#anni fic

[darthannie]

potential side effects

pairing: Jonathan Crane x f!reader summary: After giving you an experimental medication, Dr. Crane helps you get over your fear of intimacy.  word count: 2,143 warnings: 18+, minors DNI for the love of god, DARK, rough at points, I’m gonna go ahead and say NONCON, au where Dr. Crane has a private practice, abuse of power, reader is under the influence (kinda like the fear toxin), reader is sleepy, Crane doesn't take no for an answer, dacryphilia, inexperienced!reader, floor sex, spit, fighting back, a smidge of aftercare at the end. a/n: Please do not read if you’re not into what's in the warnings. I had fun experimenting with this one. I tried to be a little more thorough in the warnings. Better safe than sorry. I’m still toying around with Jonathan’s voice. Let me know if you want more of this kind of thing, or something different. I’d love to interact with you guys more!

Dr. Jonathan Crane had been treating you for the better part of a year and was in the midst of creating a new medication regimen for you. Your previous treatment plan was not working as intended, so it was back to the drawing board.

He selected you as the first person to receive an experimental medication. It was meant to be inhaled and doses were to be given during the time of the appointment. You didn’t necessarily know what to expect. He’d briefly mentioned that there may be potential side effects but didn’t go into much detail. 

You were nervous the first time you’d gone in to receive a dose. As you approached the door to his office you felt a lump begin to form in your throat. You knocked and after a moment he opened the door. Jonathan always wore the same thing most of the time. Today he donned a black blazer and slacks with a white button-up. His red tie was placed right at the center of his collar. His dark hair framed his face perfectly. He looks good today, you thought, better than usual. 

You exchanged your normal pleasantries and sat across from him on a couch. His office was spacious and dark. All the furniture was made of wood. In the corner, there was a big bookcase that consisted of books on fear, pharmacology, and different editions of the DSM. The DSM-4 was missing from the shelf, presumably on his desk. 

The room brought you a lot of comfort. It was the only place you ever got to see him. It felt like Dr. Crane was the only person in all of Gotham that understood you. It was his job after all. 

Soon the time came for him to administer the medication. 

“I’m going to spray in front of your face and you’re going to breathe in. It doesn’t take much to be effective.”, he said. 

You nodded and he sprayed. 

Your nerves subsided almost immediately and your mind became quiet.

“Any difference?”, he asked. 

“My mind is silent. All my racing thoughts have stopped.” 

“Good. That means it’s working. Some of the other side effects may begin to set in now.” 

He was right. Like clockwork, you started to get drowsy. It was like someone had given you a little too much Benadryl. It was hard to keep your eyes open. 

“Dr. Crane? Is this normal?” You couldn’t help but drag the ’s’. 

“It’s nothing to worry about. It’s just the medication working. How do you feel?” He seemed a tad on edge as he awaited your answer. 

“I feel all warm inside.” 

He then leaned back against his desk. “Any drowsiness?”

“Lots of it.” You chuckled slightly.

“That is normal.” He said, answering your question. “The medication was likely to make you feel tired.”

“Does it go away?”

“As your body builds up a tolerance, the effects will lessen. Now, I wanted to talk about the recent screenings you filled out. I would like you to check over them and rate their accuracy on a scale from one to five, five being very accurate.” 

He handed you a piece of paper and you looked it over. “Four.”

“Why not five?” His eyebrows furrowed. 

“Number six. ’S worse.” Question number six pertained to your interest in sex. More specifically how terrified you were of having it. 

It was a topic you were working on with Dr. Crane since it impacted your life so much. You were hesitant to mention it at first, but he assured you it was better to talk about it instead of holding it in. So, you spilled every detail. This included your inability to get yourself off and failed hook-up attempts.

You’d try very hard but when it came time for you to do the deed you shut down and found a way out of the situation. You hadn’t been getting out there much because, frankly, the thought of being intimate with someone was frightening. You didn’t know how you’d ever get over it. 

“Have you sought out any partners to help with your fears?”, he asked.

You took a moment to process what he said. “No, I haven’t. I can’t. It’s too-“

“Frightening, yes I remember you using that word.” He removed his glasses before continuing. “I think there’s a way I can help you with that. Personally.”

