#loaf for our boy

[roimp]

SO YESTERDAY.

#now i just feel stupid because WHY DID I WALK WITH HIM TILL HIS FUCKING SOCIETY WHAT #why did i do thattttt i went 😬 as soon as i sat in the auto because thats liek the whole walk for him yk #but childddf it was fun. #like okay so omg also yesterday there was a BIG fight in our class ok like these 2 boys #something happened between them and they were just BEATING THE SHIT out of each other it was crazy #anyways yesterday i showed hands guy all the funny cat gifs i have saved on my phone #and he liked one so much he was like SEND IT TO ME RN #its fhe one where cat is banging its head on the wall and then it blasts #ALSO JE SHOWED ME SO SO SO MANY OF HIS CAT PICS #HIS CAT'S NAME IS SKY AND HE HAS YELLOW EYES #he showed me his cat's loaf pics #we all love cat loaf here so does he #bro we have same opinion about so many things #anyways then yesterday also we walkrd together and this time till his society #it was fun tho ok we were laughing but i think walking till his society was too much idk #he is also kind of an awkward introvert guy so maybe he is just like that but what if he is like 'girl leave me alone' inside yo #yk* #IDKKKK MAN IDKKKKK #but ya at the end. FUNNNN #gargi is keysmashing

[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?

#lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #did i do the sexy good? #my asexual ass is trying y’all #this man has been in one ep and we’re all snarling over him jesus

[fireflyinks]

good boy ⭒

reader x peeta mellark smut

a/n : i’m actually screaming this was so fun to write, pls repost if ya like it!! 💗

contains : sub peeta mellark, soft dom reader, praise kink, multiple rounds, peeta and the reader own a bakery, pinv, talk of having kids, no protection, riding

MATURE 18+

Peeta Mellark was a hard worker. Partly because that’s just who he was as an individual, but mainly because of his upbringing. The need to impress ran through his body as if it were his own blood. He craved praise, feened off of it as if it were a sweet, sweet nectar.

This notion was very present in his every day life. When he’d accidently burn a loaf or spill a bag of flour, his face would turn a rosey pink shade out of shame and he’s scramble to fix his mistake. His puppy dog eyes would shoot over to me, as if to scream “I’m sorry! I’m so very sorry! Please don’t hurt me!”, only to be met with a peck on the cheek and a whisper of “It’s okay, you’re fine”. His eyes would soften, and his hands would become less clammy, brow less furrowed, and cheeks even rosier.

If I dared to give him a slight compliment in the morning, the blonde’s head would be in the clouds for the rest of the day, almost in a trance from the mere thought of his special girl thinking he was admirable.

At first, I thought this whole ordeal was sort of sad, I mean depressing even. Peeta was just so love starved.

But then I learned how to use it to my advantage.

There he was, on top of me, trying his very best to impress me. His cock pistoned in and out vigorously, each one of my moans encouraging him. My back arched off of the sheets as I wrapped my legs around his waist, trying to get him deeper.

He understood this rather quickly, trading speed for force and plunging himself directly into my core.

“Good boy.” I moaned out, almost automatically. His pace faltered for a moment, starstruck.

“Say that again.” He whimpered.

“Say what baby?” I questioned, confused as to why he’d stopped.

“Uh, please can you um call me a good boy again?” He mumbled. Something in his eyes had shifted, he looked almost helpless.

“Well…” I decided to tease him, rile him up more. “I can only do that if you act like one, so if you fuck me real good, yeah, you can be my good boy.”

Peeta nodded, beginning to thrust into me once again, determined to be a good boy.

“That’s it, there’s a good boy.” I cooed, gazing up at him with major ‘fuck me’ eyes.

His jaw slacked and he moaned deeply. “You’re so- fuck, you’re so hot.”

I giggled at the love drunk expression on his face. “Thank you, my handsome boy.”

I felt his cock twitch inside of me. God, praise really did have an effect on him.

“I- oh baby I’m gonna come.”

I moaned as he fucked me deeply, hitting my g-spot with each thrust.

“Go ahead, come inside of me like a good boy.”

His eyes rolled back into his head as he came with his new found permission. He pulled out immediately, connecting our lips before lying down beside me.

“That was- fuck, amazing.” He sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

There was silence for a few moments before he realized.

He sprung into apology immediately.

“Holy shit baby, you didn’t come, did you? I’m so sorry love, I’ll do whatever you want, eat you out, fuck you again, whatever you want. I’m so stupid, I don’t know how I-“

I pressed my lips to his to shut him up as I climbed on top of him.

“No baby, you don’t have to ride me, I’m the one who messed up. Let me-“

“Peeta, I want you to be a good boy and listen to me.”

I angled his wet cock upward before sinking down onto it. I began working my hips.

“You are not stupid, you are so smart.” I bounced on him as I spoke, “you’re so good to me, everybody makes mistakes and that’s ok. You have gotten me off a million times before. You’re such a good fucking boy.”

He began to look away as blush creeped into his face. I grabbed his chin and forced him to look me in my eyes.

“You’re so handsome baby, ah fuck- you’re such a hard worker, and you’ll make an amazing father one day.”

My legs began to shake as I released on his lap, my cum flowing down his cock. I continued to ride him throughout my high.

“Now say it to me.” I ordered.

“You’re so beauti-“

I shook my head, “No, tell me about how much of a good boy you are.”

His face contorted, clearly too shy to say such things.

I touched his face lightly, “Peeta, good boys do what they’re told. Be a good boy.”

He nodded, “Um- I’m a good boy.” He whimpered, unsure of himself.

“I don’t believe you. Say it like you mean it.”

He cleared his throat, looking into my eyes. “I’m a good boy. I made a mistake and that’s ok. I’m so handsome and will make a really good father. Fuck- I’m gonna come.”

He released inside of me, painting my spongy walls white. His voice filled the room with pornographic noises. After letting him catch his breath, I crawled off of him. Peeta walked into the bathroom for a moment and came back with a damp rag and a smile on his face.

He began to slowly clean me up. I looked in between my thighs and laughed at the amount of semen that had collected.

“Jeez, if we don’t start being more careful, you might be an amazing father sooner than we’d imagined.”

He chuckled, pressing his lips onto mine. “I’d be ok with that.”

#the hunger games #peeta mellark #peeta mellark smut #praise #bakery au #fanfiction #smut #josh hutcherson #peeta mellark x reader #peeta x reader

[ghouljams]

Voraciously consuming cowboy!König because I missed how you write this nasty (affectionate) man. The little surprises you leave in your tags too is 👍

König's gotten softer since you started dating. Not in the way he acts or treats you, no he's always treated you with shocking gentleness ever since he met you, but the rest of him. The hard planes of muscle that you were pulled against when you first met him have developed a healthy layer of softness. He's sturdier, thicker around the middle, and you can't stop staring.

He's well fed, you think over breakfast. You sip your coffee watching König eat his plate, a big mam with a big appetite. He hardly seems to notice that his plate is full of all the eggs, bacon, and toast you could fit in the pan. He only flips through the morning paper and eyes you over the top edge of it when you've been staring too long. One of his brows raises, silently asking you what's on your mind. You shake your head, unable to find the right words for the feeling he gives you.

You think you're... satisfied, maybe. Something primitive in you purrs at seeing him well fed, well taken care of. You think he looks stronger in a way. It certainly fits his height well, making König into a mountain of a man. You can't help imagining him with a gaggle of kids hanging off his arms and over his shoulders when you watch him around the farm. He picks up Honey's massive foal when it chases after him, moves it out of the way so he can load the stall with fresh hay; he drives a new fence post into the ground with one powerful swing of the hammer.

You might make a little extra food when he swings by for dinner later. Just because you had an extra loaf of bread and your garden has been exceptionally fruitful lately. It just sort of slips out when he sits down with a full plate; he's barely got his fork to his mouth.

"Have you ever thought about kids?" You ask, watching him a little dreamy eyed when he chokes on his bite. König thumps a big hand against his chest and downs half his glass of water. He settles the glass down on the table and gives you a hard look, like he's trying to figure what you're asking, you smile at him innocently.

König is quiet for a long time, arms crossed as he leans back in his chair to regard you. You're almost worried that you said something wrong, asked the wrong question, but then he sighs and drags his hand over his mouth to look around the kitchen. His eyes are hot and hard when they meet yours again.

"I think about our children all the time," he tells you, purposefully, like there's no room for argument. 'Our children' not just a simple yes.

"Our children," you parrot. König sits forward to start eating again.

"At least three of them," he nods, "better chances for a boy and a girl." You open your mouth to say something, but all you can think about is, well, your future children. At least three of them staring up at you with König's icy blues.

"You don't want to know why I'm asking?" You try to tamp down the flutter in your heart. König hums, and glances at you, his eyes dragging over the parts of you that he can see.

"You've been feeding me more, staring more, I assume you're nesting," again he says it like a fact, "thinking about them too, ja?" You forget sometimes how closely watched you are, and how much you like that about König. "We can start trying after dinner."

You try not to squirm too excitedly in your seat.

#ghoul speaks #cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #könig fanfiction #könig #könig x reader #könig x oc #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #oc: bee #cowboy!könig #cowboy au

[rosewaterandivy]

the verbal thing comes and goes

Summary: eddie's first study(ing) date with an appearance from hawkins own lothario.

Warnings: eddie’s senior year 2.0, no Upside Down, scary smart debate team captain reader, NHS president and tutor nancy wheeler, ap music theory nerd and general nuisance robin buckley, pretentiousness alert - you have been warned!

W.C.: 1973

Eddie’s early, for once in his life.

He stands on the Wheeler’s doorstep worrying the strap of his backpack with his thumb. It’s Thursday, and he’s nearly done with his second read-through of Notes from the Underground. Turns out, reading Russian literature and annotating it at the same time is a bit of a commitment. So much so, that scribbling in his Hellfire notebook has fallen by the wayside.

He has highlighters now (yes, plural); who the fuck does he think he is?!

A guy who wants to stay in the same English class as you, that’s who.

Which brings us to his earlier than usual arrival for the study group.

He pushes the doorbell and hears the chimes clang from inside the house. There’s a bit of grime on his cuticles, he’d been fucking with an oil change for the van a few hours ago. Luckily, there’s not a smear of brackish fluid left on the pristine white button.

Mike loafs to the door and opens it with his usual fanfare, which is to say, none.

“What’re you doing here?”

“You mean at your house? Where your sister is? Who’s in my group for this English project?”

Each rhetorical question brings Eddie incrementally closer to Mike and inside the house, who backs away slowly, dead eyed stare and all.

“Psh, get outta my face twerp.” Eddie says, ruffling Mike’s stupidly long hair.

The door shuts behind him and Mike inclines his head toward the stairs, “Think they’re waiting on Buckley, you can head on up.”

Mr. Wheeler grunts in agreement from his lay-z-boy recliner in the living room.

