#i need a roof. i need food. i need water. i need clothes.... and my cat needs food water and shelter too

[actual-corpse]

A sincere Fuck You and an Unmerry Christmas and Unhappy New Year fuckbag.

[victormcdicktor]

Hello everyone, I have another campaign to share.

Muhammad, his wife, and their free children are fighting to survive in Ghazza. They've been displaced and are living without the most basic resources. Their youngest, Lara, doesn't have any milk to drink; their son Abboud has contracted hepatitis which they cannot treat.

This family's source of income was the children's clothing store that Muhammad ran, however it was destroyed in the bombings. They now have no way to earn money, no roof to sleep under, and no access to clean water or food.

In order to evacuate from Ghazza, rebuild their lives, and receive necessary medical care, they need to raise $40,000 CAD. As of writing, they've only raised $894 thus far.

Please help this family in any way that you can. Donate if you're able to donate, and share their campaign. Anything you can contribute will help them survive and rebuild.

VETTED BY ASSOCIATION

[lokischocolatefountain]

Savior

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO) Pairing: dark!Joel Miller x captive reader Rating: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat Warnings: I repeat, DDDNE. Kidnapping, non-con, dub-con, face fucking, bondage, objectification, dehumanisation, captivity, drug and alcohol abuse, boot licking (literally), boot kissing, master/slave dynamics, name calling (bitch), loss of identity, Stockholm syndrome, really messed up dynamics, mention of spitting, mention of boot fucking, mention of watersports but not performed. Word count: 1.7k words Summary: Joel saves you from the horrors of the world only to inflict another horror on you. A/N: *slaps roof of this fic* This fic has everything (again, heed the warnings) I’ve been away for a while now and I’ll probably taken long to post my next fic. But I hope this is a fun read 🥺

The world was a big place and you knew nothing about it. You wanted to. You wanted to go beyond the walls of the QZ and inside those buildings people said were tall enough to touch the sky. You wanted to see the remains of museums. You wanted to see trees and sit on the grass and eat fresh fruits.

In a mockery of this daydream, the universe decided that not only would you never step outside but that you will be confined in a space smaller than the QZ.

You knew nothing about the world, but you knew everything about him. Many people passed by the doors of his apartment throughout the day. But you identified his strides. The heaviness of his boot against the floor, the speed at which he walked, how big his strides were. When you heard the grating sound of metal against metal, you knew he’d slotted his key in the door. You began trembling just at the sound of the door opening, your body fearing everything he would inflict on you.

Yet your cunt throbbed with anticipation. Your heart fluttered with joy. He was cruel, yes. But you knew he cared about you. He shared his food, traded to get you a few clothes, even got your medicines when you were ill. He was violent with you, but that was only because of the hard work he had to do all day.

As he walked in, you took in his appearance. Hands stained black, a thin sheen of sweat on his face and arms. He was tired again. He downed some of the brownish liquor he brought back a week ago and popped in a few pills. Sometimes he even shared them with you.

He put the bottle down and walked towards you. It was summer and you didn’t need to wear clothes. So you didn’t. He said he wasn’t going to waste time washing them when you didn’t have to wear them. With your ankle chained to the radiator, there was nowhere for you to go.

You smelled the tasks of his day on his boot as he stood in front of you, his boot dangerously close to your face. You willed yourself to not throw up. Not again, not again, please no, not again. They were dirty, too dirty. You did everything he asked you to, but you couldn’t bear when he made you fuck yourself on his boot until you came. And you did, every single time.

A sharp sting pulled at every nerve ending on your face as his boot made contact with it.

“Thought you’d died,” he said, unbuckling his jeans. You pressed your palms on the floor and sat up on your knees.

“Still breathing? Let me check,” he said, pinching your nose between his fingers. You gasped when he cut your access to air, breathing through your fuckhole to keep yourself alive. “There’s my bitch… Still alive.”

He took his cock out of his pants, large and intimidating, just like him. You opened your mouth instinctively. Happened when you got the shit kicked out of you when you didn’t keep your holes accessible. Happened when food and water were conditional upon how satisfactory you were as his stress toy. Nose still pinched, he unzipped himself and plunged his cock inside you. Your legs kicked around as his thickness restricted your breath, your cunt tightening around nothing as he let you struggle for a few moments more.

Finally, he let go of your nose, allowing you to see another day. You looked up at him, gratitude filling your heart that he would allow you air. It wasn’t always like that. In the initial days of your captivity, all you wanted was death. But eventually he taught you to be grateful for everything he did. Grateful he gave you a purpose, grateful he grabbed you from the street, that he fed you his scraps and trained your fuckholes to be useful.

You moaned uselessly as your throat burned from his size. Thankfully, he didn’t mind your noises. He was good, merciful. So kind to let you make any sound at all though you were forbidden from talking. He’d fucked that notion out of you long ago. Called your mouth a fuckhole as he did your cunt and ass.

A mouth was for talking and eating. He reminded you often that you didn’t have one. The hole on your face was a hole to fuck, a pit for his cum and spit and piss. When you’d accepted that, you found you had no need to speak.

The small room filled with Master’s grunts and groans, punctuated by the involuntary moans from your fuckhole. You always hated blowjobs, finding the act demeaning and avoiding it until whatever boy you were dating annoyed you into sucking him off. But this wasn’t a blowjob. You didn’t suck cock, you simply complied as he fucked a hole he owned. Still, you tried to be as worthy as you could with the little freedom you had.

He bottomed out inside you, your nose pressed against his belly. Your hair was in a tight grip in his fist, a handle to make you more convenient. But you tried with the little space you had, licking his balls. He moaned and thrusted though he’d fed you all that he had. An animalistic need to seek sexual gratification no matter how. One hand in your hair became two and he began his brutal pace that would leave your fuckhole bruised and out of use for a few days until he deemed it fit to fuck again.

Your face hit his soft belly over and over and his balls slapped against your chin. Your cunt thrusted up into the air, begging for something, anything. It didn’t have to be Master’s cock. His hand, a kick from his boot you so hated, his pistol. It needed to be used, just as the rest of your body.

It didn’t take long for his cock to leave your fuckhole, ropes of sticky white fluid coating your face. Your hole gasped for air and Master, generous as he was, let you have air and water.

No, not water, you realized as the strong taste attacked your senses. The glass bottle you took from was an old beer bottle, the label worn off but a hint of color reminding you of the brand. But it wasn’t beer. Something that they brewed in the QZ that he was kind enough to share to keep your nightmares at bay. You kept the final sip in your mouth and looked up, your throat straight to accept the pills he threw in. You swallowed, tears flowing down your cheeks. You would sleep well tonight, untainted by images of your loved ones turning, of your gun putting a bullet in their heads before they could rip you into pieces.

You bent forward and pressed your lips to his filthy boots, silent tears growing into sobs. You kissed and licked the filth, hoping he knew how grateful you were for this one night of mercy. For thinking about you, noticing how you suffered when night came and the memories of a past life flooded in. With each second of worship, you showed him how grateful you were for the freedom he gave you by chaining you up in his room.

When his boots were clean, you gave it one final kiss and hugged his legs. You rested your cheek on his boots, shivering when he bent down and petted you.

“I know, I know,” he said quietly, his voice soft and kind. He let you weep at his feet for what felt like hours but you knew was only a few minutes. Eventually your sobs died down and he pried you off of him gently. He placed a bowl of slop in front of you and filled the other bowl with water. Sustenance. And you didn’t even have to work for it. You were hungry, god you were so hungry it hurt. But you waited. You were just a useless bitch with nothing left but the base needs of your belly and cunt. But you still had manners. You didn’t take anything Master gave for granted. He placed food and water in front of you, but it wasn’t permission to take them.

He deserved your respect, your obedience. You knew he suffered at night just like you did. Outside, he did backbreaking labor so you didn’t have to. And he always kept you fed, took care of you. You couldn’t give him as much as he gave you from where he kept you so you showed absolute deference.

“Eat.”

And that was when you began.

“My name’s Joel.” He said out of nowhere from his place in his bed. He didn’t look at you for a response. Just spoke it into the air. You left your food and water behind and crawled to the foot of his bed, nuzzling your head against his boots with no other way to show gratitude.

You never knew his name until then. You didn’t know if he knew yours, but he called you Bitch. Useless bitch, stupid bitch, ungrateful little bitch. Good bitch. You responded to Bitch. And soon enough, you were Bitch even in your innermost thoughts. But now you had a name for the man who rescued you, showed you mercy though you were so difficult in the beginning. Because of him, you were no longer a zombie walking the QZ and laboring night and day just for food and clothing. He freed you from the burdens of choice, from the efforts of survival, the agony of humanity.

You didn’t have to throw bodies in the fire, didn’t have to clean officers’ floor on your hands and knees as they leered at you. You didn’t have to fear the FEDRA officers who’d put you in jail just to fuck you. Being human was the worst fate in this world and Master saved you from it. With him, you were safe. Nothing was under your control, so you were now free from self-blame. You didn’t have to fight to keep living a life not worthy of living. You didn’t have to watch others with their children and parents and friends and feel the agony of not having yours anymore.

Here, he’d given you a place at his feet. He reduced you to Bitch, freed you from the humanity that came with the name people used to call you. The world wasn’t such a scary place anymore. After all, you were only his bitch and the world was your benevolent Master.

[carolmunson]

in the still of the night

soft!gf!reader x depressed!eddie

became a woman posessed and decided i needed to write something about taking care of my baby cow eyes sad bf. tw: as always, minors dni. themes of depression/mess. mention of minor character death. reader wears eddie's clothes. some suggestive language. showering together.

Steve called for a check-in just to call you right after, said he'd offer to drive. You peek into the darkened trailer, hearing the scratch of the record player in the living room. Too tired and achey to make it to his bed last night and too defeated to leave the couch all day today -- not even to flip The Animals record to the B-side. Rain patters on the tin roof, curtains drawn but not thick enough to keep out the gray light from spilling in through the bare threads of years of use. He faces the back cushions, hugging a pillow, knees tucked under the bottom. A kid in his adult disguise, he always gets like this around the anniversary of his mom's passing. You ease in, lightly closing the storm door behind you. The soft gray glow in the kitchen leaves you a little sullen. Half done dishes on a rag on the counter -- two smashed glasses scattered across the tile. Evidence of his frustration part way through the task, you can practically hear his desperate 'I don't wanna do this,' while he threw them. You let out a breath through your nose silently, noting the piles of laundry on the table by the washing machine across from the living room. He hadn't let you come over in a couple weeks, it's clear why now. When you tip toe onto the brown shag carpeting by the record player you ease the needle off the disc. The steady rise and fall of his back and shoulders aids your next move. You clear off the McDonald's bags from nights of fast food off the coffee table like a mouse, making sure not to crinkle anything too much. You don't want to stir him. Once clear, you walk around it, taking a seat on the edge of the couch by his feet -- hand reaching out to run comfortingly over his back. "Hi baby," you say softly, "It's me." He stirs, looking down to see you there, confused. He looks down at himself, same pajamas he's had on for three days, unshowered, unshaven. He's embarrassed, he never let's you see him when he's like this. Eddie's face crumples when the realization sets in -- it's not a dream and you're there, seeing his filthy trailer, seeing what happens when he's not okay. You're not supposed to see this, even when you're so sweet on him every time you do.

"What's goin' on, bub?" you ask in just above a whisper, "What're you thinkin' about?" His brows pull in, jaw getting tight when his nose starts to tingle with the start of a cry. His eyes water, shining in the light of the overcast through the threadbare curtains. One hiccup turns to two, and then he starts. "S'just been hard," he sniffles, "I'm just havin' a h-hard time." "I know," you soothe, still rubbing his back, "It's that time of year." "You sh-shouldn't be here," he shakes his head, shoulders shaking while the sobs start to over take him, "You kn-know I'm not like th-this." "Shh, I know, I know," you coo, climbing into the space between him and the back of the couch, squishing over him slightly, "I can help. I wanna help." He welcomes your body along his, you manuever so he's partly atop you, replacing the pillow with your torso. His face finds home in the crook of your neck, while you scratch at the top of his scalp the way he likes it.

"You smell good," he says wetly into your skin. "Thank you," you whisper. You both lay there for a little bit, letting him cry, letting him listen to the rain while it picks up outside. The living room gets a darker while the storm rolls further through the park and evening sets in. He settles after some time, your neck and shouler damp with his tears.

"I'm sorry," he says when he sits up part way, "I'm sorry you're seeing me like this...again." "I will always rather see you like this than any worse alternative," you smile at him, "I get like this too, you never make me apologize." "I know but I -- " "No buts," you shake your head, sitting up right to lean down and kiss him on the forehead, "Why don't you put a movie on and I'll take care of that laundry?" "No, no, you're not -- you're not doing my laundry," he says with an annoyed huff, "I can do it -- it's fine." "I want to," you assure, wiping at his cheek with your thumb when frustrated desperate tears start to spill from the pool in his eyes again. "It's not -- fuck babe, it's not your job. You don't have to take care of me," he complains, "I'm okay. I'm fine." "I don't think you're fine," you shrug, tilting your head to looking at him. His cheeks redden, you can tell he's stressed -- embarrassed to be crying in front of you, embarrassed by the mess. The rise and fall of his shoulders quicken while he takes stock of what needs to be done around him. "Hey, hey, look at me," you encourage, your palm skating over his stubbled cheek, "How about I do some laundry and if it makes you feel better you can take out the trash. Does that work?" "Angel, I don't want you doin' my --" "Would you like it better if I did your laundry...naked?" you smirk. He huffs a soft breathy laugh, a smile pulling on his while he wipes his eyes. "There he is," you murmur, "There's that smile I like so much." He sniffles, collecting himself for a minute before looking back up at you with sleepy, puffy eyes, "You don't have to do my laundry naked." "I can if you want," you offer with a joking grin, "If it'll make you happy." "You being here makes me happy," he whispers, "But I know you're just as stubborn as me so I'll let you start the laundry, but you're not doing all of it." "Okay," you nod, "And after I start the laundry I'll get the kitchen together f--" "Don't push it," he warns, leaning forward to leave a loving kiss on your cheek. You ease up off the couch, offering your hand to help him up. He creaks the way old men do, men who have seen too much before they were supposed to. He's unsteady when he stands, stiff with dehydration and lack of movement beyond the shuffle to the bathroom from the couch. Eddie pulls you into him, your face nuzzling his uncle's army tee softened from so many years of washing. Your arms wrap tight around him, thinking if you squeeze him enough it'll remind him that he's here with you and not wherever his mind keeps taking him. "Let's take a shower," you mumble against him, "We'll go slow."

"Am I gross?" he asks with a frown, you can hear his heart beat quicken from under his ribcage.

"No, but you'll feel a little better. I think, at least," you arms fall, hands sliding down to his, "I'll wash your hair for you." He loves that. "Okay," he nods, big brown eyes rounding -- admitting defeat, letting you lead the way he prefers to. The heat soothes his skin, the sharp twang in his muscles, the tension in his neck. He breathes in the steam, taking handfuls of water and splashing his face with it despite the sting. It's a hurt that feels good. That feels earned. You let him get a head start, a few moments alone to let the water heal whatever you can't. In the mean time, while he's not looking, you sweep up the glass in the kitchen and start a load of laundry. He knows you, his face a poster of unsurprised annoyance when you finally make it into the shower with him. "I know you cleaned," he says softly. "You love me anyway," you shrug, stepping close to press yourself against him -- skin hot from the water. "I do love you anyway," he nods, voice gruff and sleep soaked, crying vocal chords begging for something more. You suds him up, letting the water hit you in a waterfall as you step ahead. His eyes shut, heavy breaths taking over from crying while he relaxes further into your touch. He hums when you wash his hair, letting you baby him in a way he never was as a kid. You comb out his curls when they're wet with conditioner, massaging his scalp when you let it set in. He's always a little disappointed when it's over -- he'd offer to pay you to keep going. His bedroom is not in dissaray the way other parts of the trailer are. He never leaves mess where his guitars stay, where the amps are, it's the only place there needs to be order. You both step in with towels on, it's chilly from the window being left open, goosebumps raising on both of you at the wind. He still has some clean pajamas in his dresser, enough for both of you to wrap yourselves up in. He loves you like this, hot skin and refreshed, water still clinging to your eyelashes. The washing machine buzzes and you both turn, his hand reaching out to your shoulder when you go to switch it out. "Hey," he pleads, "I said you could start it, that's it." "Then come switch it out with me," you say, "Let's do it together. That's what I'm here for." A heartfelt smile flickers over his features, eyes shining with tears again from the shake up in emotions from your arrival in general. "Okay," he nods. You both pad in socked feet to the main living space, dressed in PJs in the middle of the early evening. The glow of the overhead lamp catches his wet hair, the glint of his silver chain, the wet slick of his lips. You switch out the laundry while he puts in another load, shutting the top down door with a tinny thud. You hoist yourself on it, legs dangling above the tile, heels rumbling against the cream coated metal. It's not long before his hands reach your thighs, leaning forward to catch you in a gentle kiss. "Thank you," he mumbles against your lips, "Again." "Anytime," you whisper, kissing him back, "Always."

[butterymangowrites]

distribution system

paring: cat hybrid kageyama tobio x fem reader

warnings: dub-con, smut, hybrid au, stray hybrid kageyama, social discrimination, power imbalance, domestic life, kageyama with his platinum face card, kageyama has a tail

word count: 4.2k

english is not my first language. please excuse any mistakes. thank you for reading!

Being a stray hybrid was exhausting. Tobio thought as he wandered around a new neighborhood trying to find food after every house in the last one shooed him away.

Being a stray hybrid was exhausting. Being a bone-thin, dirty black cat hybrid was worse. 

He looked ghastly—hair long to his chest, cheeks all sunken, and without a smile on his face, Tobio looked unapproachable. Some people said he might have rabies, warning their own hybrids to stay away; he was scared of that, too, but only because he didn’t know what it actually was, just that it was fatal and humans hated it. 

Did he have rabies? He felt fine though. Tobio thought as he put his hand through the narrow opening of a trash can that was likely to have some food waste in there. After some time rummaging through, he grabbed onto a bottle; it was milk. When he shook it softly and felt some milk left inside, Tobio got his dinner. 

“You shouldn’t drink that. You will get sick.” 

A voice interrupted when he was almost done with the meal. It was a human woman in very nice clothing, the kind he saw humans in the office area wear. His previous owner also wore something like this, the male one, the one who hit him when he was drunk and angry at his wife. The wife was his favorite of the two, always patted him gently on the head and gave him nice things—snacks, toys, letting him watch TV and play with a round leather ball in their small backyard. But when he knocked over some of the flower pots, the husband forbade him from touching the ball again. 

The wife disappeared one day, so Tobio ran away. 