You yawned. “What do you mean by that doctor?” 

“I can make you feel better.” He looked down at you and brushed your cheek with the back of his hand. 

“How do you mean?” You could hear the apprehension in your voice. He ignored your question and reached down to the hem of your top, lifting it slightly. 

You pulled back a little too quickly and you got a bit dizzy. “I don’t know about that Dr. Crane. I can’t- I’m not well.”

He ignored you. “I think it’ll be easier if I just take you here on the floor.” 

He dragged you off the couch and onto the ground, sitting up. The hardwood was cold to the touch but started to warm under your body. He kneeled next to you. You tried to fight him as he reached for your sweater. He grabbed your wrists to stop you from thrashing around. 

“I would hate to have to tie you up, sweetheart.” You knew he would follow through so you did what he wanted. You stopped fighting back.

He neatly folded and put aside each article of clothing he took off your body. Eventually, you were completely bare in front of him. You were almost too gone to grasp what was going on. Almost. The fear began to creep in and he could tell. Maybe the medication was not working the way he intended it to. Maybe he lied about what it was intended to do. 

You slurred, “Dr. Crane, please don’t- Please don’t do this.” 

He leaned over you and you tried to push him away. He only offered a small smile and reached his hand down between your legs. You whimpered as his fingers moved lightly over your clit. You mewled at the new sensation. You gave in to the feeling and your eyes started to close. When they wouldn’t open again Jonathan lightly slapped your cheek. 

“No, no, no don’t fall asleep. I need you to stay awake for me.”, he said. 

You fought the exhaustion and watched as he used his fingers to tease you. 

He noticed you getting wetter and moved his fingers down to your entrance. He slowly stretched you with two fingers, watching your face as your mouth fell open. 

A tight-lipped smile appeared on his face. He started slow and then moved his fingers in and out very quickly, hitting a new spot until he found the one that made your legs shake. You lied back and let him work on you. All you felt was bliss. No one had ever touched you like that. 

He took his hand away and you whined. This was a first and you were glad you made it this far. This was a win. 

You thought it was over, but then you noticed him unbuttoning his pants. 

Your breath quickened and you put your hand out. “Wait! Please, no! I think I’ve had enough for today.” 

“We’re not done with your treatment yet, princess. Please hold still. It will be easier for the both of us.” 

Your body was made of putty. The side effects had gotten worse. He brought your legs into position before grabbing himself in his hand. He stroked his cock a couple of times before entering you. 

He gave you no time to adjust. His pace was slow but he fucked hard. You gasped at the feeling of him inside you. You’ve never been fucked like this before. But, that didn’t matter to him. All he wanted was to feel you around him. Make you his. 

The sounds in the room sent you reeling. You didn’t know you would moan so much. The sound of his skin hitting yours filled the room along with his heavy breaths and moans. He grabbed your hips as he thrust hard and fast. You were having a hard time coping with all the feelings you were having at once. The fear, exhaustion, and pleasure were beginning to mix. You wanted to scream. Instead, you cried. 

Jonathan moaned at the sight. He loved watching you cry. He’d seen it happen during sessions and couldn’t help but wonder what it would look like if you moaned while you cried. Now he knew. You were unable to keep quiet. Silent cries became sobs which became whimpers. 

He caressed your tear-stained face, “Shhhhhh, hush now it’s alright. You’re doing so well.”

You tried to talk through your tears. “Please Jonathan- Dr. Crane, Make it stop!”

This time he went deeper. You yelped as you felt him hit a new part of you. “I’m not stopping until you tell me it feels good. Tell me, does it feel good?”

“Yes,” you moaned, “it feels good.” 

“Yeah? Are you still frightened? Are you scared of me?”

“Yes.”, you admitted. It was hard for you to get out. How could you ever fear him? All he had ever done was help you. This was just another one of his unorthodox methods. 

He bent forward and put his arms next to your ears, locking his fingers on the top of your head to hold you in place. Your body was limp as he continued fucking you into the floor. Your eyes closed; you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

He shook your head slightly. “No, eyes on me. Look at me.” 