Briefly, he wonders if he should take off his shoes. There’s a pile by the door and carpeted stairs, even Mike is wandering around in socks. And Eddie doesn’t want to be rude, or responsible for whatever mud he’s probably tracking in.

After toeing off his Reeboks, he takes the stairs two at a time and follows the sound of voices down the hall.

It’s an idyllic scene.

Namely, that Nancy has one of the most certifiably girly rooms Eddie has ever had the misfortune to see. But also, that you’re seemingly dressed in pajamas which consist of men’s plaid boxers, socks scrunched around your ankles, and an oversized t-shirt with a warped Tweety Bird face plastered on it. Your hair is up and off your shoulders, tied back with an obnoxiously bright scrunchie, and your face is freshly scrubbed.

It looks like a sleepover, if the legends are true, but neither you nor Nance are currently jumping on her bed and hitting each other in slow motion with pillows, a dusting of goose feathers filling the air.

“Hey Munson,” you greet, patting the spot next to you, “Take a load off.”

Well, shit, he’s certainly got a load alright.

He slings his bag to the floor and leans back against the foot of Nancy’s bed, taking a seat next to you.

“Didn’t realize this would be an all nighter Wheeler.”

Nancy glances up from her notes at your soft laugh. But before she can reply, there’s a clatter from below and Mike bellowing something about food.

“Oh, Rob must be here,” she says with a smile. “She said she was bringing pizzas or something.”

The three of you make your way down to the kitchen, where Robin has been cornered by Mrs. Wheeler. Her blue eyes are wide as she clutches the edge of the pizza boxes, nodding along politely with whatever Nancy’s mom is going on about.

“Oh Bucks,” Eddie says, swooping in to take a box before she can crush it, “For me? You shouldn’t have!”

Robin looks relieved, mouths thank you from where she’d been stopped by the counter. She’s just come from her job at Family Video and is still wearing the stupid vest to prove it. It’s got cheesy buttons like ask me about our newest releases! and Eddie has half a mind to do so.

That is before Steve Harrington comes swanning into the room with a few cans of soda. He stops short, surprised with Eddie’s presence at the Wheeler’s kitchen table. But then you trot in the room, lost in conversation with Nance and he sees Steve’s eyes blow wide as a blush warms his cheeks.

He’s looking at you because of course he is. The universe can’t seem to cut Eddie a break without throwing King Steve a bone(r).

It’d be comical if it wasn’t so typically teenage tragic.

For Eddie, that is.

“Oh, uh, h-hi,” Steve stammers in greeting, “I just grabbed whatever since I didn’t know what you’d like.”

It’s all Eddie can do not to roll his eyes.

Buckley had mentioned Steve not having as much swagger with the ladies as of late, but damn, Eddie didn’t think he’d have to witness it.

Still, it’s not as though he feels sorry for the guy.

Not when you give Steve a smile in thanks, but nudge Eddie’s shoulder with your hip.

“Outta my spot Munson.”

The contact of your thinly veiled hip against his jacket has got him spinning. If he wasn’t wearing the damned thing, he could’ve felt the warmth from your skin. He grunts and shoves over, sticking to monosyllables until he can get himself together.

Mrs. Wheeler eyes him briefly before stepping out of the room, a lingering glance that says watch yourself as she settles in the living room.

Seated around the table, various hands grab for slices of pizza that land in greasy splotches on paper plates. Robin is talking a mile a minute about someone who returned Fast Times stopped at a very pivotal point in the film.

Steve rolls his eyes and pops the tab of his soda. Leaving Eddie to beg Mike’s earlier question:

“What’re you doin’ here?”

This said between bites of pizza, stringy cheese decorating his lips. Spying his predicament, you toss a paper towel at his face and continue listening to Robin’s tales of Family Video.

“Could ask you the same,” Steve replies with a measured tone.

“English project.” Eddie pauses to take a swig of Mountain Dew, “Now you, Harrington.”

“Rob doesn’t drive, so I dropped her off.”

“Dropping off implies leaving, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He’s adopted a curt tone, as if he’s offended by Eddie’s rationale. So he decides to drop it for now.

And sure enough, Steve eventually does leave. Right after hauling in Robin’s overstuffed backpack and trumpet.

Eddie notices how Steve’s eyes linger on you, flitting to and fro, and tries to tamp down the roil of jealousy in his gut.

It’s only once the group is back upstairs and working on the project, the door minduflly cracked open at Mrs. Wheeler’s behest, that he feels himself relax. After all, he can’t dedicate too much of his time to feeling like a possessive meathead with Nancy delegating.

Currently, you’re all huddled over your novels and passing around copies of notes on each text. Nancy’s are neat and tidy, Robin’s are a downright mess, but yours are something else. Color-coded with a key in the upper right-hand corner of the page, not a smear of ink to be found. It’s like the Holy Grail of notes.

They also smell faintly of your perfume.

Eddie’s notes aren’t as batshit as Robin’s, but there are plenty of sketches to be found in the margins. He hopes they’re acceptable, he’s never really willingly taken notes over a book before. Much less, painstakingly copied three sets of said notes for distribution.

He’s more familiar with a different type of distribution.

Speaking of which:

“Shit, I gotta go.”

He hastily packs his bag while Nancy lists off his task for the project. You’ll see each other in class, obviously, but there won’t be another study session until next week. NHS is rolling out their individual tutorials, and she’s got stuff for the school paper. Debate team meets weekly for practice in addition to their class, you’ve got to start prep for research on a few topics. Robin has band shit and life shit, as she calls it, so everyone is pretty much swamped until then.

Even Eddie, with his tutoring from Nancy and Hellfire meetings and Corroded Coffin practices and shows. And, apparently, there’s another meeting with Mrs. Meloy next week to see how he’s “adjusting.”

He says his goodbyes quickly and dashes down the stairs, surprised to hear the sound of you behind him. He turns, tugging on his shoes, inquiring, “Nance forget to tell me something?”

You smile with a shake of your head, “Nah, just thought I’d see you off.”

“Ah, yeah. Prime time for creeps, good lookin’ out.”

He gets a laugh out of you, which lights something in his chest with a dull warm glow. Shouldering his backpack, he makes way for you to open the door and follows you onto the porch.

The last of the summer sun eeks across the sky leaving bands of creamsicle orange and pink behind. You glance up, exposing the delicate tendons of your neck, the elegant slope of it. And it’s all he can do not to press his lips to the sweat gathering in the hollow of your throat.

Eddie clears his throat instead and stands there awkwardly as you enjoy the summer evening. The air is humid, and a dampness permeates the otherwise pleasant moment. You sigh softly, having taken your fill of the sky for now, and turn your gaze to him.

He feels like an ant under a magnifying glass might, not used to the attention and fearful of what’s to come.

“I expected you would’ve called by now,” you say casually, with a fond pull of your lips, “But you’re just full of surprises Munson.”

He scuffs the toe of his sneaker against the pavement and shyly glances down. He notices the weight of his bag now, the sweat beginning to bead along his skin. It’s uncomfortable and his van is within sight, he’s so close and yet so far.

All because you’re staring at him, attempting to have a conversation with the guy who said he doesn’t read much and yet had some of the finest penmanship and annotations you’d ever seen littered all across your copy of Dune.

He’s surprising and you like surprises well enough, but Eddie is becoming more and more of a mystery to you which is somehow even more appealing.

Of course, he knows none of this.

All he knows is that a pretty girl in a Tweety Bird shirt and boxers is looking at him with a secret smile on her face, and he feels like he’s hurtling toward oblivion or humiliation.

“Maybe I lost the note?”

Lies. It’s squirreled away in his most prized possession, a battered copy of Tolkein’s Fellowship of the Ring.

“How tragic,” you tease, “If only we had been taught to memorize things like phone numbers and addresses.”

“Yeah, that would be something.”

You laugh, “Oh, wait. Lucky for you I have it right here.” You tap your temple with a manicured nail, and pull a face as if you’re about to snarl but your eyes are bright and teasing.

“Look,” Eddie says, a laugh falling from his lips, “Maybe I was giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

“Oh really,” you drawl, arms snaking across your chest. “When a pretty, smart girl gives you her number and offers up her time and expertise, you, Eddie Munson, think twice?”

“Generally, from past experience, yes.”

You kiss your teeth and let out a soft tsk. “Well, don’t.”

“Think?”

The smile you give him could launch a thousand ships.

“About this? Not even once.”

And with that, you turn on your heel and walk back into the Wheeler’s house leaving him dazed and more than a little confused.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #fic: ibciyd #eddie munson fluff

[chipsinsalsa]

Bakers Boy

Peeta x FemReader

Plot: What happens when you decide to go into the Bakery shop of the boy you have a crush on?

A/N: I’m sorry if a lot of it is in accurate or if the fanfic is not that good and has typos. First time on tumblr! And I also haven’t written anything in a while but if you guys like it my requests are open! 🤘

contains: smut, praise (reader receiving),fem reader!,character aged up

Truth be told you never even dared to go near the bakery of District 12.

You had always heard stories from the kids at school about the mean old hag that worked there, the baker's wife. And that alone made you avoid it at all costs. But something tempted you to get closer for in that same Bakery, worked the boy you had a crush on. You didn't know his name but something about him made you want to know more.

One day when you had just returned from selling a few of your cheese at the Hob. You walked past the bakery shop as usual and couldn't help but take in the smell of the sweet bread and its irresistible warmth drawing you in. You decided to glance into the window and there the golden locks of the young boy at work captured your eye.

So you decided to go in.

You opened the door to the sound of a bell ringing. Immediately the boy put the doe he was kneading down and turned to face you. He dusted himself off on his apron and headed up to the counter

“Hello Ms what can I get for you today” He spoke. His powdery hands caught your attention, and you couldn't help but imagine how soft they were. How warm they would feel after having been near the oven all day. He noticed you were distracted and waved his hand near your face. “Ms?”

“um- I apologize I must have spaced out, could I just get a loaf of bread” You spoke embarrassed.

The boy smiled kindly and nodded, "Of course, we have a few different types of bread. Would you like a plain white loaf or something with a bit more flavor like our honey wheat or sourdough?"

You considered the options for a moment before deciding. "I think something sweet so the Honey Wheat sounds lovely, what do I owe you?”

The boy quickly wrapped up the bread and handed it to you. "It's on the house"

"Are you sure? I can pay for it." He smiled, "Absolutely. I like to treat our first-time customers to a free loaf of bread. Consider it a welcome gift."

“Oh..thank you” You looked at the nametag on his apron “Peeta”

“Of course, what's your name?” He asked curiously.

“y/n” It took a moment but a confused look crossed your face when you realized what he said. “Wait..how do you know I haven't been here before? ” He circled the counter walking over to you. You began to take some steps back trying to keep your distance but eventually hitting the wall.