“Here.” The human took something out of her shoulder bag and handed it to him. “Take this.”

It was an unopened, brand new milk bottle, looking exactly the same as the one he was holding. Too late, Tobio drank all of it, spoiled as it was, it filled his belly for the night. Together with the milk, Tobio saw a banana. He wanted that.

“Sorry, this is all I have.” 

It was funny thinking back to the first time he saw you, that it was the guilt in your voice that made Tobio carefully look past his long hair at you again. Being closer in order to take the food from your hand and seeing things clearer than before, he had never seen anyone so concerned about how they didn’t have more food to give away, concerned about him. And because being a stray hybrid was exhausting, Tobio really wanted a home. 

He finally succeeded that night. He found one, after roaming around for many years…

— 

High up on a building, that was your place. It wasn’t big, but Tobio didn’t mind. He was just happy to be warm and have a roof over his head. 

Your bathroom had a tub, small but deep, he could only fit in there if he sat with his knees up. He did that while he let you wash him, at a loss on how to adjust the water temperature and not knowing which was the shampoo and which was for the body cleaning. So he just sat there in silence, not even turning the water on so he didn’t cause any problems, till you knocked and asked if he needed help. 

Your hands were smooth, slathering the body wash over his back and chest while he watched you, his now-clean hair tied up with a big claw clip. Having his field of vision expanded made Tobio feel exposed, but it was not totally a bad feeling, just a bit foreign after many years of having it down to hide his face.

“You wash,” you pointed down to his crotch, “down there by yourself, okay?”

Tobio nodded, didn’t mind. He understood you didn’t want to touch him there, you probably didn’t want to touch him anywhere, only doing it out of necessity because he was such an incompetent cat who didn’t know how to use a human's shower. He used to know, he just forgot. Tobio hoped you were not mad. 

—

It was the next day when you took him to the hybrid clinic for a check-up. He was healthy, needed to put on some weight, yes, but fine nonetheless. The doctor said the hybrid was in his early 20s and prescribed some vitamins, and just like that, the visit ended. Before you left, one of the staff suggested you buy a collar. 

“Is it necessary?” you asked before looking around the waiting area and saw that every hybrid wore one. “Okay.” 

You bought one in a random color after trying to let the feline hybrid choose and he just stared at you. He was tall, hovering over most people in the clinic. You had to tell him to crouch down so you could put the newly purchased collar on his neck. It was blue, cartoon printed. This was why making rational decisions was important. 

Next stop was the haircut. This time you handed him a magazine and tried again by letting him pick a style for himself; however, he just pointed at the first model he saw. Nothing was wrong with a mohawk, and you would have believed it was a thought-through decision if he had turned the pages of the magazine a little and at least pretended to contemplate. He did neither. 

Same with the breakfast that morning, you asked if he wanted blueberry or strawberry jam on his toast, he answered with a nod. When asked again, he pointed at the jar closest to his hand and didn’t finish the toast.

The stray you brought home—Tobio—definitely understood human language and was not mute since he was the one whispering his name to you when you asked what he was called. For some reason, he just did not make decisions. And… he hated strawberry jam.

So you rectified that, selecting two most popular styles and let him choose again. But before he could point, you said, “This is your hair, Tobio. Yours. You can choose how you want your own hair to look.” 

He listened and blinked. And for the first time in twenty hours, Tobio took his time deciding between things. He picked the style that would get his bangs cut very short, and if his swishing tail was anything to go by, he seemed to like the end result very much. Despite his head looking like a coconut with a wig on, he still looked good, all because of his face. 

The man was strikingly handsome. Without all the matted hair masking his face, his features were bare to the beholder’s eye. Dark blue eyes, sharp jawline, small perky nose, and lips—though chapped and dry—were baby pink. He was a sight for sore eyes. 

Clothes, toiletries, and extra groceries that included cat food and snacks he admitted to liking were all carried by him. It was a long walk from place to place and from the train station to yours, but Tobio didn’t allow you to take any bag out of his hands. 

It was already dark when you entered your apartment. You unpacked the groceries and officially taught him how to use the shower, learning that he was illiterate when he asked if he remembered correctly which bottle was the shampoo and which was the conditioner. He got them mixed up but was right on the body wash because it was a different brand with a different label. 

What you did was point out the difference in the words written on the bottles, but the easiest way you could think of was to place them in fixed positions, so you did just that, temporarily resolving the problem.

“Shampoo on your left, conditioner on your right,” you told him, pointing at each respectively. “But don’t wash your hair today, that would be a waste of the products the salon put on it. Unless it—stinks?”

Tobio, who was sitting on the rim of the tub, touched his hair, trying to pull it to his nose for a sniff, but it was too short. Suddenly, he turned to look at you, expectation clear in his eyes.

“You smell for me.” he bowed his head and waited. 

“Oh, no need.” You waved your hands no. “Should be okay.” 

You were not going to do it, but his head stayed down and showed no sign of coming back up. Not wanting to disappoint him, you stooped down for a quick sniff. The tip of your nose brushed against his freshly cut hair, it was soft and silky now, no trace of yesterday's dirt and grime. And it smelled so good you could have died. 

Tobio breathed out a low purr before he looked up at you again, his pupils dilated. “How was it?”

“Nice,” you replied. “No need to wash it.” 

“Okay.” His voice was small, faint. 

Out of the bathroom, you prepared dinner for two and arranged a sleeping spot at the couch in the living room as you did the night before. Your apartment was a one-bedroom, so even if you wanted him to sleep somewhere nicer, you didn’t have a better option. 

You didn’t expect to see him lying on the cold, hard floor the next morning, sleeping in the fetal position and hugging himself, pillow and blanket left on the couch. 

“Why were you on the floor?” you asked that same morning while teaching him how to make basic breakfast—a bowl of cereal for you and two slices of toast for himself, this time topped with blueberry jam. He ended up asking for more with a growling belly and round blue eyes, piercing through your heart like a sharp stalactite falling down on tender meat. The damage was so severe that you had to tell him not to seek permission for food again; it was all his to have. 

“My legs are too long.” answered Tobio. “They went over the couch arm—hurt.” 

And the cushions were probably too small for him to sleep with legs folded. Decision instantly made, you let him sleep with you on the bed from then on.

—

It was nice not having to go about people’s houses searching for food and sleep at the train station when it rained. Tobio looked out the bedroom window, sitting on the floor with his head under the curtains, his tail flicking slowly as he watched the wet street below and couldn’t help but feel grateful for the human sleeping on the bed. 

It had been one hundred and twenty two days since he had been here. 

The bed was springy; it rocked a little when he climbed back on no matter how careful he tried to be, making you stir but overall still pretty much in your deep slumber. He settled on his side, laying his head on the same pillow as you. If he were to pull you to his chest, no one would see you again. Tobio was so big now with a tremendous amount of food consumed daily. 

So much money was spent on him just to put skin, fat, and muscles on his bones, and you never once complained about the increasing expenses. He knew numbers now, and he saw them on the bills each time and noticed that you spent less on yourself. You had never gotten the blouse you said you wanted, and you ate half sometimes just to keep the leftover for the next day. He wished he could do more than just helping around with the household chores. 

“Thank you,” whispered Tobio.

He wanted so much to cuddle up to you, sink his little fangs into your skin, and touch you in the way that would get him cute noises as a reward. He liked being close to you, finding himself awake nose to nose with you more often than not and using the time before you woke to count your eyelashes. You didn’t like any of that, always pushing yourself away and hurrying up to get off the bed. 

Pouting, pouting, all he did when that happened was pout. But in his sleep, instinct took over nevertheless, he would find himself clinging to you anyway come morning, and he would pout, pout and pout…

—

This was why you never considered adopting a hybrid before you found Tobio that night. You didn’t want to feel like a scum excuse of a human being, getting so wet that you heard the squelching sound when Tobio pumped his fingers in and out of you, deep, nudging your front wall now and again, making you squirm. 

You know what many hybrids were adopted and bought for, and you didn’t want to be one of those using them for sexual pleasure, letting him help around the house was bad enough. He didn’t ask to be here, you offered. What he was doing now might just mean he got the wrong idea about what he was here for. 

“Tobio, no.” 

“I’m so hard. It hurts.” 

He propped himself up on one of his elbows, pouting while he watched his hand’s movement under your pajama shorts. “Please help.” 

“Tobio, we need to talk.”

There was no talk, Tobio flipped you to lie flat on his body, his hands tugging your shorts and underwear down before doing the same with his. When your bare core touched his, the cat hybrid moaned loudly and rubbed you frantically against his cock. 

It had never come this far, small touches here and there but never this. 

“I—don’t want—,” you gasped, “to use you.”

“Please use me. Please use me. Use me.” He pouted more, tears welling in his eyes. 

Damn those eyes to hell though you were certain Tobio himself belonged in heaven. It was these same orbs that had you ask if he wanted to come home with you, earning yourself the sweetest companion one could ever ask for. 

Coming home to see the apartment cleaned, plants watered, laundry done, nothing was left to be done but dinner because he was scared he would burn the kitchen down because there was fire involved. He was getting better at it now, you feared cooking for you might be next in his plan. Power imbalance hung in the air, but Tobio had no clue. 

“You’re not here for this.” You tried to say, turning away from his lips that grazed all over your face, trying to get to your mouth. “You are my friend.” 

“I’m yours.” 

“My—friend.” 

“Umm, yours.” he purred, so cat-like. “You own me.” 

Why did he only listen to what he wanted to hear? Not just yours, but your friend, that was what you were trying to convey. 

“You are not a thing to be owned.” 

For some reason, his eyes darkened. “Don’t be too good to me.” 

Next thing you knew, you were on all fours, ass up, face down, hands in his grip behind your back. His hot shaft spread your wetness to your clit before fooling around with your entrance. 

“Don’t—”

“Must be warm in there. Wetter, too.” the hybrid whined, claws sharpened, penetrating the skin of your hands. “Please let me get in, please please.” 

“Tobio, don’t be bad.” That was the first time you reprimanded him, and you felt him freeze. “You’re not a thing to be used, you hear me?” 

“But I’m a pet, your pet.”

“You’re not just an animal to me.” 

“But that’s what I am.” 

“You’re half human.” 

“You don’t understand.” His mouth was next to your ear when he said it. “I am more animal than human, all hybrids are.”

Following his statement was the tip of his cock threatening to push in, you had to cry out his name again to stop the deed. 

“Please. Just one dip,” he begged. “One dip and out.” 

He was so stubborn, you had never seen this side of him before, literally nonplussed as to how to handle the persistence, the negotiation, and his pitiful cries. He had never been like this, even when you told him his favorite milk was out of stock, all he did was nod and say he was happy with whatever you had. 

“Just once.” You choked out the words. “Only one dip and you’re out. You let me go, okay?” 

You made a deal. 

“Okay.” 

The head was not the problem, the thick body and base were, stretching you to the point of pain. You heard a low growl rumble in his chest as he went deep to the hilt and lingered there. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he said, tremblingly. “Please don’t be mad.”

You couldn’t imagine being mad at Tobio, not even when he didn’t keep his word, pulling himself out and slamming back into you. Again and again he went, pulling at your wrists with each thrust for leverage. Your upper body was lifted from the bed from how hard he pulled, head lolling from side to side. 

“Please don’t put me back on the streets.” He bottomed out with a cry. “Keep me, keep me.” 

The wanton scream you let out was embarrassing, your pussy throbbed and clenched around his cock as he pounded on the right spot. And Tobio was a quick learner, he hammered down on it repeatedly, fucking you into the mattress until you came with a shudder, eyes rolled to the back of your head; you were glad he didn’t have to see that from where he was.

He shot out a lot of cum when he came, filling you up to the brim. One dip and out? Sure. The thing was, you weren't even mad at him. His clear blueberry eyes trained on you after he rolled you onto your back, tilting his head to one side before he bent down to give a kitten lick at your mouth. 

No, you weren’t mad at Tobio, you were mad at yourself for giving in. 

—

The leather ball he used to play with was for a sport called volleyball. Tobio saw it on TV one day and immediately pointed at it with excitement. So being a good owner as you were—allowing him to fuck and hold you close after each night, albeit not without some begging and whining first—you took him out to an open gym to play with other hybrids. 

Him having to wear a collar when going out bothered you, and when it strained his neck while he was out on the court looking up at the ball, you told him to take it off. 

“Why?” Tobio asked. Every hybrid in the gym had it on, he didn’t want to be different. 

“It’s too tight on your neck.” 

“It’s fine.” 

A round of laughter erupted from the nearby court when a rabbit hybrid fell on her face trying to get the ball. It was from the humans who sat and watched the play, one in particular seemed concerned—perhaps her owner—seeing as he stood up and told her to get back on her feet. 

“You just don’t get it.” you shook your head feebly and walked out the court back to your seat which was just a chair situated not far off the sideline. But as an afterthought, you turned around and said, “Just loosen it a bit, yeah?” 

“Okay.” 

You seemed to dislike the idea of him being an animal, but at the end of the day, he was. He loved watching birds from the window and making noises at them. He loved sleeping, and when he woke, after exerting himself with the chores until the energy ran out, it was nice to curl up on the couch for a nap. 

It was not him who didn’t get it, it was you. Tobio liked being an animal. 

So when your boss, who was one of the owners of the hybrid who played volleyball with him, approached and broached the idea of getting him on a cat food commercial you and he were working on, Tobio wanted in, even more interested when the older man said this would earn you extra money to take home after the shoot ended. 

“See? Tobio wants to.” The boss gestured his hands at him. 

“But—”

“Yes,” Tobio said, earnestly. 

“Let’s talk about the shooting date together with the team on Monday.” 

The deal was sealed. 

—

The shoot was stressful for you, seeing people coo at how cute Tobio looked in faux cat ears, some even dared coming close to scratch under his chin. Tobio liked the attention, but he didn’t like strangers touching him. He would look for you, asking for help with his impossible-to-deny eyes whenever that happened, and you would come to the rescue. 

“Aren’t cat hybrids supposed to keep to themselves?” you asked, walking ahead of him, just about five minutes more until you reached home. “How come you like people so much?” 

“Not all the time.” Tobio replied. “I just happened to like them today.”

“Doesn’t it bother you,” You stopped walking and turned to face him. “being treated like that?”

“Like what?” 

“They played with you with a laser pointer, Tobio. Trying to grab your tail, calling you names.” You held on to your shoulder bag as you spoke. “They didn’t respect you at all.” 

“I’m an animal.”

“This again?” 

“You have to accept that I am one and there is nothing wrong with it.” 

There was no anger in this voice, never with Tobio, only dull sadness that dimmed his usual bright eyes down a notch. 

“But you don’t agree, do you? That’s why you’re trying to change me.” 

“You missed the point.”

“And what was it?” 

When you didn’t respond instantly, he continued, “I like wearing a collar because it shows people I’m taken, taken by you, not a stray no one wants. I like that you own me.” 

“Oh Tobio—”

“Is it wrong that I love doing the housework, that I don’t care that people want to give me treats and play laser pointer with me? I know what I am and how they see me. I’m an ani—”

“I don’t care that you’re an animal, a hybrid or whatever!” you interrupted with a soft shout. “I’m saying that no matter what you are, you deserve respect,” you said. “I don’t know what you experienced that made you think you can’t pick between strawberry and blueberry jam. And they can play laser pointer with you for all I care, but they should be aware that you have a life and mind of your own and not just assume they can do it without even asking. Just because you’re fine with it doesn’t make it okay.” 

You paused to breathe. 

“And trust me those people—those people in the studio, they don’t—they don’t understand this, yet.” You closed your eyes. “After the shoot, one of them asked me if they could buy you.” 

Opening your eyes again, he was so close you had to tilt your head back to look at him. 

“I don’t want to hear anyone say that about you ever again.” 

His kiss didn’t take you by surprise. His tongue was welcome, and his moan was your guest. Tobio held your hand all the way home and didn’t let go even when the apartment door closed behind you and him, instead, he kissed you against it. Then from your mouth, he headed downwards.

“I thought I disgusted you.” he said, nipping at the soft flesh of the thigh he put on his shoulder. 

“That is crazy. Ouch! Tobio, your claws.”

It had been almost a year already since Tobio moved in, and with his typical cat behavior, your body was full of scratches, some faded, some didn’t. He had a second haircut just two months ago, the same style with his bangs cut short, resembling a coconut for a while until it grew out past the stage, and now it was just in the right length—perfect for a grab. 

He liked when you played with his hair, loved it when you pulled hard during sex. For someone who was soft spoken and had a hobby of watching birds and playing volleyball, Tobio was surprisingly perverted when it came to fucking. 

The man purred loudly when he got the taste of your soaking folds, lapping greedily at the core and dragging his wet tongue up your inner thighs, collecting every drop like it was essential for his being. 

When your hands remained by your sides, taking action too slow for his liking, Tobio searched blindly without pulling his face away from your nectar and grabbed one of them to put on his head. Automatically, you gripped a handful, hearing him groan with relief and satisfaction. 

“So good to me.” he mumbled, his thumb leisurely circling your clit. “I like you more than anything.” 

More than the milk you gave him that first night, or the banana, even the blueberry jam could not compare to you. And despite him not being brave enough to make a choice of his own haircut, he did make a choice in that moment he followed you home—he chose you. 

[call-me-eds]

Lecture

Masterlist

Eddie x Reader

Wayne walks in on something..unbecoming. He has a special relationship with you, but now all of that is out the window.

“You live under my roof, Boy, don’t you forget that! Your mother is probably rolling over in her grave right now, she taught you better than to disrespect a home like this. Jesus, Ed, that is where we prepare food!”

You were in the bathroom looking at your cheeks grow redder by the second in the mirror while your boyfriend got chewed out, deservedly so. Eddie told you that Uncle Wayne wouldn’t be home for hours. “I barely see him nowadays now that he got himself a girlfriend,” were the exact words out of his mouth.

It wasn’t the first time you ventured out of his bedroom for a quick romp, but it was the first time you got interrupted. Sure, Uncle Wayne would flick the outside lights on and off a couple of times when you and Eddie were taking your time saying goodbye, or he would make a comment about keeping hands above the blanket when you three were watching one of his nature documentaries, but that was different, all innocent.

Now, everything has changed. Eye contact was out of the question for at least a decade, if you even worked up the courage to go back to the trailer before then.

Uncle Wayne made you feel like their home was yours, too, and you took advantage of that. Sleepovers were allowed, as long as your parents knew where you were. You had a standing dinner invitation, and he even picked up a bottle of hot sauce for you after you asked if there was any in the cabinets just one time. It had become such a place of comfort that you felt free enough to undress and let Eddie defile you right there on the counter. And the worst part about it was that it wasn’t even the first time.

Your body almost folded in on itself when you heard Eddie fighting back with him.

