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some-bunniii · 1 month

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Lucifer dotes on a mama!reader

・❥ Caring for an infant isn’t easy, but luckily, you’ve got a charming king willing to do anything for you.

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

x: reader is fem, no use of y/n.

xx: it’s here! a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, but lots of think you’ll enjoy it! keep your eyes out for some pretty art i commissioned inside!

~ 15k words

When you welcomed your daughter into the realm, and finally reached that next long stretch of motherhood, you had prepared yourself for the many changes that accompanied the new addition.

For example, your sleep schedule flipped entirely on its head once you realized that newborn babies slept only a few hours intermittently, which meant a good, long night's rest did not exist anymore.

You found yourself putting your daughter down for a nap at six in the morning, having spent the previous night breastfeeding and soothing her cries. Sometimes, her wailing lasted several hours, and you began to worry if she had a hellish form of colic. You prayed it wasn’t that, because that would mean it would worsen for the next month or so.

The first few weeks were spent holed up in your room, away from the loud noises and constant active state of the rest of the hotel. It was pretty easy, seeing as it was basically a studio apartment, save for the kitchen, which was an exhausting walk down the hall, even more so than when you were pregnant.

“Ya look terrible, mama,” Angel Dust had grimaced with a laugh when you appeared like a ghost late one night inside the much posher lobby, your complexion sunken and drained as your feet dragged across the red carpet.

He had just arrived home from a long day at the studio, his expression equally as drained but his demeanor much livelier than your zombie appearance.

You probably did look terrible, in your oversized pajamas that no doubt had stains of baby spit-up and breast milk. You looked unsightly, a mess, that pregnancy glow extinguished like a flame as you tiredly frog blinked in Angel’s direction.

“Need… to clean the milk bottles… before she wakes up,” you mumbled, lifting three small, dirty baby bottles to view.

“Ya need any help?”

“No, thanks. M’fine,” you waved him off with a yawn, slowly crossing the room towards the kitchen doors.

There was no reason to bother him with such a task, it was your baby, and he already had enough to deal with at the studio.

“Well, have a good time then. I'm jus’ gonna call it an early night an’ head ta bed,” Angel replied, bidding farewell as he turned and left the lobby.

Your head twisted to catch a glimpse of his figure turning the corner, surprise crossing your features at his sudden departure. Usually, Angel Dust had a couple of drinks after work or went out to party until the early hours of the morning.

Tonight, the only thing on the spider demon’s mind was to curl up with Fat Nuggets and sleep those troubling emotions away.

He had been drinking far less lately, or, at least, had been keeping his habits away from the hotel ever since the new hotel was built and your daughter was born. No more did the pornstar burst in after a night at the studio, eyes red and speech slurred as he spoke gibberish and laughed at nothing in particular.

Even though it was Hell, you were determined to keep the gateways into a chaotic life away from your daughter. She was going to have the best quality of life possible in such a place, and you were vocal about your disapproval of those habits, especially in a place that’s supposed to be free of such sin.

When Cherri began staying longer and longer at the hotel, you were apprehensive at first with how much deeper she seemed to be in ‘the life’. Would she sink further into the depths after Sir. Pentious’ death? It wasn’t easy for someone to deal with both grief and guilt at the same time.

Fortunately, she had the support of the residents inside the hotel, and she was finding healthier outlets than a thin line of white powder to quell her pain.

You were grieving too, even if you hadn’t known Sir. Pentious that long in comparison to the others, the little time you spent with him was all but enough.

Sir. Pentious was kind, and courteous, and made the best cookies you’d ever tasted. You had a connection with the snake demon with your shared enjoyment in cooking, and you welcomed the assistance of his Egg Boiz taste-testing your delicacies.

Now, he was gone, and the emptiness of his departure was palpable inside the hotel. His loyal egg companions now dwindled to just one singular yolk, the rest having sacrificed their shells along with their selfless general.

Frank, who had survived solely because he had guarded you at the hospital, returned home to an empty nest and no boss.

You weren’t sure whether the little guy could understand how double death worked, but the way he stared longingly at Sir. Pentious’ portrait in the lobby that he knew his old family was gone for good.

Charlie had done her best to integrate him into the staff, him a room service attendant. He stayed your faithful helper in that way, summoned to your door by the newly installed service button whenever you needed.

“Sorry for bothering you, Frank,” you had smiled down at him, poking your head out from the inside of your room, your daughter latched onto your nipple, “But I’m out of toilet paper and I'm kind of busy right now. Could you go grab me some, please?”

“Sure thing!” He replied chipperly, lifting his hat courteously from the top of his shell before he scampered down the hall and out of view.

He’d return with your items of request, as he did for all the rest of the residents. It kept him busy, allowing his one-track mind to stay away from thinking hard thoughts about what was lost for too long.

Those hard thoughts plagued you as well, as you dealt with the grief of losing a friend and the mood swings that began to take over you. The hormonal changes that came post-birth was also something you prepared for, the ‘baby blues’ as most would call it.

It had started as mood swings, the typical sudden bursts of emotions that accompanied your pregnancy, and the ones that liked to show their face around your period. Suddenly, you’d find yourself shooting a glare at a particularly noisy conversation outside of your door, or find your eyes welling up with tears at the slightest inconvenience.

A mix of sleep deprivation and postpartum hormones was not a good one, and you were determined to keep this weakness away from your friends.

What if they thought you weren’t doing a good job as a mother? All that time, energy, and resources that were used to help you and your baby. They’d think it was all a waste, caring so much only for you to end up a disappointment.

Was that… how your ex had felt when he chose a whore over his lover and child?

Those thoughts began to plague you, and your anxiety heightened with every passing day. The idea that their judgments on your parenting would be harsh had you withdrawing for longer periods inside your room, and farther away from your friends.

Unfortunately, you weren’t able to keep your feelings completely hidden from them, and you realized quickly how erratic your emotions actually were.

One day, Vaggie had swung by to inform you that they had ordered some pizza, and you were welcome to have some too. You were busy breastfeeding your baby at the time, and had to wait until she was sound asleep to sneak out of your room and into the kitchen.

When you finally arrived, your stomach growled with giddy anticipation as you passed by the others who had mostly finished their plates, your lateness obvious. The lobby was filled with chatter, all the residents gathered for a nice meal and to catch up on anything new that had transpired during the week.

When you reached the partially open pizza box inside the empty kitchen, that delicious scent wafted to your nose and you licked your lips hungrily. Gripping the lid, you lifted it quickly, your mind already picturing whatever goodness lay inside.

Was it the classic pepperoni that couldn’t go wrong? Maybe it was from that new pizzeria down the block with their best-selling macaroni and cheese…

Your train of thought derailed, your gaze narrowing at the contents inside the box.

A singular slice of pizza was all that remained inside, your most hated topping sprinkled atop the now-cooled cheese.

Your lip curled at the sight, irritation flickering across your face at the lonely slice. You heard laughter from the conversation behind you, and that only had your eye twitching.

You had lived with these guys during the most intense months of your cravings, and they were aware of what kind of pizza you devoured in an instant and which ones had you gagging. And, only one slice? Had they forgotten about you, even though you had told Vaggie you’d come down after feeding the baby?

You were itching to commit some sort of violence, which had you steeling your arms from lifting the box and chucking it against the wall.

Those intrusive thoughts had you rubbing your temple with a frustrated sigh, before lifting a hand to begin plucking the disgusting toppings from the slice.

As you placed the last of it onto the cardboard, you grabbed the pizza and threw it into the microwave nearby. Your foot tapped impatiently against the marble tile as the slice spun slowly inside the appliance, your thoughts spinning along with it.

By the time you had made it out of the kitchen with steaming food, your tolerance for social interaction was drained, and it seemed a better idea to just eat in your room.

Passing by a few familiar faces, you only greeted them with a tight smile, walking fast enough so that they’d assume you were busy and it would be less likely for them to invite you to chat.

Right as you were about to turn the corner into the hall, plate in hand, a figure rounded the corner and smacked into you head-on. Your chests collided, and you felt the plate slip from your grip, you snapped your head up to see the familiar apple-cheeked woman meet your gaze.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Charlie gasped, right as the pizza slid off your plate and began to free-fall down to the carpet.

Your eyes widened, and Charlie tensed as the pizza splat face-down, the tomato sauce beginning to ooze from the sides like a bloody scene and your hand began to tremble.

At first, those intrusive thoughts were prodding you to snap at her, but you held your tongue. That anger quickly morphed into gloom, and your eyes cast down longingly to the overturned slice.

Your lip quivered, and your chest heaved as you took a shaky breath to keep those tears from falling. Charlie’s brows furrowed and she slowly matched your expression as guilt squeezed her stomach. The banter around you quieted, but your gaze was firmly on the woman in front of you.

Fuck, that was the one thing you were looking forward to today. You couldn’t lose your composure in front of the princess, however, that would heighten her concern, and she already had enough on her plate with the new clients.

“Here, let me get Niffty to clean this up and I can get you some more piz—”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” You interrupted her, a quiet growl laced in your wavering words as you chuckled humorously, “There isn’t anything left, this was all you guys cared enough to save for me.”

Charlie’s eyes widened at your tone, before she opened her mouth to speak again just as Niffty walked forward to clean the mess. Looking down, you took notice of the large glob of sauce that had landed on your top, and you clenched your fists in frustration.

“If you excuse me, I have to get changed now,” you huffed, spinning on your heels to face the hallway, not giving the princess any time to press further as you briskly walked away.

That hot, salty liquid began to spill down your cheeks right as you entered into the long corridor, and you desperately tried to wipe them away. Your face was rubbed dry in a desperate bid to silence the tears.

What was wrong with you? It was one slice of pizza, yet your heart ached like your lottery ticket was one number away from winning. Charlie’s expression had proved your mask was beginning to crack, with the mix of concern and surprise toward your change in demeanor.

Motherhood isn't easy, that had been clear since day one, but you had hoped your emotions would have stabilized by now. It seems that sleep exhaustion and maternal hormones just don’t mix very well, huh?

That incident had been so embarrassing, that you kept to yourself the rest of the week, only venturing out when necessary, which had you spending most of your time with your daughter.

Your baby couldn’t speak yet, and wouldn’t for quite a while, which meant you had to speak for her. Usually, you attached words to the silly little faces she would make at any action you or another demon did around her.

The one time you switched her bottle from breast milk to formula, she didn’t seem too happy about it with how big of a stink eye she sent you chugging down her dinner. Peaches was only a month and a half, but her expressiveness was that of a moody, hormonal teenager.

You spent many hours cooped up with her, sometimes, you needed to have a little fun and play puppeteer one evening as the two of you lounged on your bed.

You squished your daughter's cheeks, making tiny little duck lips as you pitched your voice higher, “Yes, Mama, I promise to sleep through the whoooole night this time!”

“Wonderful,” you beamed, using your other hand to pat her approvingly on the stomach, “And you’ll drink your whole bottle without fuss?”

“Yes, Mama! And, I wi—”

“What are you doing?” An amused, honeyed voice came from across your room.

You froze, turning towards the open doorway, your fingers still pinched around the baby's lips as your eyes widened at the familiar face.

There, standing leisurely against his cane, was the casually dressed ‘Big Boss of Hell’. Lucifer’s blonde hair was slicked back, a few curls framing his statuesque features. Those warm, golden eyes and skin that practically shimmered against the waning daylight from your window.

He tilted his head with a soft, playful smile, as he drank in your figure. The red evening light basked the bed with a warm glow that lit your eyes up like diamonds, enhancing your maternal elegance as you bonded with your daughter.

Your love for her was obvious, and that always had Lucifer’s heart fluttering, seeing something so pure exist in such a grim world.

Slowly, you slid off the bed, your smile widening every step closer you took towards the king as you crossed the room. Somehow, even in your melancholic state, his presence always seemed to have you energized and bouncy.

“Your Majesty,” you batted your lashes, coming to a stop at the doorway before leaning casually against it.

“M’lady,” his grin widened into a wide, teeth-glinting smile as he lifted his hand to present a caramel-coated apple nestled snugly atop a thin, wooden stick. Your stomach growled on cue, and the scent that wafted to your nose had your mouth watering.

“Looks like that glow hasn’t left you yet, if I do say,” he replied, his eyes flicking across your figure before meeting your gaze again.

You only shook your head with a breath of laughter, reaching forward and plucking the delicacy from his grip and turning it in your fingers.

“Charlie says she hasn’t seen you for a few days, you really should go and get some fresh air once in a while,” Lucifer continued as you widened the doorway for him to enter, shooting you a stern glance as spoke.

Is he talking right now? You quirked a brow as he slid past, lifting the offering to your lips and taking a large, hungry bite out of the treat.

Lucifer’s eyes were on one being in particular, swaddled snuggly across the room on your bed. His gaze lingered on your daughter for a few moments, before he turned to face you again.

“How is everything going?”

“Good,” you lied.

“That’s great to hear,” his warm smile widened, and his eyes flicked back over to your daughter, before snapping back to you.

Lucifer’s cane twisted between his fingers nervously as he opened his mouth to speak, before disregarding his thoughts and clamping his mouth shut with a small huff.

You only titled your head at that, your lips curving into a more genuine smile as you watched him.

Children were such a soft spot for Lucifer, you could tell the way his demeanor changed instantly when he was in the presence of a baby. His voice turned to velvet whenever his gentle tone gained from experience in soothing their little ears.

You couldn’t imagine how beautiful lullabies sounded with those vocals of his, the very thought making you melt like butter. Although, you haven't gotten the chance to hear them yet.

His parental instincts seemed to have resurfaced with the birth of your daughter, and that natural affinity for caring for the innocent and helpless buried along with his angelic began to emerge with each passing visit.

He kept his love at a distance, at first. Almost as if he was afraid of getting attached to such a tiny being, like the emotions that came along with it were a deadly force that could take him out far quicker than angelic steel.

Was it because the baby wasn’t his? Did he think you didn’t want him around your child? Maybe, one day he assumed you’d take the baby and leave, and those growing would only break his heart along with your departure.

You just needed to prove him wrong.

“Come on,” you finally nudged him with a laugh, setting the apple on a table nearby, before beckoning him to follow you towards the bed.

It seemed as if Lucifer had been waiting for your approval, as his demeanor lightened at your words and he slowly followed you. His steps were light and quiet as you neared the side of the bed, stopping just as he settled beside you.

“Peaches! You’re looking quite radiant this evening,” Lucifer greeted with a flourish, as he leaned over the side of your bed, and your daughter’s eyes widened at the familiar face.

Your eyes flicked up to the fallen angel at his words. Peaches, the nickname he had come up with. Shockingly, a name that didn’t derive from apples, ducks, or the circus.

“Well, aren't you just a peach, so quiet and easy for your mama!'' Lucifer had cooed to the little one her first days in Hell, she lay in your arms as he softly brushed a thumb across her chin, “So adwowable wit those chubby wittle cheeks.”

Your baby had only frowned at the strange man’s touch with a half-lidded gaze, but soon she’d learn to get used to Lucifer’s presence, as he never disappeared for too long without visiting his three favorite girls.

You had a real name for your daughter that was chosen after her birth, but that could be reserved for when you’d have to pull out the full name card during arguments in her teenage years. Peaches had been a simple phrase that seemed to stick, and even if you weren’t fond of the cute addressal, you wouldn’t dare ruin his first attachment to your daughter.

Peaches had only stared up at the porcelain figure invading her space with a curious gaze, no doubt wondering who this silly was, and why he always left her gifts to fawn over.