You looked at him wide-eyed. 

“Open your mouth.” You obeyed and he spit in your mouth. In all honesty, you savored the taste. It was another way of him claiming you. 

“Swallow.” When you did he hummed contently. “Good girl.” 

You felt something weird tightening in your core. “Dr. Crane. I feel like I’m gonna-“. 

A long moan came out before you could finish your sentence. He fucked you as you rode your high and soon after his thrusts started to falter. He sat up and grabbed your hip to use as leverage. You mustered up as much energy as you could to move away from him, using your legs to drag yourself across the floor. He was much stronger than you at this point and he pulled you back. 

“No, come here. You’re gonna stay still while I finish. Got it?”

The tears kept flowing, but you obeyed. You lied back as he came inside of you. He stayed inside of you for a minute, savoring the moment. You were tired and blissed out. He pulled out of you without a word. He watched as his cum dropped out of you. 

“What a sight.”, he said matter a factly. He helped you sit up and wiped tears from your face with his thumb. He brought you close to him and kissed your forehead. 

He got up and put himself back together again. He fixed his clothing, tucking in his pristine white shirt and fastening his pants. He fixed his tie and looked past you into a mirror. 

Once satisfied, he grabbed a towel from his desk and cleaned you up. He helped you up to your feet and began dressing you. His demeanor was softer now. He took his time as he got you dressed. Once he was finished he helped you sit on the couch. You curled up into his side, seeking comfort from the man who had just used you. 

You’d never felt more confused. You knew this shouldn’t have happened. Every boundary had been crossed. But, the special attention from him felt better than anything. You fell asleep on his shoulder. He let you sleep on him for a while before he got up to write notes on what had just occurred. He found his glasses, put them on, and returned to his desk to begin writing. He included your reaction to the “medication” and how receptive you were to the treatment.

You woke up about an hour later, confused. You looked around and recognized his office. The memories of earlier events came rushing back. You felt your cheeks get hot.

Jonathan looked up from the paper he was holding up. “Rise and shine.”

He grabbed a sheet of paper from your file. He attached it to a clipboard and grabbed a pen. He handed you the materials and you looked down. It was another questionnaire. 

“Fill this out as accurately as possible.”

“What is it for?” You cleared your throat. He sat back down at his desk and picked up the paper he was previously inspecting. He looked at your file before looking back at you. 

“Our next session.”, he replied. 

[wiser-girl]

The amount of disdain I have for fics where Percy calls Annabeth “Annie” is only rivalled by the love I have for fics where he calls her “Beth”

[imgoingtofreakoutnow]

Baby, be still for me

Summary: Miguel accidentally bites you, paralyzing you for a while...

Pairing: Miguel o'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, porn with no plot, overstimulation, fingering, oral (f!receiving), cockriding, p in v unprotected (always use protection guys!!!), small aftercare, Miguel!switch, reader!switch

A/n: this is definitely the filthiest thing I've ever written so I hope you all enjoy <3 (tagging @tripleyeeet because yes)

\_/

The bite had been an accident, or at least that was what Miguel told you.

Just below your jaw, so close to your jugular. You could still feel the sting, the slight pain and numbness where Miguel's fangs had dipped in your skin.

The paralyzing serum had worked quickly, more than what Miguel had anticipated. In less than a minute you found yourself completely still in bed, still breathing but unable to speak or move anything other than your eyelids.

"Do you want me to stop, nena?" Your breath quivered as he moved his hands down your waist, grabbing a handful of your thighs and pushing your legs open. "Blink once for yes," he whispered, his words accompanied by a shallow movement of his fingers along your inner thigh, "and two for no."

You blinked slowly, even your working muscles almost stuck in a haze. You hadn't opened your eyes back from the second blink that Miguel's tongue had already moved on your folds, lapping and sucking on your clit.

You tried to scream his name, but all that left your mouth were incomprehensible moans and grunts as Miguel's tongue slithered inside and out of you.

The first orgasm reached you quickly in a blurred ecstasy, followed by another one when his fingers finally entered your pussy and reached the spongy spot that his tongue didn't manage to.