“I told you I will clean it-”

“Oh, I’ve seen your version of clean, and that’s not going to cut it. Bring Y/N home, and when you come back, I don’t want a peep from you for the rest of the night.” Eddie was 19, almost 20, but he was being spoken to like a child. God, Uncle Wayne raised him from childhood and now he saw him hunched over you, hips moving against yours faster than his uncontrollable mouth.

Silent most of the time, it was the loudest expression you had ever heard come from Uncle Wayne when he walked inside. You had almost been too overtaken by pleasure that you didn’t even hear him. Almost. That shout would haunt you for the rest of your life.

Eddie grabbed on to you even tighter, moving you behind him swiftly. This wasn’t happening. There was no way. It had to be some sort of twisted nightmare you got from eating too late again.

“Come on, man,” Eddie groaned, hands cupping his now exposed self.

“Oh my God,” you whimpered, crouching behind him, hoping that if you shut your eyes tight enough you might just disappear.

““I just want to come home after work and relax and this is what I get greeted with! In my own house!” Uncle Wayne yelled through eyes squeezed shut. “I am going to go outside, count to ten, and everyone better be fully clothed.” The door didn’t even have time to click shut before you were sprinting to the bathroom. Eddie started to try and talk you down, but Uncle Wayne kept true to his word and was back inside, yelling for Eddie to get out of his room.

“Take a shower and get changed, okay? I’ll handle it,” he said, rubbing your arm reassuringly before pulling on boxers and a t-shirt to do damage control in.

Getting in the shower, even if you didn’t use any of their limited hot water, was out of the question. You wouldn’t use a single amenity the Munson’s offered, and in fact were trying to think of ways to escape so you wouldn’t even need to use the front door. While you spun around, hoping a window had been added in the 30 minutes since you were last in the bathroom, a knock made you jump out of your skin.

“Sweetheart? Want me to take you home?” Eddie’s low voice came through the door, offering a way out as if you hadn’t heard Uncle Wayne demand it from him. You opened the door and Eddie smiled to try and console you, but a whimper came from your mouth still. He just nodded in commissary and put his hand on your back, leading you to the scene of the crime. Not seeing the witness was almost worse than facing him.

“Where did he go?” you whispered like he might jump out at any moment.

“Smoking,” Eddie said. Only when you became a more regular fixture did the boys take their habit outside. There was still an ashtray on the coffee table, but if they just had to indulge they did it where the smell wouldn’t sink into your clothes or their furniture.

The deep breath you took did nothing to calm your nerves as you stepped outside. For just a second you thought it would be better to see him not in direct lighting, but it just made his aura more ominous.

“I’m sorry, Mr.-”

“Oh, I haven’t even thought about what I’m going to say to you, yet. Get on home.” You nodded and put your head down, rushing toward the car.

“That was totally unnecessary,” Eddie huffed.

“I was going to tell you to be back in 30 minutes, but make it 15,” Uncle Wayne bit. Eddie must have felt your pleading energy coming from you, because he didn’t answer back for once and just climbed in the van, where you were curled up as small as you could get in the passenger’s seat.

Normally, you would wave until you were out of sight, and Wayne would wave right back. Having each other’s presence around was comforting, and you both knew how much it meant to Eddie. It was unexpected, but you developed a special relationship.

“I can never step foot in there again,” you said, shoving your face in your hands, skin still hot. Eddie put his hand on your knee, and it’s usual comfort just made you feel even more shame. “Did you see the way he was looking at me? He hates me,” you swiped under your eyes and Eddie clocked your movement instantly.

“He does not hate you,” Eddie assured. “Me, maybe. But he’ll be over it by the morning, I swear.” You grumbled your disagreement and grabbed his hand, holding it firmly for the rest of the drive.

“Come on, Doll,” he separated from you to climb out of the car once he pulled up to your house, but you pushed him back into his seat gently.

“No, you have to get home,” you sighed, looking at your watch.

“He wasn’t serious about that,” Eddie rolled his eyes. “I can spare a minute to walk you to your door.”

“Please, it’s fine. I don’t want you to get into any more trouble,” you begged. He went to fight, but saw how your glassy eyes were filling with tears and your lip wobbled.

“Okay,” he sighed. “I love you, please don’t worry about this. It’s kind of funny,” he smiled.

“It’s not,” you sniffled, although you appreciated his sentiment. “I love you, too,” you kissed him quickly and scampered up to your house, itching to shower off the humiliation.

“It has been two weeks, I promise you he isn’t going to be weird.”

“I am going to be weird! I can’t face him!” Eddie drove right to the trailer after your dinner date, and you were threatening to yell out kidnapping claims.

Eddie had been to your house almost every day in the last two weeks, and you had your intimate moments in your locked bedroom or his car under the sheath of night. Going to the trailer wasn’t an option, and you made that clear; you didn’t even call for fear of Uncle Wayne picking up the phone.

“The longer you avoid him the worse it’ll get. I have to live with the guy, and you’re much braver than I am,” he said, basically pulling you out of the car.

“He used to change your diapers, it’s different,” you locked your legs but he grabbed your biceps, lifting you up and carrying you to the front door. “Eddie, please, please, I am begging you. I’ll watch any movies you want for a month, two months!” you bargained desperately, but he wouldn’t hear it.

At first, he thought it was weird how much you liked to be around his uncle, and vice versa. Initially he was convinced that you were both just being nice to each other to appease him. But then he realized just how similar you were; it was gross. The situation was more messed up than one of those guys that dated someone like their mom, he was dating his uncle.

Having you separated was even worse. Uncle Wayne had been forcing Eddie to listen to his rants about work and you had been so upset and anxious it was making him feel horrible.

“You’re going to be fine,” he said, opening the door with one hand and keeping a supportive grip on you with the other.

“No, no, no,” you grunted, trying to grab onto the doorframe to stay outside. Eddie nudged your foot with his, not unlike he had the two fateful weeks ago.

You were in the small kitchen, heating some water for tea. Warm hands slithered around your bare waist and dipped under the band of your shorts.

“Hi,” Eddie breathed in your ear. There was a smile on your face in half of a heartbeat. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you giggled. He rubbed his nose against your neck and snaked his ankle around yours, tugging slightly so you were in a wider stance.

“Turning me on,” he mumbled, lips sinking into your skin.

20 minutes later, you were crouched behind Eddie, wishing you could sink into the floor.

“So you didn’t forget where we lived, huh?” The gruff voice you would have made a deal with the devil to avoid greeted you as Eddie forced you inside.

“Hi Mr. Munson,” you mumbled, fingers twisting your bracelet so rapidly Eddie thought it might break.

“‘Mr. Munson,’” he scoffed. “I don’t remember telling you you couldn’t call me Uncle Wayne anymore.” He had always been soft spoken, but you never recalled a time where you struggled to hear what came out of his mouth. Finally, you looked up and found that his cheeks were aflame as well, and the label on his beer bottle was picked clean off.

“We’re going to hang out in my room,” Eddie said, making you jump. You almost forgot he was there, you were so focused on his uncle.

“Hell no, you’re not,” Wayne laughed boisterously, animation coming back to his body. “You’re going to go to the store and get the batteries for the smoke detector that I gave you money for a week ago.” It was no question that if you had been at the trailer in that time the errand would have already been done, the beeping of the low battery already bothering you.

“Why didn’t you remind me before I went to get Y/N,” Eddie whined.

“Because she’s going to keep me company here.” Your heart fell into your stomach, and you thought you might pass out. This was your worst nightmare.

“I can just go and get them,” you quickly offered. “What kind? I’ll just get a bunch of different ones. Give me your keys,” you demanded of Eddie.

“No, no, my nephew can go. This is as painful for you as it is for me, Honey, let’s just get it over with,” he grunted, sitting up a bit in his chair.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes,” Eddie promised. If today was the day he decided to start following traffic laws, you were going to break up with him.

Once the door shut, there was nowhere to divert your attention to. You took as many small steps as possible to the couch, hoping to delay the inevitable awkward conversation. Maybe if you apologized and promised to never come back, Wayne would take it easy on you.

Before you could give that plan a try, though, he started to talk.

“You know how much I love ya,” he said, kicking things off in a much different direction than you thought it would go. “You’re good to Ed, you help out around here no matter how much we tell you to stop, and you’re respectful.” That last word stung.

While you knew your home life was privileged and your childhood was infinitely more peaceful than Eddie’s, that didn’t mean you and your parents were immune to arguments. You were a young adult, after all. The Munson’s trailer provided a safe space for you to escape. The small home was packed with love and comfort, it quickly became your favorite place to spend time.

“But you are a young lady, and I don’t want to see you get in any trouble. Eddie’s mother was too young when she had him, and I won’t have him be stuck in the same cycle.” You wouldn’t believe it if you weren’t seeing it, but he was getting choked up. “He’s a good boy, and he would give everything up if you got into a situation, but I do not want that to happen. And it would be even worse for you, the way people talk. You both deserve to have the freedom to do whatever you want in this life, and I don’t like that you’re doing all of that but I know I won’t stop you, so just, be safe. And for God’s sake, keep it out of the kitchen,” he finished his speech, sitting back in his recliner and taking a long drink from his beer.

Uncle Wayne wasn’t going to ban you from the residence, or shame you, or even judge you. He was looking out for you both.

“I am still, so so sorry. I never meant to take advantage of your kindness.” He had to have heard the sincerity in your voice, it was almost shaking.

“How I treat you isn’t conditional. That boy is my son, and you are like a daughter. I wish you would both get that through your heads,” he sighed.

“Oh,” you breathed out. Never had you seen him be so straightforward with his emotions. That was where he and Eddie differed. You knew instantly if Eddie stubbed his toe or felt dissed by someone in the band, but Wayne played his cards extremely close to his chest. He had laid it all on the table now, though, nothing left to say.

You had to clear your throat so your next words wouldn’t get stuck as you tried to force them out. “And we are always safe, for the record.” He waved his hand and focused his eyes on the TV flickering.

“Well I know you have a good head on your shoulders. I wonder about that boy, though,” he grinned, making the tension from your shoulders release all at once..

“Oh, he means well,” you smiled. A few minutes of silence, not as terrible as you thought it would be, went by before you spoke up again.

“Uncle Wayne?” He turned to you and quirked up the side of his mouth, encouraging you to go on. Eddie made the same face, and you were happy to imagine him at Wayne’s age. “You didn’t, uh, see anything did you?”

“Oh, Jesus,” he shuddered slightly and the color returned to his cheeks. “I would have let a tool slip at work and rip my eyes out. At least then I would have gotten some workman’s comp,” he joked.

“I guess I would have had to come take care of you then, huh? Eddie can barely remember to pick up batteries.” Speaking of the devil, he walked back inside with a pack of batteries and a soda.

“If that ain’t the truth,” Uncle Wayne smiled.

“What?” Eddie asked, handing you the cup and flopping on the couch next to you. He raised his eyebrows, asking if everything had gone alright. You weren’t outside crying like he half expected you to be, so he guessed it went well. Once you leaned forward and kissed him briefly and gently, his worries melted away.

“Nothing. You have to change that battery, though, it’s driving me nuts,” you said, pushing him off of you.

“I don’t know how to do that shit,” he shrugged right as another piercing beep came from the machine.

“Come on, I’ll teach you,” Uncle Wayne said to you, grunting as he stood up. You nodded, grabbing the step-stool and climbing up, getting ready to listen to Wayne’s instructions. He reached down to pull Eddie up by the shirt. “It won’t kill you to learn this, too.”

“That’s what I have you two for,” he grinned, allowing himself to be dragged along.

“I have to put up with him, legally. Why do you do it, girl?” he asked you. Before you could give a sweet, cheesy answer, Eddie got the brilliant idea to offer his opinion.

“Well, I think you saw why.” Your gasp was right in time with Wayne’s palm meeting the back of Eddie’s head.

“You’re sick,” you scowled, ripping the batteries from his hand.

“Shameless,” Uncle Wayne shook his head.

“Kick him out, I’ll take over his room and even keep it clean,” you teased, sliding the battery into place and snapping the cover back on.

“When can you move in?” he asked, offering his hand to help you down.

“I think I liked it better when you two weren’t speaking,” Eddie said, almost regretting bringing you back together. He’d never admit it, but your relationship meant a lot to him, too. His two favorite people.

[mammons-lover]

Continuation of this, It's an Au where the brothers don’t fall into devildom, but they fall into the human realm and land on Mc’s house.

Sorry for the late post; I typically or at least try to post between 3-5pm, but I am in college at the time, so it is a bit difficult, but I hope you enjoy!

After everything calmed down, the brothers settled into your home. As you fetched some clothes for the man named Satan, you began to assess the situation. You couldn’t help but notice that these men didn’t look exactly human, with wings on their backs and clothing that seemed far too rich and otherworldly to be anything you’d find on Earth. “Oh shit,” you muttered to yourself, panicking. “Did I just let creepy cosplayers into my home?”

You walked back to the living room, where the brothers were sitting around, trying to make sense of their new surroundings. Handing the clothes to Satan, you pointed him toward the bathroom. Then, turning to the rest of them, you asked, “So... who are you people?”

Lucifer was the first to respond. “We’re from the Celestial Realm. These are my brothers Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor and I’m Lucifer.”

“Waaaait,” you said, your eyes narrowing in disbelief. “You guys are angels? What about the guy in the bathroom?!”

“He's a... that is our other brother, Satan,” Lucifer replied calmly.

“No way. I don’t believe you guys,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

Asmodeus, chimed in, “Babe, we literally fell through your roof from the sky! How much proof do you need?”

You sighed, realizing that they had a point. “I guess that’s true. Speaking of falling, though, how are you going to pay for the damages?”

Mammon grinned, his usual mischief glinting in his eyes. “With a very meaningful ‘I’m sorry.’”

You shot him a withering look. “I don’t accept your apology. If you have no money, you need to get out of my house.”

Before you could follow through with your threat, Beelzebub, who had remained unusually quiet, suddenly spoke up. “Okay, but before you kick us out, do you have any food?”

Your irritation flared again. “I’m not giving you anything for free! These damages are going to cost me an arm and a leg in this society!”

Leviathan’s eyes went wide in horror. “Are they gonna cut up your body?!”

“They’re not gonna actually take my limbs,” you explained, exasperated. “It’s just a figure of speech.”

After the conversation, you sent the brothers out of the house and began the daunting task of cleaning up. As you worked, you glanced out the window and saw them sitting on the curb, embroiled in what looked like a heated argument. The dispute ended abruptly when it started to rain, quickly turning into a downpour. You watched as the brothers scrambled together, trying futilely to use their clothes to cover their heads.

You felt a pang of guilt. Sure, they had caused a lot of damage, but they didn’t seem to know where they were, and they clearly had no place to stay. Sighing, you grabbed an umbrella and walked over to them. “Come inside,” you said, unable to leave them out in the storm.

Drenched and looking pitiful, they followed you back into the house. Once inside, you laid out some ground rules. “First, my room is off-limits. Second, you need to find jobs to pay for my ceiling.”

The brothers quickly agreed, and you immediately put them to work, instructing them to grab pots and towels to catch the water leaking through the holes in the roof. After the impromptu cleanup, everyone was exhausted and ready for bed. However, you soon realized that with your one-bedroom house, and all possible sleeping areas flooded, space was going to be an issue. Reluctantly, you allowed them to stay in your room, but they had to cram themselves onto the floor, which quickly turned into a disaster.

“Beel, move over!” Leviathan grumbled.

“I can’t, there’s no space!” Beelzebub replied, sounding equally frustrated.

“Mammon, get off me! Why are you all over me today?!” Asmodeus complained, sitting up in annoyance.

“I’m not trying to be on ya, but new guy over here keeps scooching over!” Mammon shot back, glaring at Satan.

Satan, clearly irritated, snapped, “Lucifer is all in my space! What else am I supposed to do? And my name is Satan!”

“Whatever, new guy,” Mammon muttered. Then he turned to you with a grin. “Hey MC, you think I can get up there with you?”

“Absolutely not,” you replied, not missing a beat. “I don’t know what kind of creeps you are, but you should be happy you’re even in here!”

Asmodeus, ever the instigator, added, “It’s not our fault your house was here, you know?”

“Do you think I care?” you shot back. “You still landed on my home! You know I can still kick you out, right?”

Lucifer finally intervened, his voice calm but firm. “Enough. Everyone let’s just rest. I know we’re all tired.”

Everyone agreed, and eventually, they all fell asleep. The next morning, you found them scattered around your room, some watching TV while others peered over your shoulder as you scrolled through job listings on your phone.

“Does anyone here have job experience?” you asked, not expecting much.

Beelzebub was the first to respond. “Does guarding the gates in the Celestial Realm count?”

“We can make that sound more realistic and say you worked security,” you said, typing it into the job application. “Asmodeus, you next.”

Asmodeus thought for a moment before replying, “I never had to work, but I did make basic-looking people into, well, kinda attractive people.”

“Okay, so we can say you’re a cosmetic stylist,” you suggested.

One by one, you went through the rest of the brothers, assigning Leviathan and Mammon to a café, Satan as a library assistant, Lucifer as a personal assistant at Dia Corp, and Belphegor staying home to help with the cleanup.

A week passed, and things had started to fall into a tentative routine. After you helped the brothers secure jobs, they began to scrape together whatever money they could, pooling it to buy temporary plastic sheets to cover the gaping holes in your ceiling. It wasn’t a perfect fix, but it kept the rain out and made the place feel a little more livable.

Mornings in your home had taken on a surprising rhythm. Belphegor, despite his usual lethargy, had taken on the role of making breakfast. He’d wake up early—well, early for him—throw together something edible, and pack lunches for everyone before promptly passing out around the house. You never knew where you’d find him napping sometimes on the couch, other times in the laundry machine, once even curled up in the bathtub.

Meanwhile, the rest of the brothers would head off to work. Lucifer had quickly established himself at Dia Corp, where he’d met the enigmatic CEO, Diavolo, and his right-hand man, Barbatos. Though it was just a simple personal assistant job on paper, it was clear there was something more going on behind the scenes. Diavolo seemed to take an unusual interest in Lucifer, and their meetings often stretched well into the evening. Despite this, Lucifer managed to maintain his usual composure, even if he occasionally came home looking a little more exhausted than usual.

Mammon and Leviathan, on the other hand, had found themselves working at a local café. To say it was an adjustment would be an understatement. Mammon, with his natural charm—or what he thought was charm—had taken to flirting with every customer who walked through the door for a bigger tip, which often lead to awkward misunderstandings that left the poor baristas scrambling to keep up with his lies. Leviathan, for his part, had somehow ended up in charge of the cash register, a task that seemed simple enough until he realized it involved actual human interaction. The first few days were a disaster, with Levi stammering through orders and fumbling with the register until one particularly patient customer had to help him count the change.