“Well, the truth is” He began to speak. “I've seen you before”

You furrowed your brow in confusion. "You've seen me before? Where?"

Peeta smiled, "Every day after school you walk home past the Bakery. I've never seen you come in before though. Your always so tense.”

You were surprised and a bit embarrassed that someone had been paying attention to you, "Is it that obvious?"

He shrugged, "I wouldn't say it's obvious, but I do notice things. I like to think I have a good sense of people. And I can tell that you're not a big fan of my mother. But don't worry, she's not here right now. You're safe."

You laughed nervously, "I didn't mean to offend you”

Peeta waved his hand, "It's alright. My mother can be a bit intimidating sometimes, she seems to take her job very seriously." He paused for a moment before continuing, "If you don't mind me asking, what made you decide to come in today?"

“You” was the first thing you wanted to say but then thought about it for a split second. You looked down at the loaf of bread in your hands, "Honestly, it was the smell of your bread. It was too good to resist." you lied.

The boy grinned, "Ah, yes. The smell of fresh bread can be quite tempting cant it”

He began to walk even closer as you nodded nervously in response. “However” He began to speak “I believe my bread may not have been the only reason you came in today,” He said as his eyes began to scan you. Your heart racing. You knew you couldn't stay another second near him. “I think… I should head home now”

As you turned to leave, Peeta reached out and gently grabbed your arm. "Wait," he said softly, "It's just” He took a breath “I like you...I know that sounds weird but I've seen you stare at me from the window before and hoped one day you would come in. And now that you have I dont want to let you go so easily.”

You were immobile. Before you could even think his lips slowly pressed against yours. The heat of his body now becoming more apparent. You felt his hands rise to grab your hair running his fingers through it pulling you in more. His lips tasted like sweet honey, soft like his touch. You couldn't move.

He finally pulled back the both of you gasping for air.

He glanced at you while panting and feeling his chest rise. “I'm sorry, but I just had to kiss you. At least once.”

You kissed him in return.

Immediately he understood grabbing the loaf from your hands and setting it to the side. Breaking the kiss for a moment only to grab the sign on the door that read “OPEN” and turning it over. “I know I've only ever seen you through the window but you dont understand how badly I dreamt about this” He spoke as he picked you up quickly placing you on the counter.

You felt his hands explore your body, running up and down your back and sliding over your hips.

You let out a small moan, and he pulled back to look at you, a smirk on his face. "Such a sweet girl" he spoke his voice low. You felt a flush rising to your cheeks.

He leaned in to kiss you again, and this time his hands moved lower, grazing over your thighs. You felt a shiver run through you, and you knew that you wanted more. Without thinking, you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

The boy responded eagerly, pressing his body against yours and deepening the kiss. You could feel his hardening bulge pressing against your thigh, and you moaned softly, feeling a surge of desire wash over you.

“I think I might have something a little sweeter for you in the back,” He said smirking as he picked you up again taking you to the back of the bakery.

He carried you to a pile of flour sacks stacked on the floor laying you down. “I know this isn't the most ideal place but know at any moment you can say no” He spoke almost expecting you to say so. His hand brushing your hair to the side.

“Never,” You said as you grabbed his neck pulling him on top of you. He smirked as he began to kiss you again. His kiss trailed to your cheek down to your neck. You felt his teeth sink into you as you let out another moan. “Fuck.. you're so fucking good” He whimpered while still trailing his kisses. You felt his hips bucking into your thigh. You could sense his desperation and how hard he was trying to take things slow.

He finally reached your chest. He looked up at you his eyes like a puppy waiting for his treat. “May I pretty girl.”

You nodded as he began to take your shirt off. You helped by untying your bra. The warm air of the Bakery oven hit your chest immediately once it was off but not as warm as the eager boy's tongue now pressing on your tender breast. His tongue lightly sucking while it brushed against your nipple. His moans sending vibrations through your body. His other hand running through your back bringing you closer to him. He took his mouth off your breast leaving kisses as he made his way down your stomach. “If I knew you tasted this good I would have kissed you as soon as you came in.” He whispered smirking between a kiss.

Before you even noticed he pulled your pants off, grabbed your thighs, and threw your legs over his broad shoulders. He lightly squeezed your thighs before placing his fingers on your covered clit. Making you shudder right away. “So wet already Princess?”

You couldn't take it anymore. “Peeta please-” You whimpered desperately needing him inside you.

“I guess I'm not the only desperate one,” He smirked as he undid his apron tossing it to the side. And for the first time, you noticed just how built he was. His arms barely fit his white shirt. He unbuckled his pants and slid them off along with his underwear. He groaned as his cock was exposed. You gulped at the sight just thinking about it being inside you. “I promise to take it slow,” He said as he cupped your face making sure you felt safe. He took one more look at you.

“Beautiful,” He whispered.

His eyes traced every inch of you as if making sure to engrave it in his memory. He placed his fingers on your panties again slowly pushing them to the side. He began to slide into you. You tried your best to hold back your moans placing your palm over your mouth to suppress them. He noticed and immediately took it away. “No I want to hear you” he spoke “I want to hear just how good I make you feel” His command alone made you let out the moan you so desperately held back.

You grabbed his hair pulling him deeper into you making him whine. “Faster-” Was all you could let out before he increased his speed sending you over the edge. His whimpers now sounded like pleads as he called your name. His cock warming you up from the inside as he thrusted. His rhythm reminding you of the number of times you could have been absolutely fucked by him if only you had just taken more than a peak when walking past the shop.

“Your so fucking tight princess “ He moaned out “You dont know how much I wanted this” His thrusts now going as fast as they could. You whined as you felt your body getting closer. “Peeta I think I'm going to -”

He placed his lips onto yours kissing you roughly as he whimpered into your mouth suppressing your moans. You couldn't hold back anymore. You felt your body contract as you came.

His dick still sliding in and out of you. But with a final buck of his hips, you felt as he came inside you. The both of you breaking the kiss as you panted letting out the last moans. He pulled out laying next to you.

He ran his fingers through your cheek, kissing your forehead.

“I knew you tasted just as sweet as you looked”

#peeta supremacy #peeta smut #i love peeta #peeta mellark #peeta x reader #peeta my beloved #the hunger games peeta #peetah #peeta #the hunger games #Peeta fr #fanfiction #movies #hunger games fanfiction #team peeta

[themotherofhorses]

Handmaid!reader and Aemond having a picnic with Vhagar in the background and playing with their children.

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

notes: dad!aemond makes my ovaries hurt so fucking much.

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

The morning of their planned family picnic dawned bright and sunny, with only a few puffy white clouds scattered across the sky. Such a perfect summer day, and his twin boys were beyond excited, nothing more than a pair of pups bouncing and wagging and yapping at their sire’s feet. Large, twinkling violet eyes and small pouts they gave him, and he could not say no to them.

So Aemond called for a royal cook to pack them a lunch before telling his sweet girl to dress comfortable, in one of the pretty and thin dresses he had tailored for outside events.

At midday, they settle outside King’s Landing, along the Blackwater Rush, tucked within a flowered grove with cool green grass and shade. The currents are wicked and treacherous, they warn their children. Do not venture too close, lest you be drowned in the waters.

But the boys are too taken with Vhagar, who slumbers behind them, to care the slightest about the river.

His handmaid sits beside him, upon the thick fleeced blanket, nursing their new daughter at her breast. Her back is to their sons, but Aemond has a feeling she’s aware of their every move around his dragon. Mother’s instincts. But gods, she’s so pretty in the sunlight, he thinks, with her arms filled with his own, and he’s stricken with lovesickness once again.

“Sweet, isn’t it?” Aemond asks.  

She lifts her head to look at him. “Hm?” Her voice is soft, airy and calm. “What is sweet?”

He gestures around them, to their woven picnic basket and the great rushing river, and their children and the beauties of the land. Scattered about the blanket is half a suckling pig and buttered turnips and a piping nutty bread loaf, as well as a pigeon pie, at the request of their twins. “Everything in this very moment.” He lifts his chalice to his lips, taking a quick sip of his mead.

“It is peaceful, quiet, and just our family- the way it should be. We ought to do this more. There is no need to worry about bloodshed and wagging tongues and wandering eyes. It’s just us.”

We’re husband and wife, he wants to add, but instead remains silent.

The elm, the alder, and the black cottonwood see us as nothing more, and nothing less.  

She smiles. “Yes, my prince,” she agrees, before glancing back down, to stroke their daughter’s browbone with her thumb, and coo at the little noises. Alysanne, they named her, after her own grandmother and the Good Queen Alysanne. She had been born during the early springtime, while a thunderstorm raged outside, and her father wept tears of joy inside. She has her mother’s features, to his delight.  

“Ah, well, it seems you were quite hungry, my little one,” she tells the babe, giggling.

“She’s a dragon, my love. Perhaps she wishes to grow as big and strong as Vhagar.”

“Maybe.”

Aemond snags two pieces of the bread and hands her one, before plopping the other in his mouth. It’s still warm on his tongue, and he can taste the sweet walnuts and hazelnuts, and the pumpkin and oat seeds.

It’s then that one of their boys- the youngest of the two, Aenar, creeps behind his father, before flinging his arms around his neck. “Hello, father,” he whispers, nuzzling his plump face against Aemond’s cheek. Aemion slides next to his mother, kissing her on the cheek. Both boys are red-cheeked and bubbling with breathless laughter, clutching their tiny wooden stick swords in their hands.

Their mother clicks her tongue. “Are you thirsty?” she asks, reaching for the water jug. “And look at you! All sweaty and soiled, what shall we ever do with the both of you?” Aemond takes the little Alysanne from her arms as she tends to the boys, washing the sweat and dirt from them with a cool, damp cloth. But she’s laughing too, and it soon makes him laugh as well.

Aemond leans in, sniffing Aenar. “You smell more dragon than human now. Should your mother and I be worried you’ll sprout wings tonight?”  

“Vhagar allowed for us to climb her legs!” Aenar exclaims, wiping his fingers on his tunic, then chewing on a piece of meat he stole from his father’s plate. Aemion nods from where he’s seated in his mother’s lap, nestled against her chest.  

“We felt like you, father! Big and strong and ready to claim a dragon of our own!”

Aemond smiles, and his handmaid giggles, and he reaches out to hold her hand in his. As their sons keep recounting their previous enjoyment with Vhagar, their fingers twine together as husband and wife.

tag list for "his handmaid's tales": @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @avidreader73 @the-common-cowgirl @inlovewithhisblueeyes @elegantsplendour @katzarantos @fan-goddess

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond drabble #dad!aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #handmaid!reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

[thegreenthepeacetheorange]

Everlark (Mockingjay, Ch. 25-27)

peeta also being in the burn unit bc he was in the city circle

what i personally believe is that he's the one who tried to put out the fire that overwhelmed katniss, hence his own burnt hands and forehead

her using peeta's coping mechanism of pain to stay grounded in reality

when katniss talks about all the people she trusts being said, she highlights that there is peeta but he wouldn't know any more than her about 13's plans.

