#what a wonderfully wasted afternoon

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

Bia Tu

Chapter One

Come, You.

Yandere! Hannibal Lecter x Female Bipolar! Reader. Reader Chan was a former Afghan Citizen currently living in America.

Chapter Summary. It is 2020 and you are on the brink of taking your life during the Pandemic. You need help. Lonely and middle-aged, Docter Hannibal Lecter, a psychiatrist, wasting time till retirement and he needs help to fill the void in his chest. Drugs and women were not helping. He needs your help. His stubborn and moody patient of all people…and a Vegan. Ugh.

Warning: Age Gap. Older man with much younger woman. Cannibalism. Yandere. Language Barrier. Obsession. Stalking. Crude Language. Mental Illnesses. Gas Lighting. Manipulation.

No.

Once more, your mean-spirited joke called Father said “No”. Again. He hardly said yes to your wishes. Your elderly friend in community college recently passed away due to Pneumonia.  His daughter on Facebook announced his condition and posted the location and time of his funeral one city away.

You were only nineteen and came to America age seventeen. You did not know how to drive on freeways. Your dad would not teach you or let you travel far on your own.  The City Village you came from was Baghlan, Afghanistan. A rural place in the mountain farms. Not as educated as the capital city of Kabul.

Your dad was close minded and rude. He was plagued with toxic masculinity and was suffocating you. The Virus made life more difficult. Your best friend passed away and the shut down of your school did not help. Your father would not let you step outside the house. And you were lucky to go to school in public. You hated online classes.

Tears trailed down your rosy cheeks and your fat lips reddened from being bitten. Oh, how you hate your Father! Damn him! Sexist Swine! Misogyny stenches came from him.

You leisurely took out the cell phone out of your purse and typed “suicide” on google images.

Is Everything All Right? Need help? Call us?

You licked your lips.

“Save me.” You whispered to yourself.

Doctor Lecter did not say anything as a client of his almost knocked the tray of snacks he placed on the coffee table. Ian was a womanizer who finally got his punishment. He got his heart broken and now was seeing Doctor Lecter for his “depression”. Lecter told him that he was not depressed. He was just mad and did not need medication. But, Ian being a spoiled and entitled Prick he was, he insisted. So, Lecter decided to write a report. Hannibal does not want to give medicine freely. As it was illegal.

“Mr. Kermif. Please leave.” Doctor Lecter firmly stated. Ian glared at the wrinkled face of his doctor. Hannibal was not backing down.

Ian clenched his jaw then slammed the door shut as he finally left the wonderfully decorated office of Psychiatrist Hannibal Lecter.

Another day. Another headache. Lecter was in college when SpongeBob came to television. He thought Squidward was pathetic and a born loser. But, as much as Lecter hated to admit it. He became a Squidward himself. How embarrassing that life defeated him. He is a late middle-aged man almost a grandfather age and yet single to the tea.

No wife or kids. He spent his days being a womanizer like Ian. But, he never cheated. He told all the women he has been with he does not want a relationship.

Regret filled the cold and voided heart of Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

His phone chimed to let him know that a new patient will see him first thing tomorrow at one in the afternoon.

As Doctor Lecter read the name of the patient. He cocked his head to the side and furrowed his wrinkled eyebrows in confusion. What a peculiar and odd name. He never heard of that name once. Not even in movies or fiction books. It was effeminate so he knew the new patient was a woman.

“Afghanistan.” He murmured. The profile said that English was your second language and Pashto was your first. How strange indeed. He met Pakistani and Yemeni people. Never an Afghani. Thanks to the terrorist attack on September 11, 2001, Afghan citizens found it difficult to get VISAS in America.

Doctor Lecter can refuse to see you and assign you to another Doctor. He decided to see you tomorrow.

What could possibly go wrong? He has treated over thousands of patients for twenty-eight years of being a psychiatrist. What will make you special and different?

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #mads mikkelsen #yandere #yandere hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter x reader

[justanotherfanwriter]

Life of the party

a/n: huntlow one-shot from Luz's perspective because there's nothing like making a fool of yourself in front of your self-appointed sister. (I missed writing these two. I just think they're adorable.)

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

“Luz,” Hunter sneered, “no. Absolutely not. We have so much to do! That’s why I’m here. It’s not like I can just up and leave Dell and Mrs. Clawthorn whenever I want. I have a job.”

Luz rolled her eyes, her smile falling as annoyance pulsed through her, “I hardly think taking a break is a waste of time. We’ve been going at this since this morning, and—”

“—and nothing. Yeah, I’d love to have fun with everyone. It’s not like I am opposed to fun—”

“—you’re sure acting like it—” Luz murmured, crossing her arms.

Hunter glared and continued talking like she hadn’t said anything at all, “—but I didn’t fly in for fun. Darius needs this stuff done now and—”

“—I think if I called Darius right now, he’d literally say verbatim, ‘Hunter, you’re being a party-pooper. Take a break and make wonderful lasting memories with your friends'!” She argued back, her voice rising in frustration.

“Verbatim, Luz, verbatim, Darius would say that, really? You sure about that?” Hunter mocked in that uppity way of his that made her want to punch the smug look right off his face.  

“Yes,” She hissed, “I am! Because we can’t just work, work, work without any fun, and anyway, it’s too late! Everyone’s already here because I knew you’d act like this and invited them ahead of time, trapping you here with social convention, so ha-ha, you’re stuck!”

“Ha-ha, I’ll just tell them to leave!” Hunter mocked, gritting his teeth, “We have work to do.”

“Ha-ha! You can’t! It’s my party!”

“Ha! Ha! I don’t care!” Hunter leaned forward with a snarl, but she was hardly intimidated, matching his energy. Soon, they weren’t even coherently yelling at each other, with their teeth bared and foreheads practically squished together.

“HA!”

“HA!”

“HA!”

“Luz?”

Hunter’s eye went comically wide, his face paling then flushing. He pulled away from her quickly as they turned towards Willow’s voice, who had poked her head down the stairs.

“I’m down here, Willow!” Luz called back, shoving Hunter out of the way as she bounded to the stairwell.

“There you are,” Willow met her at the bottom, letting Luz wrap her up in a bear hug. Willow laughed as Luz picked her up and twirled her around before gently setting her back down.

“Luz,” She chided playfully, “I’m too heavy for that.”

“Nonsense. Absolute nonsense!” Luz gasped, picking her up and doing it again. “How are you, my absolutely beautiful, gorgeous, wonderfully talented bestest-best friend?”

“Oh, shucks,” Willow blushed, bashfully waving off the praise, “I’m doing great. I just wanted to ask if you’d like me to take that spiked cider off the stove? Or—” Willow’s eyes flickered to the right, and she smiled, “—or leave it on for a bit longer? Hey, Hunter. I didn’t see you there.”

He nodded and raised his hand in greeting, holding eye contact for only a mere few seconds before his gaze jumped away.

“It’s fine on a simmer,” Luz answered, “I want it to be nice and warm for everyone.”

“Well, it smells delicious,” Willow’s gaze left Hunter and flickered back to her. “Is there anything else you need done? Gus is upstairs with Amity, getting the rest of everything set up, and people are starting to pile in.” She looked between them before turning her full attention back to Hunter. “Gus brought that game I was telling you about, and—” She stopped short, cocking an eyebrow as she peered behind them, “—what are you two doing down here? Working?”

“Unfortunately,” Luz rolled her eyes.

“It’s the weekend!” Willow chided, “We’re supposed to be having fun. What in the world could you two be working on so late?”

She crossed the small workspace she and Hunter had created in Eda’s basement and peered down at the mountain of papers surrounding them all afternoon. After picking up one tome, Willow’s eyebrows screwed together in confusion, “Sheesh, this isn’t light reading at all. What’s this all about?”

“Hey, don’t look at me.” Luz huffed, “That side of the table is Hunter’s. I’m trying to convince him to take a break.”

Willow tsked, smiling again as she shot Hunter a coy look, “I should have known. What? Were you planning on barricading yourself away down here the whole weekend without even saying hi?”

Hunter stood a little straighter, “uh, no, I—” He looked away again, “—I was . . . definitely going to say hi.”

Luz groaned, reading right through his avoidant behavior, “You haven’t been in Bonesbourgh in forever. We’re doing much more than saying hello.”

Hunter opened his mouth to argue, but Willow laughed, placing a hand on her hip, “And a two-second conversation outside someone’s bedroom window does not count as a hello, this time, got it?”

This piqued Luz’s interest. “What two-second conversation outside a bedroom window?”

Willow’s smile grew, and she missed the glare Hunter shot Luz.

“Oh, you know, a few weeks ago when he was in? I got a knock on my bedroom window—in the middle of the night—” Willow shot another look at Hunter, nudging him slightly with her shoulder, “—and it was Mister Master Apprentice ‘just flying through,’” She quoted.

Willow started to laugh, but her smile fell when she saw the look on her face. “He was picking things up for Dell, you know?” She looked at Hunter again, “Luz knew, right?”

Luz’s jaw dropped, “You were in Bonesbourgh! And you didn’t say hi!”

“Oh, thorns, was I not supposed to say anything?” Willow asked with a sheepish lilt in her voice.

“I was literally passing through. I had time-sensitive potions in my bag. I needed to go.” Hunter argued, “They were for Dell.”

Luz threw a hand towards Willow, “You made time to say hi to Willow! Did you say hi to Gus?”

“No! It was—it was just Willow,” He admitted, a flush settling across his nose, “her place was on the—on the way.” Her place wasn’t on the way, and they all knew that. The deadpanned look on her face told him she knew as much, so he lamely tacked on, “The potions were time-sensitive. It was an in-and-out operation! I only had time for—” He looked at Willow and pleaded, “—it was only a two-second hello.”

“It definitely was only two seconds. He knocked on my window and stayed long enough for me to wave.” Willow explained, seemingly taking pity on him, “But not this time! You are coming upstairs, right?” She reached for his hand, “I’ve missed you.”  

Luz could literally see the argument die on Hunter’s tongue. His eyes darted across Willow’s face as the slight flush on his face grew exponentially, traveling down his neck and covering his ears. She smirked, not at all ignorant of the real reason Hunter had made time to see Willow and Willow alone.

Willow-fever, as Luz often joked, was very much a real, tangible illness, and Hunter had been suffering its effects long before his apprenticeship with Dell. Her, Gus, and even, sometimes, Amity were prone to using Hunter’s crush to their advantage from time to time. It was like a game they all played in, excluding Willow, of course, who seemed largely oblivious, or at least willfully ignorant to her part in it.

Hunter couldn’t manage much more than a soft “Mmhm” in response, eyes trained solely on their entwined fingers.  

“Are you almost done down here, then?” Willow squeezed his hand before letting go, “What are you two working on, anyway? You never said.”

“Oh, it’s, um, we were—” Hunter looked down at the research material they had been preparing for Darius and Raine. He fiddled with the tower of tomes he had been reading, and Luz watched with thinly veiled amusement as he suffered through a tongue-tied explanation. “—it’s uh, just research, you know, boring. Not—I mean—it is important, but, uh, how are, um, what’s been—I mean, uh—” He laughed, clearing his throat “—wh—what’s up? With you?”

In an obvious attempt to appear casual, Hunter leaned against the pile of tomes, which, almost instantly, tumbled under his weight. He slipped and cursed, cringing as the tomes and scrolls fell to the floor.

“Sorry!” He scrambled after the scrolls, shrinking in on himself—ears so red, they were practically steaming.

Luz pitied the poor guy but was still pissed enough at him for being such a crabapple, so she hid a mean snort behind her hand instead of helping him. He shot her another dirty look as Willow bent down and began collecting the tomes and scrolls gathered at her feet.

As Willow handed over the scrolls she had collected to Hunter, she answered his question with a shrug, “Oh, nothing much new with me. It’s been a while, though, hasn’t it? I’m glad you’re here. We’ve got a lot to catch up on, so—” she wagged another finger at him and giggled, “—I better see you up there.”