But slowly, they were getting the hang of it. Mammon had started focusing his energy on upselling desserts rather than flirting (though he still couldn’t help himself sometimes), and Levi had found a rhythm with the regulars who didn’t mind his awkwardness. They even managed to avoid breaking anything—mostly.

As for Asmodeus, he had landed a job at a local salon, where he quickly became the most sought-after stylist. His flair for fashion and beauty made him an instant hit, and his days were filled with makeovers, gossip, and the occasional dramatic outburst when someone dared to question his artistic vision.

Beelzebub’s job at a security firm suited him perfectly. The work was straightforward, and he could focus on the task at hand without too much interaction, which suited his easygoing nature. The best part? The job came with plenty of food perks. He often returned home with snacks, much to his and everyone else’s delight.

Even Satan had found his place, working as a library assistant. The quiet atmosphere and endless shelves of books were a haven for him, though he couldn’t resist adding a few more books to your already overflowing collection at home.

Despite the rocky start, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of attachment to this group of misfit angels-turned-fallen angels. They had somehow managed to turn your life upside down, but in doing so, they had brought an unexpected sense of camaraderie and even comfort to your once-quiet home.

(I can see asmo as an 80's hair stylist clacking his gum in your ear and telling you how horribly the last person did your hair dye)

(Side note: I am sorry if my writing seems a little strange or like it is written in the third person; this is the first time I have really included Mc in my writing. Also, sorry if this was a bit long!)

[anilovie]

My Love, My Life

Summary: You and Anakin are on a supply-run and get caught in a storm, forcing you to find shelter amidst growing tensions.

WC: 9.3k

CW: MDNI, pwp, oral (f recieving), mild size kink, shared shower, lots of fluff

AN: I swear this whole thing was revealed to me in a vision.

You and Anakin had been watching the weather closely since being sent out in the dingy little transport ship. The mission was to deliver supplies and medical aid to an incognito Obi-Wan on the planet Leaze— before the storm got bad enough where travel became impossible. 

It was a simple mission, if not complicated by the sudden turn in their seasons, bringing forth a front of strong winds and heavy rains. Anakin could have even come himself, but the two of you played up the extent of Obi-Wan’s sustained injuries so that the Council would feel the need to send a medic – you – along for the ride as well. Any opportunity for you and Anakin to spend time together, you exploited. 

Really, Obi-Wan just sprained a wrist. He was low on food, water ammo, batteries, and his clothes had been all torn up in a nasty skirmish with some bounty hunters. “A joyride,” Anakin referred to this mission as. That is, until you began the descent into Leaze’s misty, swirling skies.

In between tracking his location and watching the weather radar, Anakin’s focus was on bringing you down to the ground safely — with a little more emphasis on safe, since you were here. Thus, his hands gripped the controls with a bit more force than normal, jaw clenched and brows furrowed as he met each gust of wind with a controlled parry. He pulled the shuttle through the misty skies, stabilizing the rocking foundations through the whipping winds that threatened to toss you right out of the air.

You weren’t sure how he could even see. The rain and leaves that had stuck to the window obliterated any view– he likely wasn’t even trying to see. You realized this as he answered Obi-Wan’s incoming call without even sparing a glance out the window, fingers flying over the dashboard, weathering the elements through intellect and feeling alone. 

“Anakin, Y/n, I trust that you’ve made it here safely,” Obi-Wan’s hologram displayed before you and Anakin. He looked alright – his disguise was off, for now, and he seemed to be someplace warm and out of the rain, a complete juxtaposition to the two of you.

As soon as the words warbled through, something slammed into the shuttle, rocking the foundations with an ominous groan as you began to plummet.

Anakin swore and yanked on the yoke, flicking some switches on the dashboard. “Working on it,” he bit through clenched teeth, huffing as the inferior ion engines sputtered and popped to life, breaking your fall. The shull continued to rattle and jerk, throwing you around in your seat despite being fully strapped up. 

“I can see that,” Obi-Wan quipped. “Well, once you make it to the ground, don’t bother coming to my location. The storm is worse than the reports have indicated. Find shelter for yourselves – I can hold out another day.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. It’ll do more harm than good forcing you out there in these conditions. I am safe where I am.”

“Which is where?”

The transmission cut out for a moment, shuttering off and on again as sheets of rain pelted the aluminum roof. You caught the last half of his explanation. “--they offered a room for the night, though at a high price. I hope you brought extra credits.”

“Some,” Anakin grit. 

“Perfect. Well, I won’t keep distracting you. It looks like you’ve got your hands full,” Obi-Wan bid goodbye, his cheery tone outlandish among your current predicament. “Happy landings,” he bid, and the transmission cut off.

Your fingers dug into your armrests, trusting Anakin’s skill to see that wish through. He was still deeply concentrated, and more than a little stressed as he pulled the yoke and typed over multiple colorful buttons. 

“Well, at least he’s safe,” you offered offhandedly, trying to diffuse the tension. Another hard gust of wind slammed into the hull, this time on your side, followed by a hard sheet of rain. You flinched. 

The lights had begun to flicker a while ago, and now they shut off completely, leaving you in the pitch black. Your sharp intake of air was audible, heart dropping to the pits of your stomach as the assault on the ship heightened.

“It’s okay, I did that on purpose,” Anakin explained. You could hear the strain in his voice, the clacking of his fingers over the overworked dashboard. “We need more power to the engines and thrusters. It’ll be a bumpy landing either way, but–”

“It’s okay,” you squeaked. 

“We’re almost there…”  

Bracing yourself, you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the armrests, anticipation swirling around in your gut. You trusted him. You didn’t have to be so afraid. It was the weather you didn’t trust. Maker forbid you land in a pit of mud, swallowed up before you could escape. 

A sudden jolt threw you forward, the sickening screech of bolts and rods fighting to hold the metal panels of the shuttle together drowning out all other senses. Inertia pushed you forward in your seat, and you would have gone flying out the windshield if it weren’t for the double straps tightened over your chest, the lap belt, and the death grip you had on your armrests.

Slowly, the sliding of the shuttle ship began to slow, the tension in the shuttle easing, parts settling back into place. Then, the sounds of the vicious rain pelting the roof returned, your body relaxing against the seat with a huff, blinking your eyes open to the pitch blackness of the hull.

“You okay?” Anakin worried, clicking out of his own seatbelt to reach for you. 

You followed suit, fingers fumbling around in the dark for the clasps that would free you. “All good,” you released one set of straps, and Anakin found the two others for you. “Thanks.”

Another gust of wind nudged the shull forward, groaning under the pressure. Some lights flickered on, and there was Anakin fiddling with the control panel overhead so you could see. 

“I don’t think we can stay here for very long, unfortunately,” he said, and you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him look so stressed. “The ship appears to be sinking. We’ll have to pack a bag and get going.”

Abandon ship? In these conditions?

Again, your unshakable trust in him erased any fear in your mind. He’d done far riskier and more dangerous things – his own fear now was because of you. You’re safety. 

But you were fine – just a little shaky as you stood and reached for the supply crates in the back, rifling through them for necessities, tossing them to Anakin to shove into a bag. You managed to get half of what you’d originally planned to drop off for Obi-Wan into two bags. Anakin shrugged the larger one over his shoulders, and you took the smaller one.

You’d both come prepared, already wearing rain ponchos, but it seemed like they’d do little good as Anakin kicked the stuck door open. The sound of the rain coming down was deafening, a roaring torrent that could easily sweep you away. 

“Hold on to me,” Anakin yelled over the sound, and you hooked an arm around his, pulling you out of the ship with him.

Mud and rain splattered your face as your boots met the ground, and he immediately took off, dragging you with him. Again, your blind faith in him came in handy. All you could focus on was spluttering around the rain for any pocket of air you could find, trying to keep upright as your heels slipped and skidded in the mud, hoping you weren’t slowing Anakin down.

Of course you were slowing him down. You were no Jedi. But you both knew that, and he didn’t mind. Just wanted you out of the wind and rain so you wouldn’t catch a cold.

After what seemed like ages of the two of you fighting through the elements, narrowly avoiding trees and branches and sharp rocks, Anakin pointed out an abandoned shed in the distance. He ran for it, pulling you under the awning with him so he could pound on the door.

“No one’s here,” he spoke after a moment as you were still wiping water out of your eyes. Something clicked in the door, unlocking so Anakin could open it up and peer inside.

He found the light switch on the wall, flipping it up and down uselessly. “Power’s out,” he mumbled, searching around in the force for some mechanism of light. Apparently finding something, he released your hand. “I’ll be right back.”

You stood shivering by the closed door, dripping a puddle of water onto the ground as you waited for him to return. With your sight gone, your other senses were heightened – you could smell the dust of furniture long forgotten, hear the creeks of unkempt floorboards as Anakin explored the shed, and feel the bone-cold chill of the storm seeping in under the crack in the door. Wherever you were, it was very old, and likely abandoned.

Anakin came back around the corner brandishing a candle, shielding the flame with one hand as he made his way back to you.

“This looks like it was somebody’s home at one point,” he thought aloud, pointing to the way he just came. “That’s a kitchen over there, and there’s a loft with a bed in the back. Pretty sure I saw a shower, too. I can probably get the pumps running long enough to make use of it.”

You wouldn’t question how he could do that– sometimes it seemed like he had magical powers, even without the force. 

“Is there a fireplace?” you wondered, shaking off your drenched poncho and stepping further in now that you could see. “Maybe I could heat up some water to use, warm this place up a bit, too.”

Anakin held the candle out before him, casting shadows over the interior of the little shed. Right in front of the door was a wooden stairway – more of a ladder – that led to what you assumed was an attic. Deciding to avoid any bats or rodents, you agreed to keep that shut and rounded the ladder to what looked like a tiny living room opposite the kitchen, separated by a thin wall.

A couple threadbare sofa-chairs sat dusty and weathered on the dull carpet, a table set before the both of them, and – jackpot – a little stone fireplace in the corner.

“The wood from outside is too wet to burn,” Anakin poked at the empty log pit. “But I could break down that table and use it as fuel…”

“Good idea,” you chirped, taking the candle from Anakin to free up his hands for the task. “I’ll go look for more candles and matches.”

The kitchen was just as tiny, standing room only and no dining table. It consisted of a slab of wood for a counter, an empty ice box that was cracked down the middle, and some drawers which were also mostly empty.

One of the cupboard up top held a few random supplies, mostly rubber bands and bottle caps and dead batteries. But amid that was a bag of little tea candles, a few larger ones made of a slippery wax, and a box of matches. Half were no good, but you only needed to light one and then share the flame with all the others.

You planted the tea candles around on various surfaces, lighting the space up as Anakin broke down the table. You threw some old papers you’d found bunched in a drawer into the fireplace for more starter fuel, scratching another match to life against the grated box once Anakin dropped a leg of the table into the fire. You tossed the match in after it, satisfied when the flame caught the edge of the papers and flared to life, enveloping the wooden leg.

“That’s so much better,” you sighed, holding your hands out to warm by the flame. 

“Mmhm,” he agreed, crouched beside you. He stared, mesmerized by the flames for a long moment before suddenly standing. “Alright, I’m gonna go look at the pipes. Will you be okay for now?”

“Yup,” you nodded cheerily. “Where are the pipes?”

“There’s a cellar out back. Should be down there.”

“Oh…” this time, your shiver wasn’t from the cold. “Want me to go with you? Sounds kinda creepy.”

Anakin huffed a laugh, running a hand down the back of your head affectionately. “No, I think I’ll be alright, thank you. Want you to stay here and warm up.”

“I’ll go get the bed ready.”

“Perfect,” he brought you toward him with that hand, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be back.”

Now alone, you fed the fire with some more wood from the table, crouching down before the bags to get out your and Anakin’s spare set of clothes. You hung them up on the sill of the fireplace, weighing them down with the candles so they could dry. 

There were a couple of large buckets beside the fireplace, probably meant for gathering wood. You took one and set it outside to collect rainwater. It didn’t take very long at all – it filled up from the downpour within minutes, and you hung it up on the metal rod above the fire to boil for drinking water.

Then you grabbed one of the thicker candles to light your way to the back of the shed. The floorboards lifted slightly back here, half of a wall hiding the bedroom from the rest of the interior. 

The bed was quite large for such a small space, half-made with a quilted cover. It looked all dusty and gross, so you tore it off and opened all the drawers and cupboards in the space, praying for some spare sheets.

Luck seemed to be on your side. There was a set of sheets, blankets, and even a couple of pillows stowed away atop the first shelf in the closet. You had to strain on your tiptoes to reach them, but eventually knocked them down to your height. You took them to the living room and shook them out, making sure no dust or any bugs hid inside, then brought them back to the room and made the bed.

It was a lot more than you were hoping for, for an abandoned shed in the depths of the forest.

With the bed all made and Anakin not back yet, you decided to use the old dirty blanket to wipe down the interior of the bathroom. There was a shower – if that’s what you could call it. Really, it was just a spigot attached to the wall with a drain beneath, the floor here made of smooth rock rather than wood. But if Anakin could get it to work, and you warmed up some more water over the fire, you could have a real, warm shower using the soap you’d brought from the ship. 

The sound of the door opening let in the roar of the rain once more. Anakin closed it behind him, shaking water out of his hair.. “Good news,” he called, voice carrying from the door to the bedroom in the small shed. “There’s a water heater down there that I got working, as well as the pipes. I just have to fill the tank and we’re good to go.”

“Ohh,” you cooed excitedly, rounding the corner to meet him again. “I found a bucket we could use– hold on.” You grabbed the spare bucket from the fireplace and handed it to him. “The bed’s all set, I found some clean sheets and cleaned up the bathroom. There doesn’t seem to be anything useful in the kitchen or anywhere else,” you shrugged. “But I think this will do pretty well for the night.”

“I think so, too,” Anakin said, and despite the howling wind and icy rain pounding into the roof and threatening to shatter the windows, he smiled. 

He left to go fill the tank, and you laid out the rest of the supplies before the fire. The bigger bag was for Obi-Wan– those things you didn’t touch. But you and Anakin had a couple extra blankets, some food, a blaster, maps, and your medical supplies. Most of it survived the rain.

By the time Anakin came back, you were still sitting before the fire, occasionally feeding it with more scraps of wood and poking it around with a longer piece. He kicked the mud and dirt off his boots at the door before coming in, shrugging off his poncho. 

“Alright, bad news…” he started this time. You turned to look at him. “The heater is the slowest thing I’ve ever come across. It’ll take hours. I don’t think showers are in the cards for us tonight.”

You twisted your lips, trying not to seem too disappointed. “Bummer.” 

All you wanted to do was get out of these sticky, soaking wet clothes and immerse yourself in a warm shower. But at least he tried, and it really wasn’t the end of the world.

“Maybe in the morning,” you reasoned, trying to stay positive. He joined you by the fire as you tugged on the clothes you’d hung up, seeing if they were ready. “At least these are dry, and warm now. That’s better than nothing.”

“It is. Smart girl,” he tilted your face toward his with a finger, crouched before you again. His lips met yours – wet meeting dry, cold meeting warm. It took you by surprise a little bit, the intensity he kissed you with out of nowhere. But you responded in earnest, as if the simple touch of your flesh could warm him from the torrents coming down outside. 

After a long moment, he pulled back an inch, mumbling against your mouth, “Let’s get out of these wet clothes, yeah?”

You nodded silently, standing once he gave you room to take the clothes down from the fire. 

You’d been on missions with Anakin before, just the two of you. But nothing like this – so raw, so intimate, so secluded from the rest of the world. You could feel a strange tension in the air between you two, not bad. Just… different. Like there was an energy pulsing alive, waiting for something to snap.

You’d been with Anakin for a few months now, and in love with each other for far longer. But… you’d never truly been with him yet. In any way. 

He knew you weren’t ready, and explained you could take it slow. As slow as you wanted. He, of course, was already experienced, and that intimidated you. Which is why it had been months, and you still hadn’t made a move to progress things. Just the thought of doing those things with him made you impossibly nervous.

But lately, like now, you were thinking about it more and more. You couldn’t do this with anyone else, you thought. Just Anakin. You loved him more than life itself, and your ability to express that with words or innocent touches was growing limited. 

You wanted more of him. And you wanted him to have more of you.

What are you thinking? You shook the thoughts out of your head as you took your clothes into the bathroom to change. These thoughts had nothing to do with the predicament you found yourselves in. The last thing he was thinking about was sex.

In fact, upon exiting the bathroom, you found him already changed into his dried pair of pants and nothing else, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you with a tired, slumped look in his eyes.

He’d given you his spare shirt to wear since it was bigger and warmer than yours, and he wasn’t going to wear it anyways. You also had on a pair of shorts, the comfy ones you brought for sleeping since you thought you’d be in an inn right now. 

You approached him slowly, shadows cast over his face from the candlelight, flickering off the walls. The air was a bit chillier back here, away from the fire that you’d let simmer to embers for now. Naturally, you gravitated toward his shirtless form, slotting yourself in the space he’d opened up for you between his knees, and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What an odd change of plans,” you muttered into his hair softly.

His flesh hand found your back, holding you close as he nestled his head against your chest. “Agreed.”

You remained like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other’s warmth and rain-damp hair, listening to the constant thrum of the downpour above, the gusting wind in the trees. 

“You tired?” you asked, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. You liked how it looked dark and burnished in the candlelight, holding the shape of a ringlet curl as you wrapped and uncoiled it from around your finger. 

“Very,” he breathed, turning his face into your neck to leave a kiss on your collarbone. “C’mere.”

Both of his wrapped around your back, securely holding you to him as he fell backward onto the bed, with you on top of him. You laughed, steadying yourself with your arms on either side of his head, ducking down to plant a sweet kiss above his brows. 

“You’re not even on the bed,” you pointed out, referring to his legs which were still on the floor. You pulled back the covers, and you both slipped under, instantly finding the spot between his chest and shoulder to lay your head. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you snuggly into his side, allowing you to slot one of your legs between his. 

This is how it always was when you and him could truly be alone, uninterrupted, with no threat of someone finding you out. It was a rare moment, which is why your skin sang with every inch it pressed against his, heart soaring in your chest as your body seemed to settle so perfectly against his, erasing any doubt in your mind that any of this could be a mistake.

Before long, and without even realizing, you slipped into a deep sleep. Despite the harsh weather outside, you’d never felt so comfortable, wrapped up in warmth and darkness. That is, until Anakin woke with a start, wrenching you out of your slumber.

“What issit?” you slurred, rubbing sleep out of your eyes. It wasn’t like when he’d have nightmares, where you’d usually wake up before him due to his tossing and turning and mumbling. This was sudden – like something had possessed him, stolen all the air from his lungs as wide eyes turned to you.