Like the first day you came home from the hospital, he presented you with a beautiful red, silken bassinet, with intricate gold lines woven into the detailed design, enhancing the elegance of the crib. Its plushness looked very comfortable for your daughter, and you adored that Lucifer got you something in the first place.

Another time, he brought you a golden mobile that depicted ducks flying rhythmically in circles, ones that threw vibrant, warm lights across the walls late at night, soothing the girl’s late wakings before they woke you at times.

That seemed to be Lucifer’s love language towards your daughter, always presenting her with toys and other little gizmos he cooked up inside of his workshop. Finally, the fallen angel had found purpose for the dusty space, instead of constantly tweaking the same old, yellow rubber ducky day after day.

“For you, a fan-favorite from the vault,” Lucifer hummed as he snapped his fingers, and a stuffed goat with devilish horns and bat wings materialized in his hands.

Right as he pulled the plush from behind his back, Peaches became enamored with it, kicking her legs in excitement as the stuffed animal was held high for her to get a full view. Her motor control was still poor, and she couldn’t grasp the amusing creature, but its colorful fur and dragon-like features were something to gawk at in the little one’s eyes.

“Look, she’s smiling!” You beamed beside the fallen angel, heart melting as you watched the little girl’s mouth open with a squeal at the offering, “I think that’s her biggest one yet!”

“It seems I’m just a natural at this kind of thing, huh?” Lucifer winked playfully your way, before he levitated the toy just above your daughter’s head, whose attention was solely on the little goat plush, “I think she’s even starting to like me, too.”

‘You’re such a good daddy, please let me make you one again.’

“Don’t give yourself too much credit,” you replied instead with a simple nod, before turning on your heels to hide your goofy smile and retrieve the caramel apple once more.

You plucked the apple from the table, before biting another large chunk from its side. The flavors swirled in your mouth, and that fog in your mind lessened a little more with each bite.

You watched from a short distance, as Lucifer’s index finger pointed towards the air above your daughter’s head. With a flick of his wrist, a trail of golden sparks shot from his fingertip and upward above their heads, before exploding into a flurry of sparkles that sent golden shadows across the room.

Peaches was digging the light show, her eyes fixated on the floating spectacle before they flickered out of existence.

“Anything else going on?” The king finally spoke, turning his head slightly to catch a glimpse of you.

“Not really, just taking it one day at a time,” you responded absentmindedly, lifting the coated apple to your lips to take another bite.

“Are you free tomorrow?” He blurted, smile cracking wider as straightened himself against his cane.

You froze, brain short-circuiting as those words processed in your head. You, free? As in, available to partake in some sort of activity with Lucifer?

“Yes, technically…” you trailed off, gaze flicking to your daughter, giddy on her bed as she watched the stuffed goat, “But I can’t just leave the baby alone all evening, she needs me.”

“She doesn’t need you, she’s fine with someone else for a few hours,” he waved off your excuse, before throwing another trail of sparklings into the air, and they exploded in a flurry of golden glimmers above the baby’s head, “I’m sure Charlie would love to spoil the kid for a few hours anyway, don’t you trust her?”

“Yes…”

“I was thinking,” Lucifer continued, beginning to take a few slow, deliberate steps towards you, “Nothing too crazy, just a nice, quiet evening with good food. Maybe throw some of my good wine into the mix, what do you say?”

He sent you a sultry, half-lidded gaze as he sidled closer to you, the caramel apple in your grip lowering from your lips as Lucifer enraptured your full attention, heat blooming across your cheeks at his expression.

“If that is what His Majesty wishes, then I cannot refuse such an offer,” you struggled to keep your voice from wavering, the heat in your cheeks creeping farther down your body.

“But do you want it?” He pressed, only a foot away from you now, his lips upturned in a smirk at your flustered expression.

Apparently, those horny hormones had also stuck around after your pregnancy. Having such a gorgeous, ethereal figure so close to you made your heart skip a beat as butterflies fluttered in your stomach.

“I… think that is a very lovely offer, and I would enjoy being able to spend time in just your company,” you finally replied carefully, a smile blooming across your lips.

“Perfect!” Lucifer clapped his hands together, his eyes glinting with glee as he took a step away from you, back toward the bed.

“Goodbye, sweetheart,” The king cooed softly to your daughter, as he plucked the stuffed goat from the air, “Take good care of this little guy, he’s a special one.”

Lowering the plush, Lucifer placed it gently against your baby’s chest, and her chubby little hands came up to wrap firmly around the toy. Ungracefully, the goat was lifted to Peaches’ lips before she opened her mouth to begin suckling on its ear.

“I bet that tastes delicious,” Lucifer laughed, and you smiled fondly at the duo with a tilt of your head.

The fallen angel took a step back from the bed after a moment, before he lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. That familiar white, brim hat materialized from thin air into his grasp, and he turned to you with a smile.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I'm a very busy man and have other matters to attend to,” Lucifer sighed dramatically, brushing past you towards the doorway.

“I have no doubt,” you shook your head with a laugh, following him towards the end of your room.

Lucifer reached the open doorway, before turning to face you again. He met your gaze for a few moments, before he leaned forward in a bow.

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening, m’lady,” he hummed with delight, adjusting his hat against those beautiful golden curls as you smiled warmly.

“Is there a dress code for our little outing?” you responded with a mischievous grin.

The king only sent you a playful wink, before he stepped out of view and the soft thuds of heeled boots against carpet faded as he disappeared down the hall.

That interaction with Lucifer stewed in your mind for the entire night, as well as into the early morning. Your thoughts drifted to the previous conversation as you snuck down the hall and into the lobby to grab breakfast from the kitchen.

The others were fairly busy, so you were easily able to travel unseen. Angel Dust was working overtime at the studio for a new porn flick, and Charlie was using the extermination to push her hotel further into the spotlight and attract new clients. Vaggie always went along with her, and Alastor was probably up in his fancy new radio tower, doing whatever it was he did up there.

It was only Husk who remained, always behind the bar, shining the bottles and whistling a strange blues tune. He had begun to rope in his drinking as well, choosing to pick up a bottle much later in the day than usual. It was the early morning hour, when you passed by the bar with breakfast in your hands, and the sober bartender turned to you.

“How’s the kid doing?”

“She’s fine, growing very fast too, gaining more control over her movement every day.”

“That's nice,” Husk’s lips curved a smidge, as he placed the glassware neatly underneath the counter, “Haven’t seen you in a while, glad to know ya ain’t dead or nothin’.”

“Yes…” You said slowly, mind racing for a good excuse, “She has just been fussy lately, so I’ve been tending to her.”

“You should bring her out one of these days,” He lifted his eyes from the glass in his paws, meeting yours with an unreadable expression, “I’m sure the others would be happy to see her.”

You couldn’t tell whether Husk was using the term ‘others’ as an inclusion of him as well, you knew the furry demon had a heart somewhere beneath those layers of fur and grumpiness.

You nodded your head at his words, taking a bite of your breakfast, thoughts drifting as you chewed. You’d have to ask Charlie about babysitting anyway, and you couldn’t avoid her forever.

Maybe, knowing that you were going out with her dad, she’d be thrilled to shoulder the responsibilities of a newborn for a single night, or, she could hate it… which was something you desperately tried not to think too hard about, for your sanity.

Needless to say, Husk was right, your daughter really brought the best out of your friends, as they melted in her vicinity. None of the residents at the hotel had any problem looking after the adorable little demon.

Charlie had stood quietly in the lobby, humming a tune as she rocked the baby softly in her arms. Vaggie stood beside her, tilting her head as Peaches’ eyelids began to droop at the gentle motions.

“They’re as cute as the ones in Heaven, maybe cuter,” The fallen angel spoke with a smile, her hand lifting towards the little girl’s head, before tiny fingers wrapped around a single digit and clamped tight.

“And strong too, wow,” She laughed, trying to gently dislodge her finger from the steel grip.

In the hallway behind them, you turned the corner into the lobby, anxiously fiddling with your appearance as you neared the trio. Dressed in a wine-red outfit, you stumbled slightly in your heels as you navigated over the plush carpet.

Finally, you were actually able to fit into fashionable attire. Your stomach was no longer inflated with an eight-pound baby, and the aching of your once swollen feet no longer bothered you to continue venturing the world in socks and flip-flops.

“You look really nice in that outfit!” Charlie beamed as she turned at the sounds of footsteps, and Vaggie nodded beside her. Your daughter’s eyes widened at the exclamation, before moving to your figure, tracking your figure as you joined them near the bar.

Angel Dust was lounging on a bar stool, swishing alcohol absentmindedly inside a martini glass as he scrolled on his phone. He glanced up at the sound of Charlie’s voice, before catching a glimpse of your outfit with a knowing smirk.

“Someone is dressin’ to impress,” he playfully nudged Husk’s shoulder over the bar counter, who turned his head from the bottles he was organizing to sneak a peek.

Everyone knew who you were trying to impress, and when you came back, they would no doubt prod you for any juicy details.

You stopped in front of Charlie, smiling as you adjusted your outfit again. You had spent the past few hours getting ready, which also included multiple outfit changes because you were never satisfied with your appearance. You needed to look good, really good if you were going on a date with the king.

Why would Lucifer want anything to do with you? You had nothing to offer, just tired eyes and a baby on your hip. There had to be better options, surely. Just because the man never went anywhere other than his manor and the hotel, didn’t mean there wasn’t a line of demons wanting to fill the place of Charlie’s mother.

Lilith. You tried desperately not to think of her, for your own self-esteem. You had seen pictures of her, in old magazines and glimpses of family portraits in Charlie’s room. Lucifer spoke of her when talking about his daughter’s childhood or humorous memories, but he seemed to keep the reminiscing of her specifically curt around you.

You struggled to understand why, did he think you’d react poorly to the mention of his ex-wife? Except, It wasn’t your place to act that way, though. She had been married to the king for thousands of years and was the mother of his child. She was the Queen of Hell for crying out loud! Not to mention, drop-dead gorgeous, had a fantastic voice, and cared deeply for her people’s wellbeing.

In comparison, you were a sad sack of potatoes. At least, in your opinion.

Self-conscious thoughts like these had slowly begun to fester during your early pregnancy, and peaked when your stomach resembled a watermelon, and, for some reason, it had decided to make a nest in your brain postpartum. Laying more seeds of anxiety and dejection deeper within your mind.

But, when Lucifer was around, it was like you could finally breathe again. His energy was warm and inviting, like taking a sip of the finest liquor and that buzz in your brain thirsting for more. It felt like snuggling your face into soft sheep's wool, nothing but comfort and relief from the harshness of the realm.

Even if the fallen angel was no longer welcomed inside Heaven’s gates, he still retained that ethereal grace that made you feel like you were committing the largest sin just by staring too hard at those soft lips of his.

The king cared about you, in a way nobody did. He was the only demon in your group who had any experience with raising a child, and he was your support when it came to understanding the same stages of parenthood you were currently going through. In a much lesser light, of course, he had never actually birthed a child and suffered the effects of such a–literal–mind altering experience.

Tonight, you’d be able to have Lucifer all to yourself, and you were determined to make the most of it.

You had held back from making any advances towards him for so long due to that golden band on his finger that glinted painfully in your eyes. A reminder of his attachment to his ex-wife, and the fragility of your close bond.

What if Lilith were to come back? Would he choose her, and distance himself from you? What of you then, being dragged by the heartstrings for so long just to have them snapped in your face at his rejection?

That thought had terrified you, so you kept your feelings hidden, and let Lucifer set the pace on how far things would go. You were determined to start changing that, starting tonight.

As you came to a halt in front of Charlie and Vaggie, your daughter cooed softly, and you reached out a hand to run gentle fingers across her cheek lovingly.

“Okay, I think I’ve got everything taken care of. Bottles in the fridge you just need to warm up, first aid kit in my room, and I’ll have my phone on ring in case there’s an emergency,” you nervously triple-recounted everything in your mind.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” Charlie sent you a confident nod of her head, her fingers tightening around your baby as her smile grew.

It is then you come to realize how good of a big sister the princess could make if she were to have a younger sibling. Your heart swelled at that, as you imagined your daughter at least finding companionship in the young woman. Charlie looked like she could really pull off a stellar children’s tea party.

“I know you do, you’re always so responsible,” you replied warmly, and the princess's eyes widened for a moment, before her lips upturned into a grateful smile as you lowered your hand from your daughter’s face.

“So, where are you going?” Vaggie inquired.

“I don’t know, he just told me to wait outside my balcony door. Which means I should probably head there now, if everything is fine out here.”

“We’re good, toots!” Angel Dust called from behind Charlie, throwing his head back before downing the rest of the liquor in his glass, “Go have some fun!”

You nodded, before wishing farewell to your daughter and the rest of the demons in the lobby before turning on your heel and heading back towards your room.

“I hope those two have fun,” Vaggie said as you disappeared around the corner.

“I have to use the bathroom, will you take Peaches for me?” Charlie turned towards her girlfriend, only for Angel Dust to shoot up from his seat with a large grin.

“I would like to hold the baby!” He strolled up to the duo, and Charlie glanced over to Vaggie, before shrugging and carefully holding the little girl towards the demon.

“C’mere, cutie!” Angel Dust beamed, arms outstretched to take the child as she kicked her feet in little baby glee.

“You love your uncle, Angel, dontcha’?” He cooed, lifting the baby with secure hands underneath her armpits, before he leaned in and rubbed noses.

Peaches sneezed, and Angel Dust positioned her to sit in his lap at the bar counter. Husk leaned across to get a better look, before taking a claw and reaching it towards the baby.

Gently, he squished her chubby arm, trailing down towards her hand. Husk didn’t have time to retract his claw, before a tiny hand wrapped around the cat’s finger and refused to let go.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” He grumbled as he allowed your daughter to stay latched onto his digit.

You had just made it inside your room, adjusting your appearance one final time as you reached the balcony doors. Grasping the handle, you pull it open to slip outside, the lights from the city illuminating the balcony’s white tiled floor.

You turned your head to search for the fallen angel, but he was nowhere in sight. Instead, you were left to twiddle your thumbs, eyes casting towards the demons strolling the streets down the hill in the neighborhood below.

Lucifer didn’t forget about the date… did he? He was getting much better at being on time, but you still could not help to worry.

“Hey.”

You jumped with a gasp, spinning to face the familiar voice. You had to grip the chair beside you to keep from stumbling in heels, your gaze lifting to meet those familiar, yellow eyes.

Lucifer was perched across from you on the balcony’s thin railing, one pair of his large wings stretched wide, throwing shadows across the tiles beneath your feet. The other two he kept folded at his sides, white against the crimson underbelly of his open wings.

They practically shimmered in the waning light, their shape and color unique to only one kind of being, an angel. Husk’s wings could not compare to the exotic beauty before you, and you struggled to keep eye contact with its owner as you examined the rare sight.

“Lucifer!” You scolded playfully, your eyes tracing across every feather that rustled slightly against the gentle breeze, “You scared me! What are you doing up there?”

“I apologize for the fright,” Lucifer chuckled, rising to his full height as he balanced across like a tightrope, closing the distance between the two of you, “I just thought I’d give you a peek of what tonight has to offer.”

His wings beat softly for balance, before they folded in slightly and the fallen angel lowered himself back to sit on his feet, smiling mischievously as he lowered a hand in a gesture for you to take.

“First, you should take off those heels. They look really nice, but I don’t think you’re going to be able to climb up here with them on.”