Hunter’s response was delayed, but eventually, he shook his head and seemingly, to the untrained eye, appeared more concerned about the pile of scrolls in his arms than the witch in front of him.

“Like I said, Gus brought this new CV game,” Willow continued to explain, “and he’s totally better at it than me, so I’m calling dibs on you right now for my team. I gotta knock him down a peg or two. You in?”

Hunter nodded, “Yeah, cool. Sounds like a plan.”

Willow’s smile widened, and with a cheeky wink, said, “Perfect, I’m gonna head back upstairs and rub it in Gus’s face. He’s going to be so jealous that you’re all mine tonight. No way we’ll lose!”

Hunter laughed awkwardly, “Y-yep, all yours.”

“And are you sure you don’t need me to do anything before everyone else gets here?” Willow looked at her.

Luz smiled, “Just you being here has done wonders already. You have no idea.”  

“Haha, sure, sure!” Willow beamed, waving off the praise as she headed back toward the stairs. Halfway through her way up, she paused and addressed them seriously, “Don’t take too long down here, you two, or I swear, I’ll pull you upstairs myself.”

“We’ll be there real soon!” Luz called after her.

“Yeah, soon.” Hunter echoed, his gaze following Willow all the way up the stairs, waving to her one last time before she disappeared completely.

As he watched Willow leave, the look shining in his eyes was so unbelievably soft that Luz could feel her anger toward him dissipating. Left in its place was an overwhelming sense of smugness that she didn’t bother hiding.

When Willow was officially gone, Hunter’s attention snapped back to her. It was an amazingly talented facial transition—one only perfected by practice. Gone was the sappy, awestruck puppy dog expression, and in its place was a nasty sneer that hardly had its intended effect on her.

“Don’t say anything.” He warned her, “Not one word.”

“Sure, sure,” She threw up her hands but couldn’t resist asking, “Just guess we’ll be taking that break after all, huh?”

“Shut up.”

#huntlow #toh fic #love those fics were Willow's just vibing and Hunter's having an internal crisis

[femcelmiku]

:3

     Your ears flutter softly, soft “Nyaa~’s” escaping your pretty little lips as you wake once more to a beautiful day. Beautiful dreams of having your head petted and ears scritched by your Owner as she pumped your beautiful sensitive kitty dick blessing you all through the night. Your tail swishes gently, soft fur passing over your thighs. You go to stretch those wonderfully nimble catgirl muscles of yours when the sound of metal chains clanging and automatic stroker pumping your painfully sensitive shaft snaps you back to reality.

     You had fucked up the night prior. Royally.

     While your Owner had been out running some errands yesterday afternoon, you decided it was a perfect opportunity to try and slip out of that pretty metal chastity cage and finally cum after... Hah, you can’t even remember how long it’s been since your Owner last let you experience climax. Even more reason to finally take this damn thing off for a moment and finally let that cataclysmic heat burning up your insides finally cool just a little.

     You knew your Mistress always kept the key to your cage safely tucked away in her wallet, so you knew there was no way for you to get to it. But if not having the key to a lock was enough to ensure its security, there wouldn’t be an entire industry dedicated to making them more and more difficult to crack.

     You could always take the brute force approach, but even if you weren’t a frail little kitty, such an approach would be impossible to hide from your Mistress. Though, you had been toying with the lock out of sight of Mistress. Bobby pins and nail files make surprisingly good DIY lockpicks as you would quickly learn.

      Once your Mistress had let you know she was going out to run a quick errand, you knew this was basically your only shot to do this for a while. Given your Mistress works from home, simply has most things delivered, and locks you up naked in a cage when she goes out with her friends, there aren’t many times when you could try something like this. It seems this time She decided she’d be done for a short enough time that such extreme measures wouldn’t be necessary. Good for you in that you finally had a shot to finally blow your load, bad for you in that your window of time was both short and nebulous.

      Regardless, you won’t let such a perfect chance just slip past your fingers. As soon as you saw her turn the corner at the end of the street, you got to work. Quickly grabbing both pieces of your homemade lock-picking set and setting yourself down on your fluffy cat bed at the foot of your Mistress’ fitting Queen sized bed with a tissue for when things inevitably get messy. It’s a bit difficult to see actually what you’re doing, but thankfully chastity cage locks are moreso for show, and only a few minutes of fiddling with the locks was enough to hear that heavenly click allowing you to slip off the cock prison that your Owner had been holding you in all this time.

     Wasting no time on patting your back, you instead focus on what you’ve been needing for so long. Both the anticipation of being able to cum after so long and the knowledge of how angry She’d be if she found out granted a deep feeling of fearousal deep inside of your core, and a throbbing hard cock at that. Your small, slender fingers wrap around your shaft, rock hard, and no steel straining against it for once. You can’t help but moan, mewling like the desperate kitten you are as you pump yourself, up and down, up and down. Leaking like a fucking faucet after barely starting, reaching the edge mere moments after. Something deep inside of you tells you to just cum and put the cage back on, but no, you are a greedy, insatiable slut. You go ahead and let yourself simmer back down a bit. You chase that high, even if it means risking everything.

     And just as you start back up, finally deciding to actually push yourself over the edge, you hear the front door creak. Your eyes go wide staring at the door. There’s no way She would’ve been back this early. M-maybe she forgot something...? Just thinking for a second, your eyes wander to the desk right next to the door, and on it?

     Your Mistress’ wallet.

     Hah... All that excitement to pick the lock on your cage, and the key was just sitting right there...? What’s worse, that means She must be...

     The door opens. She looks frustrated, and reaches to grab Her wallet before stopping and looking at you. You managed to hide the cage behind your back and cover your sin with a pillow, but the look on your face must have tipped her off.

     “What are you doing?” She asks curiously. It’s a cold tone of voice. She knows. You know She knows.

     “N-nothing...” You whimper out, probably the most suspicious thing you could have said. She walks towards you, her lips pursed. In one swift motion, she snatches the pillow away from you, barely giving you enough time to even attempt to pull it back. If looks could kill, you’d be nothing more than a pile of ash with the way your Mistress glared down at your cock, notably uncaged.

     “Stand the fuck up.” She spoke, grabbing your arm and tugging you to your feet. She was strong, one of the hottest things about her, and the way she just forced you up made that precious kitty cock throb desperately. What’s more, she decided to pick you up, rough and uncaring. Feeling her muscles against your skin, the faint of sweat, being treated like nothing more than a fucking object, it, it’s too much to handle! Your dick throbs once more, shooting it’s hot load after God knows how long of torture. There’s but a single moment of bliss before you realize what you just did. You came without Mistress’ permission, all over her bed...

     She didn’t say anything, but you could feel it. It was over for you. You didn’t even bother fighting back as she carried you under one arm to the basement. She has an in-progress dungeon down there for your one-on-one fun times, but it also is perfect for punishment.

     Your hands are forced up, your legs spread nice and wide. Steel chains and heavy locks. No getting out of this one. Your Mistress sifts through her small chest of sex toys, seemingly looking for something very special for this occasion.

     “Y’know, I had been planning to use this as an edging tool, but if you’re so desperate to cum, I think we can make that happen,” She says, her cold tone sending chills down your spine. She had grabbed an automatic stroker toy, bringing it down over your still erect shaft, the soft, lubricated silicon squeezing your dick like a vice. And once it was secured, with no way of slipping off, she turned it on. The room was immediately filled with the wet sounds of the toy pumping you over and over relentlessly, along with your desperate moans.

     And she snaps it in half.

     “I’m going to leave you here overnight. Maybe a few hours of cumming over and over will teach you how good you had it.”

     And she did. Nearly 12 hours of mindmelting pleasure later, after your Mistress had gone through her morning routine, placing you at the bottom of her list of priorities, she finally re-entered the basement, nearly empty cup of coffee in one hand, and your cage in the other.

     “Morning, kitty,” She said with a yawn, placing down the coffee onto the table and approaching you and the small puddle of cum that had formed since she left. “Looks like you had quite the night,” She continues, finally switching off the stroker and allowing you to rest. As she slipped it off your aching cock, even more white gold spilled out, dribbling on the floor as a show of just how much you had endured. Barely giving your cock time to breathe easy, she locks the cage back on you.

     “I don’t think you really need to be cumming much more, wouldn’t you agree? I think you’ve gotten a life’s fill tonight, so I’m just gonna go ahead and do this,” She says in a sly, teasing tone, bringing the key to your cage up to your face. Taking it in both hands, she uses those fantastically toned muscles...

#writing #t4t #t4t nsft #nsft #t4t lesbian #overstim kink #overstim nsft #chasity #lesbian #transgender #catgirl #muscle girl #reblogs very much appreciated!!! #minors dni #196

[fivequartersoftheorange]

Sherlock Holmes x OFC (Emily)

Warnings: • DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT • Somnophilia • Non-Con • Implied kidnapping • Drug use • Breeding Kink • Lactation Kink • Daddy Kink • Oral sex • Penetrative Sex • Creampie • Knife play

Summary:  Sherlock is pent-up and agitated. Luckily he knows exactly what to do to blow off some steam.

Author’s note: My first foray into dark fic! Will it sink or will it swim? Who knows. Honestly I've been plugging away at this for god knows how long that I'm not even sure if it's good. At this point, everything is just a blur of words.

I would like to thank Anne Rice for inspiring this little trash piece. Have any of you ever read the The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty? No? Well you should. Definitely fucked me up.

I also would like to thank @littlefreya for encouraging me to write this and helping me figure out some things. You're the best babe!

Please Anne Rice's lawyers don't sue me. This isn't a fic of her works. For God's sake I was inspired by it.

Anyway, enjoy! Or not. I can't tell you what to do.

Sherlock took the stairs two at a time. He was on edge, every muscle in his body wired with tension, frenetic energy coiled deep in his belly begging to be released.

He stood at the threshold of her room and admired the delectable sight laid out before him.

Her dark hair spilled over the pillows like ink bleeding onto paper, and her nightgown of loose, gossamer fabric revealed her rounded breasts and the shadow of her nipples. He pulled the heavy damask curtains that shrouded her room in darkness. The late afternoon sun trickled into the room and - he gasped - she was as lovely as a painting, tender eyelids that gave way to long lashes that swept down to her rounded cheeks and dusky rose lips.

She was perfection and she belonged to him.

Depositing himself beside her, he traced her delicate brow with his tongue and the bridge of her nose and made his way to the shell of her ear. 

Curious. For she did not stir.

He drew out a dagger he kept hidden within his boot and slipped the blade between her breasts - oh no, he had no patience with these laces and ties and strings - letting it rip through the fabric.

Her breasts were wonderfully plump and firm. And his rough hands pawed at them, cupping each breast, moving them about, almost as if he were weighing fruit at the market.

Her brows drew together into a frown.

Curiouser and curiouser, he thought. For she still did not stir.

Carefully as to not draw blood, he ran the tip of his dagger round and round her nipples until they hardened like berries ripe for the picking. He latched onto them like a suckling babe, and a sudden thought flashed through his head.

Her perfect breasts, round and heavy with milk, her stomach swollen with his seed.

He inhales sharply.

Yes. He should put his baby in her. Stuff her tiny cunt with his cock; fuck her full till she's leaking. Fuck her till everybody knows who she belongs to.

He palms himself through his trousers, knows he is already thick and throbbing with need. But he can wait. He's always been a patient man.

He cut away the rest of her gown and threw it to the floor. Her body was now bared to him, a smorgasbord of delights.

Sherlock ran his hands all over her body, marveling at the young, supple flesh. He caresses her dainty feet with kisses, worships at the altar of her milky, white thighs before his tongue debauches her center.

