinner leftovers.

Then, a man walks in with a paper plate wrapped in saran wrap, and Mike feels the hairs at the back of his neck stand. You introduce the man as your boyfriend, Mike shakes his hand, but he’s practically choking on the air of judgment surrounding Oliver.

So that’s how you can afford a place like this.

Abby sleeps on the drive home, and Mike thinks about you.

Mike met you at work; maiding for a cleaning company for rich snobs. He…didn’t mind the days he worked with you. The manager often paired the two of you together for large estate-wide projects.

You never complained when he needed to bring Abby to work. If anything, you seemed like you had more fun on days he brought his little sister.

You asked Abby questions about her interests and even shared some of your own. Mike even once caught you packing extra frosted Animal Crackers from the lobby.

Sometimes, Abby would drag Mike into games of three-person hide-and-seek. Most often, he got stuck seeking. You laughed a lot on those days.

You even defended Mike when the manager wrote him up for not controlling his child.

He remembers apologizing with coffee for getting you written up. He also remembers you assuring him that, “the client needs to calm the fuck down. It’s not like we knocked over an Urn.”

He remembers how you made him chuckle.

The manager doesn’t pair the two of you up anymore. Mike would have to ask his co-workers to change shifts with him if he wanted to see you more often, but asking sounds awkward.

You corner him in the office during shift change the night after you babysit Abby. You ask if he wants to go meet for coffee during the break hour, your treat.

He wants to say he’s busy. The words rest on the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t know why you want to do him another favor. You're making him feel jumbled and awkward.

But then you mention the food, and I’ll meet you in the lobby if you want to carpool, just slips out of his mouth.

A big part of Mike thinks he offered to drive because he feels guilty for interrupting your evening. He doesn’t want to spend time with you, he only wants to pacify you enough to leave him alone.

The smaller part feels curious -for lack of a better term- why are you being nice? What’s wrong with you?

Mike drags his feet to meet you at the office. He hates that he’s about to give up his break for the Hi! How-are-you’s and the I’m-doing-well’s of small talk. He hates that he’s spending his energy on something so unnecessary. Plus, it’s not like he’s ever been friends with you.

He hopes that he hasn’t given you the idea that he cares more than he does.

The café is nice. It has hanging vines over the counters and windowsills. It smells like espresso and fresh soil. There’s an old-looking bookshelf right by a sunny window. It feels homey.

You buy Mike's food, and he tries to downplay how happy he gets when he has enough leftovers for another meal. The two of you talk. You ask if he has a consistent babysitter, and he dodges the question. You tell him your ‘free nights’ in case he hasn’t found a babysitter by the time he needs one, because, apparently, you have a lot of fun with Abby.

Mike feels the defensiveness creep up into his neck. The urge to bare his teeth and roll his eyes crawls into the forefront of his mind. He can take care of Abby just fine. He’s beginning to think that you think they’re a charity case. They don’t need you.

You must notice Mike tense because you change the subject. You tell him about how vinegar helps when cleaning smoke-stained walls, and the work-drama surrounding your shared boss.

His shoulders unwind, and he even adds a few jokes about bad clients. His input seems to sweeten the interaction like the honey in the tea he’s drinking.

He has fun.

He calls you the next time he needs a babysitter.

A few months go by. You, Abby, and Mike settle into a schedule. He learns that your boyfriend shares a car with you. Mike and Oliver don’t talk much, but when they do, they’re cordial.

Abby’s never complained about Oliver, but Mike can feel the simmering judgment, and wonders if Oliver has ever said anything to you about them.

Mike can’t pay you all the time. In fact, he can’t pay you most of the time, but you don’t seem to care. He wants to ask why.

You have a day job separate from the nights at the cleaning company - just like him - and the generosity you have with your time makes him feel itchy; like he owes you something, but you never bring anything up.

Anyway, he’s stuck with you. Who else would he leave Abby with on weekends and three nights a week?

You’re different today. Your eyes look glossy, and when Mike asks how it went with Abby, you just say it went well.

He doesn’t ask, but he wants to.