You furrowed your brows, suspicion in your gaze as he extended a hand for you to take. What was your darling king planning?

“Why exactly am I climbing onto the railing?” You kicked off your heels, and you shivered at the cold flooring against your skin.

Your bare feet planted on the cool tiles for a few moments, before your fingers laced with Lucifer’s, and he effortlessly lifted you to stand beside him.

“Well,” He started, his fingers brushing up your wrist to grip your forearm, before steadying you with a flap of his wings, “I just thought you wanted a better mode of transportation to our little dinner than walking in those stilettos.”

“And what ‘mode’ are we talking about here?” You turned to him with widening eyes, realization slowly dawning on you.

Lucifer’s grin only widened, and you gulped. He really was serious about taking an evening flight, and you mentally prepared yourself as your gaze lowered to the long drop beneath you. You steeled your gaze towards the fallen angel, who scooted even closer.

“Are you ready?” His honeyed voice whispered in your ear, and you felt like exploding at the feeling of his touch across your waist.

Were you? Never did you guess this was what he had planned, and never did you imagine finding yourself being able to travel with your feet off the ground. Adrenaline began to pump through your veins the longer you stood there in thought.

With one final deep breath, you moved your hands to grip tightly against Lucifer’s dress shirt, and nodded your approval. Lucifer’s hold on your waist tightened, and you screwed your eyes shut just as you felt him pull you forward and off the side of the railing.

The wind whipped past your ears, your eyelids still locked shut as you clamped your mouth shut to keep from screaming. The two of you were falling fast, and for a moment you imagined Lucifer unable to lift in time, and you’d become a splatter against the grass.

Instead, you heard his other two pairs of wings unfurl and spread above you, the thrumming of heavy flaps and the feeling of being lifted once more had you cracking an eye open. The wind whistled its natural tune, and your eyelids fluttered open to see your legs dangling beneath you.

You were very high up, as Lucifer glided across the outskirts of the city, those vibrant, flashing strobe lights that lit up the sky above V Tower passed in a multicolored blur.

You were flying! Free and uncaged from the stress back on the ground, that weightless feeling was something you’ve never experienced all your years in Hell. The adrenaline rush that hit your body had you laughing in the thrill as the fallen angel dipped and rolled. Cars passed below you, and you waved to the pedestrians walking on the streets underneath your feet, if they even noticed your presence.

“Having fun?” Lucifer called from above, and you cocked your head up to meet his playful gaze.

“More than I ever imagined!” You replied, the wind carrying your voice to the king’s ears.

“Good, now hang on!” He laughed, and his wings tightened against his body, causing the two of you to dive with greater speed towards the buildings below.

Your grip on Lucifer’s shirt tightened and he pulled you closer as he sped towards an illuminated rooftop below.

Rather carefully, your feet hit the cold bricks beneath, and Lucifer released his hold around your waist to land beside you. His wings folded against his back, and with a split-second flash of golden light, they completely vanished from his frame.

Lucifer began to walk toward the center of the rooftop, beckoning for you to join. Taking a few steps forward, your eyes follow his path, before widening at the scene.

Powerful magic had transformed the space into a romantic, candle-lit dinner right out of the movies. The string of bulbs that cast warm light across the small, cute table before you held an intimate glow, paired with the soft, classical tune that filled the air.

A single, elegantly shaped candle stands at the center, casting a warm, flickering light that dances across your face. The table was adorned with a lace-trimmed cloth fluttering gently in the breeze. On top, there's an assortment of delectable treats—cheeses, fruits, and a selection of fine chocolates.

The backdrop is breathtaking, with the city spread out below, its lights twinkling like stars in the distance. The distant hum of traffic and city life is a soothing contrast to the quiet rooftop ambiance.

Lucifer only smiles at you, before he pulls a chair slightly from the table and gestures for you to sit. You oblige, settling into the comfortable padded seat as he pushes the chair back in place.

He settled into the seat across from you, and you leaned over the table slightly to take a look at the charcuterie board lined with various cheese, meats, and chips. Your stomach growled, and you plucked a few items from the board and placed them on the white plate sitting before you.

“Is everything to your liking?” Lucifer hummed, as he popped a slice of prosciutto into his mouth, before meeting your gaze.

“This is really nice,” you smiled, lifting your eyes to trace the string of lights that zig-zagged across your head, “I had expected you to just take me to a fancy restaurant, not something like this.”

“I like the atmosphere of places like these much better. Less noisy and more.. personal,” he replied, lifting another meat slice to his lips “I just thought you needed time away from that suffocating little room, the both of us, really.”

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, this was very kind of you.”

Lucifer smiled softly, and heat spread across your face at his staring. You took another bite of cheese, and the king’s eyes flicked across the table and his brows furrowed.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something…” he started, rubbing his chin deep in thought, before his eyes widened as he perked, “That’s right, the wine! Waiter!”

The king snapped his fingers, and you turned your head in confusion. The rooftop was empty, save for the two of you, who could possibl–

Your thoughts were interrupted when footsteps echoed across the gravel, and a figure dressed in a black and white tuxedo strolled forward toward you. It was… another Lucifer, and your mouth dropped slightly at the familiar face, whose curly mustache bounced as he grinned.

A red bottle of wine materialized in the double’s hands, and with a loud pop the cork lid flew across the rooftop. Fizz spilled from the bottle for a few moments as the waiter stopped beside you. Lowering the bottom, he poured the empty glass in front of you to the brim, before standing straight once more.

“For you, ma chérie,” Lucifer #2 spoke with a perfect French accent, before bowing respectfully to you.

He sent you a playful wink as he slid over to your Lucifer’s side, and lowered the wine bottle. Lucifer watched his glass fill, before shooing away his double, who backed away from the table and vanished into the shadows.

You lift the wine glass to your lips, taking a long sip of the dark red liquor. Its rich, apple flavor danced on your tongue as warmth bloomed from your stomach.

“This is amazing! When you were talking about good wine, I didn’t think you meant this good,” you beamed, that buzz already tingling in your brain as you took another sip.

“An old recipe that’s been sitting in my cellar for, well… a few thousand years by now,” Lucifer swirled the wine in his glass, before lifting it to his lips.

As you nibble on the delicate offerings, conversation flows effortlessly between you both. The topics range from silly memories and active interests, punctuated by laughter and shared glances. Lucifer's eyes hold a warmth and depth that matches the glow of the candle, his demeanor a mix of confidence and vulnerability, as he shares with you details of his past.

Time seems to stand still as you savor each other's company, the burdens upon your shoulders vanishing for the moment, as you keep your gaze fixed on the gorgeous face across from you. The night feels infinite, filled with promise and the simple joy of being together.

Unfortunately, time passed much quicker than you hoped, as the sky above was blanketed in darkness at the late hour. Even with the giddy buzz from the wine, exhaustion was still creeping up your spine, and your eyelids were growing heavy.

Lucifer and you both stood at the same time, and when the king joined you at one end of the table, he lifted a hand toward you. It was a gesture for you to take, and when your eyes lowered, you found that the golden band usually around his finger was nowhere in sight.

Your eyes widened, and something stirred inside you. You didn’t waste any time in reaching forward and lacing your fingers with his, his touch soft and warmth bloomed from his fingertips.

What now? Should you just lean over and kiss him? No, not on the first date, that’s silly! It must have been the buzz of the wine making all those intrusive thoughts seem very logical as you locked eyes with the king for a few moments.

But… was it really the first date? Sure, you had never spent time together so.. intimately before, but he was there for you a lot during your pregnancy. Helped you cook, filled your day with entertainment, and cared for your health, all he did by choice.

Which is why you felt so weird asking for his help now, he had already done so much, any more and you’d feel utterly… useless.

It seemed like Lucifer wanted to say something, his brows furrowed slightly, lips moving as if he was just moments from speaking. He held his tongue though, sighing softly in the breeze as he turned his head towards the vibrant cityscape.

You followed his gaze, glimpsing the large, digital billboards a few streets away depicting lude models and VoxTek advertisements.

“Are you sure you’re doing okay, with the baby and everything? You know you can always ask me for help, right?” Lucifer's words caught you off guard, and your head turned to meet his gaze.

Was he catching onto how much you were really struggling? You bit your lip, mind racing. You had tried so hard to seem normal, but the truth was, you felt like a different person after your baby. These emotions that refuse to leave you in peace were only creating a deeper divide between you and everyone else.

Your daughter was beautiful, and you loved her so much. But, she was still a mentally draining, constantly hungry being that begged for your attention 24/7 in the form of harsh, deafening wails. It seemed to be improving, hopefully.

“I think so,” you answered honestly, using your free hand to rub your shoulder soothingly, “It was tough for a while, but I think whatever has been bothering her is going away. Everything should be much smoother from here on out.”

Lucifer looked at you for another moment, as if he was finding it hard to believe you. He didn’t press further, instead giving your hand a supportive squeeze before tugging

“Ready for round two?” He smiled, his wings unfurling from behind his back as stepped onto the edge of the roof beside him.

You only laughed as he pulled you close to him and the two of you fell off the side of the building. Lucifer’s wings stretched wide as they lifted the two of you towards the sky, your worries in the wind once more.

You should have knocked on wood when you told Lucifer your daughter’s crying fits were improving, because only a few days later, it was quite the opposite. Peaches has been overcome with another intense round of colic, and her screams bounced across the bedroom as you rocked her gently in your arms.

You had spent the past hour trying to soothe her cries, to no avail. Tears pricked at your eyes as you lifted a binkie towards her mouth, it took a few moments for the little girl to even notice her outburst, before she clamped her mouth around it and began to suckle.

Her crying turned to whimpers, which soon faded into sniffles as she suckled on the pacifier. You exhaled a sigh of relief, as you slowly lowered her into the red bassinet beside you. Carefully, you positioned her comfortably on the plush bedding, placing a small blanket snugly around her toes to keep her from waking from the cold, before you straightened again.

What could she possibly be feeling that you were unable to help her through? You weren’t telepathic, and the mystery was only driving you mad.

You needed fresh air, and your daughter’s wails were finally silenced long enough to be able to disappear for a few minutes and recollect yourself. With caution, you took quiet steps across the room towards the balcony doorways that were concealed behind dark red curtains. Slowly, you reached through the thick fabric to grasp at the handle, before pulling it open just a crack to slip through.

The door closed softly behind you with a barely audible click, and that large breath held in your lungs finally expelled with a heavy sigh, heavy with emotions you so desperately wanted to release from your mind in any way possible. If it meant collapsing to the ground and flooding the balcony with the outpour of unsung frustrations.

You felt so useless. Your daughter was in some kind of misery, and the effects of the constant jump to tears were starting to take a noticeable effect on the infant. She just seemed so tired, practically pleading for you to end whatever misery she could possibly be facing.

You were at your wit's end, and you stared out into the distance, your breath quickening as tears threatened to fall. You just needed some time alone, time to think, and maybe, just maybe, it was time to ask for hel–

“Boo!” A sudden voice near your ear pulled you back into reality, and your heart slammed into your chest.

This time you screamed, your back hitting the railing as you quickly pivoted to find Lucifer, perched atop the railing once more. His wings were gone now, and his smile was wide as he landed on the tile next to you.

“Ha! I got you good, didn’t I?” Lucifer laughed, and you tensed at the volume.

“Shhh!” You hissed, placing a finger to your lips and Lucifer froze.

“Sorry…” He grimaced, glancing at the glass doorway before taking a step closer toward you, "is she asleep?”

“Yes, I’ve been trying to get her to settle down all day… she’s been really fussy and it’s been hard,” you sighed, turning your head slightly to hide the emotion building on your face.

“Oh, I had no idea. I just swung by to ask you something, but I see you're a little preoccupied at the moment,” Lucifer chuckled nervously, concern written across his features at your glistening eyes and quivering frown.

You were having trouble containing all the horrible things you were feeling, and your body began to react to the pressure that was threatening to burst inside of you. Inhaling a shaking breath, you crossed your arms and held them close to your chest, your heart beating rapidly.

“Hey... are you okay?” You felt a hand softly grasp your forearm, and that warm touch was what had you coming undone before the king.

Tears poured down your cheeks, your body shaking with sobs as you slammed a hand over your mouth to hold back the anguished, raw sounds that were begging to be set free.

You felt utterly exposed, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t allowed yourself to be in a really long time. The weight of your emotions crashed over you like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf you in its depth.

You felt a hand soothingly rub circles into your back, another one on your forearm as the king tried his best to show his support through silent gestures. You choked back another sob, straightening in embarrassment and you regained control of your composure.

“I’m sorry,” you finally whispered, face twisting as you tried to compose yourself, “I’m trying to be a good mother, but it must be obvious how terrible of one I am.”

“What? Don’t say that!” Lucifer shook his head quickly, lips curving into a nervous smile as he spoke, “You’re doing a great job, nobody thinks otherwise.”

“I’m sure,” you replied bitterly, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Times like these can be really hard, I understand how you fee–”

“You don’t, though!” You snapped, lifting a hand to harshly rub your face free of the river running down your cheeks.

“Okay, maybe that's true, but I'm just worried about you, you’ve been—!”

Crying erupted from behind the door, and Lucifer’s mouth clamped shut at the sudden interruption. You jumped at the noise, one hand quickly reaching backward to grasp at the doorknob.

“I’m sorry, she’s crying again and I need to go. If you want to help so badly, come back another time!” the words spilled from your lips in a single breath, and your body moved past the threshold of the doorway as you turned away from the fallen angel.

“Wait! Please let me-!”

The door locked into place, ceasing the desperate words from the other side. You couldn’t bear to listen any longer, embarrassed by your childish outburst of emotions.

Resting your forehead against the wooden surface, you squeezed your eyes shut, collecting yourself. Your daughter screamed for you across the room, only intensifying the ringing in your ears and pushing the tears to spill faster down your cheeks.

You saw Lucifer’s shadow behind the curtains for a few moments longer, before his silhouette backed away and disappeared over the railing. You rubbed a hand across your face as your daughter screamed, growling at yourself before you stalked towards the crib.

It had only been a few days later, when you heard your daughter's whimpers begin from across the room in her red bassinet sometime in the very early morning hours. You groaned, so comfortable in your nest of pillows and weighted blankets to heed her noisy demands.

You were exhausted, and for once there had been hope that you’d catch a few more hours before having to awake. Peaches wasn’t crying, though, not like her usual wails. You were still in the clutches of sleep, and your consciousness was drifting in and out, and the sounds around you were dampened by the dreamy state.

Then, something else joined the soft whimpers, a faint voice that had you stirring awake with heavy eyelids and sliding the plush covers from your figure. A rich, melodious tone hit your ears, delicate and soothing in the night.

It sounded… like a violin. It was hauntingly beautiful, a lone siren in the stillness as it lulled your daughter into a deep sleep.

You lifted yourself from the warmth of the sheets, the cold air kissing your bare skin as you slid to the edge of your bed, eyes squinted to see through the darkness towards the corner. In the maroon lighting that escaped through a slit between the curtains of the balcony doors, you could make out some shadowed figure hunched slightly above the crib, your view limited by the small dining table in between you and the stranger.

Quietly, you slid over to the edge of the bed, before planting your feet softly against the plush rug underneath. You took careful steps as you snuck around the table in the center of your room, the music growing louder as you neared the bassinet.

Slowly, you peeked from behind the dining chair, your gaze followed the dappled, red light from the curtains, as they lit the features of a familiar, pearlescent skin with a ruby-like glow.

Lucifer.