“The transmitter,” he said, throwing the blankets off of him and getting out of bed. Your head was still lagging behind, having no idea what he meant.

“What transmitter?”

“The one on the ship. The only way we can contact Obi-Wan. We left it behind.”

He was already pulling on his boots and reaching for his other shirt, sparing no time. You pushed yourself further up in bed, swiping your hair out of your face. “D’you have to get it now? Can it wait till the morning?”

“The ship was sinking when we left it. It could be buried in mud right now,” he rushed the words out, grabbing his utility belt from the sill and securing it around his waist. “I’ll be back in an hour. Go back to bed… I’m sorry for waking you.”

“No, I’ll come with you,” you were already swinging your legs off the bed too, about to stand up when Anakin put a hand on your shoulder. It was dark now, the candles having been blown out without you realizing, and you could barely see his face.

“No. Stay here. I don’t want you out there, it’s too dangerous.”

“It’s just some rain,” your argument sounded meek, even to you. “Come on, Anakin, I don’t want you to go alone. ‘S not fair.”

“Fair?” 

“You shouldn’t have to be out there while I stay here and sleep. I won’t be able to, anyway. It is dangerous, so I should come with you, in case something happens.”

“Y/n. No,” he said sternly, and you flinched. A heavy pause hung between you, where you searched for what to say among the scattered thoughts in your brain. He’d never been stern with you before. Ever. 

“I won’t be gone long. I promise I’ll be there and back as fast as I can. Okay?”

“But,” you insisted stubbornly, desperately fighting back the sting in your eyes. “I want to go with you, Anakin. I want to help you.”

You tried to stand up again, but the hold he had on your shoulders wouldn’t let you. You tried to fight back the emotion rising in your throat, threatening to spill over your eyes at his defiance. He was too strong, his word absolute– and for once, you couldn’t sway him.

The thought of him out there, alone in the dark and cold and rain… it killed you.

You grasped at his wrists, still holding onto your shoulders, and squeezed as if you could keep him there. As if he wasn’t laughably stronger than you, and could pull away from your touch without realizing you were trying.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? This isn’t like you,” his words came out hushed now. Worried. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you sniffed, lip beginning to wobble. “Just don’t want you to get hurt.” It’s scary out there.

“I won’t. I promise… I’ll be okay. You’ll see,” he kissed the stray tear that squeezed out of your eye, collecting it with his lips before it could trail a path down your cheek. You tried to steady your breathing, shaky as it dragged in and out of your lungs, quelling the rising feeling of dread and fear.

Somehow, he’d coaxed you back into bed, on your back, tucking the sheets in around you nice and tight. Tight enough so that you couldn’t get out, perhaps. Whimpering in defeat, you felt another few tears squeeze out of your eyes, turning your head away from him to bury into the pillow.

“Don’t do this,” Anakin murmured, stroking a hand over your hair. “Please, don’t cry.”

“Fine,” you snipped, immediately regretting it. “‘M sorry… just don’t get hurt. Come back.”

“I will,” he whispered, and trailed warm kisses down your temple. 

And then he was gone.

His voice, his touch, his scent, his warmth – all of it, vanished like it had never been there to begin with.

It’s not the fact that he’d left to go do something dangerous on his own – it was the fact that he was out there all alone, in a terrible storm, fighting through the unpredictability of the elements. It had been violent for the short time you’d been out there earlier, the rain pelting your skin so hard it stung, the mud sticking to your boots, refusing to let you move, the wind nearly toppling you over if Anakin hadn’t been there to steady you.

You could have gone with him. You could have kept up. And Maker forbid anything happen to him – if he got stuck, trapped somewhere, if a tree came down over him, if he got lost and couldn’t find his way–

You couldn’t stay in bed. Half of you wanted to pull your boots on too and meet him out there, but you knew that was a stupid decision. You didn’t have his sense of direction, the built in radar that he had. And even as you peered through the cloudy window to the outside world, you knew it would be in vain. The night forest was alive with shuttering tree limbs, branches fighting each other in the sky as the terrible wind tossed them around. The rain never let up, the same suffocating sheet of water dumping from the moonless sky above.

Anakin was far gone at this point. You could only sit by the window, alone in the cold, dusty dark, until he returned.

The sleeves of your – Anakin’s – shirt had grown damp by the time you spotted his figure appear out of the trees. 

It startled you at first, worried some stranger had come across the shed in the same way you and Anakin had, and was now heading this way to seek shelter. Once he arrived, he might find you here, and maybe he’d try to hurt you.

You slipped off the ledge you were sitting on and grabbed for the water-logged blaster you’d set on the floor, shaking out some raindrops and hoping it wasn’t one of the things that got destroyed by the rain. 

Your worry was for naught - the closer the figure grew, the more you recognized the height, shape, and gait of Anakin Skywalker. The hood of his poncho was pulled up over his head, but it did little good as the wind tugged and pulled at it, letting the rain drench his face anyway.

You set the blaster down and met him by the door, pulling it open to reveal him soaked to the bone and panting. He truly had run the whole way.

“Anakin,” you started, trying to stay out of his way so he could take off his poncho and boots without spraying you with water. “Are you okay? Did you get the transmitter?”

“I made it just in time,” he explained, reaching into his belt pocket and brandishing the little metal device. Such a small thing, important enough to risk his life over. 

At least, to him it was.

“You must be freezing,” you muttered, still upset at the fact that you hadn’t shared in his suffering. You hated seeing him go through these things alone. You should have been with him. 

“The heaters have probably had enough time to warm the water up,” his attempt to distract you didn’t go unnoticed. “You wanna go check for me?”

You whispered, “okay,” and flit back to the bedroom, lighting a couple of candles inside so you could see. The spigot was stuck in place due to years of sitting unused and abandoned, but eventually you managed to wrench it to the side, almost splattering yourself with brown water.

Your face crinkled in disgust, but soon it began to run clear. You tested the temperature with your fingertips, pleased to feel that it was warm.

Anakin rounded the corner, leaning against the doorway of the bathroom with his arms crossed. “Is it working?”

“Yeah. It’s warm,” you pulled your hand away and wiped it dry on your shorts. “You should get in quick so it’s not wasted.”

“Wanna join me?”

His offer caught you by surprise.

Join him? In the shower? As in… naked?

The look on your face must have given your thoughts away. He chuckled and reached toward one of the tea lights you’d just lit, snuffing the flame out between two gloved fingers. “I can turn off the lights…” he teased.

Damn him. As if you weren’t already flustered – 

The steady trickle of the spigot remained at your back, seducing you to the warmth of the shower. It would feel so good to be able to wash up. And with there only really being enough time for one shower… it would make sense for the both of you to just do it together.

But Anakin had never seen you without clothes before. And you hadn’t prepared for that to happen today.

“Yes… no…?” he drawled, uncrossing his arms and reaching out for the other candle. Like the first, he pinched the flame out, blanketing the room in darkness. The sound of the floorboards creaking was the only way you knew he was approaching, tensing as you felt his hands tug at the hem of your shirt. “C’mon, sweetheart. I’ll behave.”

You were still upset with him being stern with you earlier. And even more upset that he didn’t let you go with him. 

But something about his honey-smooth voice reduced you to putty in his hands. Warmth budded and bloomed deep in your stomach, and a certain resolve passed over you. You didn’t want to be upset anymore. You wanted this. 

“Okay,” you whispered, fingers finding Anakin’s at the bottom of your shirt. You didn’t miss his slight inhale.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” you tugged the hem up yourself, urging him to guide the material over your head. 

The darkness of the room was the only thing that offered you any sort of comfort, knowing he couldn’t truly see you just yet. You knew, logically, that he could fathom things in his mind without having to see them, but purposely ignored that fact.

You weren’t sure where your shirt landed, as he’d been the one to tug your arms out himself. Riding the adrenaline high, you slipped your thumbs under the elastic of your sleep shorts and pushed them down, kicking them somewhere in the corner.

And there you were, standing completely naked in front of Anakin Skywalker – your love, your life – for the first time ever.

Again, the only reason you could really do this right now was because it was pitch black in the room. You only had enough nerve to then reach for him, hand finding the soaking wet material of his own shirt as you shivered in the cold.

“Hurry up and get undressed, I wanna get in,” you pleaded. He’d gone eerily silent.

At your request, he started into motion. You could hear the sounds of his wet clothes slopping to the ground heavily, trying to fight the blush off of your face as you turned around to pull the spigot further. The water began to rain down in a warm current now, and you stepped underneath to douse yourself in the glorious heat.

“Where are yo–? oh,” you jumped as you felt his hands find their way around your waist, his naked chest pressed up against your back. The water sprayed over the both of you, trickling down his body to fall onto yours, shivering at the added heat.

The blood in your face grew warmer, trying not to think about how close his hands were to two very sensitive parts of your body. They spanned almost the whole length of your torso, tummy twisting as you realized just how big he was. Just how strong.

But he chose to be gentle with you.

Trying to steady your breathing, you reached for the soap you’d stowed away in the notch in the wall, flipping the cap open and squirting a generous amount into the palm of your hand. Anakin trailed his fingers down your arm, taking the bottle from you and setting it down again. 

You rubbed the soap between your hands, letting the excess drip down your body so it wouldn’t go to waste. Then, you began rubbing the suds all into your skin, feeling impossibly feverish at the predicament.

It just felt… wrong, somehow, to be touching yourself like this in front of Anakin. Even if you were just washing up.

His hands had returned to your waist, and you smoothed them over his own as you worked your way down your body. Wordlessly, he turned his hands over, capturing your soapy fingers in his and stealing some of the suds. You huffed a laugh, heart fluttering in your chest as he began to work that soap into the soft skin of your stomach, hips, and waist. 

You tried not to squirm too much. Forced yourself to relax, and just let him do what he wanted. He was obviously enjoying it, the way he lingered, rubbing circles into your soft skin, kissing at your shoulder blade as he brought his hands around and up your back, almost massaging the soap into you. 

The way his hands moved over your body was so different than anything you’ve ever felt before. You’d never been touched so tenderly, so unrestricted yet loving as you’d been now. And though he had free reign, he avoided the parts that might make you uncomfortable… until you grew bold enough to capture his wandering hands in your own, leading them to the soft mounds of flesh yourself. 

On instinct he squeezed, ever so gently, with your smaller fingers bracketing his own. “You can touch me,” you whispered, encouraging now that you were fully relaxed and comfortable with him.

“You’re perfect,” he replied, lips finding the curve of your neck.

What had he said about behaving?

As if he could read your thoughts, his lips released the skin of your neck with a small sound, pressing a kiss above that spot, and then one more under your jaw. Then he began to move his hands over your breasts, not quite sexual, but gentle. Caring. Washing you of rainwater and chill, so all that was left was the sweet smelling soap and the feel of him.

You sighed in relief, bones turning to mush in his hands. Soon, he reached for the soap again and squeezed more out, stepping around so that he was in front of you.

His hands found you again, your waist this time, the unpredictability of his touches making your heart hammer against your ribs. Something about it was so thrilling, not being able to see where he was or where he was planning to go, especially now that you’d given him permission to touch you. You weren’t sure where you’d draw the line if it came to that. If you’d draw the line. 

His touch remained wholly innocent, though, focusing back around on your stomach, dragging down the curve of your waist, your hips, the tops of your thighs. You could feel his breath on your tummy, butterflies flaring to life as you realized he was on his knees before you, dragging his touch up and down your thighs as his lips pressed a sensual kiss to the top of your tummy. Then above your belly button. Then one below–

You held your breath, anticipating him to keep going. But he lingered on the last kiss, and you could feel his teeth on your skin as he smiled.

“On my best behavior, remember?” his voice was deep, almost a purr. 

You could only manage a meek “Mmhm,” as he continued on, tracing his fingers down to your knee, lifting one leg slightly so he could trail kisses down your thigh, over your knee, down, down down, all the while rubbing soap into your skin in his lip’s wake.

By the time he reached your foot, you were bracing yourself with your hands on his shoulders, trying not to jump out of your skin as his lips continued. He kissed your ankle, the top of your foot, massaging soap into the soles of your feet. 

He wasn’t just washing you. He was worshiping you.

That much was clear as he released that leg and started over on the other side. 

You were almost relieved when he was done. Every inch of your skin was alive and buzzing, standing on edge with electricity and embarrassment and something else. Something deep, and smooth, and warm like bubbling molasses. You could barely breathe, glad for the moment of reprieve when he finally released you, and deposited more soap in his hands so he could wash himself. 

Your legs were jelly, afraid you’d fall down right there in the shower, completely baffled how he could just do something like that and continue on like nothing happened. Then, you heard the speed at which he was rubbing the soap over his own body – clearly, he wanted to get out to continue this elsewhere. 

You weren’t terribly ashamed to admit you were thinking along the same line.

Before the water could run cold, Anakin had urged you both under the spigot again and rinsed all the suds off your body. Then he grabbed for the single towel that you’d brought from the supply bag, turning the water off and wrapping you up in it.

“Hey– what’re you doing?” you pouted, undoing the towel just as soon as he’d tucked it into you, secure.

“Getting you dry,” he responded like it was obvious. You rubbed the towel over your skin quickly, then wrapped Anakin in it like he’d done to you. Or– you tried to, at least. You still couldn’t see, and completely missed your mark, caught off guard by the absence of the body you confidently reached for that you almost slipped, bracing yourself on the first thing you could reach.

“Woah,” Anakin chuckled, easily steadying you with his hands around your waist. Your bare chest was pressed against his, glaringly obvious with the way the cold air tightened your skin, and you blushed furiously. 

“Sorry– couldn’t find you,” you mumbled, hopelessly patting at his chest with the towel now that you had him.

“Alright, let’s get you dressed and out of here before you take us both down,” he teased, bending to retrieve the clothes you’d both discarded in the dark.

You let him pull his shirt over your head first, shielding you from the nippy air. You were disappointed with the loss of contact, but glad for the sense of normalcy. He knelt before you again and urged you to lift your leg with his hand around your calf, guiding one leg, then the other into your shorts, pulling them up until they rested comfortably on your hips.

He pulled his own pants on, the only thing he’d be wearing, and you finally reached for the bathroom door, ready to be able to see again even if it was only by candlelight.

It was like re-entering life, after being in the dark for so long. You turned to see if Anakin was following you, finding him close behind as he shut the door behind him, and just the sight of his ridiculously handsome face, gilded by the glow of the fire, set your heart aflame.

You needed his lips on yours. Now.

This time, he was taken by surprise with the intensity of your kiss. You stood on your tiptoes and captured his lips with yours, barely noticing as he fell back into the door slightly, hand finding your hip to steady you. His surprise quickly melted into an intensity that matched your own, hot lips sliding over yours, tongue dipping into your mouth for a taste, palm guiding your jaw just how he liked.

He kissed like he was drinking you in, breathing your air, as if he wished to share the same skin as you. And though you’d started it, now you were trying to keep up, head growing fuzzy from lack of oxygen as he began to guide you backward, onto the bed.

As soon as your back hit the mattress, the reality of the situation dawned on you. He wasn’t slowing down, and you didn’t want him to. His touch dragged fire across your flesh, tracing down the places he’d just worshiped under your clothes, pulling you so close to him you could feel his heart hammer in his chest.

Your hands buried in his hair, the other on his shoulder for stability, grounding as he released your lips with a gasp, wasting no time before claiming the sensitive skin of your neck with the same furiosity. 

“Anakin,” you breathed, not really sure what you wanted to say. You just wanted to taste his name in your mouth, the way the syllables sounded so pretty, so perfect between your teeth.

He answered with a short “mmm,” listening but not really. He was too deep into it, kissing and sucking and nipping at your neck, tongue laving over the small hurts that his teeth dug into you. 

Somehow his flesh hand had drifted to the elastic of your shorts. You’d missed it before, too caught up in him toying with the skin over your pulsepoint. But now his fingers teased the elastic that he’d just put on you, and despite your livewire nerves and the pound of your heart, you lifted your hips in invitation.

His mouth detached from your neck, shocked again as he breathed, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you forbid him from asking again by pulling him back to your lips. You needed the distraction, bracketing his jaw in both your hands as he pulled your shorts down your legs, slowly. Giving you time to back out.

You kicked them off once he reached your feet, flinging them out of sight. Anakin settled back between your thighs, your knees squeezing his waist, squirming as his touch now roamed free under your shirt.

“Anakin,” you pulled away to breathe once again, lips swollen and wet, filled with the taste of him. “I– I don’t know what to do.”

His eyelashes shuttered, delicate as a butterfly wing, and he leaned back in to peck you gently on the lips. “Don’t worry about a thing,” he murmured, eyes all melted and soft. “I’ll take care of you.”

There it was again. That blind trust. 

He could do whatever he wanted to you right now, and you’d let him. Half dressed, strewn over the bed, all for his taking… and he moved down your body to recount the kisses he’d pressed to your stomach in the shower only moments before.

Your muscles clenched and unclenched, hips squirming as you felt an uncomfortable warmth, a wetness, an ache between your legs the further down he moved. You were no stranger to that feeling, or how to relieve it– but you were new to sharing it with someone else. Sharing it with him. 

Though it made you incredibly nervous to have him down there, the need for his touch outweighed everything. He kissed your stomach, hips, and thighs until he felt you relax under his palms, and only then did he slide his hands beneath your knees, pausing one last time to ask:

“Will you let me taste you?”

It felt like something exploded in your face, with the intensity that heat bloomed in your cheeks. Those bejeweled eyes shining in the candlelight, intent on you, hands clutching the plush softness of the backs of your thighs, breath ghosting over the bottom of your stomach– it was almost too much.

“Okay,” you answered quietly, nodding your head. “Y-yes.”

His responding grin was wicked – roguish. Broad hands pushed your legs up and spread them apart, baring it all for him to see.

It was quick– so quick you barely had time to be embarrassed, like ripping a bandaid off. He just… did it. And now he was looking at you, holding your thighs so steady in his strong grasp that you couldn’t even dream of closing them on him.

You threw a hand over your eyes, unable to watch him look at you.

“Baby,” he breathed, flesh hand releasing one of your legs so he could slot it between your thighs, thumb pulling you open a little. You didn’t think it was possible to be more embarrassed as he studied you, only opening your eyes to look at him when he tugged at your wrist in silent demand.

“C’mon, don’t be shy,” he teased, though when you blinked open your wet eyes to look at him, his face had melted into one of adoration. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, before pressing his lips to the swollen bud of your clit, taking you by surprise again. “The prettiest there ever was,” he smirked when he saw your reaction, pulling you open with both thumbs now so he could press a hot, deep, lingering kiss into you.

You gasped at the contact, blood rushing in your ears as your back bowed off the bed. Sparks of pleasure battled the humiliation as he continued planting sweet little suckling kisses to your clit, over and over, as if he couldn’t get enough. 