Friday night, you call and cancel babysitting Abby.

Your voice sounds small, and he hears you sniff a few times.

He doesn’t think your emotions are his business, but it feels like it’s the right time to ask anyway.

So, Mike asks, “Everything alright?”

You answer without a beat, “Yeah, just caught a bug from work, I’ll just need a day.”

Mike doesn’t know how he feels about the words I’ll just need a day. It feels like you’re justifying yourself. It feels like words a coworker would say to another coworker.

“I’m sorry,” you finish. It’s so soft and genuine that it makes Mike’s breath hitch.

“No,” he blurts, “No need to be sorry. I hope you feel better soon,” and he genuinely does.

Mike can’t afford to skip today's shift. He’s already received too many late notices from his landlord. One more and he’ll be evicted.

He’ll probably have to work through lunch this week if he wants to make ends meet.

He doesn’t know what to do.

So, Mike does the only thing he can think of. Mike carefully instructs Abby to never touch the stove, never to go near the thermostat, don’t answer the door unless she hears their secret knock, don’t answer the phone, and to keep the blinds and curtains closed.

Abby Pinky promises to do all of those things. Mike believes her, but writes a list and tapes it to the fridge just in case she forgets.

Abby asks why she’s not going to your house while Mike prepares a quick breakfast. He tells her you’re sick as he inhales his portion.

“Does she need medicine?” Abby asks.

“I don’t know,” he puts his dishes in the sink, “she said she’d be better by tomorrow.”

“Does she have medicine?”

“Probably, she’s a grown-up.”

“Does she have chicken soup?”

Mike doesn’t know how he’s supposed to know that, but Abby sounds genuinely worried about whether or not you have chicken soup. So, he stops what he’s doing and puts all of his attention on his sister.

“She’s gonna be okay Abby, she’s just not feeling her best. You’ll see her tomorrow.”

His sister looks at the table. Her little eyebrows furrow as she plays with her food. Mike feels… a twist of ugly things in his gut. He doesn’t like that he can’t protect Abby. He doesn’t like that he’s leaving her home alone.

That night, Mike brings her ice cream and lets her stay up past her bedtime.

Tomorrow comes too soon.

Mike tries to keep his nose out of your business, but the packing boxes littering your home stare into his soul. Your car is gone, too.

You welcome Abby, and you smile at Mike, but your eyes seem vacant. You don’t look like you’ve been sick, but your eyes are puffy.

At this point, Mike knows something’s going on.

He wants to give you something, but what could he offer? He’s not sure how close the two of you are. He’s not sure what you want from him.

In reality, paying you would be the best thing he could do for you, but he can't do that. So, he keeps his head down and asks if you need anything.

You get solemn after Mike’s offer; like you have bad news that you've been waiting to spring on him.

Mike clenches his teeth. He's expecting you to tell him you're done; he hasn't paid you, and you're starting to get annoyed.

"Actually, I have a huge favor to ask"

That's not what Mike's expecting, but he can't say no without sounding like an asshole. So he says, "Sure, what's up?"

You lick your lips again, “You can totally say no. It’s kind of a lot, and I know you’re already busy, but Abby goes to school around the same time I go to work, and I’d pay you for gas money” You're fidgeting with the hem of your sweater, "Would you be willing to give me a ride to work this week?"

Mike doesn’t even hesitate, "What time do you need to be picked up?"

You bring Mike a muffin. You nurse a coffee.

You seem quieter in the mornings, but Mike is just quiet. So, interactions only occur when you need to give him directions.

It’s not necessarily awkward, but Mike still feels tense and icky at the beginning.

Picking you up in the afternoons feels better on Mike’s psyche. You talk more, and he knows where the cleaning company is, so he doesn’t have to ask where to go.

Sometimes Mike brings you left-over meals from his day job. Sometimes you bring him and Abby a packed lunch.

Abby’s enrolled in an after school program until 6pm the two nights you don’t have her. Mike has those nights off, but he still picks you up and drops you off before getting his sister.

A few weeks go by.