"we are both fire mutts now" - still a (broken) team

"those same blues" mentioned again

haymitch understanding katniss. the dad that stepped up. i love that he says "i'm with the mockingjay" instead of "yes"

katniss being our fave feral girl by literally biting into peeta's hand as he stops her from taking her nightlock

the fact that when she says "let me go", our baker boy with the beautiful words and the charm can only say "i can't"

just another instance where these can't let each other go. has anyone made a counter for these instances?

peeta is well and truly back. to do that. to know he can't let her go. that even when she bites him so hard he bleeds, he just looks into her eyes and lets her know he can't let her die

the fact that after the way katniss was used in the games and then in the rebellion, afterwards when she's damaged and broken and bruised and they have no more use for her, she's just sent off to 12

"there's no obstacle now to taking my life. but i seem to be waiting for something" - the same way peeta kept his hand open with the nightlock pill waiting for katniss to curl over his hand for him, katniss waits for peeta's permission to die

i love that she doesn't even mention peeta by name when she sees he's returned. we just know instinctively that he's the "him" that's back.

peeta says dr aurelius wouldn't let him leave the capitol til the day before which makes me think peeta had really been trying to be discharged to get back to katniss.

"his eyes have lost that clouded, tortured look"

katniss who understandably has fallen into physical disrepair over the last two chapters now feels "defensive" as peeta looks at her, frowning, and tries to push her hair out of her eyes somewhat. her relationship is SO different to the one she has with everyone else. and that's because it's really the only one where she's concerned with romance and her looks etc

peeta digging up and bringing her primrose. the boy with the bread is still here bringing gifts that can't have a price put on them. he is the sweetest most beautiful fictional boy

katniss is relieved that gale is in 2, far away. that era of her life is over, that friendship is over.

although she's still confusing right to end. why are you thinking about gale's lips kissing other lips. i think it's just like her finding closure but still.

katniss falling asleep on the sofa but waking up in her bed. we can guess who got her there

it's only after peeta comes back that katniss starts to hunt, find closure, grieve with others.

peeta bringing her a warm loaf of bread again.

them taking the family plant book and creating a new book to honour and remember the dead. her, peeta and haymitch creating their own makeshift family book. so tragic so beautiful

"peeta and i grow back together" - like it was inevitable.

But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that. So after, when he whispers, “You love me. Real or not real?” I tell him, “Real.”

i love how simple and matter of fact this whole passage is. she doesn't need to go into flowery descriptions or explanations. she's already done that for three books.

i just love this whole passage so much. so much hope. so much love. after all that's happened, katniss learns to live again, to hope again, to love again, to see goodness again. and peeta is a key to her achieving that. and it's so beautiful

as an adult, i now know that this scene is alluding to their first time having sex. the mentions of his arms that build to his lips that build to her hunger from the beach that night. "so after" is after that night, that moment in their relationship where things become elevated in a new way.

him whispering that is not him asking her to declare it or say it. he's asking her to confirm what he feels, has felt. that she loves him. and she knows now her answer forever. real.

#everlark #the hunger games #mockingjay #peeta x katniss #katniss x peeta #katniss and peeta #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #tgtpto everlark read #haymitch abernathy

[8um8le]

BOi- how big js cartoon sun if he can carry our bby boy like a loaf cat

The toons are actually very smol, all around 4ft, expect comet, he’s a bit shorter than that

In that doodle, I swapped the roles of city and toon sun hahah <33

#ask 8um8le

[dexlexia]

baker's love - kakashi x reader

pairing: kakashi hatake x reader rating: 18+ summary: It had been almost six months since you last saw Kakashi. He had been on a mission with Team 7 which left you all alone in Konohagakure. It wasn't that big of a deal in all honesty, it felt like every day you recieved a letter from Kakashi which detailed his journey. But still you worried. tags: pwp, smut, semi-public, baker!reader, gentle love making, established relationship

It had been almost six months since you last saw Kakashi. He had been on a mission with Team 7 which left you all alone in Konoha. It wasn't that big of a deal in all honesty, it felt like every day you received a letter from Kakashi which detailed his journey. But still you were worried.

Kakashi carried great strength but at the same time, what if something happened to him? What if he never came home? What if those three kids he took under his wing never came home too? You knew the story of the Uchiha boy and the entire village knew about Naruto. Thoughts of the worst outcome often left you anxious. 

You were glad however that you worked in a bakery near the village center and could take out all your anxiety on the bread. You were certain loaf production was up twenty percent by your need to keep your hands busy so you didn't worry so much.

It was spring in the village, and you were on month six without Kakashi. You were rolling out dough for the pastries, it wasn't even close to sunrise yet. You hadn't been getting much sleep either so you often found yourself in the bakery getting the day ready. Strong hands rolled out the pastry dough that you were going to fill with berries before baking, then you were going to add powdered sugar. A sweet treat for those on the go. 

It was silent in the bakery as you worked the dough. And then you heard the bell ring in the front. Your eyes casted up through the window that connected the kitchen to the front of the store. 

  “Excuse me we're not- Kakashi?” 

The silver-haired man stood there with his hands in his pocket, not too sure what to do with himself as he gazed at you with both eyes. Your eyes went wide as you put down the rolling pin and dusted your hands onto your apron. 

You could tell his was smiling under his mask as he came forward and pulled you into a hug. With one hand he pulled his mask down and kissed you on the lips. There was no one around to see him without it. 

  “Hey.” He said softly, “What are you doing being up so early?”

  ”The dough won't bake itself.“ 

He cupped your cheek and rubbed the bags under your left eye, ”Right. And I bet you're here from opening to closing with no breaks either.“ He leaned in once more and kissed you on the forehead. 

  ”Someone's gotta look after the bread. And I do close between eleven and one for lunch. Usually I go back upstairs and take a small rest." You explained. 

He relaxed a little, “You overwork yourself.“

You leaned up and kissed him on the lips once more before you pulled the mask back up, ”We both work ourselves to the bone, Kakashi. It's our nature. Now would you like something? You must be tired.” 

He rested his nose on top of your head, “I just want to feel close to you right now. It's been too long.“ 

You placed both hands on the front of his vest and inhaled his scent. At least he showered before he came to the store, ”How are the kids? The dogs? Was the mission a success?”

  “Everything went as planned.” He responded as he tightened his arms around you, “No major injuries. Naruto got a little scuffed up because he tried being a smart ass and fell out of a tree. But nothing a few bandages wouldn't fix.” 

You softly chuckled, “Sounds like Naruto.” You pulled out of the man's arms and took him by his gloved hand, “Let's go to the back then.“ Then led him to the back where you were working. 

Kakashi pulled a chair close to the counter where you were rolling out the dough and watched you closely as you worked. Where he sat, his head was close to your chest. 

As you worked, your ninja boyfriend's thoughts started to race. And without thinking, he leaned over and grabbed your ass. You yelped and he dug his strong grip deeper into the flesh.

  ”Someone missed me.“ You turned to him and smeared flour on his mask.

  ”Six months with only thoughts of you to keep me company. Knowing you were here all alone.“ He soon rose from his seat and got behind you. He placed his large hands on your hips, ”Six months is too long to be away from you.“ His voice was low in your ear, ”Can you blame me?“

You swallowed and felt your cheeks grow warm, ”Kakashi.“

  ”Yes or no? We can always go upstairs.“ He asked.

You turned in his arms and kissed him over his mask before you moved further along the metal workspace. You didn't want flour to get in unsavory places.  You then got up on the counter with ease and spread your legs from him. The skirt of your dress hiked up to expose your modest panties. 

He looked out the window briefly to see no sign of life outside the shop before he moved further down where you were and started to unbuckle his pants. ”I thought about you every day. It's not easy to conceal an erection when you're constantly working.“ He pulled the mask to his chin and smiled at you, ”You were in my thoughts almost all the time.“

You both worked to get your panties off and you wrapped your arms around Kakashi's neck. You gripped onto him tightly as he wrapped your legs around his waist. 

  ”I'm honored to be in your thoughts all the time, Kakashi. I was the same way, everywhere I went I thought of you. It was driving me crazy, I constantly read your letters and wished every night for you to come home in one piece.“ 

  ”I'll always come home to you.“ He promised, ”No one has ever loved me that you have. Why would I not come home to you? You're everything to me, a ninja is only good if they have a home to come back to and you're my home.“ He pulled you in for another kiss. The kiss was sweet if not heated as he grabbed at your thighs as he rubbed his hardened cock up against your pussy. 

Your dress was pulled up around your waist along with the apron you wore. You looked divine to him. Never did he think he'd ever meet a woman like you, someone to come home to after every mission. Who spoiled him with affection and love. His love for you reached to his core as he continued to make out with you. The kiss grew deeper as the want you both shared grew deeper as well. 

  ”I love you.“

  ”I love you too, Kakashi.“ 

You held onto him for dear life as the two of you feverishly made out. The cool of the metal table did little to help with your flushed skin as the two of you continued to kiss. Soon he pulled away and with a little help, slipped his cock into your sweet pussy. 

Sex with Kakashi was something else. Neither of you had too many intimate partners prior to meeting. So you both had to learn how to pleasure one another, what made the both of you tick. There was a lot of trial and error but eventually you found a comfortable rhythm that made you both feel a sense of euphoria. 

  ”That's it.“ He groaned as he thrusted his hips up into you. You clenched around him and held on tightly as the two of you made love on the counter. There was heavy breathing between you two paired with occasional hot kisses as the two of you fucked. 

Normally you didn't have sex in the bakery but after six months apart you would take him anyway you could. Your kisses became hotter, your breathing became heavier as you tried to match his pace. Your dress stuck to your back from the sweat. 

You noticed him taking a small peak at your bouncing breasts and you quickly took off your apron and unbuttoned the front of the dress. You exposed your breasts to him as he soon started to kiss them in the same feverish manner as he was kissing your lips earlier. 

  ”I love you. I love your body.“ He felt you up, feeling the parts that were still covered by clothing and the parts where you were nude. He pulled your breast out of your bra and started to lick and kiss at your skin. His cock throbbed inside of you as he continued his assault. 

You held onto him tightly, pushing your chest up into his face as he continued to thrust inside of you. The feeling was euphoric as he worshiped your body. He meant what he said, he was obsessed with you. You could hear his short groans as he kept thrusting inside of you. The tight wet heat was something to keep him on his toes. 

  ”Yes.“ You moaned as you let him continue to pleasure you. You felt his warmth engulf you as he sped up his movements. Soon he also left marks on your skin, you clenched around him and he hissed through his teeth. The feeling at times was overwhelming.