Once you’d relaxed back onto the bed, and the first pathetic whimper left your mouth, he let his tongue roam your folds, collecting your taste.

He knew this was new for you, so he went slow. Started gentle, getting you used to the feeling. And it was strange for you, just a little bit, but mostly it felt… good. So good. Indescribably good. So much so that you couldn’t believe you’d held out on this for so long.

Couldn’t believe you were letting him do this to you now. 

Your hips twitched and jumped as his tongue traced down to your entrance, teasingly licking you in circles, using pressure like he might try to put it in. The thought had you reaching for the bedsheets, needing something to squeeze in your fists. One of his hands intercepted yours, bringing it back to your thigh so he could hold you still and let you squeeze his hand at the same time. 

He licked your arousal up, truly drinking you now, allowing his tongue to lave over your clit all slow and smooth and warm. You mewled, a sweet, innocent sound that went straight to his cock. With a desire to pull more pretty sounds from you, he kept drawing circles over your clit, increasing the pressure and speed until your eyes were closed, and you were biting your finger between your teeth, unable to help the sounds escaping you.

“Fuck, Ani–”  gasped, thighs falling open by themselves now, inviting him deeper. He licked you again, closing his lips at the top of your heat to suck your clit into his mouth, pulling it between his lips with a pulsing suction. 

He didn’t let up. 

Your muscles tensed, the fuzzy warmth building in your gut, between your legs, spreading down your thighs, becoming all consuming. And just when you thought it would burst, he let go.

“Shit,” you cried, breathless as your hips rocked against his mouth. He laughed, sticking his tongue out so you could hump the met muscle, hot breath fanning over your most sensitive parts. His teeth gleamed in the firelight, dark eyes trained on you, and you had to shut your own so you didn’t cum right there.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he pulled his face away, pinching the inside of your thigh just enough to sting. You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze again. “Stay with me, pretty girl.”

His mouth, shining with your slick, lowered to your pussy again. And you couldn’t stop from moaning, hips canting up and down even though you knew it made his job more difficult. You just couldn’t help it– it felt too good. 

And he knew that, so he was nice. It was your first time, after all. So he relaxed the hold he had on your hips and let you squirm, just a little, to delude you into thinking you had even an ounce of control.

“You gonna cum in my mouth, sweet thing?” he spoke against your cunt, sealing the words off with a loud, wet, kiss. “Gonna make a mess for me?”

You’d never appreciated the velvety timber of his voice more than right now. 

“Mhm,” you whimpered pathetically, eyes squeezing closed. And again, he let you. There would be other times to play his wicked games.

“Alright, sweetheart. Whenever you’re ready,” he soothed, returning his mouth to your clit. He licked and sucked, sliding his tongue back down to your hole and breaching the entrance like he’d fantasized about doing with his cock for so long now, carving the exact path he would take. You gasped for air, humming it out in cute helpless whines and whimpers, cheeks permanently stained in a flush.

“Anakin, I–” you wanted to say you loved him, no matter how pathetic that sounded. But it was true, it was all you could feel as his lips suctioned around your clit again, pulling it into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue in torturous circles. You loved him, loved his mind and his body, and the way his lips and tongue were pulling that glorious wave of heat from out of you now, swallowing the gush of hot slick that escaped from your pulsing hole.

He brought you down with his thumb on your clit, soothing gentle circles into it as you cried, body shaking and jerking beneath him. He watched you come undone with a small smile on his face, not allowing you to escape his attention for even a moment. 

The last gulp of air that you took to settle your shivering muscles felt like the sweetest breath you’d ever taken. Anakin climbed back up your body, hands sliding over your knees, so he could kiss you deep on the lips.

You tasted yourself – it wasn’t bad… slightly salty, but not quite. That mixed with the taste of Anakin had your brain turn to mush again, lips lazy and compliant under his.

“See how good you taste?” he hummed, going back in to flirt his tongue around yours. “Fucking delicious.”

“Anakin–” you were pushing at his chest now, the buffer of arousal no longer shielding you from so much embarrassment. He laughed as you covered your face with your hands, immediately trying to tug them away again.

“It’s the truth,” he insisted with that lover’s pur, and you pouted once he finally succeeded in seeing your face again. He traced your bottom lip with his thumb, still smiling. “You okay?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, unable to fight back your own matching smile. “‘T was so good, Ani. Didn’t think… didn’t think it’d be like that.”

“No?”

“Mm-mm,” you shook your head, leaning into his warm palm as he cupped your cheek, thumb still stroking your bottom lip. “Thank you. Do you– do you want me to…”

It took him a second before he realized what you were talking about. His eyes widened slightly and he looked down, then laughed. “No– no, you don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t you want me to?”

“Of course I do,” he insisted, mirth and adoration oozing from his gaze. “But I can handle it tonight. Think that was enough for you.”

You pouted again, about to insist, but he kept you quiet with a kiss. “Another time, okay?” he whispered against your lips.

You nodded, complaisant.

“Good.” With a deep breath of his own, he lifted himself off of you, carefully closing your legs so they wouldn’t ache from being held open for so long. “Wait here,” he requested, and then left for the bathroom again.

He grabbed the towel you both had used, and sat on the edge of the bed. “Can you open up for me?” he asked, fingers sliding around your thigh in silent request.

Your face burned even harder than before, somehow, as you fulfilled his request, spreading your legs a bit so he could clean you up. It was a strange feeling, almost more intimate than what he’d previously been doing– but it was quick, and it felt nice now that your arousal was all cleaned up, and he could slip your shorts back on with you having to get up. 

Anakin retreated back to the bathroom and was gone for a few long moments. You had an idea of what he was doing, another burst of heat blooming in your stomach at the thought of what was going on behind that door. You had half a mind to suggest helping him again. You were more than willing.

But he came out only a short time later to find that you’d straightened all the sheets, and were now waiting by the pillows for him to come back to bed with you. He blew out the candles as he passed them by, getting into the bed and wasting no time pulling you onto his chest.

He’d never felt closer to you. And you, him.

In the morning, you’d probably be embarrassed again, recalling what you’d done. The storm outside seemed to trap you in a bubble, your own world, and everything else seemed so far away now.

You pressed your palm to his chest, letting the strong thud, thud, thud of his heart lull you to sleep. Before he could feel you drift off, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you,” he said, and you heard it in your dreams. 

divider from @saradika

[buggxd]

★Chloe price x fem!reader★

☆THIS IS NOT A SMUT!!☆

☆Summary - basically Chloe had bought some 🍃 and asks you to come over when David and Joyce are out and you two smoke and chill.☆

You didn’t attend a fancy college whatsoever actually you didn’t go to college at all, you had a job at convenience store you didn’t get paid much but it was better than nothing you still lived with your parents and they provided you with everything you needed basically, a roof over your head, food, water, clothes, and they had got you a car when you were about 16 and you had kept it in good condition all you need to pay for is gas.

You had just finished your shift and it was around 5pm you didn’t do much but you felt exhausted so as soon as your shift ended you rushed outside into your car and drove off, you were gonna go home but you had stopped right before you took off due to the sudden buzz coming from your phone you picked it up and glanced at the screen only to see a message from your close friend Chloe, the message read “you left something at my house stop by :)” you read the message to yourself outloud trying to recall what you could have possibly left at her place, you could have sworn you had everything in you room at home but you decided it wouldn’t hurt to stop by maybe you had forgotten something. Your thoughts started to drift as you tried to think of what you could have left was it a shirt? Shorts? Socks? Panties? Your extra bra? You finally snapped out of it and texted her back with a quick and short response “on my wayy!!:)” you started your car and turned your music up and took off.

After a quick 10 minute ride you finally arrived at Chloe’s place you had been there multiple times so you felt comfortable just walking in but just to be safe you messaged Chloe another quick message that read “here !”

You stepped out of your car putting your keys in the pocket of your oversized hoodie along with your phone and started to walk towards her door, you open the door go up the stairs as your met with Chloe’s door which was cracked you peeked inside to see Chloe kneeled down by her bed and you got a whiff of a familiar smell. You opened the door and Chloe quickly stood up and kicked something under her bed you gave a confused look and she just smiled and without a word grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards her bed you plopped on it and gave her a confused look. She shut her door and took a seat next to you, “sooo… what did I leave here chlo?” Confusion laced in your voice she looked at you and smiled “ok don’t be mad..” she paused for a moment “you didn’t really leave anything I just wanted to show you something!” You we’re a bit confused on why she didn’t just ask you to come over instead of making something silly up “then why did you ask me to come?” You ask with an awkward smile “I wanted to show you this…” she brand the box from under her bed and opened it up.

It was a bag, stuffed with weed you looked at your best friend in shock slightly due to the fact on the amount and slightly because you were wondering where the hell she got so much “where’d you get all that?” You asked with a smile “that info cannot be disclosed bud..” she laughed a bit you did the same “no but seriously is that why you called me over?” You said still amazed by the amount “Hell yeah but also I just needed to get some shit off my mind and who else is better to get stuff of my mind with then you!?” You giggled at her praise towards you.

Within the next couple minutes your next to Chloe in her usually tank with ripped jeans and your in shorts a t-shirt socks and a blunt in your hand that of course she rolled, you hand it back to her as you reach to her nightstand for her lighter she puts the blunt in her mouth and you light it, she inhaled and blew out the smoke and soon after passed it to you for the next couple minutes you two and passing the blunt chloe had the bright idea to do that thing where one person blows the smoke into the other persons mouth, she ended up convincing you if would be cool you didn’t think it wasn’t you were just really nervous you liked Chloe more than just your best friend so the thought of her being that close to her made you a little shy. There you were on Chloe’s bed face to face her legs crossed while you were on your knees she took a hit and right after she grabbed your chin guiding your face closer to her own and then tapped your cheek as a tiny cue to open your mouth as soon as you did she blew the smoke into your mouth and you inhaled. Your face was turning a slight rosy color and you had butterflies in your stomach like crazy your lips were maybe less than an inch away from each other she didn’t let go of your face yet you had already blown the smoke out yet her hand was as still on your chin then it slowly had risen to your cheek you two held eye contact for a bit then Chloe spoke up “your so beautiful” your eyes widen you didn’t know if this is how she really felt or if it was the weed kicking I either way her words made your face hot, she moved a little closer and you did the same. Your lips met hers and then separated soon after she looked like she wanted to keep on but you weren’t sure if it was a good idea, what if you mess things up? What if she’s just kidding? What if she didn’t mean it? As you got lost in your thought you felt her lips back on your but this time the kiss was more intense you placed one hand on her shoulder and one on her arm that’s still holding your face and she places her other hand on your waist the kiss ended up turning into a whole make out sesh and a sloppy one at that her hand was gripping your lower waist area and the other slowly moved to the back of your head and she grabs your hair slightly tugging on it, your hand leads to the side of her neck and you two make out for what felt like forever. Afterwards you two try to catch your breath and she looks at you and smiles you do the same then she plops down on her bed one arm on her side and one laid across the pillow beside her gesturing for you to lay with her you give in and lay your head on her inner elbow and face her as she wraps her arm around your waist and pulls you in a little soon after you two fell asleep.

★THIS WAS NOTT PROOF READ BUT IT WAS JS SMTH ON MY MIND PLSSS GIMME RECOMMENDATIONS !!!! ★

[moe-broey]

Actually that is another Summoner Thought I am CONSTANTLY turning around in my head. The fact that not only is the Summoner painfully isolated in a way that no one even has the context to fully comprehend, but also the feeling of being Trapped. Like yeah, Askr and the Order are nicies, Kiran is Lucky to have stumbled into their laps instead of like. Muspell, or Eitri. Or even Embla and the Curse Directive.

But that doesn't really change the fact that Kiran was still forced into their position. The threat of being in an entirely new world and not knowing where you would even begin, if you were just. Dropped into a town or something. Esp from modern era to medieval. Nothing but the clothes on your back (hell, Kiran even got New Summonery clothes, so fuck whatever was in their pockets. As if it fucking matters, whatever is in their wallet wouldn't matter here and their phone is gonna die within the day. Two days tops. Again. As if it fucking matters, it's just a camera at this point).

But they fall into the laps of The Order of Heroes, who request their aid, saying YOU'RE the only person who can Do This, we did a very specific ritual at a specific ruin to bring you here. Already, how can you say No to that? Especially when promptly it's shown you DO possess that power they seek, now. And then there's the Basic Necessities. In exchange for your help, we'll give you a roof over your head. We'll give you food and water. You'll have your own room. And we'll even see to any odds and ends, should you ask, if we're able.

Kiran is Lucky. That they have the bare minimum a person could need. That, they didn't have to figure out all that on the fly. And again, Kiran is Lucky that The Order of Heroes is comprised of a good Commander, and a Prince and Princess who are very sweets very nicies and strive to be just and fair and to Do Good. That doesn't change the fact that Kiran's "choice" to serve the Order was essentially okay gun to your head. Do you want to have dinner and sleep in a bed tonight? Or take your chances doing god knows what. God knows where. And probably end up killed, if we're being honest here. Or at least, suffering A Lot. Be it by lack of resources, most likely no outdoorsy survival skills, and then there's the bandit situation and Emblian forces constantly poking Askr's ass.

Like. Okay. Yeah. I guess I'll stay. And I better figure out how to Keep Staying Here or so help me. As if I have a fucking choice.

[what-if-nct]

*To a camera*

Hyunjin: Today, Kkami was barking at something, and being the supportive father I am, I started shouting, "Hey, hey, get out of here," so he isnt alone. Turns out he was barking at me, so I just sat down to not upset him more.

*to a camera*

Hyunjin: This morning, I found a suspicious mole on my stomach, but when I went to touch it, it fell off and I freaked out. Turns out it was just a chocolate chip from when I was eating a cookie in bed.

*to a camera*

Hyunjin: Today I accidentally drank paint water that looked like coffee, if you don't hear from me in a few days I went to the hospital.

Chan: Hyunjin what are you doing in the storage room?

Hyunjin: Talking to the therapy camera.

Chan: Therapy camera? Who put this here?

Hyunjin: Seungmin, he told me to talk to it whenever I needed to.

Chan: Seungmin!

*in a hidden room*

Seungmin: What have you gotten on Hyunjin cam?

Jeongin: He was really just talking about kkami, complaining about his living situation and eating an entire baguette while singing Florida by Taylor Swift.

Seungmin: What about the Han cam?

Jeongin: Honestly he started to think it was a survival social experiment and he hasn't left in three days. He's been yelling "you won't break me" I started to feel bad and I leave food and clothes outside the door and jingle a bell for him.

Seungmin: how does he go to the bathroom?

Jeongin: He runs out and in really fast. I don't know why he's doing this.

Seungmin: I'll send Felix to free him.

*ten minutes later*

Han: *on the roof wrapped in a blanket* You see that world I survived, I was not broken. They did not defeat me!

[kcsugawara]

The boys comforting you after a hard day

The BNHA boys find you on the sofa after a hard day and comfort you. We all need this okay

Includes: Shoto, Bakugo, Denki, Hawks, Dabi, Shigaraki

warnings: teeth rotting fluff, tried my hardest to use G/N pronouns and nicknames, some language, suggestive tones

Shoto Todoroki~

you hear the door to your apartment open as you bury your head further into your knees- hiding the tears in your eyes

you feel a soft, warm hand touch your shoulder

"what's happened, my love"

"nothing" it's the truth, nothing big really did happen, but all the little things left you feeling overwhelmed

you feel two hands moving to cup your face and pull it up

you're met with two different coloured, worried eyes

"would you like to be cuddled or left alone?"

"Cuddles please"

With that, he pulls you off the couch and wraps you around him- easily carrying you to your shared bedroom

plopping you down on the bed, he moves to put on your favourite movie

coming back to the bed, he pulls you onto him, resting your head on his chest and soothing you by gently caressing your hair

"I'm here now, my love" he coos as the movie begins to play

the rhythm of his heart beating in your ear soothes your feelings as your eyes slowly begin to shut

he softly kisses your head- "I'll always be here for you"

with those last words, you fall asleep into his chest, safe knowing you're in his arms.

Katsuki Bakugo~

Collapsing onto the sofa, you stare at the ceiling, tears threatening to spill

today was so overwhelming

"you'll mess up the sofa" a harsh voice snaps

As you look up, you see Bakugo staring at you with an angry look

A look of regret instantly washes over his face when he sees your tears

"What happened firecracker?" you could hear the worry in his voice

"S'been a hard day Kat" you manage to crack out without falling into sobs

"Shit" you hear him mumble as he grabs your hand and pulls you up

"C'mere" you follow along as he drags you to the bathroom

he turns on the shower and takes off both your clothes and his Get your head out the gutter

He turns on the shower and pulls you in with him, the warm water falling over you, soothing your mind

he gently washes your body and hair as a soft silence falls over you both

wrapping you both in towels, he takes you to your room and dresses you both in cosy pyjamas

Holding your hand still, he takes you down to the kitchen and places you on the counter

"stay there while I make us food"

doing as he says, you watch your boyfriend skillfully whip up some curry and plate it for you both

turning to you, he holds your waist and kisses your forehead

"let's eat and chill out for the night"

a small smile graces your lips for the first time since you walked through the front door

"I love you Firecracker"

Denki Kaminari~

You full-force flop on top of your boyfriend with a massive sigh

"Ah! Y/N watch out" he groans while softly stroking your head

"What is it my spark?"

you turn your head to reveal your red, puffy eyes

"Oh bumble bee" he coos while holding you tight

"Rough day, huh?"

"the worst Denki" You bury your face in his chest again

"shhh shhh shhh, your hero has you now, and I know exactly what would cheer you up"

With a mischievous smirk, he swiftly picks you up in his arms and starts swinging you around, using his quirk to make your hair go all fuzzy and stand on end

THIS MAN will not stop until you're squealing with pure delight and begging to be put down through fits of laughter

he puts you down "You look so cute with my electric running through you" he says with a wink and a seductive smirk

your breath gets stuck in your throat

"s-shut it"

In the end, your bad mood is quickly forgotten thanks to this spark plug

Keigo Takami~

The cold wind froze the tears streaming down your cheeks as you stood hugging yourself on the roof

You rubbed the feather your boyfriend had given you softly, as it dangles around your neck on its chain

suddenly you feel strong arms around your waist as a head settles on your shoulder

"what's wrong, baby bird?"