His movements were graceful, like a swan, as he slid the bow across the strings, which glowed a subtle golden light as the heavenly melody left the instrument and filled your body with awe. His gaze fixed on the tiny figure nestled inside the crib, his features concentrated as he continued to play.

You only watched, silent as the lullaby began to damper, and the bow’s movements slowed. Soon, the music ceased, and Lucifer lowered the bow to his lap as he took a seat on a sofa behind him wearing a satisfied expression. Your heart swelled with emotion at the realization of the love behind his actions, and you took another step forward.

“Lucifer?”

The king jumped at your voice, his fingers tightening around the instrument in his hold as he slowly turned his head with a large, innocent grin.

“Heyyyyy,” Lucifer replied awkwardly, lowering the violin from his shoulder, and setting it down onto the cushion beside him.

The fallen angel met your gaze once more with an apologetic smile, rubbing his neck uneasily. He was trying to quiet without waking you, which he did the opposite, and it was rather awkward with his intrusion to soothe your daughter. You quietly moved forward, closing the distance between the two of you he chuckled nervously.

“I’m sorry for not announcing my presence, you told me to come back another time, then I just heard her crying and–”

Lucifer’s words caught in his throat, pupils dilating as your fingers came up to slowly brush across his chin, before settling to gently cup his cheek. Your thumb softly grazed across those red cheeks of his, and the tension in the fallen angel’s limbs subsided at your caring touch.

You didn’t know what had come upon you, but the craving to be close to this pure-intentioned being, in a literal and figurative sense, outweighed any thoughts of keeping your feelings at bay anymore.

“Why are you so good to me?” You whispered, lips beginning to quiver.

Lucifer’s gaze softened, and he melted in your palm. Warmth spread across your fingers, easing the ache in your muscles and deep in your bones, as euphoria overcame you.

“Because you’re one of the only good things left in my life,” he replied, his voice tight with emotion, as if he was choking back tears, “You, Charlie, and…”

Lucifer trailed off as his eyes lowered to your sleeping daughter, adoration in his gaze. It was pure love, the kind that lasted for an eternity. Your heart swelled at that, and lifting a hand to his other cheek, you cupped his face and smiled warmly.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Kiss me? Well–ha–I don’t find anything wrong with tha–” Lucifer’s stammered reply was cut off once more as you pulled him forward into your embrace.

You pressed your lips to his, they were warm and soft, and you drank in the sweetness of Lucifer’s aroma, nibbling slightly at his bottom lip. You felt his hands slide to your waist, before grasping gently and pulling you flush against his chest.

Lucifer leaned backward slowly, his back hitting the support of the sofa and you shifted to fully rest against him, your lips moving to delicately graze across his chin, and you felt his heart quicken at the touch.

Lucifer’s breath hitched slightly as your lips traced along his jawline, you lingered for a moment, feeling the warmth of his breath on your cheek. His hands, still at your waist, tightened ever so slightly. The softness of his lips beckoned, and you closed the remaining distance, meeting in a tender, lingering kiss.

Your eyelids were heavy, and you slowly broke the kiss and let your head fall into the warmth of the fallen angel's chest, tightening your hold around him and snuggling closer.

“Thank you, for putting her to sleep,” you murmured into Lucifer’s shirt, before feeling claws slide up to your back, caressing the area softly as he hummed a reply.

The two of you embraced silently, lost in the intimacy as you listened to the gentle thrum of his heart, and he continued drawing circles in your back with pleasurable movements. You felt yourself drifting into slumber once more, and your breath slowed as you heeded your body’s exhausted demands.

“You should come stay at my manor,” Lucifer whispered above you, his chin resting gently against the top of your head.

Your eyelids fluttered open at that, sleep in the back of your mind at his words as you lifted your head to meet his gaze with a raised, disbelieving brow.

“What?”

Lucifer’s lips tightened, and his eyes bounced across the room as he struggled to formulate a response.

“Well, I–I mean, it would be a lot better than staying here, right? I could hire you as my… private chef! That way, you would make your own money to support yourself. You could even have a whole wing of the manor if you wanted, also a big nursery, a private kitchen, and a master bedroom as big as this entire living space!”

Your mouth opened slightly, head spinning. Live in the same house as Lucifer? The royal manor to call home? Probably the most luxurious and non-hellish place to exist in all the seven rings? He sounded completely serious, and you never expected him to make such a bold offer. You’d also be able to support yourself independently by working as Lucifer’s ‘private chef’, save for the free room and board.

“And, of course, you get to permit who comes and goes in that area, so if you wanted to keep everyone, including me, out…you could do that, too.”

Lucifer’s tone sank slightly as those words left his lips, and your brows furrowed in thought.

“We’ll you give me time to think about it?” You asked slowly.

“Of course!” Lucifer nodded with a satisfied smile, content you were even considering his sudden proposition, “Take all the time you need.”

The two of you fell back into comfortable silence, and stayed locked in an embrace for the rest of the morning, and the crimson light peeking through the curtains began to lighten with the coming dawn. Even as you drifted into sleep, Lucifer’s words lingered in your mind as you slipped from consciousness.

They continued to linger the following evening, as you spilled your heart out to Angel Dust at the bar, your face in your hands as you recalled verbatim. He sipped from his glass of alcohol, lips set in thought as he listened intently.

Out of everyone in the hotel, you didn’t know why you went to Angel for advice, especially in dealing with romance, but you told him everything nonetheless. About going to live with Lucifer, all the help he’s been to you thus far, and the encounter with him earlier. You even gave him a brief glimpse into the… physical intimacy the two of you also had shared earlier.

“I think ya should do it,” Angel Dust said after a few moments of silence, downing the remaining liquor in his glass, before turning to you. You lifted your head from your hands, you met his gaze with surprise written across your features.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, placing one hand supportively on your shoulder as he continued, “Now I ain’t tryna be mean to ya, but… the hotel was a great place for you before the baby, but with our track record with keeping this place from being attacked by thugs and angels, it mayyy not be so good for the actual baby. Ya get me?”

You took a sip of the water in front of you, nodding slowly as the answer you had been searching for finally settled on your shoulders. You turned to face the spider demon, your lips curving into a small frown and he tilted his head at you.

“I’m really going to miss you guys,” you murmured, rubbing your hands together self-soothing.

“Oh, you’re gonna make me cry, toots! C’mere!,” Angel Dust wrapped all four arms around you, and you returned the embrace with a tight grip.

And wow, his fuzz was soft. You finally understood the appeal as you held your friend close. Even though in retrospect you had only known the porn star for a short amount of time, the bond you shared was heartwarming and kind. One of the few relationships of Angel’s that didn’t devolve into debauchery and drugs.

Two hours later, you stood in front of Charlie, hands once again rubbing together in an attempt to soothe the nerves that were making it difficult to hold eye contact with the princess as you filled her in on the decision regarding your future. You planned to move into the manor, and raise the baby in a place that most resembled a home, instead of growing up in a hotel room.

“You’re going to go live with my dad?” She asked slowly, her brows furrowed at your words.

You tensed. Was she apprehensive of the idea?

“Yes, but it’s nothing crazy like I’m getting with your dad or anything… haha.. yeah,” you trailed off, because you were feeling like that may turn out to be untrue sooner than later.

At least, you hoped they did. For now, it was just something along the lines of roommates, even with how silly that sounded in your head.

“Well…” She began, rubbing her chin in thought, and sweat beaded down your forehead as she continued, “I think… it's a wonderful idea! I really enjoyed growing up there, and I’m sure your daughter would too!”

Phew. You exhaled a sigh of relief, the tension leaving your body and your shoulders relaxed.

With Charlie’s blessing, it was all you needed to give Lucifer the news. He practically jumped for joy as you gave him your answer, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

“I have to baby-proof the whole place beforehand!” he had proclaimed, racing around the makeshift room he had been staying in the past few days as he grabbed his cane.

“She won’t even be able to crawl for a while longer,” you had laughed with a raised brow.

“I can’t afford anything less than perfect,” Lucifer shook his head, grabbing his coat and hat to get everything ready as soon as possible, “Don’t worry, I’ve got the power of creation, remember? It’ll only be a jiffy.”

The king had literally exploded into a burst of confetti, a sizzle of magic zapping him out of the room and away to the manor. You had blinked, the colored paper mache settling on your shoulders as you turned towards the hallway.

It seemed like the only thing that was left was to start packing, and so away you worked for the next few hours.

Peaches was swaddled tightly against your chest in a makeshift baby wrap, made from a sheet of fabric that held her close and secure to you while you placed clothes and other items into organized boxes.

Lucifer had been back in a jiffy, appearing at your door right as you finished stuffing everything away into storage. It took a snap of his finger for all of your things to go poof in a cloud of red smoke, and the king had summoned a limo to take the three of you back to the manor, since traveling with magic was risky with an infant.

You had stood on the front steps of the hotel, trying to contain the tears as you wished farewell to your friends. They watched you leave with furrowed brows, and Charlie had even sniffled once as you and your daughter climbed into the white vehicle.

“Come by and visit us sometime!” Charlie called as the limo pulled off from the curve and you leaned out the window for a final wave as the hotel disappeared from view.

When you arrived at that glittering, white, and gold royal home, you were met with tall, imposing statues depicting regal figures from centuries past, their stony gazes fixed upon the entrance. As the limo pulled up to the front steps, you noticed the large gardens surrounding the manor, each flower seemingly in perfect bloom despite the season. Fountains sprayed later spouts of water up in the air, before cascading down into glittering pools.

“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Lucifer had smiled as you took your tour around the premises, examining the once-neatly trimmed bushes that lined the place.

There were no imp servants, or attendees at all really, which explained why the place was beginning to look overgrown by the hellish flora. Large red vines climbed up the manor’s side, a few even weaved across large panes of glass, windows that would have once offered a beautiful sight.

It appeared the current homeowner was not doing a very good job maintaining the place, and you weren’t going to let this place rot any longer. You’d have to add landscaping to the job description when you felt good enough to do such heavy tasks.

Right as you stepped through those large, golden doors, you were greeted with crystal chandeliers that illuminated a giant corridor. Plush, red carpet met your feet as you a few more steps inside, your eyes tracing over the array of paintings and sculptures lining the walls, along with a few family portraits and other elegant decor.

It was clear that the interior was designed by the women of the house, the lack of circus decor even prevalent inside the Hazbin Hotel was nowhere in sight. As you followed Lucifer down the hallway, you guessed his withdrawals had given him no strength to change the house to his liking. You stepped through a tall, open doorway into what seemed to be a parlor.

Lucifer paused, turning to you with a warm smile as you joined him with your daughter in your arms inside the living space. You took in the sight of velvet couches circling a large fireplace and a small bar snug against the opposite wall, bottles of liquor lining the racks behind the counter.

"Welcome home," he said, his voice soft as he turned. Peaches cooed softly, seemingly content in the entrancing, shiny surroundings. You followed Lucifer down another large corridor, and he began to give a proper tour of the residency.

You didn’t realize how big this place really was until he showed you the third parlor in the house. This one had more tables, seemingly for dining primarily, but with a similar fireplace nestled in one of the walls near two, red armchairs.

When Lucifer said you’d have large, private areas, you assumed he was just being generous and giving you some of his dwellings. Now, you knew that wasn’t the case, as there was definitely enough for the both of you between three large bathrooms, five bedrooms, and two dining rooms.

It took a few days to settle in, as Lucifer helped you unpack your things with easy magic and you found renewed energy in making the nursery perfect for your daughter.

It was clear, from day one, that the two of you weren’t going to be just roommates, when you found yourself stealing kick kisses from him as you organized the nursery, or when his hand found your waist as you rocked Peaches to sleep in your arms some days. Some nights, you found yourself playfully bantering with the fallen angel in front of the fireplace, a glass of wine in your hands as gentle music played in the back.

Lucifer’s presence and companionship seemed to be what you needed for your emotions to begin to stabilize, along with the fact that you had practically an entire mansion to yourself, instead of sharing the living areas with a large group of demons like back at the hotel.

The king wasn’t holed up in his home all the time anymore, as he joined his daughter in promoting the hotel and actually making an effort to go to a meeting here and there. He had a purpose now, and you noticed that subtle ethereal radiance that lined his figure began to glow brighter with each passing day.

Lucifer’s social battery was still adjusting to the changes in his daily routines, and some nights he’d return with heavy eyelids and sluggish steps, as if he had returned from a battle against Heaven.

You had been sitting in the front parlor one cozy night, a book in your hand as you waited for the king’s return. He usually wasn’t gone so long, and the dinner you had made had gone cold, so all there was to do was sit around and wait.

Your daughter’s colic seemed to have tapered off by now, as it has already been a few weeks since you arrived at the manor. This was a relief, and you found yourself sleeping much longer, your energy and patience naturally returning.

That fear of being useless began to dissipate, now that you were able to enjoy time in the kitchen, testing out new receipts for Lucifer as his chef. He paid you very handsomely, even though you rarely did cook as you recovered from postpartum and kept busy with the baby.

You didn’t complain though, it was nice to see a paycheck that could actually cover all your groceries and bills, if you actually paid any of the bills around here... did Lucifer even have bills?

Your thoughts were cut off when the sound of heeled boots thumped across the corridor right outside the room, and the book in your hands lowered to the coffee table in front of you.

Lucifer kicked off his boots at the door to the parlor, his hooves meeting the carpet as they dragged towards the couch you were lazing on. His blonde was hair disheveled, and some of the gold buttons on his vest were unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of what lay below his collarbone.

He looked exhausted, his eyes tiredly frog-blinking as he fell against the cushions beside you, before exhaling a long, drawn-out sigh.

“Rough day?” You whispered softly, and he turned his head slightly to face you.

“Just.. a lot,” was Lucifer’s response, his eyelids fluttering close for a few moments as he drank in the warmth from the crackling fire nearby.

You watched the fallen angel for a few more moments, his breath rising and falling slowly as he relaxed. His skin practically glowed against the soft colors thrown across the room from the dancing flames. A thought crossed your mind, and hesitantly, you reached a hand to Lucifer’s shoulder.

You felt him tense slightly from your touch, before relaxing slowly as you gripped his shoulder and forearm and began tugging him to lay down against you. He turned his head, raising a brow as he began to lean against you.

“Come here,” you smiled warmly, as you pulled him to fall over against you.

Lucifer’s head softly landed on your lap, his face upturned towards the ceiling as you smiled down at him. He watched the orange light reflect against your skin, enhancing your already perfect features.

You lifted a hand towards his face, before you began to gently brush your fingers through his hair. Your nails grazed against the king’s scalp and a satisfied sigh left his lips. A hum reached his ears, as you quietly filled the room, with the soft tune.

Something stirred inside the king, and emotions began bubbling up into his throat, and he could barely contain them as his lips parted.

“Can I tell you something?” Lucifer whispered after a moment.

“Of course,” you nodded, tilting your head down to him.

“I think… that I’m in love with you.”

Those words had your hands stilling against his scalp, and your breath hitched.

Lucifer in love with you?

Oh, the joy you felt, at finally hearing those words you only had dreamed of for so long. Your grin spreading ear to ear as heat crept across your cheeks.

“Oh, you silly man,” you laughed softly down to the nervous face in your lap, before you gripped Lucifer by the collar and pulled him up from your lap.

You leaned down and pressed your lips softly to his, and the king rose the rest of the way on his own. He pulled you against him, as his back hit the cushions and you pivoted to straddle him as the kiss deepened.

Lucifer’s arms were snaked around your waist, and your hands cupped both sides of his face as the two of you were lost in this intimate, quiet moment of affection finally revealed.