You settle into a new schedule. You still don’t have a car. Mike never reminds you that you offered gas money.

“Thank you” you unbuckle your seatbelt.

Mike parks the car in your driveway, “It’s no problem”

It’s the least he can do, really. But he doesn’t want to tell you that he feels like he owes you.

You haven’t left yet, and Mike’s starting to feel confused.

You sigh before looking at him, “I might be getting a roommate soon”

The words sound casual, but you’re pursing your lips and fidgeting with your sleeves. Mike doesn’t understand why.

“Sorry, it’s just, I figured you should know.” You lick your lips, “I can’t afford this place without a roommate, and I don’t feel comfortable letting Abby around someone I don’t know”

He’s grateful for that, honestly. But something in his gut still drops. He has no idea what he’s going to do without your help.

“When?” he croaks. He clears his throat, “uh when do you think you’ll have one by?”

He doesn’t have to go get Abby for another half-hour.

You shrug, rubbing a hand on your hairline, “hopefully within the next few weeks.”

He nods, he’s not sure what to say. He’s not sure if there’s anything to say.

Then you gasp so loud that Mike literally feels his heart bang against his lungs. Your eyes go bright and you look into Mike’s eyes with an excitement that makes him feel slightly overwhelmed.

“You wanna move in with me?!”

Mike spends the rest of the half-hour in your kitchen, brainstorming how the three of you can move Abby’s bed with Mike’s tiny car. Without paying for a moving truck.

He has fun.

[kiss-inthekitchen]

favorite insomniac | spencer reid

a little warm-up exercise i just finished <3 you can't sleep, so you decide to call the only other person you know who would be awake at this hour. ~500 words

You don’t get insomnia. Usually, you fall asleep quickly and easily, and then devolve into any number of nightmares or vivid dreams or somethings that cause to you wake up feeling like you hadn’t slept at all. 

Obviously not great. But not insomnia.

Tonight, however, is not a usual night.

You roll over once again, after what feels like hours but is probably only twenty minutes of lying as still as possible and trying to will your body to be tired. You check the time on your phone; 3:14 AM. 

Ugh. You have to be at work in less than 6 hours, awake in less than 5. Closer to 4, if you want to actually look presentable. 

You groan, scrubbing your hands over your face and barely resisting the urge to start punching your pillows. 

And then you give up. 

There’s one insomniac you know who’s got a pretty good chance of being awake right now. You've dialed the number before you can even think about it. The line rings once, and you realize what an inappropriate, quite possibly disrespectful choice this had been. You’re about to hang up, hovering over the red button, when you hear him. 

“Hey,” he says, voice raspy. 

Oh god, oh god. “Please tell me I didn’t wake you up.” 

“No,” Spencer chuckles bitterly, “You didn’t. What’s wrong?” 

“I can’t sleep?” 

His eyebrows raise halfway to his hairline. “So you called me?” 

You and Spencer are coworkers. You’re friends. You just don’t really hang out much outside of work and work-related events. Not that you haven’t wanted to, you just… don’t really know how. Or if you should. Or if it would be particularly smart. 

“I’m so sorry. I figured if anyone was liable to be awake right now, it’d be… I wasn’t thinking. I’ll let you go, I’m–” 

“Hey, it’s alright,” he says, amused. You’re the only person he ever gets the opportunity to calm down; he’s usually the most nervous person in the room. “This doesn’t usually happen to you though, does it?” 

“No,” you huff, flopping back against your pillows. “I’d ask you for tips, but whatever you’re doing clearly isn’t working.” 

“That’s nice.” 

“Am I wrong?” 

“No, you’re not wrong.” 

You make a self-satisfied little “hmph” sound. 

“What did you call me for then?” 

Something in the timbre of his voice makes your heart speed up. “I don’t know, human connection across the ether that is 3 AM?” The sense that you’re the only two people in the universe. The sound of his voice. Not that you could say that part out loud.

“Wanna go for a drive?”

Huh? “Wh– We have work in, like, 5 hours.” 

“Oh, you haven’t been counting, have you?”