Every nerve in your body screamed for more, to push your hips towards him and rock them in a symphony of movements, to grab his hair and pull his mouth on every inch of your skin they hadn't touched yet.

"¿Te gusta así, nena?"

His voice was low, a hot breath against your skin as his fingers kept pumping inside of you and his thumb circled relentlessly on your clit.

Some air left your lungs, intending to cry out a yes, but your lips still weren't collaborating. A needy and broken moan escaped your mouth, a visceral sound you didn't know was in you.

Another moan followed the first one though when Miguel stopped his motions.

"You gotta answer me, cariño." Wet fingers reached your chin up and pulled it down until you met his scarlet eyes. There was a wild rawness in them, that made your heart and core throb.

"Do you like this?" he asked again, his hands going back inside your slick folds but without ever breaking eye contact. "Yes or no?"

You blinked, your chest moving sharply up and down, and Miguel smirked devilishly.

"Muy bien," and he continued the siege of your pussy as his other hands played with your nipples.

You didn't know how long this went on, your mind was completely drunk with pleasure. Everything between your legs was red and puffy and so, so sensitive.

That's probably why you didn't even realize when your arms moved and your hands gripped Miguel's hair.

He raised his face, lips swollen and smudged with your juices, and another smirk appeared.

"Welcome back, sweetheart." He crawled towards you and kissed you — no, he ate your lips. You could taste yourself on his and somehow that set your core on fire once again.

"You treated me so well," you whispered breathless on his mouth, pulling him closer by the neck. As you did, you felt his cock resting on your belly, hard as a rock. "Now let me do something to help you."

Before he could say something or pin you against the mattress, you thrusted him on his back and sat on his erection.

Miguel opened his mouth to say something but a quiet moan was all that came out as you started grinding on it.

"I'm gonna ride your dick," you explained, the friction making you gasp for air for every word you uttered, "and you will stay there. No hands on me, nothing."

You moved from his penis and sat on his chest, wet from both your cum and his pre-cum. "Am I clear?"

Miguel nodded. "Sì, clarísima."

And as much as him speaking Spanish turned you on, you shook your head.

"Blink, love."

Another smirk pulled his lips upwards as he blinked.

"Muy bien."

When you finally guided his cock inside of you, you felt no resistance whatsoever. Your walls opened up as if they had been waiting for it and immediately sucked it in completely.

You and Miguel gasped together when his tip hit your spongy spot, and you heard him swear under his breath when your hips started thrusting.

"Joder!" he gasped as your sped up your motions, gripping his hair with one hand and the sheets with the other.

You threw your head back, your eyes closed as you simply fucked yourself into his cock. The sound of your bodies was an incoherent mix of squelching and gasping and swearing and your pussy almost hurt from all the prior overstimulation, but your mind was completely drunk on all of these sensations.

The knot inside your stomach was close to come undone, you just needed a little push, but you weren't alone in this.

You looked down on him as your hand went down to your clit and started circling it quickly.

"Gonna come for me, big boy?"

Miguel didn't wait for an answer. He pushed himself up, so that you were chest to chest and thursted into you a couple more times before he filled you up.

You followed soon after, eyes closed and limbs tired, and you let your forehead fall on Miguel's shoulder.

He kissed gently your salty skin, and you felt him smiling against it.

"What?"

"Nada," he shrugged, leaving the bed to retrieve a towel from the bathroom. "Just thinking I should bite you more often."

You chuckled, too tired to even think of a way to respond. You simply let him take care of you, as you always did.

\_/

Spanish translation:

Nena - baby

Cariño - darling

¿Te gusta así? - Do you like it like this?