Time flew by fast after that, once your daily routines began to settle into place. Lucifer began to step in more in raising the baby, and sometimes you’d find your daughter in his arms, and a sweet, soothing tune coming from his lips.

You’d stand there, leaning against the nursery doorway as you watched with a warm smile. Peaches was beginning to like–no, love him. You could tell when she started to let him dress her up without her usual stink eye. She was now able to sit up and speak in her own, unique form of baby talk.

“Stop moving,” You had heard Lucifer laugh one day from inside the large bedroom, “You’re making this harder than it needs to be!”

A string of incomprehensible sounds followed, high-pitched babbling from the tiny figure in response.

“Hey, don’t give me attitude, missy!” You heard playful chastising from the king, and you turned into the doorway to see his back towards you, as he kneeled over your daughter.

Her tiny legs kicked in protest as he wrangled something onto her, and you took a few steps into the room before announcing your presence.

“Lucifer…?” You started, nearing the bed.

He jumped at your voice, before pivoting to face you with an innocent smile. Your daughter was visible now, some kind of bright yellow fabric around her head and hugging the rest of her body.

“Hey! Don’t mind us, we're just testing something!” Lucifer’s smile widened.

“Testing what?” You asked with a smile.

Lucifer’s smile turned playful as he turned back to your daughter and lifted her towards you, and your eyes widened.

Peaches was dressed in a fuzzy, yellow duck onesie. Its head was designed into a hood that was pulled over her head, the orange beaking sticking out and resting slightly on her forehead. She babbled something incoherent with an open, gummed smile, something probably along the lines of ‘Look! Don’t I look so gosh darn cute?’

“I pulled out some of Charlie’s baby clothes from storage, and funny enough they fit Peaches just fine,” Lucifer continued, placing his cheek against your daughter’s and rubbing it affectionately with puckered lips, “She is so adowable in her wittle onesie, huh?”

“Yes, she is!” You cooed, leaning forward to pinch one of her cheeks with a grin.

The three of you were beginning to turn into a proper family, and it became obvious when Lucifer started making breakfast for the three of you in the early mornings, despite paying you for such tasks.

“You know that's my job, right?” You quirked a brow as Lucifer stood in front of the stone, flipping large, fluffy pancakes in a pan, before placing them upon a steaming pile of deliciousness.

“You have days off, don’t you?” He hummed in response, turning off the stove and sliding the plate into his hands, “Will you grab the syrup for me, please?”

You opened the cupboards nearby, grabbing the large bottle of syrup as you followed him toward the dining area, your daughter playing with a rattle on the floor near the long table. She was able to crawl now, a speedy little demon that took off as soon as you turned the other way.

Luckily, Lucifer had baby gates to help with that, and now she was easily confined into any room for fear of escaping. Her tiny stomach growled and she lifted her gaze from the toy as you and Lucifer stepped over the gate.

Peaches squealed with happiness, and began to crawl towards you, her hands plapping against the tile as she moved. She slowed right next to the last dining chair at the table, before her head lifted to examine it for a moment.

Your daughter began to lift herself onto two feet as she gripped the dining chair’s leg. She was getting good at standing by herself, but she had never managed to successfully step forward and not flop back onto her butt.

You set the syrup on the dining table, ignoring her movements as first as you helped set the table. It wasn’t until you turned to place her into the high chair, did you watch your daughter’s foot begin to lift.

Peaches took one step forward, wobbling slightly as she tried to regain balance. Your mouth dropped, and your arm reached out to grip the back of Lucifer’s shirt and tug him beside you.

“What’s going on, why are yo–” Lucifer froze beside you, as your daughter lifted the other foot and took another wobbly step forward.

She had never remained on two feet for this long, and she didn’t look like she was stopping yet. Lucifer quickly lowered onto his knees, and you joined him as he stretched out his arms.

“Peaches, come on!” He called to the little girl, who was only a foot away from the two as she smiled at the fallen angel and took another step closer.

You joined him, cheering for your daughter as she took another step, and another, and then she reached out her little arms towards the two of you. She took the final step, before she lost total balance and fell forward.

The both of you jumped forward and embraced Peaches at once, the three of you in a tight huddle of affection as your daughter giggled against your chest.

You peppered kisses against her forehead, tears pricking at your eyes as you lifted them to meet Lucifer’s gaze. His eyes were glistening as well, and you leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his lips, your smile large and brilliant.

It was clear now, that your little family had grown to include another, and you were so thrilled it was Lucifer. Your ex, and the fears that came with his betrayal began to dissipate from your mind, and a tear rolled down your cheek in happiness.

From that day on, you promised to make sure that your little girl would always have a father in her life, although it seems like you’ve already found the one who would cherish her for the rest of eternity.

“Psst, Mom!”

You grumbled incoherently, still in the clutches of sleep as the voice rudely interrupted the nice dream you had been having in the early hours of the morning.

“Moooooommmm, wake up!”

You stirred awake at the voice hissing in your ear, your eyes fluttering open inside the dark master bedroom of the manor. Someone was standing right in front of you, a short figure tapping her foot impatiently as you lifted your head from the pillows.

The room was still covered in blackness, the morning light unable to escape through the blackout curtains blanketing the large bedroom. You could see the outline of a small figure in the shadows at the edge of your bed, illuminated by the open doorway behind her.

“What is it, baby?” You rubbed your tired eyes, turning to face your daughter.

Peaches was much older now, the name long outgrown her as she aged from toddler, to child, to girl. She resembled a nine year old now, that cute baby fat gone from her limbs, and her chubby little cheeks beginning to sharpen into gorgeous features.

“Can I go with Charlie to the mall? She said she’ll pick me up in an hour if that’s okay.”

Charlie and your daughter had been doing everything together lately, which you guessed was because of the older woman’s joy in having a little sister she could take under her wing. They may not be related by blood, but nobody could tell the difference with the bond those two shared.

Peaches often assisted her at the now-bustling hotel, learning how to best help the inhabitants of Hell through the teachings of her sisterly figure.

“Sure, tell Charlie I said hi,” you nodded with a smile, and your daughter bounced giddily on her toes.

“Yay! Thank you, mom!” She lowered her face down to leave a quick kiss on your cheek, wrapping her arms around your neck for a tight hug before backing away, “I Love you, see you later!”

You watched her rush out of the room with a slip in her step, the door closing softly behind her.

“What was all that about?” A voice tiredly mumbled beside you, and warm arms snaked around your waist.

You laid your head back against the pillow, repositioning your body to face toward the naked figure beside you.

“She just wanted to go out and have some fun with Charlie,” you replied to the tired, pearly face before you, his blonde hair disheveled around him as he blinked the sleep away with a yawn.

“Those two are like glue, nowadays,” your husband, Lucifer, yawned, pulling you flush against his bare chest in one smooth motion.

You snuggled your face into the crook of his neck, placing wet kisses across his skin, earning a pleasurable noise from his throat.

“Should we get up and make some breakfast?” You asked into his skin.

“Five more minutes,” you heard him mutter, as he rubbed his cheek against yours affectionately.

That gives me five more minutes to think about how lucky I am to have you by my side.

“Okay,” you smiled softly, placing a loving kiss against his forehead before snuggling closer, “Five more minutes.”

woah lots of emotions in this one, good thing everything worked out in the end, eh? the art was done by indxlulu over on twt, go check out some of their other work!

what did you think? let me know! <3

tags 🏷️

@ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home @helluvapoison @th3-st4r-gur1 @concentratedconcrete @cimadreamer @marsenbie @guacam011y @maxiskindahere @purplerose291 @fictional-character-whore @0willowwisp0 @yourlocalgoldenretrieverboy @wpdarlingpan @halo-balo @chipper-chip @lvstyangel @acrazyartist @midorichoco @xoxohugslove @ivebeenthearchersstuff @indestructeible @otherthoughtsofbu

#hazbin hotel #hellaverse #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar x mama!reader #lucifer morningstar x momma!reader

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strangersmunsons · 10 months

Text

read 'em and weep

you and Eddie meet at the library. he’s smitten.

Contains: Eddie x Reader, bookworm!reader, lovesick!Eddie, reader gives Eddie book recommendations. No mention of reader’s physical appearance, no use of y/n. Warnings: brief mention of loneliness & negligence in Eddie’s childhood. Word Count: ~2.2k it's my hope to make this a little series! i think eddie is def a bookish guy - no lord of the rings quoting, metal head dungeon master hates reading. he would certainly be open to any fantasy/horror recs you had for him! <3

Indiana. 1989.

Hawkins Library sees a lot of action in the summer.

They offer a wide variety of youth programs to keep the local kids busy and the parents sane while school is out. One of the main events is Saturday Story Time, a beloved weekly staple that you have recently been tasked with putting on.

It’s simple. You gather a number of books, usually with a common theme, and then read a select few to the children who had signed up for the day. Most of the kids in attendance are no older than six or so, with some parents even pulling up chairs to the back so they can sit with infants cradled in their arms. The older ones sit criss-cross-applesauce on carpet squares in front of you, their chubby faces alight with giggles as you recount each silly, fantastical story with all the spirit you can muster.

And then there’s always an accompanying arts and crafts project, of course. If you read The Very Hungry Caterpillar then, naturally, you have to make little googly-eyed caterpillars out of popsicle sticks and colorful pom-poms. You don’t make the rules.

If trouble occurs during Story Time, it’s usually in this phase. (Giving paste to toddlers is always a gamble – you never know what they’re gonna do with that.)

And on this particular morning, it’s been chaos from start to finish. A whopping eighteen kids had signed up, and you stretched yourself pretty thin trying to attend to everyone.

One of the babies spit up directly onto the little girl sitting in front of him and his mother. Someone slipped on their carpet square and fell harshly to the floor, earning a bruised elbow that you gently fussed over. You wrangled a pair of twins who fought bitterly over a bottle of Elmer’s glue. There were three individual running-with-scissors-scares and, finally, you spent a good ten minutes soothing one sobbing child with whom there was nothing apparently wrong with, and that you suspected was just in need of a good cry.

So yeah, it was basically pandemonium.

But eventually, to your great relief, things wound down. The audience dispersed, with their handmade goods clutched in sticky fists, and went to peruse the glossy line of picture books you put out for display. Within the next hour or two, everyone traded the cool darkness of the library for buttery sunshine, and all was quiet again. You waved cheerfully to the last parent-child duo as they made their exit, promising them that there’d be a fun activity next weekend too.

You love these storytime sessions, you really do, but sheesh. Sometimes they run you ragged. With the havoc of the morning finally over, and the promise of lunch in your near future, you try to shake off the weariness, and instead take it upon yourself to clean up the disorganized mess someone’s made of the horror section.

You’re going about your work, tongue poking out in concentration as you strain to reach the really high shelves, when you notice someone standing in your peripheral vision. You turn and glance at him, or at least, what you can see of him. He’s half-hidden by the shelf behind you, but you catch sight of brown hair and denim.

A pale face appears on a craned neck from around the corner. His dark eyes meet yours, widen slightly when he sees that you’ve caught him lurking, and he abruptly disappears again.

You purse your lips to hide your smile. This isn’t uncommon; such moments often occur when you’re cleaning up a section of books someone is hoping to sift through. In a small act of kindness, you move over to the neighboring shelf and look for something to busy yourself with; trying to give the guy a chance to browse without having to ask you to step aside.

He doesn’t emerge. You wait, expecting to sense him passing by you, but no dice. It’s amusing to think that someone might be frightened to approach you (You? Really?) but you can’t help feeling sorry that you were in his way.

The rest of your shift is rather uneventful. At the end of the day, you punch out and head home, the stranger behind the shelf forgotten.

When you come back to work on Monday, it’s much quieter than the last morning you’d been in. You greet your coworkers and set up shop at the front desk, opening up a book of your own to pass the time until someone needed assistance.

You’ve been reading for about half an hour when the big double doors open up for the day’s first visitor, the sound echoing loudly in the silent, spacious room. You look up in interest, ready to greet the person with a warm smile.

“Good morning!” you softly call out as he comes into view. He walks slowly towards you, shoes scuffing the checkered tile with each step. As he comes nearer, you can see that he’s biting his lip, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, the gesture oozing self-consciousness. He only makes eye contact with you for a second before his gaze flits away again.

He’s pretty conspicuous-looking to be approaching the desk with such hesitance, you think. He has dark hair that hangs in slightly-scraggly curls down to his chest, and huge dark eyes. The pale skin of his arms, sticking out from within a denim vest/Judas Priest t-shirt combo, are littered with tattoos.

He pauses a few feet away from you, like he’s debating whether he wants to stop and chat, or to simply veer off towards the bookshelves and start browsing. Ultimately he decides to shuffle forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

“Hi there. What can I do for you?” you ask, voice gentle but encouraging.

He looks down and rests a hand on the desk, absentmindedly tracing the wood pattern with his thumb. “Um, yes.” He doesn’t offer anything else.

There’s a pregnant pause, both of you digesting the fact that what you had asked was not a yes or no question.

He tries again. “I…am in need…of some new reading material.”

You nod gravely, expression serious. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Did you have anything specific in mind?”

He begins to rock lightly back and forth on his feet, contemplating. “I like fantasy, especially Tolkien. I read a lot of horror, too, and sometimes sci-fi. If you had any suggestions for me, that’d be great.”

“Oh, we can certainly find you something,” you reassure him, already flipping through a mental rolodex of your favorite books in those genres. “Here, come with me.”

You stand and move around the desk to meet him, beckoning for him to follow.

Eddie watches you run a delicate hand over the spines of the books, keenly aware of the clammy sweat that’s flooding his own palms. Be cool, Munson.

“So,” you begin, a gleam of excitement in your eyes, “you like fantasy. Do you read Le Guin?”

Eddie nods eagerly, hair bouncing slightly with the movement. “Oh yeah, I’ve read the Earthsea trilogy.”

“Have you read any of The Hainish Cycle books?”

“I haven’t read those ones, no.”

You pull out two slim paperbacks from the row, holding each one out for him so he can study the covers. “These ones are science fiction, and they’re pretty good. You might like Rocannon’s World since it’s similar to a fantasy novel, but personally I think Left Hand of Darkness is the best.” You suddenly pause, and look around furtively, like you were checking to make sure that you two are really alone. You even put a hand up to the side of your mouth, as though shielding the conversation from eavesdroppers.

“Honestly,” you lower your voice like you’re admitting something scandalous, “I even liked it better than Earthsea.”

“No!” Eddie immediately matches your whispered, gossipy tone and lets his jaw drop, pretending to be aghast.

“Yes!” you insist, seemingly delighted by his willingness to play along. Eddie’s heart soars.

“I guess I can’t refute that until I read it, huh? What’s it about?” he asked, taking it from your hand.

“An envoy is visiting this frozen alien planet, and he’s trying to convince them to join this intergalactic coalition that he represents, but they’re making it like, really difficult for him. Also, gender doesn’t exist, and there’s political turmoil stemming from border disputes.”

“...oh. Cool.”

The next half-hour passes in this fashion. Your soft, mild demeanor is aglow with enthusiasm as you pull out book after book, giving him an off-the-cuff elevator pitch for each. Eddie can practically feel the cartoon hearts swirling around his head, bright pink and red bubbles that are almost certainly going to appear out of thin air and give him away.

He can’t put his finger on what it is, precisely, that’s pulling him in so deeply, drawing him towards you like a magnet with an opposite pole. Maybe it’s the tender way you talk about each book, the love and care that’s so tangible in your sweet voice, the way you speak about them as though they’re your old friends. Perhaps they are.