Like a man starved, his lips latch on to the sensitive nub between her lips. Sucking and lapping at the wetness like it was ambrosia from the gods, skillfully working his tongue until she arched her back and rocked her hips on his face.

A smirk grew on Sherlock's face, satisfaction heavy on his mind at the needy whine that spilled forth from her lips. Even in sleep, her body responded to his ministrations, trained her little cunt so well that she needn't be awake to feel pleasure.

He doesn't waste time undressing, mounts her, parts her legs, grasps himself at the root and runs the blunt head between her lips, coating it in her slick. He sheathes himself to the hilt, growls at the wet heat that engulfs him.

"What a perfect cunt, my Emily. So hot and tight, my darling girl." he rasps, snapping his hips, watching as his cock disappears into her drippy cunt.

Obscene squelching sounds fill the room as he begins to pick up his pace. He places his thumb at the nub of flesh between her puffy lips and draw figure-of-eights. Her reaction is instantaneous; she mewls, mouth in a little moue of distress.

"You like that, my darling girl? Like it when Papa fucks so deep into you?"

He almost wishes she were awake, just so he could gaze upon her face, half-crazed with confusion, terror and pleasure. Sherlock knows he is a wretched man, but the rush of power he feels at her helplessness is a powerful aphrodisiac.

As he feels her cunt tighten at every thrust, Sherlock watches her tits bounce. Soon they'll be swollen and leak milk. A growl rises from him as he envisions his tongue swirling over her nipples, the cloying taste of sweetness at the back of his throat.

"Fuck, Emily. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Her cunt clamps vise-like against his cock, it drives him over the edge. He spills into her; the force of his climax leaves him light-headed. Panting, he thrusts slowly one, two, three more times before he withdraws. He catches his spend pooling out of her abused cunt, scoops it and tucks it back inside.

Sherlock wipes at the sweat gathered at his brow and drags a hand through his curls, fixing himself to a semblance of decency. He gets up and pushes a pillow under her hips, to ensure that he takes root.

He putters around the room, dips a washcloth in the creamware bowl at her vanity, and wipes away their combined fluids on her thighs.

Sherlock looks at the assortment of bottles on her bedside table, picks a bottle and holds it up against the fading light of the sun. Ah, he's almost out. He uncorks it, and five drops of reddish brown laudanum disappear into the glass of water.

It'll calm her when she wakes up.

It'll steady her hand and keep her his pliant, little girl.

#sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock holmes x original female character #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes imagine #henry cavill #henry cavill sherlock holmes

[loguetowns]

Killer + color dandelion if you want to, please, and happy holidays!❤️

daffodil yellow.

hand in hand. warm sunshine. blue skies. a quaint town. humming. giggling. laughing. interlaced fingers. gentle smiles. a wonderfully, extraordinarily ordinary day.

the last place you'd expect to find killer would be in a flower shop. with a stature that is (quite literally) giant, he would've never dreamed of trying to navigate such delicate florals. leave it to you to bring killer to a place that he'd always thought he didn't belong.

then again, that's the beauty in the way you love him.

you are a force of nature, challenging him to reconsider the things he thought would've been impossible for him (who would've thought he'd be capable of making ceramics?) and the things that he's never even given second thought (like the 10-step skincare routine he swears by now).

your presence has brought new adventure to his life in the most amazingly mundane ways.

it's perfect.

killer turns towards you and even just the sight of your tiny frame, navigating through carnations and lilies and magnolias, is enough to make his heart swell with complete adoration.

you spin around with pastel hydrangeas in your hand, "thoughts? what should we pair with these?"

he surveys the options, considering each one carefully. "the roses could be nice."

"ooh, yes! the white ones would look so good with them!"

"and" — killer pulls some nearby greenery — "maybe some eucalyptus?"

delighted and impressed, you grin at him.

"look at you with the eucalyptus! maybe we should swap your scythes for a pair of garden shears instead," you tease.

"baby, the sign is right there. you could've brought kid here and he could've done the same."

"yeah, but eustass kid" — you take the stems from killer — "would've been waiting outside the door, complaining about how this is a waste of time."

"and besides," you wink at him. "i like you way better."

his heart flutters as you walk towards the counter, and killer can't help but marvel. he marvels at how someone significantly smaller than him can have such a hold on his heart.

he watches as you chat up the shopowner, hands animated as you gesture from one display to another. the sun shines through, making it look like the errant pollen is dancing in the afternoon light. floating around you, it looks like fairy dust, and it's beautiful.

you're beautiful, is what killer thinks to himself when you look over your shoulder to smile at him.

"all done!"

"you got what you wanted?"

"yeah."

you're wonderful, is what killer thinks to himself as you approach him with giant blossoms in hand.

"here."

"want me to hold them for you?"

"no, silly. they're for you."

you beam at him, and he falls even harder for you.

you're the love of my life, is what killer thinks to himself while you hand him the bouquet that you've built together.

the last place you'd expect to find killer is in a flower shop, blushing underneath his mask with a heart so full of affection that it may burst. he accepts your proclamation of love and it's here, in this flower shop, that killer swears to himself that he'll return your gift with one of his own — and he's already got the perfect thing.

a glittering diamond ring in a small velvet box.

(and maybe he'll get a bouquet of hydrangeas, roses, and eucalyptus to go with it.)

send me a character + a colour and i might write you a lil something!

#killer x reader #op killer x reader #one piece killer #for someone named killer #i sure do be writing him extra soft all the time #¡! ❞ [ fics ] #¡! ❞ [ req ] #.cc

[heartshattering]

/// more breaking down

Honestly I just feel like I'm going crazy because no one in the family seems to think there's anything wrong with how my life is set up. It just is how it is. I don't "need" to go anywhere outside the house. I don't "need" to have a job or keep studying, the only thing I need to do is take care of my mom and everything else is a distraction. I don't have any friends who live near me, and no opportunities to make new friends, but that's okay because my main responsibility in life is just to take care of Mom and nothing else.

I've never had a "real" job, because there's always some issue with whatever job wants to hire me. Too many hours outside home, too far from home, not "elite" or "prestigious" enough, etc. Like. No mall jobs, because my mom says those are too "low-class". No working at a school because that would take too many hours out of the day and my mom needs me the most during morning/afternoon, so I can't do it. The research lab that picked me for an internship was too far away so I couldn't do that, either. Basically everything is either 1 - "not good enough", or 2 - takes too much time out of taking care of my mom. Then, "no" to furthering my education also, even though I'm at a fucking loss as to what to do with myself.

It just sucks I basically wasted my life getting the best grades I could in university, earning two bachelor's degrees plus additional certificates and other shit, just for it all to be worthless. I had people say they were excited to see where I was going with my career and everyone always acted like I had this wonderfully bright future ahead of me, but it's all bullshit. I want to throw up thinking about how fucking pathetic I actually am. My only outcomes are jail, institutionalization, or death. The fucking nurse herself said it to my face. The mental health professionals at the psychiatric center said I was too unstable for them to deal with and that there really isn't anything that can be done for someone like me and told me I wasn't allowed to come back. If I lived somewhere else, euthanasia would have likely been recommended to me already. I just feel so empty and sick, I don't want to keep having to deal with feeling like this all the time.

[nxtesinthemargin]

@gentlepyrate​ // stede

" You're such a wonderfully skilled swordsman, "   Stede comments absently, having got the chance to watch Izzy in action once more. As he recalls, he had complimented his skill the first time he'd seen it, but had been overall too distracted to do it properly.   " It must have taken you decades to perfect your craft. Well done. "

Izzy did not understand the point of this whole vacation thing.  Why did they need to take an afternoon off to waste time on an island?  There wasn’t even a port here.  He had checked the supplies recently they weren’t low on oranges, unless Roach made another one of those extravagant cakes again.  The only good thing that came from this pointless activity was the crew had left the ship.

He had decided to use this rare moment of solitude and silence as a chance to practice his swordsmanship.  It had been a while since he practiced - mostly because he didn’t feel a need to do so much anymore.  However, the injury to his foot made him feel a need to brush up again.  His footing in general felt awkward, he needed to relearn his balance, how to-

His thoughts and practice were interrupted by the sound of someone’s voice.  He nearly dropped his sword when he jumped in surprise.  “Bonnet, what the fuck are you doing here?” he asked trying to cover his surprise with anger.  

“I er- what?”  Bonnet was complimenting him.  What was going on?  He was pretty sure the only reason he was still on the ship was Edward had decided to keep him around.  The second Edward got bored of him, no longer found Izzy useful he knew he was going to be sent away on a dinghy again.  “Is there something you want?”

#izzy doesn't know how to accept compliments especially not from stede #he's like this has to be some sort of plot - bonnet wants something #i’ve polished this anger into a knife { interactions || izzy } #izzy answered tag tbd #gentlepyrate

[rikyos]

@raikuro sent : DAZE     —      for   one   muse   to   wake   somewhere   and   find   the   other   hovering   over   them     /     once again   this   is   old   af   don’t   ask   me   where   it   came   from.      (no   longer   accepting)

“      what   are   you  doing?   where   exactly   are   you   in   such   a   rush   to   get   to?     ”      though   far   from   being   cold      —      it   is   such   an   abrupt   vanishing   of   mid  -  day’s   sun   to   draw   him   back   from   shallow   rest ,     BROWS   PULLED   TIGHT   IN   COMPLAINT   a   moment   before   kazuha   brings   himself   to   search   for   the   culprit :     and   of   course   tomo   is   towering   over  him   now ,   casting   shadows   in   a   display   of   impatience   he   has   already   come   to   expect     .  .  .     the   pleading   look   that   comes   before   a   soft   groan   as   kazuha   tilts   his   head   back ,   eyes   falling   shut   once   more   just   to   be   nudged   back   to   attention   with   a   most   gentle   kick   to   the   side.      “      tomo.   please.     ”     there   are   days   HE   MIGHT   SUCCUMB   to   such   fits   of   restlessness ,   attempts   to   rouse   him   that   become   increasingly   harder   to   deny   as   being endearing      —   kazuha  knows   his   growing   frustration   was   only   fuelled   by   an   eagerness   to   get   back   on   the   road ,   and   that   he   can   understand.   but   it   is   amusing ,   after all ,   that   FOR   A   PAIR   SO   WONDERFULLY   COMPATIBLE   they   still   manage   to   find   such   glaring   differences   between   them :     his   own   deep  -  seated   tendency   to   linger ,   to   pass   quietly   through   this   world   and   give   himself   due   time   to   experience   it   all        —       it   clashes   drastically   with   the   way   tomo   bolts   to   consume   everything.   he   was   so  much   like   a   wave ,   surging   and   hungry ,   and   kazuha   has   never   once   minded   BEING   SWEPT   UP.   but   his   partner   cannot   win   this   fight   every   time   and   he   is   so   comfortable   already ,   still   resting   on   the   edge   of   sleep   where   he   curls   amongst   thick   tree   roots.   ronin   only   considers   his   options   for   a   brief   moment   before   digging   his   heels   in.    

“     look   at   you ,     ”     a   sleepy   drawl   so   unlike   his   usual   fluency   when   he   finally   gathers   up   the   willpower   to   blink   up   at   him   again.  eyes   sting   wearily   against  the   sunshine   utterly   bathing   him   in   light      —     a   sight   drawing   breath   from   him   that   is   not   at   all   flattery.   but   he’d   still   rather   soak   up   the   afternoon’s   warmth   himself ,   preferably   in   close   proximity   to   tomo :      REACHES   A   HAND   OUT   TO   HIM   IN   DEMAND   for   him   to   join.   there’s   enough   silent   petition   in   the   glint   of   his   eye’s   to   meet   the   others   urgency   and   match   it.      “     just   sit   here   with   me   a   while      —      please ,   tomo?   we   have   all   of   the   time   in   the   world   to   get   where   we’re   going.     ”     wherever   that   was   again ,   the   afternoons   lull   washes   away   any   thought   much   more   concrete.     “     we   shouldn’t   waste   it   all   chasing   one   exploit   after   another ,   don’t   you   think?   we’re   here   now.   be   here   with   me.     ”         

#god tomo stop WASTING TIME just sit here doing absolutely nothing but giving me cuddles and attention ugh. #he talks so much bs #get his lazy ass up don't fall for it #⋆˚ ─── ⋆⋅🍁⋅⋆ ── （ interactions . ) : answered ! #raikuro

[godlygreta]

Please please number 7 of the fake dating prompts with Jake 🥺🥺

omfg please. that singing vid got me so bad

i got a bit carried away with this one if i'm honest

"I know this was all fake but… it felt real to say that I love you.” “And it felt real when I said it back.”