“You mean like thinking ‘if I fall asleep right now at this moment I could get 5 hours of sleep’ but then I still don’t fall asleep and I watch the minutes go by until it’s only 4 and a half hours and then I get angry at myself for being awake and then I’m somehow even more awake?” 

He chuckles, dark and rich through the phone. “The classic trap. Never count the hours.” 

“Now you tell me.” 

“Alright,” he grunts, and you hear him shuffling around, “I’m picking you up.”

“You're what?!"

"I'm picking you up," his voice lilts up, almost like a question. But not like he's asking for permission, more like he's teasing you. Like he knows your answer anyway.

"Now? You have a car?” 

“Yes, now. And yes, I have a car,” you hear jingling on the other end. “You’re gonna like it.”

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

all right. goal for this week. 9 hours of sleep. every night.

[csuitebitches]

How to Wake Up Early

I always wanted to be one of those girls who would wake up early, go for a run and be super productive with their mornings. The issue is - i really love sleep. Every time i would start a routine, i would eventually fail. I would wake up to turn the alarm off, think to myself “5 mins more” and boom- it’s suddenly 8:30 am and i need to leave for work in less than 1 hour.

Two videos on YouTube really changed my mind. One was Andrew Huberman’s, and the other was Jihyo, a k-pop star.

I came across Andrew Huberman’s video about dopamine, and somehow, it helped me to understand why the difficulty waking up early is so important. Now I’m no expert of neuroscience, but let me explain to the best of my abilities.

Dopamine is essentially the build up to the reward; it is not the reward. It is the satisfaction and happiness you feel (when your body releases), after you have achieved something that was painful/ required you to struggle a bit. In order to receive this reward, you have to feel pain, because pain and satisfaction are directly related to each other. Satisfaction without pain is useless and does nothing for you essentially.

That got me wondering: for me, waking up early is difficult. It’s painful. I dont want to do it. But if I do it, its my first win of the day. It’s the first challenge I have overcome of that day, and I always do feel amazing after. The dopamine release after the struggle of waking up and winning the battle of not going back to sleep is definitely there. I feel more confident because a) I have done the “right” thing b) selfishly, i can do something so simple that a lot of people struggle with c) it weirdly makes me feel more confident and like I’m doing the first step of being an adult right.

Jihyo’s video was quite random - she did some show where it shows her daily life when she’s not working. Parts of it made me feel like she’s unable to just relax with herself (probably because her body and mind are so used to chaos, performing, her girl group living together for so many years) so she busies herself a lot. I took the positives from the video; she’s extremely disciplined which I admired, she gets her chores done, she’s good at ensuring that her space is truly her space.

So I decided to build a relatively foolproof routine; but mind you, it does require quite a bit of willpower.

I’ve developed a habit of waking of waking up at 5 am. I head straight for a 30-45 minute meditation and then at least an hour long workout. I stack my habits that way; right after meditation, I put on my running shoes. I used to really struggle with waking up, even if I had to wake up late. This is the strategy that worked me, see if it works for you.

1. Reset your space the night before

This makes you feel less stressed in the morning and also genuinely makes you feel like you have your shit together. Put your clothes away, keep your bag in its place, clean up your desk, reorganise your make up and skin care products. You’re going to go to sleep and wake up to a clean space.

Make sure you define both your bedtime and wake up time. My bedtime is 9:30 pm - so i manage my chores, reading, dinner, everything around that.

2. Early dinner

I’ve noticed that early dinners help me sleep better. I’ve built the habit of casually walking for 25-30 minutes post dinner (not right after eating, after about 15 mins). I’m not walking fast to a point where I’m sweating and puffing, I’m casually strolling outside. During this time, I don’t listen to music, interact with anyone or my phone. I use this time to connect with myself and think about whatever I feel like.

3. No devices before sleeping

I don’t want to stimulate myself before sleeping, so I prefer reading before bed. If you don’t like reading, you can instead do your skincare, maybe revise some physical study notes, etc.