Kakashi was a lovely partner. Even when he was away, he knew how to turn you on like no one else. He was attentive and loving. He was an all encompassing feeling that you never had with anyone else. There was no one like Kakashi in the entire world. 

He braced his hands on either side of your hips. He gripped onto the table and put his entire soul into fucking you. He groaned and kept his eyes on you. He looked good under the light of your bakery. His red eye gleamed like precious stones before he pulled you for another hot kiss. His cock throbbed inside of you as he continued to thrust up into you. 

Your moans were muffled as he continued to feverishly kiss you. He groaned sharply into your mouth as he felt closer to his orgasm. You felt the same way and moaned into his mouth as you held onto him. 

The table scratched across the floor with every moment of your bodies. You squeezed your eyes shut in a moment of euphoric bliss as the two of you moved. Pleasure swept around you, you held on for dear life as he pounded his cock into you. You broke the kiss and wiped your sweat off your exposed shoulder. You panted wildly as he gazed at you with all the love in his heart.

  ”I missed you.“

  ”I missed you more. I thought about you every day, there wasn't a second that went by when I wasn't wondering how you were doing. If you were safe. If anything happened to you, I wouldn't know what to do with myself.“ Kakashi replied before he moved one hand and cupped your face as he gave into his pleasure. 

  ”Kakashi.“

  ”I love you.“ 

With another series of hard thrusts, Kakashi held his breath and shoved every last inch inside of you as he finished off in you. His orgasm pulled him under but yet he still continued to thrust dedicated to getting his partner off. He wasn't going to leave you unsatisfied. He would promise that. 

  ”Fuck, Kakashi.“ You moaned as you held onto the table for support you clenched your thighs around his waist as the feeling of orgasm crept up on you. Your mouth hung open in the pleasure of it all as he continued to thrust up into you.

Some of his cum leaked out onto your thighs and the back of your dress. But soon you arched your back and gripped tightly onto the table. You climaxed in a loud moan, you were both thankful no one could hear you. And when you came down, you visibly relaxed and opened your eyes at him.

Your chest was moving rapidly and Kakashi gave you a gentle kiss on the face before he unhooked your legs from his waist. He wiped your sweat with his glove and looked at you. He smiled.

  ”You look amazing. Now why don't we get back upstairs. You can close the store for today.“ 

#dexlexia writes #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #kakashi hakate #hatake kakashi #kakashi hatake x reader #anime x reader #reader insert #kakashi smut #naruto anime

[ayngondaia]

“He’ll have many more birthdays to come,” hums Adelinde. “Now, make yourself useful and cut the bread, please.” Laughter rumbling in his chest, Crepus takes a long, serrated knife and cuts the freshly baked loaf into generous slices. “You’re right… you’re right, of course,” says Crepus. “Still, considering how far we’ve come… I can’t help feeling a little sentimental.” It was almost nothing: the blink of an eye, a breath of air, and a huff of laughter— and suddenly, five years had passed them by.

On the day of Kaeya's thirteenth birthday, Crepus reminisces about the boy's first year with them. (inspired by @myakushek00's incredible ragbros art <33)

#genshin impact #kaeya alberich #diluc ragnvindr #crepus ragnvindr #ragbros

[autisticempathydaemon]

not a day goes by (that I'm not into you)

Snapshots of a day in DAMNily apartment, inspired by @angelnoodlesoup's Timestamp series.

Tags: Freelancer/Gavin/Lasko/Damien/Huxley aka the Polycule, mild cursing and suggestive language, spoilers for Squid Game: The Challenge and Saltburn

Thank you to @bratty-telepath for letting me borrow Professor Banerjee~ ❣️

Also available on AO3

12:00 AM

Fitting five people in a bed, even a California King, is just as difficult and sweaty as one could expect. 

Huxley is hanging half off the damn thing- poor dude needs a third of the bed himself, not a fifth- but he loves being on the outside closest to the door. 

Damien, surprisingly and much to Gavin’s delight, curls into Huxley’s side with his hands folded and tucked between them like a cuddly, loafing house cat. This would be much cuter if this didn’t tangle his legs and feet with Lasko’s.

The air elemental, unsurprisingly, tosses and turns like the troubled heroine of a Victorian romance novel. Never able to stop fidgeting, Lasko’s place in the middle of the sleeping lineup was a conscious decision so the men on either side of him could throw a limb over him and hold on if need be. 

Gavin, on his other side, never seems to mind the task of wrapping himself around Lasko. The incubus tends to sleep on his stomach, the toned skin of his back and legs tantalizingly, shamelessly uncovered, and is always curling an arm and tail around the air elemental to keep him in place.  

Freelancer, first to wake and last to rest, sleeps like the dead with a haphazard foot hanging off the bed and a hand loosely but sweetly held in Gavin’s. 

The arrangement is sweaty and cramped and not super comfortable. Freelancer has fallen off the bed more than once, often taking Gavin down with them in the process. Huxley upsets the balance of the slumber ecosystem every time his hydrated self gets up to pee. Lasko sometimes has to army crawl backwards off the bed out of fear of waking up the couples on either side of him, and Damien fights Gavin for blankets at least once a week. 

They’ve never slept better.

2:08 AM

“Are you awake, Deviant?” Gavin whispers, cuddling his Freelancer and molding himself to the curve of their back. With his nose nestled in the crook of their neck, he can smell their sweet, coconut body wash and taste the rich, dulce de leche flavor of their arousal.

“Nope,” they whine, burying their face in the pillow while reaching back to sleepily tug at his hair. “Deviant can’t come to the phone right now; leave a message.” Gavin hums at the gorgeous sensation of their nails against his scalp and presses open-mouthed kisses to the soft skin below their ear. 

“I wanted to see-” the incubus murmurs, grazing his teeth against their earlobe and grinning at the shiver that runs down his love’s back. “-if our resident voyeur might like to wake up and watch the show.” This makes the sleep-bedraggled Freelancer perk to attention, finally hearing the barely-there sighs and gasps from Gavin’s other side. Lasko, who’d woken the incubus with his stirring after a very good dream, bites back another hushed sound as Gavin’s mischievous tail makes his dream a reality. 

“Looks like you’re intent on playing truant. Don’t worry, I’ll take notes of what you missed,” he muses, lowering his voice just enough so Freelancer may note the quiet sound of Lasko’s thin sleep shirt sliding up against his skin. 

“Anything you’d like to add, Professor?” The air elemental whines soft and sweet as more pesky clothing gets pushed to the side, and Freelancer starts to turn toward their boys when Damien groans into his pillow. 

“I have something to add,” the fire elemental says with a muffled growl, causing Lasko to shrink back from the heat with a startled yelp. “Go the fuck back to sleep, or take it to the couch.” The trio chime in with assorted apologies, and Damien huffs indignantly before turning his back on them. 

Blissfully, ignorantly, Huxley snores away. 

6:22 AM

“Mornin, Lasko. Breakfast and coffee are ready when you are,” Huxley says to the air elemental’s reflection when he turns off his powers with a snap and meets his eyes in the mirror. “You’re looking cute today.”

“You scared the sh- crap out of me!” Lasko replies with a start. “I didn’t know anyone else was awake- you were still in bed when I got up. Did- did I wake you?” Huxley smiles, beguiled, and kisses the top of dripping wet hair.

“I wanted to wake up early anyway, squeeze in a morning run while the weather is nice.” The taller man rests his chin atop the shorter’s head, and Lasko laughs from the ticklish sensation. “Figured I’d handle two birds with one stone and make sure you actually remember to eat before you head out today,” he admonishes gently with a wide grin and a warm hand on Lasko’s ribs pulling him closer to his chest. 

“You didn’t- you didn’t have to do that; I can take care of myself!” Lasko protests, tilting his head up and back to properly look him in the eyes with a plaintive, apologetic expression. The teacher- flustered, unkempt, fresh out the morning shower, and plagued with morning breath- is too cute to resist, and Huxley is helpless but to lean down and give him a proper good morning kiss. 

“Yeah, but it’s more fun when I do it.” A smile, a kiss on the temple, a gentle hand correcting the air elemental’s glasses, and Huxley leaves the bathroom so Lasko can continue his routine undisturbed. “Get dressed, finish drying your hair, and the coffee will be ready by the time you’re done. I’m putting a double shot in your tumbler since you have office hours today.”

“I love you, Hux,” Lasko calls out softly, adoringly, with weak knees, and Huxley hits him with a wink and another megawatt grin over the shoulder as he makes his way to the kitchen. 

“Love you too, dude!”

8:02 AM

“Have you seen my Triage Healing book? I just saw it on Sunday, and it’s got my notes in it.”

“It’s under the- Sunday, Freelancer? You haven’t touched your book and homework in four days?” 

“He means that it’s under the bed where Gav hid it,” Huxley hollers, watching in amusement from the dining room as his loves scramble about the apartment. 

“Why would you do that?!” Freelancer yells, sprinting to dive amongst the dust bunnies under their bed, eventually letting out a muffled ‘aha!’ 

“You were ignoring me,” Gavin yells back from the kitchen, comfortably seated on the counter and drinking his latte with a lazy grin. Freelancer comes out the hallway with an accusatory scowl and their fire elemental boyfriend hot on their heels, nitpicking lint and dust out of their hair. “I wanted attention.”

“We wanted you to rest,” Damien says, patting down Freelancer’s back with brisk, aggressive affection. “You were about to start drooling onto the Coding graph, and then you wouldn’t have learned shit.” 

“You’re one to talk! You were talking about warding supports in your sleep! Again!” Freelancer snarks, batting away Damien’s busybody hands with sharp elbows and playful smacks. 

“They’re right,” Huxley chimes in with an affectionate, indulgent grin. “You were mumbling about ward geometry again.” 

“Whose side are you on, Hux!” Damien says with a huff, shoving an apple into Freelancer’s hands and another into his jacket pocket. Gavin passes them prepped, color coded travel mugs: red with sugar-loaded black coffee for Damien and silver with coconut milk caramel latte for Freelancer. The earth elemental watches this familiar exchange for the millionth time before pointing at the wall clock hanging behind him. 

“Whatever side gets you guys to class on time.” Freelancer and Damien’s eyes widen into matching, comical expressions of alarm, and they fling themselves out the door in a flurry of kisses, papers, and tangled shoelaces. Huxley laughs with the steady calm of a working adult with a hybrid schedule before turning to Gavin. “Don’t you have to leave too? You’re in the same class as Freelancer.” The incubus smiles with the smugness of a creature built of pure magic and rifts with a blown kiss and a snap of his manicured fingers. 

11:24 AM

“-and then this infant of a water elemental tries to put out the fire- xi barely manages a puddle- and the earth elemental next to xim is freaking out. He’s pacing back and forth, trying to suffocate the fire with dirt- everyone is scared and dirty-“ Damien whirls sharply, knife pointed safely but threateningly at the floor, and Lasko nods placidly, carefully grating cheese with a stern focus. “Everyone is scared and dirty and hot, and Professor Banerjee is laughing. Meanwhile, I’m trying to coral the students away from the fire like they’re rabid toddlers, and do you know where the other TA was, the contra-fire elemental we were scheduled to have today?” 