"What the fuck hawks!" you practically screamed in terror as you're literally jump-scared by your own boyfriend

"Sorry darling, but you were rubbing my feather like that, I knew something was wrong"

with tears spilling out of your eyes again, you collapse into your boyfriend's arms "It's all just so hard"

"I know, baby bird" he practically had a death grip on you as he wrapped his arms around your body

"you're safe with me my songbird, how about we go for a fly together?"

still crying you nod your head

"hold on tight, pet" he moves your hands around his neck as he takes flight

he takes you all over the city, before picking up food and taking you to the highest building he can find

sitting on the roof, you eat your food and watch the sunset together

"you know you don't have to be strong with me around baby bird, you're safe and I can be strong for the both of us whenever you need me to"

you turn to look at him as he cups your cheek

"I love you my songbird, now and always, till the sun refuses to rise and the earth stops spinning"

Dabi~

Dabi stretches himself out as he walks in

his face falls confused as he spies your sleeping form on the sofa

getting closer he can tell your cheeks are tear stained as your comfort movie plays in the background

leaning over, he cuddles into you

"what's happened now, doll?"

he's met with a sleepy moan as you shuffle a little in your sleep

"How are you always so damn cute?" he mutters to himself as he picks you up and walks you into his room

putting you down onto his bed, he gets himself washed and changed before bringing a warm face cloth to your face, wiping away the trail of tears down your cheeks

he sighs softly before pulling away

"I hope you know how much I really love you, doll"

he puts the washcloth back before climbing into bed next to you and pulling you in to cuddle him

"I... love...you... dabi"

looking down, he sees you're still asleep

if he could cry, there'd definitely be tears in his eyes as you confess your love to him in your sleep

"I love you too, doll" he places a soft kiss on your head before nuzzling into you and falling asleep cuddling you

Shigaraki~

you walk into your boyfriend's room, crying

"What the fuck is happening to your face right now?"

"shut the fuck up" you say moving over to him and placing yourself in his lap, snuggling your face into his neck

he freezes out of shock, before carefully running a hand softly down your back, silently thanking his gloves were on

"Uhm, I don't know what to do right now, pet"

you sigh "You can keep playing your game, I just need to feel safe right now"

he practically chokes on his own breath

you chose the literal figment of death and destruction

and you feel safe???

you're one traumatized bitch aren't you

after the shock passes, he softly leans his head on your shoulder and goes back to playing

his breathing and the clicking of the controller calms you down completely

"I love you shiggy"

He stops again before replying quietly

"I love you too Y/N, I'd burn the world for you"

Writing this made me so fucking happy

like yes, my men

I figured this would be a nice soft launch of getting back into it, expect more shit soon... Well, when I figure out what to actually write that is ;)

[venture4treasure]

“Of course I dream of more”

Words: 952

Premise: Servant!Reader washes Noble!Venture hair. They have a conversation. 

Warnings: A bit of forbidden love and mutual pining, but otherwise nothing! 

“Lay down,” you instruct, gesturing at the cot – the edge of the bed frame is pressed against a tub of water. 

Venture does as you tell them, tilting their head back into the water. They try to look at you, but you’re a bit too far out of their peripheral vision. 

Pulling over a stool to sit down across from Venture, you dip your hand into the tub of water, it’s a pleasant warm temperature. You splash water onto dry locks of hair before reaching to brush back their bangs, submerging them. You’ve barely done anything and you can see dirt muddying the clear water.

“Thanks for making it warm,” Venture relaxes. 

“As opposed to… cold?” You raise a brow, “why would it be cold”. 

“Some of the other servants don’t bother with warm water,” Venture pouts, “I’m starting to think they hate me”. 

“I’m starting to think I might hate you,” you comment, brushing your hand through their hair and watching debris wash out, “how do you even get so much filth into your hair? Weren’t you supposed to be sword training today?” 

Venture laughs awkwardly. 

“Sloan…” you drawl. 

“Well… I may have been helping out in the mines instead today”. 

“The mines? Isn’t that below your station?” 

“They tell some of the best stories! Besides, father doesn’t need to know”. 

You sigh in disbelief, switching to massaging soap into their hair and head. Venture stops themselves from whatever they were planning to say to lean into your touch. You chase off the silence by humming fragments of a song you heard in passing – it’s not good singing but Venture doesn’t mind, they like to hear your voice. 

“So, do you ever think about doing something different from this?” Venture asks, waving their hand in the air.

“What do you mean?” 

“Like, don’t you ever want to try something different? A different line of work, like being a scholar! God, I wish father would’ve let me just study instead of trying to shape me up into some kind of perfect heir to the family – that’s what Mauga’s gonna be anyways!” Venture groans. 

You chuckle at their whining. 

“No, not really,” you answer, “I don’t think there’s anything else I can do to earn money. I am very lucky and grateful to be doing this in the first place”.

Venture goes quiet, their expression drops into a thoughtful one. They turn over the idea of needing money to live in their mind, it’s a concept so far detached from their day to day life, they don’t really understand it. There was always food if they were hungry, nice clothes for any occasion they could think of, and there was always a roof to go home to. Everything they needed was always there within arms reach.

“If you had the money, what would you do?” Venture wonders, both to you and themselves, “like, a lot of money”.

“I’d find a teacher to show me how to read and write,” you answer without hesitation, “and then… maybe I would travel to different kingdoms. I’d like to dance in those big ballrooms at least once. And… I’d probably find someone who treats me well to settle down with, in a nice and safe house close enough to the city market”. 

Venture glances up at you, taking in your face. Your eyes sparkle dreamily, a soft smile on your lips. Their heart aches at the sight combined with your words. 

You shake yourself out of the fantasy, “but my life now isn’t so bad either, it could be so much worse”. 

“What is your life right now?” 

“Right now, I work for your family, it pays enough to support me. One day, I’ll probably marry someone who’ll want kids, and I’ll try to raise them right…” you slightly cringe at your own reality, “protect them if I have to. I just hope I marry someone decent…” 

“You don’t plan to choose?” 

“I don’t really get a choice,” you shrug, “I have nothing to my name, I’ll probably just marry someone like me. Have kids so there’s someone to support me when I grow old. That’s how it usually goes”.

Venture doesn’t like your answers, they want to see you as happy as you were to share your dream. 

“Sit up a bit please,” you nudge them forward, and Venture pulls their hair from the dirty water so you can rinse out the soap. You comb their hair and lightly scratch their scalp as you clean away the soap. 

“Mann, that feels so nice”.

You make a noise of acknowledgement. 

Finally you’re done with their hair – you always forget how much of a pain it is when it gets dirt tangled in it. You wrap a towel over it so it doesn’t drip onto their clothes. 

“Okay, I’m done”, you announce, getting up to stretch. 

 Venture almost makes a noise of disappointment.

“Hey,” Venture calls out your name lightly, “would you like it if I taught you how to read and write?” 

You turn to face them, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “why?” 

They walk over to you, taking your hands into theirs. 

“Because I think you deserve to have a chance at happiness,” they smile, and there’s so much more they want to say, but they keep it to themselves. 

Your face heats up from the touch.

“Ah-” you stammer, “that would be nice, I’d really like that. Thank you”. 

Venture glows at your reaction, smiling wide. 

“Okay, now help me dry my hair, pleaseee,” they beg. 

“You can do that yourself”.

“I’m going to shake”.

“Do not threaten me,” you shoot back.

Venture holds your stare with determination in their eyes and you falter. 

“Okay, fine!” 

Author’s Note: I realized afterward that this setup doesn’t make sense at all and there’s so many logical issues with the concept but I really wanted to write it anyways. Spare me :( 

Mauga is Venture’s older brother in this. 

I just wanted an excuse to write about Venture’s hair. It’s so fluffy and needs to be appreciated. And they most definitely would shake to dry themselves and splash water everywhere. 

[jolapeno]

PEEPAW JOEL THOTS???!

oh gosh, this one makes me a touch nervous ⬇️

joel miller x f!reader warnings: smut, p in v, roof sex, injured!joel, sneaking around bill and franks, female and male receiving head.

🔥 think he has sex with you on the rooftop of some old building, maybe it used to be a library or a hotel, it’s not romantic but it becomes it, because he takes a second to appreciate how vast everything is, and you keep rutting your ass into him as you stare off. maybe the sun is peered out from the clouds, after you asked if they could stop a second, and he doesn’t want to but he relents, and then he sorta sees a speckle of what you do. the world from here almost looks normal, and then his hands come to your hips, halting you from backing into him, grunting an “enough.” and you shoot him a smirk over your shoulder, and fuck, like this, it’s photograph worthy. which is why he suspects he doesn’t actually stop you from moving your hips, just tells you to lean over the brick/railing, peeling your jeans down as he wets his hand with his spit as he slides it between your thighs, murmuring close to your ear that it's a "good view."

🔥 he's hurt his arm after coming into contact with another person/group, and you fuss, trying to clean it and he stops you, tells you it’s fine, "m'not even hurt". but he can see you're chewing your lip, fingers holding your chin, "I’d do it all again to keep you safe" and you just stare (because the two of you don't talk like this, it's all under the surface, displayed in actions rather than words). so you just crash your lips to his, his good hand pulling you onto his lap. mouth sliding down your neck as you undo his jeans, tells him if he’s not even hurt, he can make you feel good. and the man is nothing but determined, “you think I can't fuck you right when I’m hurt, huh?” him teasing you before telling you to climb on top, you sinking down on him, breath punched from your lungs as you take him to the root, "you can take it" talking you through it even if he’s the one hissing if he moves his arm. and your breath is all ragged as you get closer and closer, clothes still coated in some fuckers blood, his knuckles split, teeth gritted. and your eyes meet his as his hand grips your hip, both sharing a similar thought: i'd do anything to keep you fucking alive

🔥 you winding him up one day about how he looks miserable (more than normal), tiredness likely a factor, his bones weary, needing rest. so you offer to take him in your mouth after a shower back in some river. your fingers wrapping around his length, telling him to lie back, make a pillow from your jacket, asking if you can look after him, beads of water falling down his gruff, frowning face. “maybe my mouth can put a smile on your face.” and he shakes his head, “what y'mouth magical?” and you smirk, because he doesn't remember that time early on when he'd taken a pill and mixed it with booze that he'd said something similar. so she just sighs, “actually, someone did once tell me it’s life changing.” and he just licks his lips, nodding at you to go on.

🔥 I think when you make it to Jackson, the first night you're both alone is so different than back in the QZ, than the woods, than rooftops and everything in between. it’s the kind of sex that he’d have given you if the world hadn’t gone to shit and he’d met you in a bar. he takes his time, spends so long working you up, earning each moan you will give him before he can even consider burying himself in you. he's on his knees for you, even if his body protests, even if tomorrow his entire body will ache from how good tonight will be. but he knows it'll be worth it. even more as you coat his cock, desperate, needy, leaving fingerprint bruises on his skin that develop when he collapses beside you.

🔥 so, imagine staying over at bill & frank’s after enjoying some food, and a storm is rolling in, and Frank insists, but Bill hates it—insists on two separate rooms. but before you can sneak into Joel’s he sneaks into yours. hand over your mouth as you giggle, telling you that you’re gonna have to be real quiet. “not like you to break the rules, miller.” But then you teasing him about it not being gentlemanly trying to sneak into a lady’s room. “stopped being a gentlemen a while ago.” his fingers snaking inside your underwear. “c’mon baby you know how to be quiet. good enough when we’re surrounded by clickers. how’s this any different?” your panting, hand on his wrist as you pull it down to whisper, “you’re not usually doing this when we’re surrounded by clickers.” and the two of you are already on the floor, pillows and blankets surrounding them as he kisses down your body, sliding his mouth over your pussy as your hand darts into his curls. his fingers pinching your inner thigh when you make too much noise, sucks on the pulse point on your neck asa you catch your breath. begins leaving marks under the space underneath your breasts, a reminder of him there, that he's had you like this when he catches you stripping and changing, before he sinks into you. THE ABOVE ONE CONT: 👉👈 because i think I want to write this... the surroundings are so normal, he’s able to trick himself that this is like olden times. I think when you sit on his lap, he’d lift your hand from his chest at one point, kiss your knuckles—all tender, soft. before he places your hand back and rests his hands on your hips, aiding her. and I think they’d remain on the floor for a while after. him just stroking your cheek, you just lay on his chest, the storm still heavy. both lost in some make believe land that this is their house, and that maybe it’s just a night where they can’t sleep, rather than it being a night where they just feel safe (whatever that even means) and there’s so much hanging in the air, so many words they never speak, but they're safe, and together, and for both of them that's all that matters.

i cannot believe i have thotted so much in the last 24 hours.

[eevees-hobbies]

The Taste of You - NSFW (Fem!Reader x Kyojuro Rengoku)

Author's Note: I won’t apologize for my lust for this man. In fact, I’m here to shove it in your face. There honestly needs to be more depraved shit of Rengoku out there, but fine I’ll personally contribute to the debauchery. Be the change you want to see or whatever. Based on this post. I got to thinking about Kyo’s love for food, and I came across this article, which details some facts about the sense of taste. And you know what I thought? Let’s turn this into smut. 

Synopsis: There’s nothing better than indulging in the taste of Kyojuro Rengoku’s favorite meal: you. A headcanon of what that looks like.

Content Warning: Female reader receives oral, LOTS of oral, overstimulation, pussy sniffing, squirting, humping, premature ejaculation, etc. Also, it might be crack, but I need to believe that this is how he'd act, so let me have this one. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 2.4K

Dividers by Saradika. Banner by me. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated. Requests are open.

“Taste is not only one of the most pleasurable of the five senses, but a surprisingly complex sense that science is beginning to understand…”

Kyojuro Rengoku is a man of honor, morals, and impenetrable discipline. When picturing his life post-demon slaying, he imagined courting the love of his life, making an honest woman of her, and consummating the marriage after a lavish wedding ceremony. 

What Kyojuro didn’t plan on was being enraptured by the essence between your thighs during a heavy petting session that went a little too far. It was your fault, really, allowing him to remove your clothes and encouraging him to kiss lower and lower until he was at eye level with your pretty pussy. 

Between hushed whispers, soft gasps, and gentle words of encouragement, “Yes, right there, Kyo,” “I love being licked there,” “Just like that, Kyo,” and “O-oh, your tongue is so long,” you had unknowingly sealed your undoing.

He wanted nothing more than to be respectful of you and your body, waiting to taste you after he gave you his last name, but what you have between your legs transforms him into nothing but a horny, pitiful, and feral mess, so please don’t deny him when he’s only begging for “just a taste.”

The Kyojuro Rengoku you know now is debauched, insatiable, and obsessed with eating your creamy cunt, and his stellar sense of taste only makes the experience more otherworldly for him. 

Let’s walk through it together.

Everyone has a different number of taste buds.

It’s reported that the average person has between 2,000 - 10,000 taste buds and that those taste buds are located all over the mouth—including the inside of one’s cheeks, the back of the throat, and the roof of the oral cavity. That means that every drop of you that passes beyond his lips, every drop of you that drips languidly on his tongue, and every drop of you that slides down his throat is savored to the same extent that a parched man savors his first drop of water from an oasis. 

He descends between your legs, his large hands gripping the soft flesh of your inner thighs, spreading them wide enough so he can settle his shoulders among them. With eyes half-lidded and pooling with arousal, he’ll swallow thickly as he gazes upon you, his favorite indulgence. 

God, I’m drooling; he’ll chastise himself mentally, fearing that you’ll find him too desperate, and he is desperate, so pathetically desperate for you. 

“You’re so wet for me, my flame. Have you been like this all day? Sitting in your sweet mess, perhaps? Here, let me have a taste.” 

It’s a delicate process, bringing two fingers up to your sensitive mound and spreading your lips in a way that exposes every inch of the velvety flesh to his intense and appraising eyes. Your clit is a deeper red, a little swollen, and ready to be kissed, licked, and touched. It doesn’t matter how often he’s done this; his heart will be drumming in his chest at the mere sight of you. 

He’ll suck your puffy lips into his mouth resulting in an approving groan from you before he releases them with a loud smacking sound. Kyojuro has already lost his wits at the smell and taste of you, and when that happens, it doesn’t matter how much you beg or plead of him; he’s a different man now, a man who doesn’t plan to show your delectable pussy any semblance of mercy. The 10,000 invisible sensors in his mouth are driving him, so you better lay back and allow him—and his tongue—to have his way with you.

You taste with your brain.

If Kyojuro were to ask his colleagues if they enjoyed pleasuring a woman with their tongues, he would get a mix of “of courses” and “sures,” but Kyojuro isn’t asking for the purpose of striking up a leisurely conversation with friends. He’s asking because he wants to know if the insatiable pull he feels about eating YOUR pussy is normal. 

Do they think about it as much as he does? If they don’t perform the act for days, do they start to get jittery and even a bit irritable in the same way that he does? He swears he enters a new level of enlightenment when he devours you—the ability to hear and feel colors as his tongue swirls among your clenching walls, making him feel higher than any drug—or any experience—possibly could. 

While you enjoy it when Kyojuro devours you, there may be an argument that he enjoys it a tad bit more. 

You can’t taste well when you can’t smell.

Sometimes, Kyojuro wonders what it would be like to have Tanjiro's smelling ability. He considers his sense of smell to be above average, maybe not on par with his sense of taste, of course, but he has always been able to identify when a new batch of miso soup is being prepared from a few hundred feet away. But when he lowers himself between the sanctum of your thighs, he wishes his sense of smell was stronger. The scent of you simply intoxicates him.

Sometimes you squirm in embarrassment because you can hear when he takes a strong, long whiff of you, his nose rubbing against your sensitive clit as he trembles, and an embarrassing influx of saliva collects in his mouth. 

Smelling you is part of the experience for Kyojuro; it makes his dick twitch to smell your arousal, the musk of you. And sometimes, after feasting, it’ll be some time before he considers washing you from his face unless he has to leave the estate immediately after, eyelids fluttering closed as the smell of you wafts upward. He can swear he can see you spread open wide for him—just for him—-again. If he presses his thick, battle-worn fingers into your sloppy cunt, he’ll sneak a digit past his nose when no one is looking just to revisit you in his mind. Speaking of memories… 

Eating sweet foods helps form a memory of a meal.

When Kyojuro can relax, finding himself enjoying quiet time in between fighting demons or training, he’ll sit back, close his eyes, and think of every time he’s had you against his lips. He’ll remember all the times he’s begged you for a quick taste before a mission, “you don’t understand, y/n,” Kyojuro whimpers, “I need this.” 

When pressing him and asking “why he needs to eat you out,” he responds that he just does as though it’s the most normal thing in the world to be bothered over. 

He’ll remember the first time he had you bend over on all fours and tasted you from behind. The sight in front of him was the lewdest thing he’d ever seen, your sex glistening at him, clenching for him, and him able to see your other hole, the one he desperately wants to lick too, but hadn’t dared to ask yet. It was like dying and going to heaven having you positioned like that, and eaten in that way. His face was so flush against your skin that he felt every twitch of your thighs as his tongue dove deep into you. 