The weekend was almost over, the lake house you were staying at with Jake and his family was soon to be a memory. You remember when Jake first asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend, wanting to come home with someone so his mother would stop asking.

Sam had his girlfriend, Josh had his partner. Hell, Ronnie even had her own boyfriend that she was bringing. Jake was the only one without one.

He asked you over text, shooting it quickly a week before the two of you left. "Hey, this is a weird request, but can you pretend to be my girlfriend for the weekend? I kind of lied and told my mother I had one, and I'd really like to not lie to her."

Of course you would do it. Partly because you'd help Jake with anything if he asked, being one of your closest friends for the past five years. Partly because within these five years, you had started to gain feelings for him. You tried your hardest not to, listening to him occasionally talk about the girls he would bring home. But it was inevitable. Jake was inevitable.

The drive up there was easy going, the two of you talked about boundaries; what things you were okay with, what things you weren't. You talked about sleeping situations, Jake telling you that the two of you had a room to yourselves. You didn't mind sharing a bed if he didn't, reminding him that the two of you often slept in the same bed when you would crash at one another's places while wasted of your asses.

The two of you showed up and you were instantly met by Josh, who wrapped his arms around you. You had met all of his brothers before, even going out to brunch with Sam and his girlfriend. Karen yelled out to him to leave the two of you alone until you had gotten settled into the room.

Jake carried your bag over his shoulder while he rolled his suitcase behind him. You tried to tell him that you could carry it yourself, but he insisted. You just carried your purse inside behind him, following where he went.

The first night was easy, getting there in the middle of the afternoon had it's perks. You answered the first round of questions Karen and Kelly fired at you, wanting to know more about Jake's girlfriend. Karen was excited to meet you, as was Kelly, but Karen's smile never went away.

You and Jake laid in the bed together a little after midnight, your back to his chest. "Thank you for doing this for me."

"Of course, Jake. I would do anything for you." He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you in for a hug. You rested your hand on his arm as he squeezed you.

"Is this okay? Are you comfortable?" You nodded, eyes feeling heavy from the day of traveling the two of you had. "Goodnight," he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. "Sleep well."

"You too, Jake."

And you slept fucking fantastic. You woke up in the morning with your head on Jake's chest, hand thrown over his stomach and your legs intertwined with his. You were careful not to wake him as you left, dipping into the bathroom.

When Jake woke up, he looked over at you as you sat on the edge of the bed. Your head was tucked into the pages of a book, waiting for Jake to wake up. "G'morning."

"Morning, how'd you sleep?"

"Wonderfully. How about you?"

"Me too." You smiled at him, putting your bookmark between the pages you were on and dropping it on the floor. You crawled back up to where he was, laying your head on your pillow. Jake told you that today was going to be spent mostly on the boat, telling you that if you're ever uncomfortable with what he's doing, to pretend to itch your earlobe.

You practically sat on his lap while you were on the boat, legs draped over his lap. Your arm was wrapped around his shoulders, listening to his parents tell you a story about when Jake was younger. Your stomach hurt so much from laughing.

You were slightly thankful the staple of most boat trips involved alcohol. You were a couple beers in, as was Jake, and you began to really loosen up. Jake's hands wandered more, instead of staying stationary on your hip or your knee. It dragged along the skin of your thigh, grazing fingers making goosebumps appear on your skin.

Your lips always touched his cheekbone. You found his skin so kissable, so soft. You found comfort in knowing that Jake leaned into every kiss. He became ballsy, a few more beers in, capturing your lips in his own. Although it was short lived, the feeling of his lips on yours lasted for hours.

When you all got off the boat, back onto dry land, Josh insisted on making a fire. The boys all went to collect wood, building the fire on their own. The partners decided to grab some more beers, throwing them into the cooler.

Jake had brought out an old guitar from the basement, making sure it was tuned properly before he began to play it. You had never heard him sing before. Drunk, absolutely. He was dogshit at karaoke (but so were you when drunk). His voice was beautiful, melodic as he sang.

He looked over to you while he sang, smile wide on his face. You gave him one back that was equally as big. He ended his song, eyes still on you while everyone else cheered. "I love you," you admitted, putting a hand on his cheek.

"I love you, too, Sunshine." He pressed his lips to yours, your hand weaving into his hair. You lightly bit into his bottom lip, feeling as he hummed against your lips.

The two of you drank more, ending up in the same bed once again. He giggled as he tried to get off his jeans. You helped him as best you could, equally as drunk as you were.

The next morning you would face the consequences of your words from last night. The admission of love. You waited for him out by the lake, on the dock. It was your last day, so you took advantage of it. You soaked in as much of the sunshine as you could, the tips of your toes touching the water below you.

"Hi," Jake said, sitting next to you on the dock. "Can I join you?"

"Yeah, of course. Go ahead." The birds chirped in the vacancy of words.

“So last night…” He started.

“I’m sorry, I-I..” You sighed, trying to find the right words. “I know this was all fake but… it felt real to say that I love you.” You admitted, staring out at the lake in front of you.

“And it felt real when I said that I love you back.”

“I don’t know if I can pretend anymore, Jake.” You turn towards him, making eye contact with him.

“I know. I can’t pretend anymore. I… I genuinely do love you, Sunshine. I think I always have.”

#houseofcomplexlovers #via answers #blurb night #jake blurb

[storiesofsvu]

Escape Ch 2

Warnings: Language.

It was a wonderfully pleasant surprise when Casey called you the next afternoon, you hadn’t expected her to call so quickly, and were thrilled as you made plans for Friday afternoon. The phone call that had been intended to be a quick one ended up lasting over an hour, laughing and joking with each other easier than you’d bonded with anyone in years. You eventually had to hang up, having to get ready for work, but the smile stayed on your face throughout the evening, a server joking about the dreamy look on your eyes as you made drinks.

Friday afternoon rolled around and you found yourself strolling through Little Italy enjoying little scoops of gelato from a place highly recommended by Casey. 

“How is it you’ve been in New York nearly a year and seen basically none of it?” She laughed in question at your mentioning never having been to Time’s Square.

“Ehh…work keeps me busy. Not to mention it’s late hours, I end up wasting my mornings sleeping and before I know it, it’s time to go in. Besides, unfair judgement, you’ve been here your whole life.”

“Hey, I spent three years in Massachusetts.”

“Oooo. A Harvard educated lawyer. How fancy.” You joked, bumping your shoulder into her playfully, “So, what does a hot shot like you do in her free time in the city?” She pondered for a moment, truthfully she spent too much time working, chasing down judges and detectives far too late in the day, not a lot of friends outside the workplace to turn to.

“Batting cages honestly.”

“Baseball? Really?”

“You play?” She asked, resulting in a snort of a laugh coming from you.

“I try.” You took a pause, staring down into your gelato, “My brother used to play…”

“What happened to him?” The question was softly spoken, her eyes even softer when you glanced up at her, tears glimmering in your eyes.

“Boating accident.” You sighed heavily, “Boys weekend in Daytona gone wrong, wasn’t wearing his life jacket. Took the coast guard two weeks to find his body.”

“I’m sorry.” Her free hand reached out to squeeze yours gently, you gave her a tight smile. “How old was he?”

“Twenty three. It was only two years ago, kinda broke apart the family. I couldn’t handle how much my parents were fighting anymore, figured I’d get away, move up here and start over.”

“Is it working?”

“So far? Yeah…I mean what does Florida have to offer aside from gators, theme parks and elderly republicans?” 

“Constant warm weather?” You laughed over a scoop of gelato at that, glancing over to Casey, mirroring her frozen movements at the look she gave you, “Hang on, you’ve got..” Her thumb quickly shot out, swiping the smear of sweetness off the corner of your lips before she sucked it into her mouth, you flushed at the intimacy of the moment, “Mmm…you were right about the butter pecan, that’s delicious.” You let out another laugh, 

“Well you’re not getting anymore of it.” A sparkle in your eye while you were quick to finish the cup, giggling as you tossed it into a nearby garbage can.

“I can think of a way I can still get a taste…” She smirked over at you, you felt your breath hitch at the comment, both of you having paused, moving to the side of the sidewalk. Casey waited for a moment of hesitancy, taking in the way your eyes darted to her lips, the way your tongue wet your own before she raised her hand to your cheek, pulling you close to her. It was brief, it was soft, but it was more intimate and loving that you could ever imagine. Her lips were fucking heavenly against yours, her thumb trailing across your cheek, the other hand wrapping around your back as yours wrapped around her neck. “Sorry if that was—“

“No.” You were quick to cut in, “That was…perfect.” You gave her a soft smile, another adorable giggle escaping your lips before you pecked at her lips again, fingers interlocking between hers, “Tell me more about New York.”

And just like that, you began to fall for each other…harder than either of you had expected. Traipsing through the streets of New York Casey and you spent nearly all of your free time together, sometimes it was tourist traps, sometimes it was somewhere that she held close to her heart, a special place she loved. You were thankful for not only a well educated tour guide, but someone who was willing to share places that she found so close to her heart. You explored the stereotypical places like the Brooklyn Bridge and Statue of Liberty, where you were more than quick to take an adorable selfie of the two of you laughing in each others arms, and another one of you softly kissing her. Other times she’d tell you to meet her at some off the track pub or restaurant you’d never heard of that was home of the greatest calamari you’d ever had, and you were just as grateful for that. You didn’t have a lot of time for each other, considering your schedules were nearly 100% opposite, but you spent a lot of time texting, filling in the gaps when you didn’t get to see each other.

To say you were head over heels for Casey Novak was a fucking understatement.

#casey novak #casey novak x reader #escape #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #law and order #svu

[the-prince-of-pigs]

that was cute! not bad at all! doesn’t do much for what newcomers there are, as it doesn’t do a good job of explaining who Team Rocket is, why Giovanni is such a big deal, or fleshing out the main trio (could have used actual toys instead of animation and there’d have been no difference). a lot of people might be familiar from Pokémon Go, where you do battle Team Rocket and eventually Giovanni, but they might be confused who the hell was in this movie.

it doesn’t add much in the way of Mewtwo or Pokémon lore, but I guess the point was more a direct remaster, not a remake. still, it would have been nice if they added more or tweaked some things, but overall, they did a nice job with what they had, and I did enjoy what smaller changes they did employ. I also loved the small post credit scene where we see Mewtwo and the clones finding Mt. Quena from his sequel!

A- overall because the humans all looked like mannequins run through one of those hyper realistic photo morphers!

#Q livestreams Mewtwo Strikes Back Evolution #mewtwo strikes back evolution #mewtwo #pokemon #pokemon go #netflix #remake #remaster #movie #film #review #livestream #what a wonderfully wasted afternoon

[moemoemammon]

(Two things, 1. This is my first time requesting so I'm sorry if this is not the thing to do it, and 2. Sorry if somethings is misspelled or grammatically incorrect, eng is not my first language:p)

May I request some of the bros, specially Mammon, Luci and Satan, with a MC who's similar to Lucifer in some aspects (like, some of their manners are the same as his and sometimes they're little bit too strict) and after a while they discover that its bc MC is also an older sibling. And (only if you want) meeting their younger sibling, please 🙏

Btw love your works ♡♡♡

Lucifer Number 2~

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

It doesn't occur to Lucifer how similar the two of you are, but the first thing he realizes is how pleasant conversations with you can be. You both share common interests, your tastes suit his own, and you seem to be the only competent person in this house.