“Not where he was supposed to be?” Lasko responds sheepishly, passing the cutting board to Damien who grabs it with a brisk but not unkind manner and nary a glance. 

“A fucking no show,” the fire elemental rages with a growl, brusquely shoving cheese on top of the bread and laying hands on it until the cheese bubbles and browns, a cookbook-perfect picture of French onion soup. He grabs the bowls with swift, bare hands and storms towards the couch, and Lasko follows right behind with spoons and napkins. The air elemental puts them down on the table next to the soup and is about to ask if he should get them water when a strong, warm arm pulls him down onto the couch. 

“Tell me about your morning,” Damien mumbles, head on Lasko’s lap and face pressed petulantly against his stomach. 

“I, I can do that, sure, Damien, but don’t, don’t you think you might want to sit up? Our food might- um, might get cold?” A single eye squints up at him in narrowed, judging contemplation, watching as Lasko giggles at the flash of warm palms slipping under his shirt against his back. “You’re right, silly question. Umm, want to hear about the Advanced Telepathy TA that’s having a worse day than you?” Damien hums his assent, a soft vibration he can feel through his shirt, and Lasko barely resists the urge to audibly compare it to the purring of a grumpy cat. The fire elemental imperceptibly leans into the hands carding through his hair, and the air elemental snaps a quick picture to show their partners later before starting to ramble.

1:36 PM

 “Wait, what do you mean they’re taking the pandas back?” Caelum asks with wide eyes and abject horror. 

“So all the pandas in the world are on loan from the Chinese government…” Freelancer trails off, carefully and slowly pouring hot soup into ramekins while their empathy daemon friend sits on the counter and whines. “…and they are going to be taking them back next year.”

“They can do that?” he asks, aghast with jaw dropped, and Gavin gives him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder. “How are we going to get to see the pandas? I’m not going to be able to visit my friends?”

“That’s why I was saying we should go to the zoo together next month, make a day out of it, before they go.” Freelancer pops the garnished soup under the broiler and joins Gavin, patting their friend on the head and ruffling his hair. 

“Don’t forget that you and I can just riff to China to see them. Like, whenever we want.” The young empathy daemon’s face brightens with joy at the reminder, literal magic sparkling in his eyes, and he’s listing off all the amazing things he wants to see in Asia and relay to his charge when Huxley stops at home. 

“Hey, dudes, fancy seeing you here,” the earth elemental says with a smile, pressing quick kisses to both of their cheeks. Behind him, Caelum is still ticking sights off his fingers: the Great Wall, the terracotta soldiers, the Forbidden City, which Freelancer is honestly surprised the childish daemon had heard of. “Who’s the third bowl for?” he asks, nodding at the trio’s lunch on the counter. Caelum’s eyes widen comically, finding Gavin’s over Huxley’s shoulders, and Freelancer scrambles mentally to cover.

“The stray dog outside,” Freelancer blurts out with their best poker face on. “That sweet, friendly one that just had pups? She came up to us when we came home and looked hungry, so we thought we’d share our lunch with her.” 

“Awww, that’s so nice of you guys,” Huxley gushes with a warm, loving expression that only slightly digs at Gavin and Freelancer’s hearts over their fib. “Can you pour some out for me too? I’ll be right back.” 

“Of course, Hux,” Gavin says, repressing a devilish grin that he only reveals when Huxley turns and heads towards the bathroom. “A sweet, stray dog with puppies, Deviant? You’re going to hell.”

“There’s a seat down there with my name on it, and it’s right next to yours.” 

4:02 PM

“Do you think the pandas get lonely?” Gavin hums thoughtfully, papers magically shuffling and righting themselves midair before being placed in neat stacks on the bookshelf.

“I don’t think so. That’s partially why they always come in twos, not to mention pandas have all those hundreds of people who come to see and visit them every day,” the older demon says with a smile, assuaging the younger daemon’s worries. He must succeed when Caelum hums a cheerier tune, floating about the room and pausing every so often to drink water despite not needing to- a habit he picked up from watching Freelancer. 

“Do you think the pandas would like it if I went into their enclosure?” he asks brightly. Gavin mentally blue-screens as he tries to formulate the best answer. Animals could historically react to the presence of daemons on a spectrum from cuddles to attempted murder. Though Caelum would escape from that physically unscathed, Gavin struggles to consider the emotional ramifications of his younger brother trying to hug a panda and the bear trying to eat his face. He’s still stuck on remembering the average temperament of a panda when Freelancer and Damien come home in a flurry of affectionately raised voices. 

“He loved him,” the freelancer insists with a cheesy grin that the fire elemental responds to with a scoff and an eye roll. 

“Oliver loved him as much as a leech loves its host, as the tapeworm loves the person whose stomach they inhabit. He basically says so at the end!” Freelancer dumps their backpack on the couch with a shake of their head as they kiss Gavin’s cheek and make their way to the kitchen, and Damien instinctively picks it up and follows, putting their bags at the dining table.

“I know what he said, Damien. I’m talking about what he didn’t say, his actions, his subtext,” Freelancer says, gesturing emphatically with their water bottle, spilling the contents, and magicking the puddle down the sink drain.

“His actions were murder, Freelancer!” Damien yells with a laugh, throwing his hands in the air in familiar, practiced exasperation. “His actions were spree murder.”

“He only killed two people in a short period of time; that’s not spree killing. Do your research.” Still laughing, Damien rushes forward to shut their Freelancer up with a kiss. Caelum giggles fondly, bashfully at the scene, before rifting away with a grin, nod, and a bubbly thumbs up. Gavin considers worrying for a second whether the young daemon would find out how aggressive pandas are tonight before deciding that the protostar would be fine and relish the adventure. 

“What are you two lunatics arguing about today?” he asks, sidling up behind the pair and angling for a “hello” kiss. 

6:25 PM

“I’m home!” Huxley calls, juggling the pizza boxes and gym bag as he struggles to toe off his shoes. “Babes?” No footsteps stomp in response, no upturned kisses or enthusiastic greetings await him, only muffled chatter from the kitchen. With only a slight pout, the earth elemental follows the voices of his loves.

“This scene exists, and people are busy talking about the bathtub?” Gavin’s familiar, smooth timbre says with a laugh, and Freelancer can be heard joining in with the mirth along with Damien’s more restrained chuckle. “Barry Keoghan, you little freak,” the incubus says, impressed and fascinated. 

“Who’s a freak?” Huxley asks curiously, popping in and putting the boxes in the kitchen table behind an open laptop Damien and Freelancer suspiciously move to close and angle away from him. 

“It’s a horror movie,” Damien says quickly at the look of concern and confusion that flashes through his face. 

“I legitimately don’t think you’d have the stomach for it,” Freelancer agrees, wincing sympathetically at the memory of their The Thing movie night. None of them would ever be able to forget the sickly, impossible shade of green he had turned at the combination of tension and gore. 

“Now hold on a minute,” Gavin interjects giddily with a shit-eating grin. “I think the big guy, out of all of us, would benefit from a watch. After all, you’re the hole-digging expert, right, Hux?” Damien is giving Gavin’s shoulder a scolding swat and Huxley is watching them with a quizzical smile when Lasko scrambles in, a flurry of mussed hair and apologies. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m late,” the air elemental says, flustered and ironically out of breath. “Am I late? Is dinner super cold? I meant to text, I swear

I did, but my phone died, and my crappy, generic Amazon wire stopped working. What did I miss?”

“No clue,” Huxley offers cheerfully, giving Lasko a sweet kiss on the temple. 

“Grave fucking!” Gavin says gleefully, without abandon. Lasko’s face predictably flushes, confused and abashed, and Huxley’s twists into an expression of such utter, pure bewilderment that their partners cannot help but laugh. 

8:43 PM

“I feel like I’m a Capitol citizen watching The Hunger Games,” Damien says with a grumble.

“It is weirdly dystopian,” Freelancer agrees, their head on his lap. “The ink packs exploding mimicking them being shot is cool but also sort of fucking insane.” 

“Everyone falling over and pretending to die when they’re eliminated is so funny, but I kind of feel weird for laughing,” Huxley mumbles, nails tapping a distracted rhythm against Gavin’s horns.

“Sooooo weird,” the incubus agrees, lying across their huge sectional so his calves intertwine with Freelancer’s as they lay across their boyfriend’s laps. “Why are so many of them stopping with their hands in their pockets like that? It looks like that’d be bad for their balance.” Lasko, who had been knitting absentmindedly between Damien and Huxley, has trailed off, clicks away at the familiar pattern as he frowns at the tv. 

“I actually read somewhere that they’re doing that because it was, like, forty degrees on set, and they’re trying to keep their hands warm.” Damien starts to heat up, his face curling in outrage and disgust, and Lasko and Freelancer reach out to pat him with placating hands. 

“We really have to find another show to watch now that we finished Cutthroat Kitchen. I’m pretty sure our couch won’t survive otherwise,” Huxley says with a grin, leaning into Damien’s eyeline to flash those dimples he knows the fire elemental loves so much. Predictably, his face softens like butter, chilling from inferno to simmering displeasure as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“The Great British Bake Off will be back soon, don’t you worry, Wildfire.” Gavin playfully nudges Dames’s pouting cheeks with his foot until he gives in, laughing and batting the offending appendage away. 

“That’ll be its own whole can of worms,” Lasko says, arms raised high, trying to knit over the incubus’s leg. “Remember BinGate?” 

“Don’t remind him of BinGate. We only mention that when we don’t want to rack up the heating bill,” Freelancer jokes, cut off when Damien drops a pillow on their face. 

10:21 PM

“Hux, I love you, big guy, I really do, but if you don’t move those burly, scratchable shoulders aside, I will spit on your ass. Not in the sexy way, I might add.” Huxley chokes out a laugh, a silly guffaw muffled by toothpaste foam, and he scooches left to give Gavin room at the sink. The earth elemental bumps in Damien who protests as testily as he can with a mouth full of mouthwash, and Huxley hums a sweet, nonverbal hum for an apology. The incubus bends over, spitting into the sink, and the look of him in the mirror when he rights himself is so domestic, his hair wet and rumpled, his body sheathed in Huxley’s too big t-shirt. Gavin, as loathe as Damien can be to admit, downright adorable, and he cannot resist reaching out and thumbing away a speck of white away from his boyfriend’s lips. That mouth grins rakishly in response, his tongue playfully flicking to lick the foam off Damien’s finger, and the fire elemental grunts in fury before spitting out the mouthwash.

“That’s not good for you, Gav! Spit it out!” 