It’s not an unfamiliar concept to Eddie. A childhood steeped in loneliness and poverty, instability and dysfunction, neglect from his volatile and unreliable parents…yeah, he gets it. The wanting, the longing, the dire need to escape to someplace that doesn’t exist, some place where things were better and didn’t hurt, a dreamworld that would be kinder to a scrawny little boy with unwashed hair and a mean father.

The closest he ever came to it was when he lost himself between the yellowed and dog-eared pages of the few, precious books he owned.

So he listens to you chatter away with chest-aching tenderness, already thinking that he could listen to you like this for hours and be glad for it.

“You love fantasy, but you’ve never read The Last Unicorn?”

Eddie gives you an apologetic half-shrug, no longer able to keep the goofy, besotted grin from unfurling across his face. “Never got around to it, I guess.”

“It makes me cry. You have to take it,” you tell him with pleading eyes, adding it to the top of the growing pile in his arms before he can refuse. Not that he ever would. How could he, when you look at him like that?

“You cry at this one, really?” He looks curiously at the artwork on the front, an innocent picture of the pale horned creature. “But it’s so unassuming…”

“Don’t be fooled, it’ll get you. Take it,” you repeat.

Eddie shifts the stack of books to cradle it in one arm, so he can raise the other at you in a salute. “Yes, ma’am. And when I’m finished with it, I’ll give you a full report on the emotional damage it caused me.”

This makes you giggle, lips turned up in a gorgeous smile, and Eddie knows he’s a goner.

Back at the front, you resume your previous positions at the desk. Him in front and you behind, this time separated by a short pile of books.

You hold your hand out. “Card, please, sir.” Polite and professional, but with a little sparkle in your eye that lets Eddie hope for a moment that his time with you this morning was more pleasure than business.

He fumbles with his wallet, slipping out his library card and slotting it between his index and middle fingers, extending it for you to take. His chunky silver rings catch the light.

You accept the offering. “Thank you” – you quickly read the messy signature at the bottom – “Edward.” You look back at him with a grin.

He cringes, face scrunching in embarrassment. “Oh God. Call me Eddie, please.”

The scanner gives a little chirp! as you begin the checkout process, nodding. “Will do, Eddie.” His name sounds like a song when you say it, one he never wants to stop listening to.

You finish scanning his books, and slide a receipt into the jacket of the novel on top (which just so happens to be Katherine Dunn’s Geek Love). Instead of sliding the stack towards him, you keep both hands clasped on the cover, hesitating. You bite your lip, an unconscious imitation of himself earlier. “Listen….”

Eddie straightens up a little, stomach flipping like a coin. “Yeah?”

You bow your head. “I’m sorry if I talked too much. It’s just – most people who come in don’t actually ask me for recommendations, and I got excited,” you admit quietly, looking sheepish.

“Don’t apologize,” Eddie says without missing a beat. “I appreciate it. I really enjoyed it, actually,” he adds, eager to quell your anxiety. “I liked talking with you.” More than you know.

“O-oh,” you stutter, taken aback. “I liked talking with you, too.”

Eddie nods, smiling slightly. “Would you like to…talk again?” He flushes scarlet and coughs. Smooth. “I just mean, when I finish these” – he motions towards the day’s finds – “we have to discuss them, right? You helped me pick ‘em out, after all.”

“Of course. You have to let me know what you think.”

His smile gets bigger. “So we’ll reconvene?”

“We’ll reconvene,” you chuckle.

“Awesome. Looking forward to it.” He sweeps up his books, and gives you a little wave. “Thanks again, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”

And he can hardly wait. It looks like he’s got a lot of reading to do…

thanks for reading!!! <3 edit: this is now a series! Read Ch. 2-> Here!

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x bookworm!reader #stranger things fanfiction

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googiekitsch · 10 months

Text

HEY UH DO NOT REBLOG THIS GUY’S ART.

hate to be the bearer of bad news but i can’t just stand by and let shitty people try to escape onto other platforms where people aren’t aware of their past actions like this guy is so clearly trying to do with him moving to tumblr.

the artist behind this post below (nickeldoodle) which has been gaining attention lately, is an abuser and a complete fraud. from what i’ve been able to gleam of the situation he has flat out admitted to being abusive in his past on twitter, but he’s since privated his account so his confession isn’t available in full, just in fragments. he’s also apparently been blocking people who mention it on instagram and try to get him off the platform, so thanks man. really classy.

below the cut is an artist touching on their abusive experiences with him. again, read it at your own discretion.

also, he’s a blatant art thief. 90% of his art has been proven to be traced line for line from other images and artwork and he’s even stolen the work from the aforementioned artist who came out with their abusive experiences about him, which she touches on in that thread about him. it’s been proven that he’s traced other’s work for COMMISSIONS, if you somehow needed another reason to not give this scumbag a single cent of your money. i highly doubt that any of his art is original with his track record.

the fact that tumblr staff WILLINGLY APPROVED this abusive, talentless piece of shit’s art to be mass broadcast across their website to thousands of people without doing any sort of background check on him is just insane. it is very well known throughout the online art community that this guy is human garbage by now, and it makes me so angry that he’s trying to avoid the hate he rightfully deserves by jumping ship and that tumblr staff are so desperate for money that they can’t be bothered to check if theyre promoting a proven abuser or not. it’s just careless. this guy does not deserve to have an audience.

my deepest condolences go out to everyone affected by this guys actions. if anyone affected by him is reading this, i hope you’re all doing better now and recovering the best you can, i wish you all nothing but the best.

if you see his art on your feed, block and report his account. do not reblog his work. spread this post around, because with his attempt at resurfacing with a clean reputation, his posts are only gonna be shown to more and more unsuspecting people.

do not support him. abusers have no place in the art world.

1K notes · View notes

azsazz · 5 months

Text

Midnight Muse (Part 6)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: Not edited lol

Word Count: 2,891

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Masterlist]

Notes: Of course the first fic post of 2024 has to be MM 💙

_________________________________________

“So, you just think you’re free to do so as you please, where you please?” Your grating voice startles Azriel from the work he’s doing. The oil drain plug slips from his fingers as he winces, falling into the pan below.

His bike had needed some servicing, nothing he wasn’t able to take care of himself, though Cassian was supposed to meet up with him after the only class he had today and he hasn’t shown yet. His roommate was pretty handy, had to be, with how old and how often his rustic Bronco is. He’d offered to help Az, or at least sit outside and pester him, whatever he was feeling.

Apparently, he wasn’t feeling much like showing up at all, which was fine because Azriel knew exactly what needed to be done and enjoyed listening to the sounds of the world while he worked; birds chirping as they chased each other from tree to tree, other students happily talking as they walk down the block, and the occasional car driving up the street. It’s easy to focus on something like this, and he’s feeling a lot looser than he has been as of late, though he doesn’t expect that to last very long.

He wishes Cassian were here to be a buffer right now.

What Azriel doesn’t understand is what you’re doing here. Obviously, he knows very well that you live here, but after the harsh few meetings the two of you have shared, he’s not entirely sure why you’re approaching him, of all people.

Grimacing, he slips his glove-covered hand into the dark oil pan, feeling through the thick, slick liquid for the plug. He needs it, and he hadn’t really wanted to get this dirty, but at least he has boxes and boxes of gloves to use at his disposal.

He eyes you, squinting from the sun haloing around your head. You look just as you had the day you moved in—a frown tugging the corners of your mouth down, pretty eyes glaring down instead of up at him through your lashes. Your arms are crossed over your chest too, and even though it’s been a few days since he’s last seen you, he isn’t surprised about the scowl you wear.

It hadn’t been enough to avoid you, it seemed. You were going to run into each other no matter what. But he’d avoided you this long, even kept his music down to a lower volume. Okay, so, one click lower hadn’t quite made you back off of him, still pounding on the walls late at night, but he’s been trying to be nicer about it, actually listening to those knocks, lowering his music or stuffing his earbuds into his ears.

Seems like it hasn’t made you any happier, his trying.

“Am I disturbing your afternoon, all the way out here, princess?” He asks, tacking on the little nickname he knows you hate because it will get under your smooth skin.

Your foot taps with your annoyance, rhythmically. It kind of sounds like the bass line to one of his favorite songs. He realizes now that you’re not wearing any shoes. His brows furrow and his eyes slide back to yours, watching your lips purse. He can’t hide the smirk spreading across his mouth so he turns his head back to his work, watching the oil filling the pan.

“I told you not to call me that,” you growl, and he glances up, enjoying the way your nose scrunches up. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be doing this in the middle of the parking lot.”

“That’s funny,” he snipes, because why won’t you just leave him alone? “I didn’t ask you.”

Your cheeks go red. Azriel brushes it off, grabbing a few paper towels from the roll he’s brought out and wiping the oil plug clean. He’s meticulous with it, making sure all of the threads are clean before he sets it aside to wipe his gloves off. He grabs the new filter and removes the packaging, awaiting your snarky response.

You sigh, sitting down on the curb. “Look, I locked myself out and my phone is inside. Can you maybe text Cassian and have him let Feyre know the situation? He has her number.”

He cuts you a glance before his hazel eyes flicker away. Since when did Cassian have either of your numbers? Since when did he talk to you?

“He should be here in a little while,” Azriel answers, removing the old filter. He tosses it in the pan with the used oil and wipes his gloves again, cleaning them before he reaches for the new filter to replace. It slides in easily, and he caps the drain. “You can ask him then.”

You huff like it’s the most inconvenient answer in the world, but he doesn’t want to get oil on his phone, and he doesn’t want to take his gloves off right now. Not ever, but certainly not in front of you of all people. “Please, can you not be a prick right now? I’d rather let her know as soon as possible so I don’t have to be around you.”

Not exactly the response he was thinking you’d give, but it sparks his irritation anyway.

“I’m not being a prick. I’m working on something and you’re interrupting me because you’ve made the mistake of locking yourself out. Maybe you should take your phone the next time you go to the office to complain.”

Your face flushes and your mouth drops open in a gape.

Yeah, he heard all about that.

Azriel glares, unscrewing the fresh bottle of oil with a little more force than is necessary. But he’s annoyed now and he just wants to finish this so he can go on a nice long drive, far away from you.

You swallow harshly. “You’re right, I’m so—”

“Now here’s a sight I never thought I’d see,” Cassian’s voice echoes around the parking lot, startling the both of you. Azriel wills the oil into the hole faster, because he can’t bear seeing Cassian being all buddy-buddy with you. “What are you doing out here with no shoes on?”

Azriel glances at you from the corner of his eye. Your gaze flickers away as soon as his eyes land on you, turning your attention to Cassian, but you look a little defeated, shoulders curled in on yourself as if trying to hide from him.

“I uh, got locked out of my apartment and my phone is inside. I was just asking Azriel if I could borrow his phone to text you, but here you are.”

Azriel notes the way that his name rolls off of your tongue.

“Here I am, saving damsels all day long,” Cassian jokes, and you laugh.

The bottle in his hand slips, oil dripping down the paint of his bike as Azriel quickly fixes the spout back into place.

Neither you nor Cassian seem to notice, thankfully.

“Still need help, Az?” His roommate asks, but Azriel shakes his head.

“All good, man.”

“Great. (Y/N), why don’t you come on inside and I’ll wait with you until Feyre gets home. Maybe we can pick up where we left off in class.” Cassian slings an arm over your shoulder and grunts dramatically at the shove you give him. Azriel doesn’t like how friendly you’re being with each other, fingers tightening around the nearly empty bottle of oil.

And you have a class with Cassian too? He doesn’t like that either.

Not. One. Bit.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It’s not right.

Nothing is ever fucking right.

The tattoo gun in his hand shakes and the line squiggles, array, just like his thoughts.

It’s well into the night and yet he can’t find sleep again. Azriel had tried, he really, truly, had. He’d been tired, lied down and shoved his headphones into his ears, praying that the music would keep the thoughts at bay. Flashes of memories shattered the songs, menacing words slipping between lyrics, slicing into his brain like spears no matter how loud he turned the music.

He’d tossed, turned, done anything he could to fight away the nasty thoughts, but nothing had worked.

It had been another long day in an endless string of them. Working on both his portfolio and practicing on any willing participant he could find. Usually, his roommates. Cassian had begged him for the stupidest tattoo he’s ever been asked for—even worse than a tiny little pink unicorn tramp stamp. Even though Azriel had needed the practice badly, there was no way he’d tattoo the words ‘in case I forget later:thank you’ across Cassian’s hips.

He wouldn’t be a good friend for allowing Cass to get that, and it wouldn’t look good in his portfolio anyway.

After having a pizza dinner with his roommates, who were all too lazy to want to cook on the first night of classes, Azriel included, he’d gone straight to his room for his sketchpad, ignoring Rhysand calling after him, asking if he wanted to watch a movie with them. A part of Azriel did. He wants to be able to forget everything in his stupid brain and give his full attention to a movie, but tonight isn’t the night for that. Not with all of the dark ink splashing through his mind.

So, he’d stuffed his headphones in his ears so as not to disturb his roommate's movie night, and pulled down one of the many sketchbooks he has neatly stacked upon the shelf above his desk.

It’s black cover stared at him, the void of it much like the dark matter in his mind. The leather bound journal is thick, more so than any of his other sketchbooks, as if he can shove all of the bad thoughts into it and bind it shut so they can never escape.

It had been his therapist’s idea, the sketchbook. He’d always liked art and had drawn from a young age, but the thoughts in his brain didn’t always equate to something positive. He’d struggled with it alone for the longest time, but the incident with his step-brothers had forced him to seek therapy, encouraged by both of his roommates.

Azriel had found that therapy was not for him within the first twenty minutes of the session. He didn’t like the woman trying to pick his brain. He didn’t like her fake niceties and recounting the accident he’d been trying so hard to block from his memory. He didn’t like that his hands shook the entire time, no matter how hard he’d curled them into fists. They’d shook for the rest of the week, and it had made him angrier than ever, felt like retelling what had happened only made the memories so much clearer, giving them permission to stick to his brain.

He hated it.

But she had suggested journaling, or drawing in a sketchbook. So, despite not signing up for another session with her, he drove down to the local art supply, and bought the thickest, darkest sketchbook he could find. Azriel drove to his favorite spot in town, sat there for hours and hours, pouring every little emotion he could into the drawings until he could barely uncurl his fingers from his pencil.

He stared at the drawings and they stared right back, taunting him with their dark, shaky lines and sharp-fanged smiles. His chest constricted, breath caught thickly in his throat, and he’d slammed the sketchbook shut, binding it with the leather cord and knotting it so tightly he didn’t know if his fucked up fingers would be able to unwork it. But he’d trapped them inside of the book, and they hadn’t been able to get out. For a few days, anyway.

Azriel had considered throwing it off of a cliff. Had considered burning it, tossing it into the lake, digging a hole at the state lines and burying it. He hadn’t done any of those things, though. Once his breathing had calmed and his hands stopped shaking so badly he’d tucked it into his bag and shoved it up on the shelf with the rest of his sketch pads. No one would notice. Cassian and Rhysand didn’t enter his room if he wasn’t around, and no one else was allowed in there. Most of his other sketch books were black as well, so this one was hidden well in the midst of the others.