4. Using Alarmy app

This app is torture and I swear by it. This little thing makes you a solve a challenge of your choice in order to make the alarm stop, like math problems, puzzles, etc. I chose 5 math problems.

5. Keep your phone across the room

Don’t charge it near your reach. Keep it as away from you as possible.

6. Stand for two minutes after shutting off the alarm

Don’t allow yourself to snooze, or go back to bed. This is the part that really requires you to tell yourself: “i am not going back to sleep. I’m going to wake up and do the things I have to do for my own benefit.” Remember - the states of heaven and hell are not outside of you, they’re inside you. They are mental states. You have to fight with your lazy demon and tell him/her/whoever that NO; we are NOT going back to bed.

I charge my phone across the room so that forces me to walk first thing in the morning. To stop myself from going back to sleep, after i have shut the alarm off, i just stand for 2 minutes. I dont sit, or go back to bed. I stand and tell myself, we’re doing this. We’re going to wake up and have an amazing day.

Your mind is like a child with tantrums and mood swings. Your rational self has to discipline your mind the way a parent would to a child.

7. Turn a small light on

Not something that is jarring or overwhelming, but enough to help you start waking up. I turn my phone’s flashlight on and keep it on my desk.

8. Be consistent, even on weekends

The biggest mistake you can make is not being consistent. Your body doesnt recognise weekends, your mind does. Your body doesn’t know that tomorrow is Monday, so its time to wake up early. By staying consistent (yes, I wake up at 5 am on weekends too), it allows my body to develop its own body clock and not wrecking the system I’ve kept in place.

What do I do if I have a late night?

It really depends. Let’s say I come home relatively early (+2 hours around my bedtime) around 11 pm, and im in bed by 11:30. I’ll wake up somewhere close to 5 am, like 6 am instead. The next day I ensure I’m in bed by the bedtime I’ve kept for myself and wake up at 5 am again.

If I come home really late, like 3 am - i keep my alarm exactly 8 hours from that time. I need to get sleep, but oversleeping is an issue and that wont allow me to wake up early the next day. I want to get enough sleep where im rested for the day, but not excessively. Unfortunately, sleeping so late would definitely mean that i wont be able to fall asleep at my dot 9:30 pm bedtime, but i turn the lights off and get ready to sleep by then anyway, and mentally prepare for my 5 am wake up call.

[ddejavvu]

hiii! this is my first time requesting and I just love your writing so much, you are so talented!

I was thinking about telling early season spencer (3-4) that he has a “slutty waist” and he’s all shy about bc he doesn’t even know what that means.

i’m on spencer’s waist tiktok right now and this popped up in my head😭

It's a bleary observation that you're too groggy to be making in the early hours of the morning, but Spencer hears it anyways, "You've got a slutty waist, Spence."

He actually thinks he mishears you at first, eyes narrowing as he turns from where he'd been tying his tie in the mirror, "Huh?"

"Your waist," You grumble, turned on your side now - still, mercifully, buried beneath the covers with several hours left to sleep - to watch him where he stands, "It's slutty."

"Slutty?" He echoes in disbelief, and you wonder if it's the first time the offensive word has ever passed through his lips, "What does that- what? My waist?"

"Yeah," You nod as vigorously as your sleep-clogged muscles will allow you to, "Look at it, it's all skinny and tight and- and it moves when you walk."

"Are you drunk?" Spencer asks, looking partly aghast and partly amused, "Or- or did you take really strong sleeping medication? You're loopy."

"I'm fine," You manage, brain beginning to fire on more than just one meager cylinder, "Come kiss me, you slut."

"Please stop calling me that," Spencer begs bashfully, cheeks lit up a bright pink. but he complies in record time. Maybe it's to shut you up faster, but he hunches over the bed where you're laying to kiss your sleep-tacked lips.

"I don't wanna," You lament, letting him tuck you back beneath the covers as he rushes to leave, too flustered to handle another round of your rather brash observations about his body without time for a cold shower. He dashes for the door once he's tucked you in, like the blankets are bindings and would stop you from chasing after him. You watch his retreating form, calling out after him, "Have a good day at work, my little slut!"