“I’m more fond of swallowing, I’m afraid,” Gavin says with a chuckle, wiping at his mouth with the hem of his shirt and coincidentally revealing the soft, touchable flesh of his tanned stomach. 

“Yeah, we know!” Freelancer calls from the shower, their voice and Lasko’s ensuing laughter bouncing off the tiles. 

“We sort of gathered that-” the air elemental adds. “-not that we’re not fond of it, of course.”

“Yeah, don’t let Damien get you down. He’s just jealous of your swallowing skills.”

“Come say that to my face, Freelancer!” the fire elemental shouts, and Huxley laughs again, the task of teeth brushing forgotten.

“Damn, Dames, if you wanted to see them naked, you could just ask,” he teases, laughing louder and clutching his stomach as Damien looks up at him with shocked betrayal. 

“Et tu, brute?” he asks in an accusing whisper, his scowl breaking into a smile as he pushes the earth elemental towards the sink. “You assholes forget I know where you all sleep.”

11:02 PM

“One more paper.”

“You said that four papers ago. Hand ‘em over, Moore.”

“What if I really mean it this time?”

“What if I smother you with a pillow to get you to sleep?” Lasko gasps, looking up at Damien with a wounded look in his eye even as he obediently passes his papers and pens to the testy fire elemental. “That’s what I thought.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Huxley coos, leaning over Damien to press a kiss to Lasko’s temple. “I wouldn’t let him kill you.” 

“My hero,” the air elemental jokes weakly, sleepily, taking off his glasses to rub at drooping eyes. Gavin takes them with his tail and puts them in their designated place on the nightstand before climbing into bed on Lasko’s other side. Freelancer neglects to follow, sitting at the foot of the bed and pouring over their own assignments. 

“Why don’t you threaten them? Freelancer’s doing work too!” With a snap of the fingers, Damien sets the edge of their textbook alight, the paper just catching when Freelancer douses it with a pout.

“You’re a bastard,” they say accusingly, passing their things to Gavin who tucks the contraband safely beneath the bed.

“A bastard who loves you and wants you to fucking rest,” Damien agrees, throwing their designated pillow at their face and smiling approvingly when they catch it with Psychokinetic ease.

12:00 AM

“Are you okay, Gavin?” Without his glasses, he can see hardly anything in the shadows of the moonlit room but Lasko Moore could pick Gavin’s profile out of hundreds in a second. The silhouette turns to look down at him, and Lasko reaches up to clumsily pet the incubus’s cheek. He hums softly, fingers smoothing along soft skin and cheekbones, and Gavin leans into the touch, his cheek nestling affectionately into Lasko’s palm.

“I’m okay, baby,” he whispers, stroking the air elemental’s hair until he settles back into the pillows. “Go back to sleep. I won’t be far behind you.” He mumbles something vaguely in the affirmative, more unconscious than not, and Gavin gazes down at the face of the sleeping man next to him. Not quite under the heavy influence of deep sleep, Lasko’s face is blissfully unburdened and slack with slumber. His freshly washed and dried hair acts like a fluffy halo, framing his face in a way Lasko will hate come morning but Gavin adores now. Behind him, Damien and Huxley are similarly relaxed and beautiful in their vulnerability. The earth elemental’s mouth is curled into a half-smile even as he sleeps, and Damien’s mouth is slack and wide open, drool trailing down his cheek as he snores. The incubus is biting back a laugh and wishing he could take a picture when a warm, soft hand wraps around his.

“Who’s the voyeur now?” his Freelancer whispers playfully. Gavin smiles at them without a word, and his human gently tugs until he lays back down beside them. Then they wrap their arm around his torso, their leg tossed over his and their head nestled beneath his chin. “Go to sleep. You can be a Peeping Tom tomorrow.”

“Promise?” he asks, mumbling into their hair and breathing deeply in that irreplaceable scent of humanity and love and home. Gavin’s arms tighten around their shoulders as if trying to intertwine their auras with sheer force, and Freelancer presses a kiss to his chest, right over his full, thudding heart.

“Promise. Now sleep; if we wake Damien up two nights in a row, he’ll burn our coffee.” 

#redactedasmr #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redactedaudio #redacted audio #redacted #redacted fanfiction #busybee writes #redacted freelancer #redacted gavin #redacted Damien #redacted lasko #redacted huxley #redacted damn polycule #redacted caelum

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve is definitely an ass man 🥺 & he constantly has his hand on our butt. Can you write something off that? 💞

Anon say less 😈

Steve Harrington is an ass man.

His touch made you blush, borderline inappropriate when you wore jeans, his palm moulded to your ass as he slipped his hand into your back pocket, but god, it was downright sinful whenever you wore a skirt.

It turned your tummy over when you were in public, his hand a warm weight as you stood outside the store, bumping into friends who stood to chat. It was a comfort in you when he’d guide you down the aisle, an arm wrapped around you to pull you to him at the bakery counter, a kiss pressed to your forehead as you waited for a fresh loaf and the cinnamon twists Dustin and Lucas loved.

But then Steve would grow restless, hands wandering, palm smoothing over the curve of your ass until the tips of his fingers could graze the bare skin underneath, right on the line where your bum met the backs of your thighs.

It made you squirm, shifting further into him which only encouraged your boyfriend more, grin pressed to your cheek as he pushed a kiss there, thumb stroking bold over the lace edge of your underwear.

It was enough to make you squeak, cheeks hot, eyes wide as you made sure no one had been looking and the boy wouldn’t stop until he’d hear you whine out his name, half scolding, half begging.

“Steve.”

He’d give you some response each time, smile wide, eyes dancing.

“M’sorry.” He wasn’t. A soft kiss, coaxing, teasing. “You’re too tempting, baby.”

Steve liked it when you took to sitting on his lap, too many friends in one car, in someone’s living room, kids and teens alike sprawled across couches and floors.

He’d wrap his arm around, happy to have you close, hands on your waist, your thighs. But then you’d start moving, squirming delightfully against him, animated and over eager as you chatted with Robin about that new movie, arguing with Eddie about how Queen was better than Bowie.

Steve’s hand would drop to your ass, fingers spread wide, drumming out a beat only you could feel and he’d smirk when you stumbled over your words, eyes innocent and on the screen.

You’d fall silent soon after, thoughts gone, concentration lost as the boy kneaded at you, a push and pull at your soft flesh that shouldn’t have been so dizzying.

It reminded you of the way he’d tug you down on top of him in his room, on his bed, or when he sat at his desk chair, your legs splayed over his. He’d kiss you breathless, hands hot and dirty on you, under your skirt, your dress, fingers dipping under the elastic of your underwear and gripping almost too tight.

“Been dyin’ to get my hands on you all day, sweetheart,” he'd say, voice wrecked.

He’d keep his hold on you, fingertips almost bruising, kissing away your whines and sighs as he moved you over him, legs spread wide and hips rocking against him, needy and desperate.

And when you’d stripped each other and fallen into bed, he’d ask you to be a good girl and climb on top, facing away as you straddle him, a coaxing hand on the small of your back as your arched for him real pretty.

Steve lost his shit when you took him like that, legs spread, hands holding yourself up as you moved, his palms spread over your ass, holding on for dear fucking life as you rode him. He liked to watch where you were joined, sinking onto him before rising back up, an intoxicating show that felt like a sucker punch to the chest each time and he went wild for it.

Steve Harrington is an ass man.

#steve harrington #Steve baby blurb #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb

[katnissmellarkkk]

as per @rosegardeninwinter’s request that “someone (@katnissmellarkkk) needs to make a bookcomb of all the times Peeta feeds Katniss or orchestrates food being given to her or gives her direction on when to eat because reasons” 🤗

-

The boy never even glanced my way, but I was watching him. Because of the bread, because of the red weal that stood out on his cheekbone. What had she hit him with? My parents never hit us. I couldn’t even imagine it. The boy took one look back to the bakery as if checking that the coast was clear, then his attention back on the pig, he threw a loaf of bread in my direction. The second quickly followed, and he sloshed back to the bakery, closing the kitchen door tightly behind him.

-

I gingerly lift my hand to my head and find it bandaged. This simple gesture leaves me weak and dizzy. Peeta holds a bottle to my lips and I drink thirstily.

-

“No, it’s good. You need to eat. I’ll go hunting soon,” I say.

“Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.”

I don’t really seem to have much choice. Peeta feeds me bites of groosling and raisins and makes me drink plenty of water. He rubs some warmth back into my feet and wraps them in his jacket before tucking the sleeping bag back up around my chin.

-

Every cell in my body wants me to dig into the stew and cram it, handful by handful into my mouth. But Peeta’s voice stops me. “We better take it slow on that stew. Remember the first night on the train? The rich food made me sick and I wasn’t even starving then.”

“You’re right. And I could just inhale the whole thing!” I say regretfully. But I don’t. We are quite sensible. We each have a roll, half an apple, and an egg-size serving of stew and rice. I make myself eat the stew in tiny spoonfuls — they even sent us silverware and plates — savoring each bite. When we finish, I stare longingly at the dish. “I want more.”

“Me too. Tell you what. We wait an hour, if it stays down, then we get another serving,” Peeta says.

-

“It’s just . . . if we didn’t win . . . I wanted Thresh to. Because he let me go. And because of Rue.”

“Yeah, I know,” says Peeta. “But this means we’re one step closer to District Twelve.” He nudges a plate of food into my hands. “Eat. It’s still warm.”

I take a bite of the stew to show I don’t really care, but it’s like glue in my mouth and takes a lot of effort to swallow.

-

When Peeta wakes me later, the first thing I register is the smell of goat cheese. He’s holding out half a roll spread with the creamy white stuff and topped with apple slices. “Don’t be mad,” he says. “I had to eat again. Here’s your half.”

-

Peeta smiles and douses Haymitch’s knife in white liquor from a bottle on the floor. He wipes the blade clean on his shirttail and slices the bread. Peeta keeps all of us in fresh baked goods. I hunt. He bakes. Haymitch drinks. We have our own ways to stay busy, to keep thoughts of our time as contestants in the Hunger Games at bay. It’s not until he’s handed Haymitch the heel that he even looks at me for the first time. “Would you like a piece?”

-

He picks up one of the flowered cookies and examines it. “Lovely. Your mother made these?”

“Peeta.” And for the first time, I find I can’t hold his gaze. I reach for my tea but set it back down when I hear the cup rattling against the saucer. To cover I quickly take a cookie.

“Peeta. How is the love of your life?” he asks.

“Good,” I say.

-

“I want to taste everything in the room,” I tell Peeta.

I can see him trying to read my expression, to figure out my transformation. Since he doesn’t know that President Snow thinks I have failed, he can only assume that I think we have succeeded. Perhaps even that I have some genuine happiness at our engagement. His eyes reflect his puzzlement but only briefly, because we’re on camera. “Then you’d better pace yourself,” he says.

“Okay, no more than one bite of each dish,” I say.