It brings him to now. He’d pulled the dusty sketchbook from his shelf, opening it with once again shaky hands. The thoughts had been harder to dispel lately, sleep more difficult to find. It had been easy to attempt drawing out the demons with the loudest music he could find, but even he could admit, that after letting those harrowing memories from their cage and onto the paper where he could shut the cover and trap them, he felt a little better.

Better enough to attempt to work on his tattooing skills.

But the gun in his hand still shakes.

“Fuck,” he curses, tossing the gun onto his desk. The clatter cuts through his earbuds and slides, skidding to a stop once it’s knocked into the cup of pencils and sticks of charcoal. A plume of black puffs from the chalk falling from the rim and Azriel glares. “Fuck this!”

He swipes at the jagged lines of the mountain he’d been inking above his kneecap with a paper towel, scowling at the bite of uncomfort that follows the motion. The jaggedness of his lines can be passed off as the snow lining the mountain, but he’s still pissed off. If he can’t straighten out his lines, there’s no hope for an apprenticeship at all. Of course, he can fall back on his charcoal drawings, but he’s never wanted anything more than this. He’s dreamed of becoming a tattoo artist, loves everything about it, and he doesn’t want to give everything he’s worked towards up.

Azriel slumps in his seat, ripping the black latex gloves suctioned to his hands off. Running his fingers through his hair he squeezes his eyes shut tight, swallows the lump in his throat, and breathes deeply. In. Out. In. Out again.

The music is no longer helping. He tears the buds from his ears, replacing them in their charging case with shaking hands. He grits his teeth as he stares down at the marred flesh, willing them to stop trembling.

They don’t.

Before he can do something he might regret—like smash all of his things to bits, a noise draws his attention.

It’s not coming from the living room where Rhysand and Cassian are watching some action movie. He can hear the sounds of reckless driving and explosions creeping from beneath his door. This sound, however, has something zipping up his spine, his ears perking as he listens for more.

There’s a low moan, muffled by the thin wall connecting your room from his. It sounds soft and sweet, has Azriel’s spine going tight as he sits straight in his chair, cheeks getting hotter when he realizes it’s you, and the moan is a sensual one.

You must not think he’s home because he’s not blasting music, or you don’t care if he is, or maybe this is your way of getting back at him for all of the times he’s been rude to you since you moved in.

A low curse emits from your mouth, and Azriel might think that you were in pain if he didn’t recognize the lust lining the noises you’re making, the way you seem to be begging for it, calling out to the God of Pleasure.

He can’t sit here, can’t listen to this. He can’t humanize you or listen to the sweet sounds you’re making through the wall. It’s too perverted. As much as it makes his cheeks heat it feels wrong to be listening to you pleasure yourself through his wall. His body is coiled tighter than it had been with his harrowed thoughts, and he doesn’t realize that his hands have finally stopped quivering.

Azriel springs from his chair, slipping out of his room like his ass is on fire, although there’s a warmth beneath his skin that isn’t one of hatred.

“Took you long enough,” Cassian complains when he plants himself on the couch beside him, tugging a pillow onto his lap. He needs something to hold onto, is all. His friend shoves a bowl of popcorn his way, and Azriel takes a handful, stuffing the buttery goodness into his suddenly dry mouth. “You’ve missed all the good parts, but we’re watching the second one next. Rhys will fill you in.”

“No, I won’t,” Rhys adds, completely engrossed in the car chase that’s happening. “He didn’t want to watch it when we asked, so it’s his loss.”

It’s fine, really, because the movie is the furthest thing from his mind.

Azriel can barely focus on what they’re saying, on the brightness of the movie that makes him squint, so different from that of the soft lighting in his room while he worked. He refuses to look at anything but the screen but his eyes are unfocused as his mind wanders, and then his eyes are following until he’s staring straight at the door to his room as if he can see past it and through the wall inside.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl @vellichor01 @hirah-yummar @girl-who-writes-stuff @lees-chaotic-brain @konaanaria13 @emiler-love @yourdorkiness @azrielsstarlight @saltedcoffeescotch @badpvn @prongslena

#azriel #azriel x reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel/reader #midnight muse #art school au #tattoo arstist!azriel

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kingofbodyrolls · 6 months

Text

Seokjin fic recs 2023

In honor of Seokjin’s birthday, I want to share my favorite fanfictions that I’ve read this year. Although I did not read as many as I wanted to, the list will be short. But! I’ve leave my ‘to read’ list at the bottom to make up for it 💜I want to thank each and every writer on this list for creating such wonderful stories and art - you are truly amazing ✨ All the fics on this list hold a dear place in my heart 🥹

❗Most of these fics are smutty as hell or contains dark themes, so minors dni.❗

If you read anything on this list and you like it, please leave a comment to the writer or reblog the original fic’s post 💜And if you want more fic recs you can follow me to stay updated 🙂

BTS fic rec index → May | Jun | Jul | Aug | Sep (jjk)(knj) | Oct (pjm) | Nov (*) | Dec (💜)(kth) |

Emoji meaning → angst = 🌩️, smut = 🥵, fluff = 🥰, comedy = 😂, yandere = 😈, thriller/dark = 👻.

⭐Knocked by @sailoryooons [10.6K] // ksj x f.reader // roommates to lovers // 🥵😂

📝 Living with people is difficult, but all things considered, your new roommate isn’t terrible. He cooks, he cleans, and if you had to be honest - incredibly attractive. But his habit of streaming until the early hours of the morning while yelling and making other questionable noises has pushed you to the limit. You’ve finally decided to risk your sanity and put it all on the line with a reckless bet in hopes of getting some peace and quiet at night.

🗨️ This was so hilarious, and the build up and pay-off was really good 👏

⭐Sleepover by @peachypinkygloss [7.3K] // ksj x f.reader x pjm // bestfriends!au, threesome // 🥵

📝 You spend a night with your two best friends at their dorm room. You should have known that they wanted to do more than just watching movies.

🗨️ Omg this was so good, the smut 😘🥵

⭐I Don’t Think I’m Okay by @ressjeon [4K] // ksj x f.reader // slice of life, idiots to lovers!au, childhood friends!au // 🥵🥰🌩️

📝 With many chances wasted, you couldn’t even resist anymore.

🗨️ A cute little Seokjin fic 🥰

⭐The IKEA Test by @yoon-bug [9.1K] // ksj x f.reader // established relationship // 🥵🥰😂

📝 One review on IKEA’s website called the BRIMNES bed frame the leading cause of divorce due to its difficult assembly. You and Seokjin had laughed when you read it. Now, you weren’t so sure.

🗨️ Their banter and all the sexual innuendos are damn hilarious! I thoroughly enjoyed this very much 💜

I’m really sad that I didn’t get to read more Seokjin fics 😭 I have a lot on my ‘to read’ list, so I’ll share some that I’m really excited to read when i have more time (and I know they’ll be great because they are written by amazing people!) ✨

‘To read’ list ⬇️

Fast Lane by @yminie [20.6K]

Cherry Topper by @kth1 [17.6K]

Final Sleigh by @floralseokjin [23.3K]

Stuck with you by @taleasnewastime [29.6K]

Small Tuna Fish by @floralseokjin [17.1K]

Off Limits by @floralseokjin [series; completed]

Raspberry truffles by @gukyi [5K]

Christmas Warfare by @gimmethatagustd [14.5K]

9 Months to Fall in Love by @floralseokjin [series; completed]

Redamancy by @jeonggukingdom [7.1K]

Sunday by @here2bbtstrash [5K]

Serve Me by @chateautae [16K]

Meet Me at the Bar by @eoieopda [7.5K]

Internal Conflicts by @yoongiofmine [series; completed]

Forever by @oddinary4bts [25.2K]

Thank you, Daddy by @ktheist [19K]

The Devil Wears Armani by @floralseokjin [series; completed]

Glazed & Dazed by @floralseokjin [30.3K]

Wet & Wild by @jamaisjoons [10K]

Warm this Winter by @jamaisjoons [51.6K]

Peach Parfait by @jamaisjoons [series; completed]

Borderlines by @jamaisjoons [series; ongoing]

All I Don’t Want for Christmas is You! by @minisugakoobies [23.7K]

Cupid’s on Holiday by @persphonesorchid [17K]

Don’t Go Baking my Heart by @candlewaxandp0lar0ids [14.7K]

Platonic by @joheunsaram [series; completed??]

Last November by @kithtaehyung [24.7K]

Sit. Stay. by @daechwitatamic [14K]

Turn Back Time by @raplinesmoon [13.3K]

Made-up Love Song by @floralseokjin [series; completed]

Lost and Found by @taleasnewastime [21.2K]

I’m so sorry that I didn’t get to read more! 😭 Life happened, and yeah. But all of these wonderful fics on my list sound so incredibly good and I really look forward to reading them and give them a lovely review 💜

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEOKJIN!!! 💜 🥳 🎂

420 notes · View notes

aevallare · 4 months

Text

excuses

light plot. heavy smut. mind the warnings. you can read on ao3 here

pairing: astarion/f!tav

word count: 4424

warnings: Aphrodisiacs, Semi-Public Sex, Squirting, Gags, Vaginal Fingering, Soft Dom Astarion, Wall Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Creampie, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Biting, Hand Kink, Inappropriate Use of Tadpole | Illithid Parasite Powers, Established Relationship, Rough Sex, Hair-pulling

preview:

“Go.” Auri's voice is hoarse. “This isn't your problem.”

Astarion's eyes narrow. “If you really think that I'm going to leave you here by yourself–”

“Astarion, please.” Again, Auri begs. “Something was wrong with that meat I ate. It feels infernal. Everything’s so warm. I can't–”

enjoy!!

-----

The orthon’s dead and his stronghold is now their camp for the evening. It’s a nice change from the usual; after barricading the entrance, they won’t even have to take watches. It’s well-fortified and Auri’s reasonably confident that they’ve wiped out anything in the immediate area that might want to kill them.

So spirits are light.

When Wyll jokingly tells her to lick the spider, Auri rolls her eyes at him. “Don’t be stupid. We’ll take it back to camp and cook it.”

Astarion won’t partake regardless, but he does afford her two raised eyebrows in response. Shadowheart grimaces and Wyll barks out a laugh that fades when Auri doesn’t join him.

“You’re joking,” Wyll says weakly. Auri sets her mouth in a line.

“There isn’t much else to eat down here.”

“Unless you’re Astarion,” Shadowheart snorts. It’s true enough, though it makes Auri blush. The marks on her neck are testament to that.

Wyll stares at Auri as she harvests meat from the spider with a dagger she pulls from her belt, and he says, “I’ll stick with what rations we have, I think.”

Auri shrugs. She ate worse when she was on the street. Her knife cuts into the spider’s corpse with a sickening crack through the exoskeleton before Astarion asks, “What are you doing?”

Auri looks up at him. “I told you I wasn’t going to let it go to waste.”

“No, that’s not–” Astarion pinches the bridge of his nose and crouches down next to her. “Move. You’re mutilating it.”

Auri’s barely started and he’s criticizing her. When he shoos her to the side with a flick of his wrist, Auri lets herself be dismissed. She stands, and behind them, Wyll and Shadowheart get to work setting up camp.

They’ve all long shed their armor. Astarion’s careful to push up the sleeves of his shirt before pulling a dagger of his own from his boot. The veins of his forearms thread down into his hands, thick and protruding, and as Auri watches, he gets to work.

“Did you moonlight as a butcher while you were a magistrate?” Auri asks.

Astarion exhales a laugh. “No, but as you might have guessed, taking things apart was an oft-used skill of mine after my time as a magistrate.”

The joke is dark, but Astarion doesn’t seem upset. In fact, he continues, “Are you really going to eat spider meat?”

“I put vampire in my mouth all the time and you never seem to complain about that.”

“True. Your exotic appetite is one of my favorite things about you.”

His dagger filets with grace; no movement is wasted. When he’s finally picked the spider clean, he looks up at her. The dagger’s still in his hand and he toys with it absently.

Auri’s always been enamored of his hands. Her own are calloused, roughened by years of playing every instrument she could get her hands on. They’re a lyrist’s hands. There’s nothing wrong with them; they’re nothing but tools.

His, though.

Astarion’s hands have never made music as far as Auri knows, but they make the world sing at his discretion anyway. Flesh and skin bow and warble at his fingers’ mercy, and gods know that her body’s sung under his touch more times than she can count.

Her hands are tools. His are art.

Astarion’s thumb brushes over the hilt of his dagger a final time before he stows it once more. Auri’s mouth is dry and it occurs to her that she’s staring. Astarion’s eyes catch hers and he smirks.

“See something you like, darling?”

His hand drifts up to push his hair out of his eyes. Auri’s gaze follows the movement like it’s a compulsion.

“Always,” she manages, and Astarion laughs for real then, a soft, secret thing that she’d never be graced with if Shadowheart or Wyll were nearby.

“Be careful staring like that. I might get the wrong idea.”

Auri blinks at him, finally pulled from the single-minded fixation she’s had on his hands. “What do you mean? We had sex just a couple of days ago–”

“Details.”

Auri gathers the meat in her hands and walks to the campfire. No one bothers her as she stokes the flames before skewering the meat on a sharpened stick and setting it to roast on the fire.

Shadowheart settles in next to her, and when she does, she wrinkles her nose. “That smells awful.”

“Everything down here smells awful–”

Astarion’s taken a seat and cracked open a book, but without looking up, he says, “You’re both right. This place absolutely reeks and that filth you’re cooking is making it worse.”

Wyll laughs. Auri frowns. Shadowheart huffs.

When the meat, for all intents and purposes, appears cooked, Auri pulls it from the fire. “You two are sure you don’t want any?” She looks at Wyll and Shadowheart in turn.

Wyll, at least, says, “No, thank you.”

Shadowheart just scoffs. “I’d rather starve.”

Auri shrugs. Her teeth tear through the spider meat, and if Auri doesn’t chew, it doesn’t taste so bad. Shadowheart’s grimace grows more and more disgusted, but Auri’s got a full stomach, so she doesn’t particularly care.

-----

There’s been little time to be unfocused in the Gauntlet of Shar. Everything is a potential or actual threat, and though he’s more or less convinced of their safety in this fortified pocket of ground that the orthon carved out for himself, Astarion still trances with a dagger in arm’s reach.

Still, his trance is light, and it’s been less than a day since he’s fed. He’s so much more when his senses are thrumming with Auri’s blood–

And it’s the sound of Auri that wakes him.

It’s a stifled, strangled, choking noise that pulls Astarion from his trance. It’s not close by, but he’d recognize Auri anywhere. It doesn’t sound like she’s in danger, exactly–

But Astarion slinks out from his tent anyway. Wyll and Shadowheart are nowhere to be seen; if he focuses, he can hear them both, breathing heavy with sleep in their tents. It’s hard to do that, though, when Auri’s gasping grows more and more labored.

So he follows it. And he finds her. And the reason she’s so far from camp isn’t hard to deduce once he does.

Auri’s slouched against a crumbling stone pillar. She’s managed to find a place free from bloodshed and gore, and her mind is entirely elsewhere (though she almost certainly wouldn’t have noticed Astarion anyway). From this angle it’s difficult to make much out, but Astarion doesn’t need to be able to see her in order to know what she’s doing.

Even from here, he can hear her ragged whimpering. He can smell the heat between her legs.

There’s something in Auri’s mouth, but when she slumps further down the pillar with a moan that dances on the line between relief and frustration, there’s no mistaking what she’s doing. She’s just made herself come, and she’s unsatisfied with the result.

She pulls the cloth from her mouth and whines, “Fuck.” Her body heaves and she fists both hands in her hair, leggings loose around her hips.