You're the responsible type, and he likes it. He'll sometimes find you scolding his brothers for their behavior too, and as amusing of a sight as that may be, he doesn't want you to be burdened with their idiocy.

AND you're the eldest sibling in your household? Cheers to that. You too know the weight of being the responsible oldest, and the role one must take to ensure their siblings grow up well. You too know that you'd rather your siblings have things easier than you did.

But there's one thing he finds annoying... You can NEVER speak your feelings, and act as if it’d kill you to do so. He can respect secrecy when it's appropriate, but Lucifer would like to know what's on your mind. Not only that, but you can be HORRIBLY headstrong. There's nothing that can stray you away from what you've already decided.

"MC, I request that you take a few days off from school to do as you please. I've already spoken with Diavolo and your professors, and you've been given an excuse. I know you'll study anyway, so I've dropped off your assignments in your room. But... you should rest. It isn't good for you to be pushing yourself so hard. Hm? You're calling me a hypocrite?"

Mammon

As if one Lucifer wasn't enough. Now there's TWO of em?! Why's his luck gotta be so lousy!

Definitely the first to realize how much like Lucifer you are, and was SHOOK. Seriously, what gives?! What horrors exist in the human world that could've made you like THAT..?

Ever since you showed up, it's been impossible to get away with anything! He can't sneak out of the house because you're always there somehow, you tattle on him when you catch him leaving anyone's room, and you won't even let him copy your homework! What gives?!

Avoids you like the plague. You're no fun! There's only rare moments when you're kinda okay, and he likes those the best. The times when you're kinda sensitive and you'll drop the high and mighty act. But then you're back to being a pest!

"For the billionth time, I ain't got time to study! There's money to be made, and a guy like me ain't gonna waste a second lookin' at a dumb book when I could be- H-Huh?! You're gonna call Lucifer?! N-now, there's no need to be so hasty, right? Oi!! I'm sorry, damn it-!"

Levi

What's the deal with Lucifer number two? As comedic of a trope as that may be, Levi doesn't really care for having two nagging types in the house. Especially a human...

When you're in his room, all you do is nitpick about how he should tidy up and open a window! Don't you know that an otaku's room is his pride and joy?! It's a sacred space not to be trampled on by the opinions of a normie!!!

But still... he has to admit that even if you don't get all the stuff he's talking about, you at least try to understand it. And there are even some of his interests that you're genuinely invested in!

You might be a pain in the neck and harass him about annoying things, but he guesses he can deal with it if you'll actually sit through a TSL marathon with him...

"I-I'll lend you this manga, so make sure you read it! And when you're finished with that, I'll lend you the spin-off series by the author's brother! I know you'll like it, since you're interested in gritty stuff. Oh, and- Huh? My laundry? Y-yeah.... I'll do that.."

Satan

You are... surprisingly good company. Satan enjoys talking to you over afternoon tea, and the two of you share stories between one another.

But still, he can't shake the feeling that there's something... unpleasantly familiar about your personality. It isn't until you say something that sounds suspiciously similar to what Lucifer would say that he realizes who you remind him of. And oh, he hates it.

Tries playing pranks on you, but somehow they never go to plan. How that is is beyond him, but you never fall for anything! No matter how sweet his smile, you're always rightfully suspicious. You're annoyingly meticulous about checking your surroundings, and you're so aware of yourself that it's troublesome! Be more gullible!!

The king of petty has decided that its now his life goal to make you fall for at least one of his pranks. He doesn't care how elaborate he has to make it, or how unrewarding the payoff may be. He'll make you pay for seeing his brother in two places at once.

"MC, would you like to join me this afternoon for a book reading? Though, I'd love it if you could read this book in particular. I think you'll find it very-.... Hm? 'Isn't this the cursed book that makes you grow hair all over your body', you ask? Ahaha.... tch."

Asmo

Come now, there can't be TWO killjoys in the house! That's way too depressing!! It was funny at first to see that there's someone who can match the scary Lucifer's energy, but now it's becoming a nuisance!

You won't even go to the countless parties he's invited you to! Hell, you barely even give yourself room to mess around a little? Isn't it boring being so tightly wound? You're in luck, because the adorable Asmo-chan knows the PERFECT way to let loose~

You'll RARELY let him close to you, and that's usually when you're tired of him harassing you. Then he gets the honor of playing with your hair while you've got no energy to fight back! He'll style it wonderfully for you!

Also nags you to take better care of yourself. You're not a demon, so you have to care for your health! These late night study sessions are giving you bags under your eyes! And stop taking on so many extracurricular activities!

"Geez, MC! I didn't think you'd die from overworking, but that's the path you're headed on! You really are like Lucifer, you know? That being said, I'll do my best to make sure you relax! Shall we begin~?"

Beel

Beel may not be too bothered by Lucifer's strictness, but that doesn't mean he's immune to it. To think that even a human can be like that...

It's nice to see that you can take care of yourself, but aren't you working too hard? Your grades are good and you've got many interesting talents, but you also have to properly rest.

Has started bringing you snacks on the regular. And don't even think about skipping meals, because he won't allow it. He'll literally pick you up and bring you to the table if he has to. And if you're staying up late to study? He'll carry you to bed. Don't try to protest.

Beel is your babysitter now and there's nothing you can do about it. It's good to be responsible, but don't think about trying to take care of everyone else if you can't care for yourself. Now eat these twelve meat buns he bought for you.

"MC, let's eat lunch together. I know you were going to skip because I heard you talking to Solomon earlier, and I won't let you. Ah, don't worry about not having money, because I've already bought you some lunch. Let's eat in the courtyard."

Belphie

NO.... IT CAN'T BE... THIS HAS TO BE A NIGHTMARE....HE WANTS TO WAKE UP....

You're such a drag. You harass him to attend student council meetings, but him about his studies, and won't let him avoid a single obligation he has. What are you, his mother?

Has 100% joined forces with Satan to try to make you fall for many, many unsuccessful pranks. Are you curse proof or something? When he tried a '10 hour bed-head' spell on you, it just rebounded right to him! Then he found out that you'd borrowed a spell repelling amulet from Solomon and realized just how prepared you are...

When you aren't bothering his entire soul by trying to make him do things, you're actually nice to talk to. You're knowledgeable, you pay attention to the people around you, and you can always read a room. He likes to ask you for advice sometimes.

"Aren't you tired of being like that all the time? So... attentive, I mean. You should just take a nap some time. Or better yet, take the week off. Maybe I'll teach you how to properly relax? Then you might finally be able to take that stick out of your- ow... What're you hitting me for?"

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me! #obey me! shall we date? #shall we date? obey me! #shall we date obey me #obey me scenarios #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levia tan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

just let me adore you || h. styles

warnings: swearing, kissing, briefly proofread

word count: 2.3k

summary: a holiday in italy involves an unusual amount of shampoo and lusting...

The villa was somewhat quiet. The sound of solitary piano notes echoed through the halls. Harry’s hair was dishevelled from his heavy night’s sleep prior to the warm morning he found himself emersed in. While his fingers were busy working away at the grand piano, his eyes were preoccupied with following your form around the backyard of the villa. 

You were sat by the pool, your book long forgotten. Your sunglasses were shielding your eyes from the unrelenting Italian sun. Your hair was pinned up, your skin exposed to the heat of the morning. 

Harry’s attention was suddenly pulled away by the sound of your father emerging from the kitchen. “Morning, Haz,” he grinned, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “Any plans for today?”

He shrugged, “Might just, you know, work on some music.”

“A man committed to his career, that’s what I like to see,” your father said. 

Harry nodded awkwardly, offering the older man a quick smile. Once your father disappeared into the lounge, Harry found his eyes wandering back to you. But you’d vanished. Had there not been wet footprints staining the concrete poolside, there would be no trace you’d been there at all. 

Focusing on the lone notes the piano had no trouble emitting became an increasingly difficult task. All he could seem to focus on was you and the obnoxiously loud laughter of your mother and his own in the kitchen. He huffed loudly, pulling his jacket around himself tightly. He clambered up from the piano stool, stalking through to the kitchen to kindly ask if the two women could lower to volume slightly. However, he was soon silenced by the sight of you sat on the countertop of the island, your legs swinging beneath you, a peeled tangerine in your delicate hands. You were smiling slightly as the women couldn’t help but laugh at something Anne had said. 

A bundle of nerves unravelled itself inside of Harry’s stomach when you looked up and locked eyes with him. Your mother and Anne quickly quietened down at Harry’s sudden presence in the doorway. “Morning, darling,” Anne smiled. 

“Morning, Mum,” he replied, breaking his gaze away from your own. “Do you, uh, do you mind if you can keep it down a bit? I’m trying to work.”

“Work?” your mum asked. “Harry, dear, we’re in Italy! Why don’t you wait to work when you get home.”

“I know, but I feel most inspired when I’m away from my house,” he tried to explain. 

“Just take a break, Harry. Relax… you know, unwind,” Anne said softly. 

He sighed, “Okay. Fine. I’m going to shower.”

And with that, he spun on his heel and left the kitchen. You’d been silent throughout the entire exchange, glancing between Harry and your half-eaten tangerine. As you watched him leave, you averted your attention back to your book that was being held open by a mug you’d quickly put down so as not to lose your place.  

Harry found himself running his hands through his dark hair, which was now coated in mango-scented shampoo. He’d just grabbed it off the shelf in the shower, assuming it came as a complimentary luxury with the villa. As the hot water trickled down his body, he allowed his muscles to relax. He knew his mum was right: he needed to separate himself from his music for a few days. But he was only working away tirelessly at the grand piano because it kept his mind off you. If it wasn’t music, it was you. If it wasn’t you, it was music. 

These yearly holidays used to be enjoyable for Harry. Right up until he was fourteen and he realised he liked you. Then they became almost torturous. As soon as he began to see you in this different light, your presence and whereabouts became apparent to his senses. Before, you always seemed to swim in the pool with Gemma or play in her room. He’d occupy himself with your brother by going down to the beach or playing tag in the extensive gardens of the Italian villa. But you suddenly seemed to be everywhere. He’d go down to the beach and there you’d be with your parents or Gemma. He’d be running through the gardens trying to find your brother after an afternoon of hide and seek, and yet he’d discover you reading or gossiping with his sister. All of this, but the summer you didn’t come with your family because you were going away to Scotland with your then-boyfriend instead was utterly dreadful for him.

When he was finished in the shower, he wasted the rest of the day by the pool in hopes you’d venture out with your books and tangerines. But alas, you did not. It was only when the sun was dipping below the horizon did he next lay eyes on you. He was sat at the dining table, his plate before him. You grinned at him, sitting down opposite him. You kept quiet as your parents chatted away mindlessly with Anne, only sharing a brief and quiet conversation with your brother, who you were sat beside. 

Gemma hadn’t come this year, leaving Harry and Anne alone with your family. Anne didn’t seem to have a problem with that at all. After all, she and your mother were such good friends and always had been. You had always been content in your own company. And your brother seemed to spend all his time with your father, something about inheriting the family business. So, Harry had found a companion in the villa’s grand piano, which had now been stripped away from him courtesy of his mother. 

It wasn’t as if you were deliberately being cold to Harry. You actually quite admired him and you knew you always had. And it wasn’t as if you weren’t aware of his eyes following you everywhere you went. But you liked the attention. You wanted to know just what you could do to him. So, when your foot accidentally grazed his leg beneath the table, you didn’t even look at him. After all, it was a mere accident. 

When, at last, your father was finished with his meal, you helped Anne clear away the dishes and your mother as she washed up. While your father and brother ventured through to the lounge to watch a football game, Harry went straight to his room. 