-

Since Mags seems to have no ill effects from the nuts, Peeta collects bunches of them and fries them by bouncing them off the force field. He methodically peels off the shells, piling the meats on a leaf. I stand guard, fidgety and hot and raw with the emotions of the day.

[…]

Mags has also plaited several bowls that Peeta has filled with roasted nuts.

-

“Can we eat [the 🐀]?” Peeta asks.

“I don’t know for sure. But his meat doesn’t look that different from a squirrel’s. He ought to be cooked. . . .” […]

Peeta has another idea. He takes a cube of rodent meat, skewers it on the tip of a pointed stick, and lets it fall into the force field. There’s a sharp sizzle and the stick flies back. The chunk of meat is blackened on the outside but well cooked inside. We give him a round of applause, then quickly stop, remembering where we are.

-

I poke around in the pile, about to settle on some cod chowder, when Peeta holds out a can to me. “Here.”

I take it, not knowing what to expect. The label reads LAMB STEW.

I press my lips together at the memories of rain dripping through stones, my inept attempts at flirting, and the aroma of my favorite Capitol dish in the chilly air. So some part of it must still be in his head, too. How happy, how hungry, how close we were when that picnic basket arrived outside our cave. “Thanks.” I pop open the top. “It even has dried plums.” I bend the lid and use it as a makeshift spoon, scooping a bit into my mouth. Now this place tastes like the arena, too.

-

Peeta, bearing a warm loaf of bread, shows up with Greasy Sae. She makes us breakfast and I feed all my bacon to Buttercup.

-

#everlark #thg #hunger games #peeta mellark #Katniss everdeen #bookcomb ♥️🔎 #I’ll do the reverse soon 🔜

[topguncortez]

Made With Love- T. Kazansky

word count: 700 genre: fluff:) requested: yes

Note: my requests for full fics are NOT open, HOWEVER, I will always accept asks/requests for blurbs, moodboards, fake social media posts, etc :) I also don't have a general tag list anymore but HIGHLY recommend you follow my library page @cortezslibrary and turn on post notifications

Iceman would never admit it out loud, and if he knew that you were telling people, he would blow a gasket. But Iceman’s third favorite thing in the world (behind you, of course, and flying) was baking. He learned to back as a young boy, sitting on the counter and watching his mom bake anything from cookies, to brownies, to pies. Whenever Ice was having a bad day, he knew that when he got home there would be some sort of baked goods on the counter with his name on it. When his mother passed, Iceman inherited all of her cookbooks, and recipe cards. 

That was one of the ways you knew that Ice had a bad day at work, was when you came home to the smell of vanilla and warm bread. You sighed and kicked off your shoes, wondering what kind of baking mess you were going to be met with. Tom wasn’t always the cleanest baker, tending to throw flour and egg everywhere. 

“Bad day?” You asked as you walked into the kitchen. Tom looked up from the loaf of bread he was kneading and nodded, “New brownie recipe?” 

“Yeah, black walnuts and white chocolate,” Ice said, pointing to the pan of brownies that sat by the window sill, “Slider asked me to try them, saying his mom used to make them like that all the time.” 

“And these?” You asked, picking up the tin of cookies. You were surprised your cabinets weren’t bursting at the seams with how much tupperware was stored in them. 

“Rhubarb bars!” Ice smiled, “Viper’s wife sent him with fresh rhubarb for me to use.” 

You shook your head, smiling at your husband. You walked over to him, and wrapped your arms around his waist, and laid your head between his shoulder blades. Ice sighed and put his hands on yours. He looked around the kitchen that was covered in baked goods. One thing he loved about you was that you never pried. You always let him talk to you when he was ready. 

“It was Mav,” Ice said. You removed your arms from around his waist as he reached for a raspberry cheesecake cookie. 

“What happened?” You asked, and took a cookie from the same tin. 

“He’s just out of control again. I think it’s got something to do with Bradley’s birthday coming up. . .” Ice looked down at his hands. You nodded, it was coming up on Bradley’s first birthday since Goose’s death. Carole had even asked Ice if he would make a birthday cake for the little boy. Ice quickly agreed and had gone out to buy a bunch of dinosaur themed cake toppers. 

“And how do you feel?” 

“I feel. . . overwhelmed. I don’t really know what to think about it. I try not to let my mind drift there but I can’t help it,” Ice had shared after Goose’s death the guilt that he felt about it. That first night you held Ice as he woke up in a cold sweat. Ice didn’t go back to bed that night, but spent nearly three days baking everything under the sun. You knew that he needed to seek help when you woke up at 3AM to the fire alarm going off, and Tom Kazansky in tears. 

“Well,” You pushed off the counter and walked over to him, “You can always talk to me. As much as I love your baking,” Tom smiled, “I am always here for you to talk to.” 

“I know, and I love you for it,” Ice said, and ran his hands down your sides. You smiled and leaned up on your tiptoes to kiss his forehead. Ice chuckled, and grabbed your face gently, bringing you in for a real kiss. 

“Mm, you taste like chocolate chip cookies,” You said against his lips. 

“In the green tupperware on the table.” 

You smiled and pecked his lips before going over to where he said. The tupperware was still warm as you opened the top and grabbed a cookie. You moaned as you took a bite of the soft gooey cookie. 

“God, I am so glad our child is going to have a parent who can bake.” 

Ice chuckled, as he went back to kneading the bread he was working on earlier, “Yeah, we’re gonna win all the- wait, what did you just say?” He looked up at you, and you gave him a tight lipped smile. 

“Surprise?”

#top gun #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun imagine #top gun 1986 #iceman #iceman fan fic #iceman fan fiction #iceman imagine #iceman x reader #iceman x you #iceman x y/n #tom kazansky #tom kazansky imagine #tom kazansky fan fic #tom kazansky fan fiction #tom kazansky x reader #tom kazansky x you #tom kazansky x y/n #tom iceman kazansky

[adultish-momma]

Lunchtime Disagreements

Yuu and Ace get along for some very specific reasons. Unfortunately for Riddle, he is about to find out one of the things they have in common.

(Yuu on the other hand, has had a rough week. They woke up and chose violence. They will not be apologizing.)

A/N: Hi :)

Rule number 271: One must leave the table within 15 minutes of completing their lunch

"Yeah that's not going to happen."

Every Heartslabyul student around their lunch table seems to freeze, anxiously watching red rise to their housewarden's cheeks. Yuu on the other hand settles deeper into their seat, the picture of indolence. Grimm, always down for mischief, hops onto the tabletop, moving the empty Ramshackle lunch trays to the side so he can comfortably turn into a cat loaf in the smack middle of everybody. He shoots a satisfied shit-eating grin up at Riddle Rosehearts, delighting in the frustrated expression on the young man's face.

"Excuse me?"

The Ramshackle prefect finishes off their burger, and then calmly turns to give Riddle Rosehearts their full attention.

"Thanks for the suggestion, but I'm good. Thanks but no." The prefect shoots the housewarden a polite smile before sipping on their carbonated beverage. The redhead blinked, thrown off by the other student's nonchalance of the subject.

"Suggestion... you can't just... the rules-"

"Are completely asinine, let alone inefficient and inapplicable to our current situation." They take another long sip of their drink while the older boy grows steadily redder.

"ASININE?!!"

"Mm-hmm" they hummed, bobbing their head in casual acknowledgment. Calmly setting down their drink, they raised their hand so they could count off for the Heartslybul Housewarden. "One, I am not a Heartslybul student. Therefore, your word is not my law."

Ace was trying very hard to hide his snickers at Riddle's grinding teeth. (He wasn't trying at all honestly but if anybody asks he's going to stick with his story thank you very much.)

"Two, this is not the Heartslybul dorm. There is no polite societal convention that demands I attempt to follow your dorm rules in the neutral territory that is the cafeteria."

Riddle now resembles a tomato, hair blending in with the color of his face. Deuce and Cater exchange nervous glances.

"Three, my next class is alchemy, and according to the time, the Alchemy Lab won't be open for at least 30 more minutes. So instead of staying here and, oh I don't know, getting ahead on my alchemy readings, you want me to leave. And do what, exactly?"

Trey was sweating in his seat. Tentatively, he reached out to the Ramshackle prefect, hoping to make this conversation just stop. "Hey, okay, I think you made your-"

"I'm not finished" they snapped, whipping around to glare at the Vice Warden's outstretched hand. When it dropped back to Trey's side, they turned back to the dorm leader. Riddle was seething, face so red that steam was quite literally going to rise from his face if someone poured water on him. And honestly, at this point, Yuu was kinda pissed too. So when Riddle opened his mouth to take advantage of the pause in their tirade, they stood up and crowded into his space, not willing to let this go until they said their piece.

"Your precious rules are more often than not completely senseless. Name me one benefit, one productive result, one good reason why rule 271 should be followed in every scenario, regardless of circumstance, and I'll take it all back."

They paused, to give Riddle a chance to rebuke them. They didn't pause longer than a second, but let the record show they did pause.

"You can't, can you? Because there are none. There is no good reason for your out-of-pocket rule. That's because it's an insane rule created by an insane woman."

"OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!"

Students wearing rose-red armbands flinched in the courtyard, frantically searching for where their leader could be. It was a fearful response, fueled by the sheer anger they heard in his voice, but they were also curious about exactly what moron was capable of upsetting their mini tyrant so immensely. The Heartslybul students in the courtyard soon figured that since he wasn't in sight, Riddle must be tearing into someone still in the cafeteria. There was collective relief, but those students also sent up a collective prayer for the poor soul on the other side of their housewarden's unique magic.

Meanwhile, inside there's a flash where the freshman prefect was standing, bright light taking its time to dissipate from their silhouette. When it does, the cafeteria is silent, shock settling heavily in the atmosphere. Riddle, who had still been as red as his namesake, rapidly began to pale at the sight before him.

Yuu stretched their neck, with no collar on them to impede the motion. They slouched back into their seat, reaching over to begin petting Grimm behind his ears. The creature's body is forced to relax under the careful touches, his tense posture melting back into a content cat loaf. The prefect themselves are pretty content with the way this argument turned out, although... one last nail in the coffin couldn't hurt his ego any more than they already have.

"I don't have any magic Housewarden Rosehearts. 'Off With Your Head' is useless against me where there is nothing for your spell to contain. So if you want to effectively throw a tantrum next time I'm verbally kicking your ass..." Their eyes locked onto his stormy grey eyes, a small, conspiratorial smirk tugging at the corner of their lips.

"You're gonna need to turn that collar into a muzzle."

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #rewrite au #twisted wonderland riddle #twst riddle #twst riddle x reader #twisted wonderland riddle x reader #next time riddle uses 'off with your head' on yuu is during his overblot #and it absolutely is a muzzle #also hi hello #i might possibly be back #haven't decided yet #Mirrors are Never to be Trusted