But his favorite way to eat you out? With you parking that juicy pussy on top of his face, watching you hover over him, your sweet nectar dripping down like honey for him, his eyes blown out with lust, “don’t keep me waiting, love. I’m hungry.” He’ll wrap his strong arms around your thick thighs and let out a pathetic groan as your cunt makes contact with his tongue, the heat from your arousal even matching his own!

God, recalling the sounds that you make when he slides his tongue inside of you is enough to make him adjust his legs and palm his crotch in public. But he’s not some pervert with an exhibition fetish, so he’ll settle with rubbing his thighs together to garner some much-needed friction. 

Some of your taste preferences are genetic.

The truth is, eating you out is innate for Kyojuro; it always came naturally to him. This was to your surprise as you had assumed he was a virgin. After your first time, you pushed his head away from your aching pussy, and squeezed your thighs shut to put a stop to his greedy tongue—much to Kyo’s dismay. 

With a heaving chest and on the verge of passing out, you asked him if he’d ever done that before. He looked at you, eyes wide in shock and a heavy blush on his face—it takes every molecule in your body not to roll your eyes at his expression and attempt to feign innocence. Kyojuro only shook his head and proudly confessed that you were his first. 

Oh, you think, before passing out from exhaustion. 

If you genuinely want to know where Kyojuro gets his pussy eating abilities, perhaps you should trace his lineage. And you don’t have to go far; his father, Shinjuro Rengoku, is a notorious eater in his own right. 

Sugar cravings have a biological basis.

If you asked Kyojuro if he was a kinky person, he’d tilt his head to the side in confusion, uncertain why you’d ask him something like that. “A pervert? Me? No, absolutely not.” 

Kyo isn’t intentionally lying to you. He doesn’t think he craves you because he’s a pervert. No, he craves you because not craving you isn’t an option. It’s so completely normal to crave your partner, silly! To want to fuck them with your tongue and drown in their juices. To desire that his chin, hair, and shoulders are drenched in your mess as you quake against his lips, his words of encouragement bringing you over the edge, “Yes, my love! Use me. Use this tongue for your pleasure. Give it to me, please.” 

And how could he not want to taste you? You’re his lover with the sweetest honey flowing from her legs; the thick juices you produce that end up sliding down his chin are sustenance for him. There’s a primal urge that makes him yearn for you. And he’s simply engaging in an act that all couples do, right? 

And now that you’re bringing it up, you notice his eyes roaming down to your pelvis, unashamedly looking at you, imagining you sitting on his face and squirting into his mouth. It’s simply one of the many ways he shows his love for you, and denying him the right to do so would be the death of him. 

BONUS

The first time Kyojuro Rengoku made you squirt was the first time in his life he had involuntarily climaxed into his pants. 

Don’t misunderstand; the man leaks when he kisses at your delicate folds, so much so that when he finally comes up for air, you’ll see a large wet spot staining his demon corp bottoms. He’ll shrug and shoot you a bashful grin, pulling his pants down to release his tan, angry cock. “Guess I got carried away again, huh, beautiful?”

Sorry, back to the first time Kyojuro made you squirt. You were on the verge of tears; his tongue, the sounds of him lapping away at you, the feeling of the bed jerking forward as he humped at the mattress while he sucked at your clit and curled a finger inside of you was just too much. 

You jerked your hips upward and whined, but his grip around your plush thighs only became tighter.

He doesn’t care what it takes to get you seizing around his tongue. Kyojuro will spitshine your pussy until it glistens back at him. He’ll lend you one, two, three fingers until you’re stretched out and your cream drips into his palm. If his jaw hurts, he’ll simply fight through the pain. There’s not much he won’t do to bring you to the point where you’re grinding into his face and screaming his name.

“K-Kyo, oh my god..!” 

You could hear and feel him moaning loudly into your cunt. The vibrations adding to the almost painful overstimulation. Your already overheating body grew even hotter, and the tingle in the pit of your stomach feels the equivalent of a roaring fire. You reach down and grip his hair, his usual hair tie pulled out and tossed to a corner long ago. 

Kyojuro takes this as a sign that he’s doing a good job. He pulls back to briefly admire his work, watching as the mixture of your slick and his saliva drip down to your throbbing hole and puddle onto the bedsheets. 

“Look at us making a mess, my flame. The sheets are drenched with our love.”

Flattening his tongue, he’ll lick a long swipe from your clenching hole to your clit, pressing the tip of his tongue against the sensitive bud and his hot breath aiding the intensity.

“I…! K-kyo, s-stop, I’m going to-“ 

But his licks only get more aggressively frantic, and even you don’t know what’s coming as your toes curl and you feel something snap inside of you. A release of pressure washes over you, and the feeling of too much wetness splashes at your thighs and in between your ass crack.

Kyojuro leaned into the squirt, embracing the warm fluid hitting his face, but he was just as surprised as you were. Had you just released a stream of yourself onto him? Was it your pee? He doesn’t have a fucking clue but welcomes it all. His pupils blow as he drinks every last drop, even licking around his mouth to capture what landed on his cheeks. Without warning, his body climaxes from the thought of you unleashing your fluids upon him.

Fuuuuuuck, I'm going to nut in my-

The usually sturdy Hashira grabs onto the mattress to steady himself as his balls clench while he shoots an ungodly amount of spunk into his pants. His moans and whimpers ring loudly in your ears, but you’re unfazed because you genuinely feel as though you could be on the brink of death. People have died this way, right?

“My flame, that was wondrous. Have you been holding back on me?” He’ll laugh, the hair from his bright, fiery mane sticking to his face. But even though he’s laughing, you can feel his hand snake around your ankle, pulling you back to him yet again, his stamina unchallenged and a threat to your health. 

[opiopal]

•All I wanted was bread•

2

(This is the second part of my TSL fic, I apologize if this part seems a little rushed? I was attempting to get to the brothers as soon as possible.

The characters in this part are Mc(you), the crows, a very mean Lucifer, and mammon(who appears for a split second). Simeon, luke, are mentions but do not appear.)

(I apologize again if this sucks, I haven’t actually written in a long time)((pt 3 will be out as soon as I can write it))

•

Being alone was hard.

You were used to having someone to talk to, make jokes with, someone to teach, someone to help you cook, someone that was always waiting for you after you got off work.

But now it was just you, in the same house, with the same dirty windows, the same crummy writing desk now with no one to sit in it, the same worn down floors, and the same familiar beds but with no familiar boys sleeping in them.

But, you were yourself, you were human, you adjusted quickly.

Soon you fell into your own rhythm after about two months had gone by.

•

You wake up nearly the moment the sun shines through the window, throwing off the covers and quickly putting on your day clothes, you don’t waste a second hanging around in the bedroom, knowing that if you dwell for to long you’ll only find yourself getting sad at the lack of company. So you quickly push through the bedroom door, letting it shut behind you as you grab a small basket of seed and the pitcher of water.

The moment you step outside you are greeted by the caw of multiple crows sitting on your roof and hopping around on the ground,

“Good morning to you all,”

You quickly scatter seed across the ground, letting them flock to the area as you begin to water your garden. It had actually begun flourishing now that the crows leave it alone(for the most part), and now its something to be decently proud of.

Once you’re finished up, you head inside quickly, you need to get going soon for work so something quick will have to do for breakfast.

But, once you open the cupboard you remember you had finished off the bread yesterday. You rummage through the kitchen for a good while and find only oats are left. Taxes were due yesterday so you were low on money as well…

No matter! You tell yourself, you can always just buy some more food after work today! Since you get paid daily and not weekly.

So you ignore the growing pit in your stomach and head off for work after securing your shoes to your feet.

•

Sweeping and dusting felt like a much bigger task when hungry, but you’ve worked plenty of times while hungry before, so it’s nothing new to you. But it was still annoying to have to occasionally hear that grumble from your stomach, interrupting your thoughts. As the hours slowly ticked by you could feel yourself growing more grumpy and irritated, but you kept yourself polite when you talked with the other cleaners occasionally and quietly.

At some point during the afternoon, you were going back over the downstair floors, sweeping dirt from visitors walking in right back out the door. Then you heard the voice of your employer, for a moment you didn’t think anything of it until you processed that it sounded like she was scolding someone.

Your never ending curiosity got the better of you and you make your way over to a study, peaking inside you see her practically shouting at an elderly cleaner to clean the windows faster.

“We will be having guests in this room and they don’t need to see a hag such as yourself! It isn’t that hard to reach the top of the window- stop being lazy!”

You watch her kick the stool in which the cleaner was standing on, causing her to stumble and struggle to keep her balance. You feel anger bubbling up in your chest and you feel your face getting warm. This combined with your hunger just made you even angrier.

Before you could even process what you are doing, your feet are moving on their own and your arms swing the door open hard enough for it to bounce off the wall loudly.

“DONT KICK HER YOU WENCH!”

Silence fills the room as both women look at you baffled, just as you process what you had done, you watch as the lady of the house’s face turn a bright red as she shrieks.

“EXCUSE YOU!?”

•

•

It had hardly even been high noon and you were already heading back home. Because of course you had been fired immediately after your outburst.

But it’s not like you could help it- you were hungry and awfully close to that old woman, and seeing her get kicked around by someone young enough to be be her granddaughter was just- infuriating! And even now you could still feel your rage bubbling up inside your chest, though a lot of it was now replaced by shame and anxiety. Why did you have to open your mouth? Why couldn’t you have just walked away? Why did you have to be some sort of hero? But what would have happened if you did walk off? Would the have woman fallen and broken something? Would the lady of the house left her there on the ground?! WHAT IF-

Your thoughts are interrupted by someone stepping Infront of you and loudly clearing their throat.

“Ahem.”

You look up and are met with one of the messengers from the palace,

“Oh- I’m sorry I didn’t noti-“

“Of course you didn’t.”

They say roughly before shoving an envelope into your hands.

“I- thank yo-… ok, yeah, walking away is fine to. I guess.”

You watch them as they walk off, brushing off their hands onto their pant leg. You look down at the envelope and realize it’s from Simeon! Excitement bubbles up inside you, but only for a moment as you remember your situation once again.

•

Once you made it back home, the crows surrounding the small building caw in confusion as to why you’re home so early in the day. You plop down on the ground, resting your forehead in the palm of your free hand. You hear the little bodies of your friends land on the ground as they hop around you. One even worms his way into your lap to look up at your face.

Though you tried for a moment, you can’t help but let out a small laugh as you fix your posture, gently petting the crow in your lap as you do so.

“I got fired today. And of course I didn’t get paid for the hours I already worked.”

You sigh.

“I suppose it’s my own fault. I let my emotions get the best of me and I didn’t control myself.”

You hear a collection of loud caw’s from the small murder around you.

“What? It’s not like I didn’t know how to control myself, I was being impulsive-“

Another collective caw.

You sigh, realizing for a moment that you are indeed talking to birds and responding as if they can understand you. When in reality your brain is telling you that they’re just hungry. After a moment longer of sitting outside you turn your attention back to the unopened envelope in your hand.

You inhale slowly before ripping it open, tossing the envelope to the side as you read through the letter.

“Dear Mc,

I am writing in favor of an extremely excited Luke, who has been excelling in his lessons at an extraordinary rate, and has recently begun learning about the extended history of the kingdom. Which he says is a bit complicated, but he’s having fun anyways.”

You feel a smile creep up onto your face, it always made you feel better to know that Luke was living the best possible life the world could provide.

“Now I myself am doing well, the palace is still just as gorgeous and we are both well fed and warm every single night.”

Your stomach lets out an envious grumble.

“But what I wish to know is how you are doing. You are always on my mind and I can’t help but worry for your wellbeing. Though I trust you are managing just fine without me.”

You feel your face scrunch up slightly as you cringe.

By the time you finish reading you feel many emotions in your gut. You’re proud of Luke and very happy, though Simeon only talked of himself once you know he’s also doing just fine, which relieves you. But how are you supposed to tell him what’s happened?

You sigh as you set the letter down, rubbing your eyes and sitting motionless for what feels like ages.

Then a clink is heard.

You turn your head and notice one of the crows nudging a single coin towards you. Carefully you take it and smile.

“Ah, now what’s this? A gift? My my, how generous of you my friend.”

The crow puffs its little chest out pridefully. Though it wasn’t a lot you still appreciated the thought.

You turn your attention back to the letter for a moment before sighing, and heading back inside to try and figure out what in the world to say to Simeon.

•

•

•

Two weeks have passed at this point.

For some reason, it was suddenly impossible to find a job, no one wanted to pay you to do anything at all. So you haven’t had any form of income.

The pit in your stomach was a constant reminder of your situation, you could have a whole conversation with the growls that came from your gut daily. Sure your garden kept you alive these past weeks, but you needed something more, some actual protein, anything at all.

Occasionally you had the intrusive thought of just.. taking one of the crows inside with you.. and-

Of course you couldn’t even finish the thought without feeling overwhelming guilt. Because how in the world could you bring yourself to do that to something that trusts you so much!?

However. You didn’t ignore all of your intrusive thoughts.

One day you were walking through the market, hoping and praying that anyone at all you exchange food for the small amount of money you managed to hold onto. Then you spot a stall set up right outside the bakery.

Not only was it littered with sweets, but also different types of bread. Your eyes land specifically on an awfully large loaf of sourdough. You approach the stall, looking at the selection.

No ones paying attention, the baker isn’t even tending to the stall… it would be quite the shame if someone had taken a loaf. Especially since it was just so enticing. No. No. You couldn’t imagine anyone doing such a thing.

But no one was around, no one was even looking in your general direction, it was just one loaf, just one, there’s plenty..

just take it.

your mind screamed at you.

It’s- it’s fine, you’re hungry. Just take the bread Mc. Take it. Your window is closing. Take the opportunity. Take the bread. Take it. TAKE IT. JUST TAKE IT THE DAMN BREAD.

Before you knew it you quickly snatched the loaf and began walking away.

Your mind immediately started racing. Theres no way no one saw that, right? How was is that easy? Well, maybe you just got luck-

“HALT! THIEF!”

Well shit.

Without thinking twice you immediately break into a sprint. Shoving past bystanders and even a few shocked folks who knew you.

No no no no crap- dammit. Well you’re already running you can’t stop now!

You duck and doge past anything that had gotten in your way, barrels, carts, horses, cattle, it didn’t matter, your adrenaline was control your body as you hugged the loaf of bread to your chest as if it was the only thing that mattered in the world, because at this moment, it did.

Though you were only one person, and guards quickly blocked you off and seized you.

Now you might have been let go, maybe they would have even let you explain yourself and pitied you. But the moment you saw the smallest amount of exposed skin on one of the men grabbing ahold of you… with your adrenaline still coursing through your veins, your jaw flies open as you bite down on his arm. Causing a loud yelp to be heard from the guard.

..which also caused you to not be let go. And caused you to not have a second to explain yourself. And instead you found yourself being dragged by the arms by two guards.

Your knees scrapped against the ground below due to the fact that the guards didn’t stop for a moment to even let you stand. The cloth of your clothing thankfully acted as a sort of shield, but yet not enough of one as you could still feel the familiar sting of skin being broken and torn.

You could hardly process where in the world you were being taken, all you could focus on is the burning by in your knees and the occasional distant caw. Why were you wearing caws? You then saw a crow fly past, surely that didn’t mean anything at all. Right?

Then, you saw the palace growing closer.

No.. there’s no way they’re taking you to the LORDS because some bread?! Sure you bit a guard but there’s no way this warrants being taken to the LORDS!! OVER BREAD!

Despite your disbelief and silent reasoning, you’re dragged past the gates and into a grand court yard filled with hedges being tended to and trimmed by servants. And of course a stone pavement in which your knees could scrape further against.

You could hardly even take in the towering sight of the palace before being brought inside the magnificent piece of architecture, and into a throne room.

The throne room was massive, of course the first thing you noticed after being forcefully knelt down on the marble floor, was the seven thrones, elevated to loom over everyone and anyone placed infront of them. And unfortunately, that was you at the moment. The walls were covered with beautiful tapestries and suits of armor-which you couldn’t tell if they were occupied or not- lined the pillars in the room.

As the guard to your left begins to yammer on about how you were a “violent” and “masterful” thief, you scan the thrones. Each of the lords sat in their own respective spots. Of course the oldest being in the center throne. Though the spot to the right of the oldest was empty.. one of the lords werent present at the moment. But of course that was not your biggest concern.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts as you watch the Lord of Corruption rise out of his throne, walking forwards and down the steps to be on ground level. Your eyes quickly scan him up and down, taking in the detail of his black armored clothes with blue detailing, the shape of his jaw and nose, and his black greying hair which framed his face like some sort of painting.

His eyebrows were raised in amusement as he stared down at your knelt form. You feel the grip on your arms tighten as if to keep him safe from you, as if that would make the guards story seem more believable.

“And this… peasant.. is a dangerous and violent thief that I’ve never heard a single word about?”

He sounded entertained, as if he thought this whole ordeal was just as ridiculous as you did. He stops right in front of you. Staring down before a low chuckle leaves his throat.

“Ah yes. What a terrifying creature.”

You hear a small collection of giggles and chuckles throughout the room, laughing with him and at you.

You attempt to glance around the room again, maybe to gain a better sense of your surroundings or to even calm yourself, but then the lord slowly knelt down in front of you, grabbing your chin to force your head forwards as he stares. Entirely to close to your face.

“Hm, so you two bring me a little human thief and claim it’s dangerous. How ridiculous.-“

Without a second thought you pull your head back and spit at him.

Maybe that’s an understatement.

On him.

No no. In.

In his face.

You spit in the face of the Lord of Corruption. Causing gasps of shock to be heard throughout the throne room as he immediately stands and backs away in disgust, embarrassment, and anger. Your face turns to horrified as you realize what you have just done. A maid rushes up and quickly goes to clean his face, only for him to snatch the small rag from them and to wipe his cheek clean.

“Why you insignificant little..”

He approaches again, this time more aggressively as he tosses the rag onto the floor. His hand shoots out and roughly grabs a fist full of your hair, forcing you to stand as your own hands shoot up to grip his wrist, a whine escapes your throat as you try to gain balance to keep the sudden pain at bay.

“I’ll have your head for that you-“

His words are cut short as the sound of wings and caws fill the room. Above on the rafters sat multiple crows, cawing angrily and loudly. Their voices echo throughout the room as if in a noisy protest of the scene unfolding below them. The both of you stare upwards, his grip your hair faltering just for a moment before tightening again. He turns his head to look back at you with an accusatory expression on his face, nearly immediately piecing together that all the ruckus from the birds above just has to be your fault.

But then the caws suddenly die down as doors are swung open, ricocheting off the wall with a loud boom as an out of breath voice full of panic shouts into the room.

“WAIT.”