Muy bien - Very good

Sì, clarísima - Yes, very clear

Joder - Fuck

[kald-dal-art]

Second compilation post of my latest victor art. These are a lot fun to draw and think out so appreciate all the feedback I have gotten for this series. We'll see if I end up making all 75 Victors or not ksdjhfa

Part 1 / Ko-Fi

[itsajollyjester]

The amount of comfort Finnick and Annie must have had to bring each other over the years makes me weepy

[suziesybil]

Homelander sighs deeply, practically melting into her. His arms come to snake around her legs, in an almost worshipful embrace. 'When you say it it sounds....so much nicer.' Starlight's hands finally find their place, gently carding through his hair. Sometimes the pretending is easy. Sometimes, though she will never admit it, she doesn't have to force it. Package of Lies "Believe" by Tybaltus

[krazieka2]

Vampire Mercedes lore doodles (and vampire Lorenz bullying)

[bigfootsmom]

Tease tidbit Tuesday

I was tagged by the lovely and talented @loserdiaz, @devirnis, @smallandalmosthonest, @tizniz, @bidisasterevankinard

I have….started a new au. Girl dads bucktommy with transmasc buck getting to be a seahorse dad so content warning for trans pregnancy and mentions of labor. this au has bewitched me body and soul and I’m dragging @try-set-me-on-fire down with me <3 <3 so here’s a doodle of happy dads with their fresh baby (Bobby took the picture)

And a snippet! :3

When Eddie grabs Tommy by the crook of his good elbow, Tommy falters. He feels off balance, his stomach swooping and head spinning as he tries to keep up with Eddie’s rapid pace. “Eddie— wait, wait— what’s going on?”

Eddie stops, staring at Tommy before his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “You don’t know? Fuck— of course you don’t know, shit.” Eddie smacks his forehead with the heel of his hand.

“Don’t know what?” Tommy can feel his stomach sinking, “Eddie, what don’t I know?”

“Buck is here at the hospital. He’s in labor.”

It feels like the world shifts under Tommy’s feet and no amount of hospital grippy socks will keep him from falling. He sucks in a shuddering breath, and then another when it feels like the first one doesn’t ever reach his lungs.

“Wh–what? But, but he was fine– he wasn’t–” The backs of Tommy’s knees hit the edge of the bed and he sways, only his white knuckle grip on the bed rail keeps him from crashing backward. His next breath comes in too quick, whistling between his teeth as his vision tunnels.

Tags <3

@usersiren, @honestlydarkprincess, @swiftietartt, @holdmygum, @morganofthefairies

@underwaterninja13, @father-salmon, @giddyupbuck, @monsterrae1, @bibuddie

@princessfbi, @mellaithwen, @homerforsure, @bisexual-buck, @maygrantgf

@boykisserbuckley, @loveyouanyway, @watchyourbuck, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @shyaudacity

And YOU if you’re reading this and want to post <3

[lesbianwithchainsaws]

We, as a society, don't talk enough about that scene where Troy, Annie and Abed are putting on a shadow puppet show for Jeff and Britta, and Jeff starts crying when Horsebot 3000 dies

[darthannie]

Hi! Can I request Tommy Shelby who loves to spoil his gf and she has a hard time accepting it all but he reassures her in a very loving and protective way (hope you get what I mean lol) thank you! :')

a/n: This is short but I hope I did your idea justice! I just want to see him smile 😭

grand gestures

Thomas Shelby x f!reader

Warnings: Tommy being happy and in love, Tommy’s love language is gift-giving I don’t make the rules, kissing

You had been seeing Thomas Shelby for a while now and he was absolutely smitten. You have never met a man who doted on you as much as he did. Under his hardened exterior was a man longing to love and be loved.

On a particularly cold evening, you arrived home to a surprise. On your bed lay a beautiful new coat you had seen in the shops while out with Tommy. You must have stared at it in the window a little too long. He took that as a sign that you wanted it. You hadn’t even thought to go in and check the price tag, let alone purchase it. 

Tommy knew you weren’t used to receiving many gifts so he made it his personal mission to make you comfortable with it. He’d started with a gold bracelet. 

You had gasped when he took it out of the small box. “Tommy, you can’t. This is too much.”

“It’s not. Nothing is too much when it comes to you.” It was almost threatening. It sounded like a warning when he said it. It was foolish to underestimate how much you meant to him.

After the bracelet, he began giving you gifts periodically, even things you didn’t need or want. It was difficult for you to understand why he even bothered to give you all those things. Any other woman would welcome new dresses and jewels with open arms. Instead, you just felt like you didn’t deserve it. 