An hour passed and he was too busy on his phone to notice you enter his room. When you cleared your throat, he finally looked up. His eyes were wide like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He hurriedly shut off his phone, blackness overtaking the screen that had once presented your Instagram profile to him. “Oh, hi, Y/N,” he said as you sat yourself down at the foot of his bed. 

“Oh? Didn’t realise you were expecting someone else,” you smirked. 

“No, no, no. I, uh, I wasn’t. I was just surprised to see you,” he said quickly. 

“Right,” you grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He watched your face screw up suddenly. You leaned forward towards him, before laughing. “What?” he asked. “What’s funny?”

“Is that my shampoo?” you questioned. 

“Shit. I just thought it was a, you know, freebie. I didn’t realise it was yours. Shit. I wouldn’t have used it if I knew it was yours. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

As he rambled, he remembered that the two of you shared the same bathroom. It was between your respective bedrooms, doors leading to both. Of course it was your shampoo. You chuckled at his ramblings, “It’s okay Harry. It’s just shampoo. You can use it whenever.”

“Oh,” he let out a sigh of relief. “Well, for what it’s worth, I thought it smelt wonderful.”

You smiled, “Thanks. I have a pomegranate one in my suitcase that I think you’d love.”

“Really? Why did you bring two shampoos?” he asked. 

You shrugged, “So I have options depending on my mood. Sometimes I’m feeling like a pomegranate, sometimes I’m feeling like a mango.”

He couldn’t help but smile, his eyes wandering up your bare legs that were only sporting a pair of silky shorts. Obviously, this didn’t go unnoticed by you. “The only thing is,” you started, “you’re going to smell like me now.”

He shifted slightly. You smiled to yourself. 

“What if people, you know, get the wrong idea?” you asked innocently. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, “I guess you’ll just have to use your pomegranate shampoo tomorrow instead, won’t you?”

You leaned back, somewhat satisfied with his answer. His cheeks were flushed and you knew your job for the evening was done. “Fair play, Styles. See you in the morning,” you made a point of touching his shoulder as you left via the shared bathroom. 

The following morning, Harry awoke, finding himself peacefully content for a moment before he recalled the prior night’s events. He was yet to decide if you were actually making a move on him or not. Or perhaps you were genuinely concerned that your families would smell your signature mango scent on Harry and get the wrong impression of the entire thing. 

He dragged himself out of the soft sheets, getting dressed. He listened silently to the running shower. He could hear you humming along to Then He Kissed Me by The Crystals. And after the shower he stopped, he gave it five minutes before going in to brush his teeth. He couldn’t help but look over to see your bottle of pomegranate shampoo making its place beside your mango one. The red bottle was the one soaked in droplets of water, while the yellow bottle remained dry. You’d done as he’d said. In a way, Harry almost wished you’d used the mango shampoo. He almost liked the thought of people thinking he and you had been so close that he’d absorbed your tropical scent. 

As he wandered into the kitchen, preparing himself some toast, he noticed the unusual silence of the villa. It was unnerving. He felt like the protagonists of those books and movies where they wake up and everyone’s gone or been evacuated. It felt apocalyptic. But, as his mind churned out immediate actions to take in this case of an unprecedented apocalypse, you walked into the kitchen just as his toast popped out of the toaster. “Morning,” you smiled, sitting down at one of the island’s stools. 

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, spreading butter onto the crisp toast. 

You shrugged, “It was alright. You?”

“I slept wonderfully.”

“Good,” you said. 

“Where is everyone?” he asked, sitting down opposite you. 

“They left for the beach,” you explained. “I didn’t want to go and they didn’t want to wait around for you to get out of bed. Anne told me to tell you that if you want to go down, they’re the ones with the pink deckchairs.”

He nodded slowly, “I think I’ll pass. Not a fan of sand.”

“Right? Why do people enjoy playing in minuscule rocks, which end up in your clothes for the next two weeks? Sounds like hell to me,” you said. 

He smiled at your aggravated tone, “Wow, and I thought I hated sand.” 

“You haven’t seen anything yet, pal,” you joked, smiling. 

Before a blanket of silence could fall on top of the two of you, Harry quickly said, “I saw you used the pomegranate shampoo.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him, “Yeah… I mean, you told me to, right?”

“Right,” he nodded quickly. “Of course. Well, at least we both smell nice now.”

You frowned, “If you say so. Anyway, I’m going for a swim. See you later.”

Harry watched you leave. His eyes roamed your figure with your legs exposed in a pair of shorts. You looked back at him over your shoulder, grinning to yourself at his longing look. He watched through the large kitchen windows as you rid yourself of your shorts and t-shirt, revealing your swimsuit beneath. He tried desperately to peel his gaze away from you as you settled yourself comfortably on one of the sun loungers by the pool. You placed your sunglasses over your eyes, opening your book. 

As soon as he’d finished his toast, he wandered outside. At the sound of his footsteps, you looked up. “Hi, Harry,” you smiled. 

“Hello,” he said softly, sitting down opposite you. You slid your sunglasses up over your head, settling them on your hair. You sat up, never allowing your eyes to leave his. “How can I help you?” you grinned. 

He was fiddling with his fingers, his gaze alternating between them and you. Finally, you reached out and placed your hand over his shaky ones. You stood, pulling him up with you. You were so close. You could hear each other breathing. You could practically hear his heart thumping against his ribs. You reached up to whisper in his ear, “I know you adore me.”

You smirked, allowing him to revel in your confidence. Call it cockiness. Same thing, really. You slowly pulled away from his ear, pressing your lips to the tip of his nose. And yet it was him who finally connected your lips to his own. He didn’t make any effort to pull away either. You smiled into the kiss, burying your fingers in his hair. And when he finally did pull away, he stared down at you, cheeks red, “Depends if you adore me too.”

You grinned, “I do.”

And, with that, he dove back in. You grinned as he wrapped his arms around your waist, picking you up. He lay you down gently on the sun lounger, leaning over you. As you pulled his shirt over his head, he leaned back slightly. “I thought you didn’t want people to get the wrong idea,” he whispered. 

You shrugged, “I guess we’ll just have to see what pomegranate and mango smell like together.”

#harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry imagine #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry x y/n #harry styles oneshot #harry x reader #harry x you

[deja-you]

you will, won't you?

WWII Era | t. jefferson x reader

summary: you're not always happy with the choices Thomas makes, but he's going to be worth the wait.

word count: 1.3k

masterlist

Holding his hand might’ve been the closest you got to heaven. And you would be okay with that.

You weren’t exactly the girl your parents had hoped you would grow up to be, but in the neighborhood you had moved to, you lived a perfectly respectable life. Music was always kept down to a certain level, and you were careful to return home at a reasonable hour. The most promiscuous thing about you were the shiny red heels you wore, but on this matter, you were obstinate. The shoes stayed.

Late fall hung in the air like a pungent cologne, and the day droned on as if anticipating something wonderfully awful. The weight of the hours hung heavily on your shoulders, and there was no other option than to spend the afternoon lounging on the settee with a glass in one hand and a dwindling cigarette in the other. You barely had the energy to puff on the cigarette every now and then, so when a knock came at the door, you lazily called out, “come in.” The opening of the door and deliberate shuffling of shoes across your wooden floors was familiar to you, so you allowed your eyes to shut and you sank deeper into the plush abyss.

“Sweetheart,” he said (he had started calling you “sweetheart” after you had told him you were fond of that Bing Crosby tune on your third date).

You didn’t respond immediately, and you heard him sigh softly—more so to get your attention than from any actual frustration or exasperation. You felt him lean against the settee.

“Sweetheart, have you really been sitting here all day?” He asked.

“And what if I have?”

“Then it would be a waste of a day, wouldn’t it?”

You opened your eyes just to give him an annoyed look. “It’s a waste of a day anyway. This day… it’s just, well… it’s no good, Thomas.”

“Why’s that?” He took the opportunity to remove the cigarette from your lithe fingers and put it out in the ashtray on the side table. You didn’t seem to notice this at all, your head caught up somewhere else entirely. His one hand replaced the cigarette he had taken from you, and the other ghosted along your cheek and over your hairline.

“Weather’s awful,” you began. Thomas glanced outside and saw clouds beginning to crowd over the sun that had been shining all morning. He had spent most the day outside, and the weather had been lovely up until this moment.

“And there’s just nothing to do. No excitement. No one to see. Nothing but waiting,” you continued.

“Waiting?”

“Yes.”

You laced your fingers through his fingers, pulled them apart, and then found a new and better way to intertwine your hands once more. Thomas waited for you to elaborate, but when you didn’t, he prompted once more: “waiting for what?”

You rolled your eyes like the answer was obvious. “Waiting for you to come home, of course.”

He chuckled. “Was I worth the wait?”

“Always,” you responded. “But I don’t like what you’re wearing.”

“What? This? I thought I looked handsome.”

And he did look handsome in his green-gray jacket and slacks. Thomas always looked put together, but his freshly pressed uniform was something entirely different. You would’ve been absolutely enamored with his new look if it weren’t for what it represented. It might’ve been childish, but you turned to face the wall in order to avoid his eyes.

“I suppose you’ll have to get used to waiting, sweetheart,” he said after a moment. Your response was an incoherent huff. There was a long silence before Thomas was able to stumble over more words. “You… you will, you will, won’t you?”

“I’ll what?”

“You’ll wait?”

Time froze long enough for you to wonder how to duplicate this phenomenon and keep him here another month. Or another week. Or hell, at this point, you’d take another day.

But the clock began ticking again and you still couldn’t believe the question he had asked you. Would you wait? Was that really something he questioned?

“Thomas, I’d wait my whole lifetime for you,” you said easily.

A weight lifted from his chest. “You won’t have to, sweetheart. I won’t be gone long at all.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You know me,” he said coolly. “And I always keep my promises.”

Thomas fell into place beside you, leaning obnoxiously into your side. He took his uniformed cap off his head and pressed it into your hands. He nudged your side and wrinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Admit it, sweetheart, it’s nice, isn’t it?”

You turned the hat over in your hands. “Maybe.”

“I’d like to see Paris. Might get to.” Thomas said, reclining further into the settee.

The hat was abandoned in your lap. “There are other ways to see Paris.”

He laughed from deep in his diaphragm and it carried past his throat into the air of your modest apartment. “I know that.”

“Do you?”

Thomas pulled you closer to his side and placed a kiss to your forehead. “Yes, sweetheart.”

“Would you stay if I asked you to?”

A pause. He wetted his lips as he considered you for a moment. “I would. Are you asking me to?”

What a horrible person you would be if you said yes. What a horrible person you were for even considering it. “Of course not, no.”

While Roosevelt had told you there was nothing to fear, you couldn’t help but be afraid. Afraid of being without Thomas while he was away. Afraid of losing him to the war. Afraid of trying to figure out what your life would be without him in it, because the truth was, every time you thought of the future, you only thought of him. Always him.

“Come take me downstairs,” he said.

“Already?”

“Already.”

The two of you held hands as you walked him downstairs, and it was in the stairwell that you had your epiphany concerning Thomas’s hands and heaven. He walked on your left side so your right hand was able to grip the bannister in case you decided to demonstrate your all-too-common clumsiness. He was watching the stairs to make sure you didn’t miss a step when he noticed your bright red shoes. Thomas smiled.

When the two of you stepped outside, it was already early evening and the air had turned cold in the city. A neighbor was playing loud music through their open window and streetlights were beginning to be turned on. Your grip tightened on Thomas’s hand when a thought occurred to you.

“What if I don’t even recognize you when you return?”

Thomas shook his head and considered you with amusement. He leaned forward, nose brushing against your nose when he replied. “Then I’ll find you.”

“But what if you don’t recognize me?” The idea was unlikely, you understood that, but it didn’t stop you from asking.