The idea of just watching her is appealing, but as Astarion looks on, tears prick at Auri’s eyes. He can see her bite the inside of her cheek in the way that she does when she feels that things are hopeless, and when he says, “I hope you don’t mind me saying, love, but you’ve looked better,” Auri doesn’t even startle. That’s when Astarion knows that something is truly wrong. He’d guessed, of course – there’s a feverish sweat beading on her brow and it’s unusual for her to wander off alone – but when she greets him without her usual bright smile, there’s no room left for doubt.

“Go back to camp. Please.”

There’s desperation in her voice. Astarion tilts his head to the side. “Darling–”

The pet name barely leaves his mouth before he feels her parasite push into his mind. It doesn't ask permission before it enters; Auri's lost control entirely. Astarion grunts in shock and then the assault of her tadpole on his comes into focus.

What afflicts her is lust incarnate.

“Please.” Auri struggles to form words but she tries anyway. “I'm not… myself. I can take care of this on my own. I swear.”

She's whimpering, filled with so much desire that it's causing her physical pain. When Auri tells him to leave, it's not for her own benefit. He can tell because of what the tadpole pushes into his mind, Auri's will be damned.

I could think about his hands forever. If he was the only one to touch me for the rest of my life, I'd be satisfied.

Astarion doesn't recognize what magic this is exactly, but her lust is unnaturally strong. “Not that I'm not flattered, but–”

There's a stone slab that was probably used as a table. I'm bent over it. Astarion's behind me and neither of us has bothered getting undressed. His cock pushes into me and when it does, there's finally some sense of relief. If it weren't for the gag, I'd scream loud enough to attract every enemy from here to the Underdark when he thrusts.

Astarion, suddenly, is also finding it difficult to form coherent thought.

“Go.” Auri's voice is hoarse. “This isn't your problem.”

Astarion's eyes narrow. “If you really think that I'm going to leave you here by yourself–”

“Astarion, please.” Again, Auri begs. “Something was wrong with that meat I ate. It feels infernal. Everything’s so warm. I can't–”

Auri lets out a muted moan. When Astarion steps forward, she does her best to shrink away, but the pillar she'd been using for support stops her. She doesn’t want to ask. She doesn’t want to put him in a position where he’d have to say yes or no.

He puts his palm on stone in the space next to her head.

“Would you feel better if I touched you?” Astarion asks.

Auri’s fingers shake. Her eyes flit between the hand that he isn’t using to support himself and his face.

“I don’t know,” she says. Her pulse throbs in her throat. “You don’t have to–”

He interrupts her, ignoring the latter half of her words. “Would you like to try?”

A sob wrenches itself from her body. “It’s the only thing I can think about.”

And at last, he won’t be the one at the mercy of her kindness. Maybe he’d feel used if it were someone else. But it isn’t. It’s her.

Astarion dips down to kiss her, and again, Auri’s lust pours into him. She bites at his lip greedily, hips bucking forward gracelessly into his.

When he pulls away, hand sliding beneath her waistband, Auri says, “The gag.”

Somehow, Astarion had forgotten about that. “The gag?”

Auri nods her head, a moment from falling apart without him even having touched any of the places she likes best. “The others– I don’t want the others to hear.”

When a finger slides inside her, Auri’s eyes roll to the back of her head. She’s warmer than usual, but other than that and the desire rolling off of her body, she doesn’t seem to be in any danger.

Yes. He can take care of this.

Astarion’s palm pushes up against her clit as his finger gets to work, and with his other hand, he pulls Auri’s makeshift gag up from around her neck. “What is this?”

“I stole a clean bandage from Shadowheart’s things. Another finger, please. It’s not enough–”

The Auri he’s used to is a tender thing, though she’s more than capable of playing rough. He punctuates the second finger that she asked for by stuffing the cloth bandage into her mouth. She was wet already; when the gag’s back in place, she clenches around his fingers.

“Do you want to talk or do you want me to take care of you?” he asks.

There’s fire in her eyes. Auri can’t speak, but the images she pushes into him are obscene. Astarion doesn’t even have time to process them all before he says, “Well, we can certainly try a few.”

Astarion feels the tension inside her play up with each touch. Her leggings have fallen to her ankles and the hand that’s not buried in her cunt massages her breast. He gives her nipple a delicate twist, and the strangled moan that escapes her is more than worth his trouble. The other breast falls prey to his mouth instead, and when he bites at the soft flesh there, Auri’s knees buckle.

“We can’t have that, love,” he says, and he heaves her leg up, the crook of her knee in his hand. She’s still technically wearing her leggings; they’re just in a pool around the leg still holding her to the ground. Auri’s eyes go wide at the new angle, but there’s no complaint. From here, Astarion can touch her easily, freely, and as his pace quickens, so too does her heart rate.

Please, Astarion– please–

The gag’s occupied her mouth, but she’s still able to beg through the parasite.

“I do love how you look when you come for me,” he says, and with his fingers hitched inside her, Auri shatters. It’s different from usual but no less entrancing, and for the briefest moment as Auri squirts into his hand, she almost looks like herself.

Her eyes are wide. Gods.

“That’s new,” he says, and Auri would probably laugh if the gag wasn’t still in her mouth. “Feel better?”

His cock’s hard, but that’s hardly the point of this venture.

Auri pauses before nodding, and maybe Astarion would believe it if her body language wasn’t completely at odds with her mind flooding him with the image of him spilling himself inside her as she's bent over the slab of stone that he can see from the corner of his eye. Astarion smirks, feathering his thumb over her hypersensitive clit as he pulls his fingers out from inside her. She whimpers for him, and he whispers in her ear, “Liar.”

This isn’t your problem, she says again.

Astarion licks the evidence of her orgasm from his hand. Her eyes lock onto the motion, and when he’s done, he lifts her into his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist.

“Unfortunately, without you around, my meal ticket disappears. So you are indeed my problem.”

She’s bare from the waist down. Auri’s slick enough that Astarion can feel it through his clothes. His cock’s already straining against his trousers.

She’s his problem in more ways than one.

When he lays her down on her back, he’s careful to make sure her shirt’s pulled down. The slab’s rough, unfinished, but she doesn’t seem to care. She sits up, pulling the gag from her mouth, and she says, “Let me.”

Auri reaches for the laces that will free his erection, but Astarion takes a step back so that he’s out of reach. He plucks the gag from her hand, and says, “I asked before. Do you want to talk or do you want me to take care of you?”

A shiver runs up her body and she doesn’t answer.

And that's answer enough, really. Well. That and the picture of him pulling her to the edge of the slab, bottoming out inside her, her breasts bare.

With painstaking restraint, Astarion exhales through his nose. “Oh, darling,” he says through gritted teeth. “Lie back for me, would you?”

If pressed, he’d admit it’s not the most graceful way he’s ever pulled out his cock, but it’s difficult to care when Auri is quite literally dripping in front of him. Her throat quivers and her fingers twitch; she’s doing everything she can not to touch herself, though Astarion’s not quite sure why.

He strokes himself thoughtlessly, like it’s the only natural course of action, but he won’t leave her wanting. This isn’t a night for games, although they’ve both been having fun despite her condition if the state of her thoughts is any indicator. When he dips down and presses a kiss between her legs, Auri cries out.

The gag’s still in his hand.

He fills her mouth with it in the same moment that he fills her cunt with his cock.

To distill Auri down into one word is impossible, but when he’s inside her, Astarion would struggle to name any adjective but warm. She’s a billion things, of course, not least of all naive, gullible, and foolhardy, but more than anything, she’s the essence of the sun made flesh. She’s made warmer still by whatever it is that’s afflicting her, but her body always leaves him in awe anyway.

A marvel of mortality.

When he thrusts into her, the gag swallows up a squeal that Astarion would frankly have liked to hear in its entirety. Auri’s hand reaches up behind her, nails scrabbling for purchase against unrelenting stone. When she turns her head to the side, saliva pools under her cheek, her eyes half-lidded. The underside of her breast teases him from beneath her shirt, and it’s like she was made for him–

Rip the shirt. I don’t care.

Somehow, even through her addled haze, she’s still thinking about his enjoyment. He could wonder at it, but he’d rather spend the time doing as she says. Astarion fists a hand in the front of her shirt and pulls her close. Auri’s head lolls backward before she regains the wherewithal to support herself, and before Astarion can second-guess himself, his fangs tear into her shirt enough that his hands can do the rest.

He takes a breast in his hand and squeezes as he pushes her down onto her back again, but not before he lifts her legs up onto either of his shoulders. Auri folds almost in half for him, his hips grinding against her clit as he buries himself fully inside her.

Frantic need and desire ripple through her, and if Astarion isn't careful, he'll lose control himself. The new position's made her tighter, and she's close. Astarion can feel it in the way her hips match his rhythm and from the desperate want in her eyes as her walls clench around him.

“My beautiful, depraved thing,” Astarion says, thrusting deep. It's impossible to keep his voice unaffected, but it doesn't matter. It has its intended effect anyway. “Look at you, those pretty tits bouncing as you take my cock. What would the others think if they saw you like this?”

Astarion–

“Their pretty little leader with her shirt torn open, bare on her back, coming for me again? It's a sight beyond compare.”

He won't spend himself inside her yet, though the temptation is certainly there. She's been pouring images of him fucking her into his head since they started, and this time, he returns the favor. When Auri sees herself as Astarion sees her, pupils blown out, blotchy all over, gag soaked through, she unravels. The parasite explodes with her orgasm; Astarion feels it rip through her like it's his own even as she spasms around him.

His own eyes roll back as Auri’s scream fights against the gag, but he doesn't come, and even as the climax is still rolling over her, Astarion hears her.

More– I'm sorry; I need–

She never asks for what she wants – not like this. Auri's always thinking of what he needs.

And she'd shown him before what she wanted.

“You need my cum, don't you? You want me to fuck you until I empty myself inside you?”

Whatever other thoughts she might have had go mute. Her eyes lock with his.

And this really isn't about him, but it occurs to Astarion that that's exactly what he wants, too.

He pulls his cock out from her and misses her warmth immediately, but it's a necessary evil. The beautiful thing about the tadpole and all the time that they’ve spent together is that they’re always a little bit in each other’s heads. The thought is terrifying if Astarion considers it too long, but it’s convenient that they’re on the same page about her scrambling off of the slab. Before she can readjust, Astarion presses his lips to her neck. That, too, makes her moan, and the echoes of her affection rattle along their connection.

I adore you, Auri says, and they could have done all this without Auri’s feverish state as an excuse, but it does remove an element of vulnerability that makes things much easier for Astarion.

The feeling’s mutual, though voicing it still makes his skin crawl. He doesn’t have the vocabulary for it anyway.

His fingers trail up her jawline. Auri’s eyes shine. “That’s my good girl,” he murmurs instead, and when she reaches down between his legs to take him in her hand, his nostrils flare.

She’s still the sun compared to him. Warmth radiates from her. His judgment’s impaired by his personal desire and the feeling of Auri’s hand on his cock, still slick from being inside her. Astarion’s eyes flutter shut.

Briefly, he registers that she isn't quite as warm as she was before, but there's no room for the thought.

Show me what to do, Auri says, as if she doesn't already know. It's the opposite of how this started, when she didn't want to put him in a position where he'd feel obligated to please her.

Auri's tadpole brushes up against his, and he'd known anyway, but it becomes crystal-clear.

Take what you want.

She makes him so fucking hungry.

In the fastest motion he can manage, Astarion pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the slab. The least he can do is make sure that it doesn’t mangle her.

Auri bites her lip as she releases him from her grasp, and Astarion wouldn’t say he’s being rough, but he certainly isn’t gentle when he turns her so her back’s flush with his chest. A thrill thrums through her, and then Auri’s bent over, upper body splayed across the stone.

When Astarion sheaths himself inside her again, it’s home. There’s no resistance. Auri’s body takes him like it’s what she was made to do.

There’s no patience left in him. Every time his hips meet the curve of her ass, he’s another moment closer to his own release. Auri whimpers and whines, and each sound that escapes the gag increases his pace. The freckles on her back are a constellation he’s rarely afforded the privilege of seeing while buried inside her, and his thrusts grow shallower, undisciplined–

Hells, Auri manages, half-coherent this time as he fucks her. Her singular word spurs something carnal in his gut, and he leans down, fisting a hand in her hair and pulling her face up and away from the slab.

When he does, she looks up at him from the corner of her eye. Her walls clench and his cock twitches as her gaze meets his, and she can’t really smile around the gag, but devilish pleasure is evident in her face.

He’s close. They’ve been in this position for barely a moment, but everything leading up to this moment has left Astarion close to undone as is. His grip on her hair tightens, and when she says, I can take whatever you give, Astarion’s last bit of self-control gives way.

He pulls her up, hand never releasing her hair, and when his other hand grips at her thigh, Auri knows what he wants. With only a little help from him, his cock never leaving her cunt, she kneels on the slab. Astarion exposes her neck and kisses the spot that’s his, the place he’s marked a hundred times over, and Auri shivers. Drink while you come in me– she starts, but his fingers interrupt her when they brush against her clit. Auri inhales sharply against the gag, airflow made more difficult by Astarion’s unloosened grip in her hair.

“Come for me again,” Astarion says. It’s almost a command but not quite, and Auri makes every desperate, needy sound all at once. His fingers rub at her clit, slow, deliberate, like he isn’t a hair’s breadth from shattering himself. “You taste better when you come.”

His touch quickens as he speaks, and he could lose himself in her. He already has.

Auri’s back arches, her ass pushing into him and her neck craning up until her head nearly rests on his shoulder. The artery in her neck sings its siren song, and Astarion’s not in the habit of denying himself what Auri’s body offers him.

This time when his lips meet her neck it’s a different kind of kiss, though it has Auri gasping anyway. Her saliva’s dripping down her neck in the same way her cunt drips cum around his cock. Auri’s blood pounds down Astarion’s throat as he fucks up into her, her climax pushing him to his own end. His teeth tear at her skin as he spills himself inside her, and Auri’s parasite radiates what he can only call unparalleled ecstasy.

Astarion doesn’t even want to think about what she can hear through his tadpole.

Auri shakes in his arms; her knees barely seem capable of supporting her. It’s always the hardest thing that Astarion’s ever done to pull his fangs from Auri’s flesh, and it’s made doubly difficult when he pulls his cock from her warmth at the same time.

“Alright, darling?” he asks, releasing her hair from his grasp. It’s a silly question. Astarion doesn’t know why he asks it.

Auri pulls the gag from her mouth and regards it with a look of disgust, dropping it to the ground. “When we do this again, can we get something a little more, erm–” Auri wrinkles her nose, but she hardly seems unhappy. “Dignified?”

“When we do this again?” Astarion teases, relacing his breeches. “Planning on eating more of that spider meat?”

When Auri turns to face him, she lets herself drop into a kneeling position. The adoration’s never faded from her eyes.

“If it gets you to fuck me like that, I’ll do just about anything.”

So, yes. She seems to be perfectly alright. Almost too alright.

Astarion’s eyes narrow.

“Whatever that was– it lost its grip on you after you came for me that second time, didn’t it?”

Auri smiles at him shamelessly. She’s made no move whatsoever to get dressed, entirely content to be here with him in a state that’s wholly vulnerable.

“We were having fun, weren’t we?” she asks.

Astarion laughs, soft and low.

“Yes. We were.”

#astarion #astarion x tav #tavstarion #tav x astarion #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #bg3 smut #astarion smut #astarion ancunin

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