[cntloup]

After almost four months of working for Simon, you take a maternity leave... and your feelings for him start to bubble up

Simon bumps into you, a troubled woman whose boyfriend kicked her out after he found out she's pregnant

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

He holds you, gently rubbing your back as your stomach heaves and you throw up your lunch. You're in your third trimester and it’s been hell for you. 

You sob onto his chest while clinging to him, from the agonizing pain in your abdomen and the unbearable nausea. 

“Shh, it’s ok, luvie. I've got you.” he coos, holding you tighter and cradling your head against his chest as you bawl your eyes out. 

Even though your mind is somewhat dazed, your heart still flutters at the nickname. 

In almost four months of working as his assistant, you slowly drifted closer and closer to each other.

But you still don't know if you'd call yourselves friends or not, it's something more, yet less than what you wish to be.

After a few minutes spent on the bathroom floor in his office, you finally calm down a bit. 

“I’m so sorry. I don’t think I can work like this.” you apologize sheepishly while looking up at him through glossy eyes, still in his arms. 

“That’s fine. You'll be on leave until you’re ready.” he says, looking back at you through hooded eyes. 

“Really? There's no problem with that?” 

“Yeah. It's ok. We'll get a substitute for now. The leave is with pay of course so no worries about money problems.” he responds and you throw your arms around him happily and hug him as well as you can with your swollen tummy, “Oh, Simon! Thank you so much.” 

“ ‘s nothin’.” he replies while hugging you back. 

“You can come stay with me, you know?” he mentions as he pulls away to look at you, your hair disheveled and your eyes puffy and red while sitting on the bathroom floor after throwing up for nearly half an hour, but oh how he still adores you... in this state... or in any state to be honest. 

“Are you sure?” you whisper, throat too hoarse to speak any louder. 

“I’m sure.” he replies sternly with a nod and you gaze into his eyes gratefully. 

“I’ll help you pack up.” he adds, taking your silence and the look you just gave him as a yes. 

“Thank you.” you say and try to get up, but fail miserably with your huge belly and utter exhaustion. 

He gets up first and helps you up, “Careful, luv.” he murmurs as you stumble a bit, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you steady. 

He helps you gather your stuff and carefully walks you to his car to drop you off at his place, his hand finding your waist and the other one holding yours.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be fine alone?” he asks with concern as he pulls up into his driveway. 

“Yes, I'm gonna be fine for a few hours. In fact, I'm gonna take a nap.” you respond reassuringly with a smile. 

“Take care, luv.” he smiles and you wave goodbye. 

He leaves as you step inside the house and close the door. 

You lean against the door and let out a squeal and giggle like a schoolgirl. 

And you don’t even know why. Is it the hormones? Is it him? 

It’s been a while since he’s making you feel some type of way. 

You settle on the couch to take a nap, not wanting to take up his bed even though you know he wouldn’t mind. But still, it feels like an invasion of his privacy. 

You don’t get much sleep as your mind and heart are encompassed by him. 

You keep tossing and turning. For hours. Even though you’re utterly exhausted. 

Until he returns home and walks over to you, “Hey... why didn't you sleep on the bed?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows.

“Well, I didn’t really sleep at all.” you mumble as you try to get up, looking at him over the back of the couch.

“Why? You ok?” he asks with a concerned look etched on his face as he helps you sit up on the couch and he sits beside you. 

“I’m fine, Si. It's just that... the hormones are making me feel weird is all.” you ramble, not really knowing how to answer him, also using the nickname which he insisted on you using. It just makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“Do you need to go to the doctor?” he questions further, worry creeping up on him. 

“No. It's fine. I'll take some pills and try to get some sleep. Don't worry.” you try to play it cool and shrug it off.

He gently carries you to bed and brings your meds, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing them to you with a glass of water. 

“Get some rest, luv. I'll make you something to eat.” he mutters while tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear as you lie down, eyes locked onto one another, making your heart skip a beat.

You let out a sigh and shut your eyes after he leaves, in hopes of getting even a little bit of much-needed sleep.