He nudged your feet lightly with his. “I couldn’t possibly miss you in these shoes.”

You felt your face warm up, and you nodded in agreement. Thomas wrapped his free hand around your waist, his other hand still clutching yours as he held your joined hands up in the air.

“Dance with me, sweetheart.”

You were hesitant. “I’m no good at dancing.”

“It’s a good thing I’m giving you time to learn,” he grinned, taking a step forward and then a step back. Step forward, step back, step left, step right. “When I get back, we’re going dancing every night.”

Laughter filled the street and you faintly recognized it as your own as Thomas led you in circles around the sidewalk. Your steps faltered when you adjusted your arms to wrap around his shoulders, pulling his face closer to your own. Guided by your movements, Thomas fit his lips to yours like they were the final piece to a convoluted puzzle. Two became one and a new decade had begun.

And so the evening danced into twilight amidst the dwindling notes of the immortal phonograph.

#thomas jefferson x reader #thomas jefferson imagine #thomas jefferson #hamilton an american musical #hamilton #lafayette x reader #lafayette imagine #daveed diggs smut #daveed diggs x reader #WW2 AU #waiting #lots of waiting #red shoes and other things that get worn out #idk what to do with tags anymore #soldier!thomas jefferson

[nanagoswife]

Noticing You, Noticing Me

Chapter Five

Summary: The next days come and go with Obi-Wan occupying nearly every minute of it. Reader's favourite night will be one to remember...

W/C: 2.5k

Warnings: angst?, generally just pretty fluffy

- - -

You were walking quickly down the hallway. Excitement flooded you at the thought of seeing him again. Yet, there was an undercurrent of sadness knowing that this was Obi-Wan’s last day here.

The last two days had been amazing. Both of you had spent afternoons, and sometimes evenings just talking. There was nothing more needed than the conversations you held. It flowed easily, almost as if it was something the two of you had done for years.

Most of your conversations were in the gardens but, once afternoons turned to evenings, you would invite him to one of the sitting rooms.

The first night was continued conversations. The night previous to now brought the two of you into one of the rooms that had a fireplace surrounded by shelves of books.

When you introduced him to the room, his eyes fell upon a poetry book.

“Oh, this is my favourite one,” he mused out loud.

You had walked over to look at the shelf he stood in front of, he traced the spine of the book he was talking about. It was one that you had read a bit of, but not all. From what you had read though, it was amazing.

“I’ve read some of it,” you said, trying to keep your voice even when you felt your hand bump into his.

“Would you like me to read some to you?” His eyes met yours in the firelight. There was a look in them that made your heart pick up speed.

For a moment, you were lost in his eyes. It seemed as if he was lost in yours as well. The two of you just looked at each other until a small surge of confidence filled you, causing you to move your hand the few millimeters to take his hand in yours.

This time neither of you wore gloves. The feeling of his hand in yours was even better than it was before. His warmth now came straight from the source, and his softly calloused skin was even more enjoyable than you ever thought possible. There was no hesitation from him when he laced his fingers with yours.

“Yes,” you finally say in a breath. A smile lit his features as he carefully slid the book from the shelf.

Guiding you to the couch, he sat beside you, only letting go of your hand so he could open the book. You moved close to him, but kept a small space between you at first.

As he began to read, you found yourself straining to read the page as he wonderfully spoke each line, each stanza with beautiful sophistication. You saw a smile form on his lips as you closed the gap, now gently resting your head on his shoulder.

After each page was finished, you turned it with your free hand. Neither of you dared move. Even as the embers in the fireplace were dying, you both just continued reading. The candle light was enough as well as the other’s warmth.

Obi-Wan continued reading well into the night. If you were being honest, you had lost track of time and so did he. This being said, neither of you cared. All you wanted was for this moment to never end. The comfort, the warmth… it was a feeling that you could only associate with Obi-Wan. No one had ever made you feel like this.

-

It wasn’t until he started reading one poem that he had almost forgotten about that something shifted. These lines never used to resonate with him. Not until he spoke them in this moment with you resting against him.

“Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place,” he read, feeling his heart start to race. “Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace.”

He looked down at you where your head laid against his shoulder. He felt his chest swell looking at you. It only grew as you shifted to meet his gaze.

“Suddenly my life doesn’t seem such a waste,” he continued in a near whisper, feeling himself lean closer to you. It seemed like you were doing the same as he spoke the last line, “it all revolves around you.”

-

You were once again so close to his lips. The two of you hadn’t been in a situation like this since the night of the ball.

This time, as the two of you held yourselves just centimeters apart, you brought your hand up. A single hair had fallen into his face and you gently brushed it away, letting your fingers lightly graze his forehead.

Like the night of the ball, you grazed your fingers down his cheek but, this time, instead of pulling your hand away you cupped his cheek. You watched as his eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into your hand.

Obi-Wan’s eyes slowly opened to meet yours again. They radiated the warmth and fondness that you felt for him. You couldn’t help but wonder if he saw the same in yours.

Not being able to take it any longer, you moved closer again. Your lips just barely met his when a knock on the door interrupted the moment.

Obi-Wan’s shoulders sagged as he let out a disappointed sigh. “I see we can never get this moment,” he whispered to you.

“I guess not,” you whispered with a small chuckle. It caused him to smile before calling out for whoever it was to come in after you both sat properly on the couch.

It was your good friend and guard, Echo. You had completely forgotten that he was supposed to come around tonight. He had tried to apologize for interrupting, but you wouldn’t have it. He left the room after you had said that you would be out.

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan. I completely forgot about this.”

All he did was give you a soft smile, taking your hands in his. “It’s fine, darling.”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks at the endearment. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“For you? Of course. Right after I’ve finished packing,” he replied, bringing one of your hands up, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Meet in the gardens around noon?”

You nodded absently, heart racing as the feeling of his lips on your skin. Between the near contact from moments before and the kiss to your knuckles, you were almost lightheaded from it all.

With a smile, he stood and helped you up. When you stood in front of him, he leaned in and whispered in your ear, “Then I shall see you tomorrow, my dear,” sending shivers down your spine before escorting you the short distance to the door where Echo was waiting.

The memory of the previous night still filled your thoughts. It was a good part of the reason you were so excited about today.

Each soft touch of his lips still could be felt.

You were almost at the gardens when someone stepped through the entrance. For a moment you couldn’t see who it was until you saw the soft auburn hair.

Picking up your pace, you met him at the end of the hall. He pulled you into his embrace almost immediately. It slightly surprised you, but you loved it. You hugged him back, loving the smell of cinnamon that seemed to cling to him at all times.

“Would it be rash of me to say that I missed you,” he said quietly after pulling away.

You smirked, “Rash? I never knew this handsome prince could be rash.”

Obi-Wan’s sweet chuckle made you smile.

When you looked up at him, though, the smile fell. Concern immediately filled you as you rested a hand on his arm in comfort.

“Is everything alright?”

He looked up at you, his expression brightening up just a bit before offering you his arm. “I’ll tell you once we get settled.”

Leading you to the bench under your favourite tree, the bench that the two of you held most of your conversations, he made sure you were settled before telling you.

“My father has told me that we’re leaving tonight rather than tomorrow morning,” he said, placing his hand on top of yours on the bench.

You looked down at the ground, feeling dispirited. “Oh.”

-

The fact that your tone sounded just as upset as you looked nearly broke his heart. Obi-Wan had a plan though. One that he hoped would bring your spirits back up.

With the hand that rested atop yours, he turned it over so he could feel the comfortable familiarity of your palm against his. He gently squeezed your hand, a silent plea for you to look at him again.

“We still have the afternoon,” he said, dipping his head to try and meet your eyes when you didn’t look back up.

A small smile appeared at his attempts for you to look at him. Although, you still didn’t fully look up. He understood how you felt. It’s the way he felt when he found out the news for himself an hour ago.

He could ask you this question now, but he wanted to see your eyes when he asked. It would bring your gaze to his if he just asked, but he wanted to see the exact moment that you realize what he’s asking. That initial reaction was what he wanted even with the knowledge that the reaction after would be just as good.

So, with his free hand, he gently took your chin between his thumb and index to guide your face back up.

“I also wanted to ask you something,” he said.

He watched your eyes brighten as he let go of your chin, letting his fingers trail your jawline before dropping his hand. It caused you to take an intake of breath that sent a chill down his spine.

“And what would you like to ask me?”

Obi-Wan smiled before taking a deep breath. “I would like to write to you,” he said, smiling bigger when he saw the excitement cross your features. “And I was wondering, would you like to write to me?”

Finally your smile grew. You squeezed his hand to emphasize your excitement as you nodded.

“Yes. Please, yes,” you said with a relieved laugh.

Obi-Wan could feel how much he was smiling. Between these last four days, he doesn’t think he’s ever smiled this much. Well, definitely not in these last couple of years.

“Perfect. Now, would you like to stay here or would you like to accompany me on a walk until I leave?”

“I think a walk would be perfect.”

-

“I’ll write you as soon as I arrive home,” Obi-Wan whispered. The two of you were just around a corner so no one could see you. Your whole family was there. Even your mother stood with your father and brothers and Padmé. They were saying their own goodbyes to King Jinn as you said your private goodbye to Obi-Wan.

Tears were building in your eyes no matter how ridiculous you thought it was. Even though you had only known him for four days, you feel like you’ve known each other for much longer. You felt completely attached.

“Oh, darling,” he murmured as a tear rolled down your cheek. He moved one of his hands that held yours to wipe it away with his thumb. Instead of letting his hand drop, he cupped your cheek.

“I wish we could have more time,” you said shakily.

Obi-Wan smirked, “We will. I promise we’ll have more time. Any chance I get, I’ll come visit.” He leaned down, slightly using his hand cupping your cheek to guide you closer, to rest his forehead against yours. His eyes closed for a moment as he spoke again, “This is my promise.” His eyes opened. “I will come back here for you. It may just not be for another few months.”

Slowly, you nodded against him. All of it really was helping you feel better. Especially with the fact that you were lost in the feeling of this moment. His soft strands of hair tickled your own forehead as a few strands came loose.

Reluctantly, he pulled away without breaking eye contact. You leaned into his hand just before he brought it back down.

Although he wore the sweetest smile, the same feeling of sadness could be seen on his expression.

“Obi-Wan!” you heard King Jinn call out. It caused both of you to turn in the direction. The two of you may be behind a corner so no one would see, but they still knew you were there. Well, they knew you two were at least in the area.

“I guess that’s my que to leave,” he said, turning back and looking at your joined hands.

You nodded.

He went to turn around but you stopped him by a call of his name. “Your hair,” you whispered before going through the now normal process of fixing his immaculate hair.

“Thank you,” he said, catching your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. His lips lingered, allowing you to savour and memorize the feeling. Just as you did with everything else.

After a few more moments, you finally took his arm as he escorted you to the rest of your family. You felt your cheeks flush as you saw everyone looking at the two of you. Nearly all of them had teasing or knowing grins. All except Varlo.

You didn’t dwell on any of it for long as you said your final goodbyes to Obi-Wan. He started with everyone else, pausing a little longer to talk with Padmé and Anakin. You were last.

He took a deep breath in as he gave you a brave smile.

“Princess, it was a pleasure to meet you,” he said quietly.

“And you, Prince Kenobi.” You were trying your best to hold back your tears as you smiled.

Obi-Wan slowly backed away, keeping his gaze locked with yours until he no longer could. King Qui-Gon Jinn rested a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, guiding him into the carriage. Before he entered, he did flash you one more smile and the next thing you knew you were watching them leave.

“Y/N,” the soft voice of Padmé sounded behind you.

When you turned to face her, her expression was for comfort. Of everyone, your friend was the one who knew the most about you and Obi-Wan, but not a lot. You had been spending most of your time with him.

“Come on. We should go inside,” she said softly.