You stared at the coat on your bed. Its fur collar was sure to keep you warm, you thought. The gold buttons going down one side shone in the dim light of your bedroom. You held it up and gawked at it. You rubbed your face into the fur and smiled. You didn’t notice, but Tommy was standing in the doorway. 

“Why don’t you try it on?” His voice made you jump and you dropped the coat, putting your hands over your heart.

“Jesus, Tommy!” You sighed and laughed. He had been making a habit of being at your home before you were. He usually made himself known somehow, but tonight he decided to be a bit of a prankster. 

“Sorry, love, couldn’t help it.” He chuckled, walked towards you, and pulled you in for a kiss. He always kissed you like it was the last time he would be able to. 

He pulled away, “Do you like it?”

“I love it, Tommy, but” you looked down at the item of clothing, “you really didn’t have to. Really, you never have to.” You looked back at him and his arms were crossed, his head cocked to the right. He sighed and put his hands on your arms, caressing them. 

Looking into your eyes he asked, “Do you love me?”

You replied slightly irritated “I’ve never loved a man more, Tommy, and you know that. I just- I’m not used to you spoiling me like this.”

“If you’re gonna be my girl, you gonna have to get used to it, love. Now, are you my girl?” He was deadly serious. He was never controlling, but you were his and his alone. He wanted to make sure you understood that.

You looked him in the eye. “Yes. I am.”

His hands held your waist as he pulled you in closer. He kissed you passionately. A small moan escaped. It was intoxicating. After a few moments, you pulled away for air. He put his forehead against yours and gave you a chaste kiss. 

“You are worth more than anything I could ever give you. I wish I could give you the world,” he smirked, “the coat is the best I can do for now.”

You smiled softly at him. It would take some more work on your part but you knew that he did it because he cared.

“Thank you, Tommy. I love you.” You gave him a quick kiss. 

He pulled away with a smile and said, “I love you, too.”

He reached over to your bed and grabbed the new coat, holding it up for you. You quickly took off your old one and he helped you put your arms through the sleeves of the new one. The inside of the coat felt just as luxurious as the exterior. The fur brushing your neck was comforting and warmed your skin. You stood in front of a full-length mirror and took in your reflection. Tommy stood behind you and wrapped his arms around your body, holding you flush against him. You turned your head to make eye contact with him.

He whispered, “You look beautiful, my love.”

You had hearts in your eyes, “You make me beautiful, Tommy.”

[lucy-gray1075]

i'm a big believer that finnick would listen to the beach boys religiously. on his fishing trips, while watching the sunset on the beach with you, at campfire celebrations, while he's shirtless in his kiss the cook apron cooking breakfast for you, etc. he'd be humming the tunes, trying to get you to harmonize with him, trying to learn the chords on the old guitar he found in his attic. you find it adorable when he scrunches his face up trying to hit the high notes.

[imgoingtofreakoutnow]

we're drunk and in love (but i'd never tell)

Summary: At the Last Light Inn, you and Rolan get to know each other a bit better...

Pairing: Rolan x gn!Tav

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, sexual content (to a certain degree)

Words: 3k

A/N: I had realized I had wrote nothing on Rolan's tail in my previous fics, so I had to fix that. Enjoy <3

Tagging: @tripleyeeet @fictionobsession @elfinbloodbag @adequate-superstar @sapphiccloud (if you don't want to be tagged, or if you want to be added, let me know <3)

\_/

Sitting at a table in a corner of the Last Light Inn, you and the rest of your party have managed to drink an incredible amount of alcohol. The pile of empty mugs and bottles stands perilously on the unsteady wooden table and some of them have even crashed onto the floor, littering it with pieces of broken glass and sticky remains of booze.

Karlach and Gale are somehow still drinking, caught up in a game of their own of which you don’t know the rules but that Astarion seems quite too eager to referee. It’s quite entertaining: the tiefling, barely even tipsy with the biggest mug of ale you’ve ever seen in her hand, and the wizard, muttering something unintelligible in his drunken haze, a bottle of wine tightly held in his grip which, despite his complaints about the cheap taste, keeps meeting his lips every few minutes. Mostly whenever Astarion reminds him that the game is still on, with that mischievous smirk of his cutting his face.