Nodding, you followed her in. Soon, your spirits lifted as you looked back at your conversations with Obi-Wan. He had said that he would try to come here in a few months. Then there were the letters that would fill the time in between. You smiled as you thought of this over and over as you went through the evening all the way until you went to sleep.

“This is my promise.”

- - -

@stardancerluv @where-fantasy-meets-reality @jaydenwoo @madmax2003 @mackycat11 @generousrunawaydonut @imabeautifulbutterfly @animalgirl05 @blondekel77 @cosmicsierra @badbatch-simp24

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[stickyy]

Can I have a gn reader x Aizawa? Maybe a college AU where Aizawa doesn't know how to handle his crush because he was awkward when he was young and ended up a bully who was handsy. Thank you!

EEEE this is my first ask so i hope you like it anon! :D thanks so much for requesting!

DISCLAIMER: i do not condone or encourage any of the behavior outlined in the following text. this is a work of fiction, and should be treated as such. :)

wordcount: 2299

warnings: dubcon, verbal abuse, slight dumbification, forced oral sex, brief mentions of gagging/vomit (doesn’t actually happen), aizawa is an law student asshole, quirkless!AU, ooc? more likely than u think

notes: im not like a writer so when i put this in word count and saw it was 2k words i gasped-

MIDTERM

Without a doubt, Aizawa’s the smartest student in your Civil Procedure lecture. You admire him; you’re both first years, but he already has an incredible work ethic and results to show for it. He works two part-time jobs to help pay for school (alongside his impressive scholarship), studies into the late hours of the night (mostly due to his being kept awake very loud roommate), and, despite a bad habit of regularly showing up to your 8 am class slightly hungover, still manages to produce the top marks in the class. 

You’re envious of him, because you’re the exact opposite. Your tuition is paid in full by your parents, you have a wonderfully quiet apartment all to yourself, and you study as best you know how, only to practically fail every assignment. You wish you could be surprised, but the material is a dreadfully bland concoction of boring procedure and esoteric theory that you rarely get further than three or four pages into a chapter. You want to like law, you really do, but there’s something about the intricacies of drafting lawsuits that goes in one ear and out the other. It’s no surprise that you sought out Aizawa’s help, desperate to at least pass the class with a decent grade. 

You wish you hadn’t. 

You don’t understand what you do that bothers him so deeply, but something about you coaxes cruelty from somewhere dark inside of him. You always scurry towards the back of the lecture hall to grab a seat next to him, doing your best to be quiet and unassuming, but he shoots you a venomous glare or a soft flurry of harsh words. And you get it, to an extent- some days you walk into class chattering a little too loudly on the phone, and on others you loudly shuffle around in your book bag to try finding the notes that you attempted to start for this lecture (if you even brought them that day). You know it’s annoying, but you also know you don’t deserve the downright verbal abuse he throws at you for it.

“It’s hard to take notes if you forget your textbook. Try being prepared for once,” he’ll sigh as he slides his textbook to you. Like a good student, he took notes for lecture the night before, but it still took some convincing for him to spare you his textbook.

“Do you ever shut up?” He’ll interrupt you as you babble about your difficulties understanding the most recent lecture. You want to retort, tell him off for being rude, but the words die in your throat; he radiates an annoying apathy that makes you doubt the efficacy of anything you say to him.

“You wouldn’t fail every assignment if you actually studied. Or maybe, you’re actually just stupid?” He’ll quip as you clutch your paper, a red ‘47’ scrawled in the upper corner of the page littered with your professor's critiques and question marks. By contrast, Aizawa’s paper is pristine, donning a singular red mark of ‘98, nice work!’.

With a well placed glare and the sour baritone of his voice, laced with exhaustion, it’s always enough to make your stomach drop from shame and embarrassment. Under normal circumstances, you’d never allow anyone to speak to you that way, but your grade was a dire situation, and with the midterm upcoming, you forcefully swallow your pride and ask him for his help.

You have to beg, but Aizawa agrees to tutor you the day before the midterm. This grade is a make or break for the class- if you do poorly on this exam, you’ll have to drop the lecture to salvage your gpa, putting you half a semester behind your peers. It’s motivation enough to deal with his poor attitude, and the two of you end up reviewing in an empty studying room on the top floor of the library. You began the session alert and determined to catch up, but studying with him shows you just how far behind you are. The textbook sounds like foreign poetry coming from his mouth; Aizawa is nothing short of eloquent when explaining the complexities of something as boring as filing lawsuits, and you spend most of the two hours spent just zoning out, completely unable to focus.

“You’re just wasting my time at this point.” The break in his cadence snaps you out of your trance, unfocused eyes meeting his tired ones, slightly lidded in annoyance, “Are you even trying to remember the material? Or are you just expecting me to spoon-feed it to you?”

Your throat catches, forcing you to swallow a lump as you attempt to ignore his words. 

“I am trying! I just don’t understand why there are two approaches, is all,” You whine, flipping back through your sparse notes to find the section that contained the explanation. 

“I went over that almost 3 chapters ago. If you were paying attention, you would’ve stopped me by now. It’s hard to believe that you even got into this school, if this is how you studied in high school. Did your daddy pull some strings with his buddies in admissions?”

Your eyes narrow, searching harder for the correct section in your notes. That’s a pretty low blow, and even if he’s not completely wrong, it still stings. You now know for a fact you didn’t even read this part of the text, but you keep your eyes trained on the page. At this point, you’d do anything to avoid looking at Aizawa, lest you begin to cry.

“Don’t be an asshole,” is all you can muster, voice shaking with unshed tears, “Would it kill you to be a little nicer? It’s hard to focus when all you do is insult me.”

“It’s hard to focus?” He repeats, his tone a sickly sweet mockery of yours. “Sweetheart, I don’t think that’s my fault. You’re a lot dumber than you think, if you even think at all. The midterm is tomorrow, and we’re just now getting into chapter five. Don’t get mad at me for actually trying to study; if I was holding your hand through it all, we’d still be on chapter one.”

Your vision blurs and a single tear hits the lined paper of your notes, causing the ink to blur as the drop absorbs into the page. You clench your jaw and take a breath before standing up, opening your backpack to put you things away. You didn’t have to take this abuse, you could study on your own. Even if you did poorly, you’d have some of your dignity left.

“It’s pretty rude to just walk out on someone trying to help you,” Aizawa says after a moment, closing his notes shut. “Not only do you give me a headache every single morning, but I try to tutor you and you want to leave without even thanking me? I’m busy, you know? I take time that I don’t have to spare just help your sorry ass out, for free, and you’re not even capable of learning anything from it.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder and move to leave, but you find yourself face to face with Aizawa, his tall frame blocking the door, arms crossed over his chest, and a thoroughly disgusted expression plastered on his features. 

“I should charge you a fee, just for completely wasting an afternoon. Absolutely ridiculous,” His tone is a juxtaposition to his demeanor; he sounds more amused than annoyed, a jeer underlying the words. It makes you feel sick, and you’re suddenly grossly aware of the fact that you're alone with him, the only method of escape blocked. It feels dangerous, and you want nothing more than to be at home, alone and safe.

“H-how much?” You stutter meekly, eager to appease him. “I don’t really have any cash on me but if you have Venmo-”

“That’s not quite what I had in mind,” Your heart starts to jackhammer against your ribcage and panic sets in. You’re frozen in place, unwilling to ask him to elaborate. You may not be very bright, but you have a good idea of what he’s going to ask for, and you can think of a million things you’d rather do instead.

“I know your pretty little skull is practically an echo chamber, so listen closely, okay? We both know that no matter how hard you try, you won’t be ready for the exam by the end of tonight, and I have to work in an hour and a half. So, if you behave and do what I ask you, I’ll let you copy my exam answers tomorrow. Understand?”

You’re silent, paralyzed by fear. A part of you wants to run, desperately, but your mind drifts to the midterm. You know that without any help, you’ll surely fail.

That’s how you end up on your knees in front of him, tears finally streaming down your face from choking on his thick cock. 

“That’s it,” he groans breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut as his head presses back against the door, “I knew you were good for something. I bet this is how you convinced your other teachers to give you a passing grade, huh? A few cocks down your throat-fuck, to save your gpa, I wouldn’t put it past you, dumb slut.”

You hate this- hate being reduced to just a mouth for him to fuck. You hate how he sneers down at you, his eyes alight with sadistic pleasure. You especially hate the treacherous way your spine tingles and heat pools low in your stomach at his amused growls and degrading remarks. He’s just as cruel with the way he fucks into your mouth, disregarding your comfort entirely, hand in your hair roughly guiding your head over his length. He’s almost painfully thick, stretching your lips wide, tickling the recesses of your throat in a grotesque way. You try to wiggle away slightly, just to take a small breath; you’re beginning to feel dangerously lightheaded. You begin to pull your head away but he thrusts his hips upward, holding your head down and  forcing your lips to wrap around the base of his cock.

“S’okay, baby, just relax that empty little head of yours, no need to breathe right now,” he sighs, watching you struggle against him with a smirk, watching the fear bloom in your chest and your mind buzz with the lack of oxygen. Your thrashing shifts his cock in just the right way and you violently gag, eyes widening with the painful sensation. You’re almost convinced he’s going to let you pass out, right before he yanks you off of him. You cough violently, gagging a few more times, drool spilling out of your mouth.

“Throw up on me and a failing grade will be the least of your problems,” he growls, and the threat is a sobering reminder of how fucked up this is. You meet his expectant gaze, and reluctantly return to the task at hand. You can hold out just a little longer, you tell yourself; his hips are beginning to move on their own accord and you know he won’t last much longer. All you have to do is hang on and it will all be over soon.

You know that he’s just a bully, that you’re just doing what you have to do in order to pass this class, that you’re worth more than your grades, that you aren’t stupid- but the dark part of your mind questions if he’s right. Maybe you do belong on your knees, because what do you know? Maybe you are just a dumb slut; there’s no need to study if the only thing you’re good for is swallowing.

The shameful thought forces a new torrent of tears to pour from your eyes, gagging once more on both your tears and his cock, and the look of pure despair on your face pushes him over the edge. Aizawa yanks your head from his cock with a curse and you flinch as his hot cum hits your face. There’s a lot of it, the viscous seed slowly dripping down your face. The sensation is downright disgusting. You feel dirty and used, your throat sore, knees burning, lips swollen from his brutal assault. He presses the tip of his cock on your cheek, smearing his load all over your skin with a cruel laugh.

Through your panting, you keep your eyes closed for a little bit, hoping that maybe this is an awful nightmare and you’ll wake up in your dorm, with an extra day to study and a little more hope in your heart. 

The sound of a camera shutter rips you from your fantasy, opening your eyes to see Aizawa grinning at his phone. You’re too shocked to say anything, only staring at him incredulously from your position on the floor in front of him.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, you know?” He hums as he tidies himself up and grabs his bag. “So photogenic, I’ll be able to get off to this for weeks. Who knows what good you’d be if you were dumb and ugly.”

You didn’t notice that you had stopped crying, but the fresh tears and sound of your own sobs call your attention to fact.

“Try and clean up before you leave, alright? I know you’re a little too stupid to remember, but I don’t think it’d be a good look for you to walk around covered in cum.”

The door clicks closed, and through your sobs you look around at the room, only to notice that there aren’t any tissues left laying around. You hate him, you hate him, you hate him.

(But at least you get an A- on your midterm.)

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere bnha #yandere mha #nsft #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #bnha smut #bnha imagines #aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #aizawa shouta x you #yandere aizawa #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #mha imagines #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent #tw: dumbification #i know nothing about law so please be kind #apparently u take Civil Procedure in your first year and it teaches you about drafting lawsuits #allegedly idk im a design student ngdshfgjhf #ALSO ANON U MADE MY NIGHT I WAS SO EXCITED TO SEE AN ASK BLESS U #i rlly hope this is good and im Not just sleep deprived #akuma.fics