Shadowheart and Lae’zel have quietly opted out from the drinking game, but have instead entered a staring contest filled with insults going from one end to the other and back. Wyll, sitting in front of them, tries to ease the tension as best he can, with no other result than finding himself at the end of some drunken — and not too subtle — threats from the both of them.

Despite the nearby amusement, your eyes keep drifting away from your companions further into the Inn; precisely, to the spot next to the counter where Rolan is leaning against as he chuckles at Cal and Lia’s drunken shenanigans. You can’t help but focus on the crow’s feet appearing around his eyes and the way his features soften everytime he looks at his siblings, hiding his smile behind his pint.

Every once in a while, when his siblings are too busy bickering with each other, Rolan’s gaze also wanders around the room, skimming the clientèle quickly before stopping on you. Everytime he does, your eyes meet as if they’ve been searching for each other all night, lingering for as long as they can before Cal and Lia demand Rolan’s attention back to them, or someone in your group calls for your opinion for whatever silly question has crossed their minds.

“Hey soldier!”

With a quiet sigh, you move your gaze from Rolan’s and turn to Karlach. You immediately notice the smirk on her face — mirroring Astarion’s — as she rests her head on her closed fist. “Fancying someone, aren’t we?”

You roll your eyes and take another sip of your drink as she and the vampire chuckle at your ever so slight embarrassment. “You should really care about your own personal life.”

“I’d truly rather not think about it,” Astarion hums, stealing Gale’s bottle and taking a sip. “Besides… this,” — he says as his fingers move between you and Rolan — “is much more fun.”

“Ch’k. And pathetic.”

Turning to your side, you find Lae’zel staring at you, spine straight as a mountain and arms crossed on her chest. She would look even more intimidating if it weren’t for Shadowheart sleeping on her shoulder.

“If you want him, go and take this ridiculous pining far away from me.”

“Wow. Really?”

“You know I’m nothing short of a romantic,” Wyll starts, kind and sympathetic as ever, although his smile trembles as he continues, “however, I must admit this is quite unbearable to watch.”

“Thanks for your honesty, Wyll.”

“He does have a point,” Karlach nods before smiling and winking at you, “and I’m sure the tiefling would be more than happy to get railed by you ‘til dawn.”

“Yeah, I-” — you pass a hand over your face, your cheeks burning as many filthy thoughts start filling your brain — “I got that, Karlach. Thanks.”

“Oh, don't be so awkward about it,” the barbarian roars as her laughter almost makes the table shake, “you also deserve some good-”

You stand up, way too quickly given how much you’ve drunk until now. Your head swirls for a moment before it settles back down.

“I’m leaving. And you should all get back to camp.” Your eyes move to Gale as he’s sleeping with his cheek squished against the table, his face flushed by all the alcohol. “Especially him. And Astarion, stop giving him the wine.”

The vampire, who had just handed the wizard his bottle back, takes it away once again with a smirk and drinks another sip from it, earning a disgruntled groan from the drunken man next to him.

You sigh, downing what remains of your ale before piling the mug with the others on the table. “Try not to die while I’m gone.”

As you walk off, you hear a loud clapping, accompanied by some whistling. You take a deep breath as you rub your eyes, trying to ignore the attention that your companions cheering has brought down on you. You suddenly remember the poison vile in your bags… mixing the deadly content in Gale's stew has never seemed such a good idea.

“What was that about?”

Stepping closer to the counter, you turn to Lia, her questioning eyebrows raised mostly with amusement than actual curiosity.

“Just a drunken bet,” you lie, leaning on the wooden surface and sliding until your elbow doesn't meet Rolan's. Even if he notices your not too subtle maneuver, he doesn't move away.

“I love bets!”

Cal’s speech is slurred by the alcohol as he speaks. He tries to take a step forward but helplessly stumbles back, leaning against his sister for stability. Lia rolls her eyes and sighs in resignation but doesn't move away.

“What did you bet on?” she asks again, taking a sip of ale.

Despite the drunken haze blurring your mind, you notice her gaze has suddenly sharpened. There's a glint of mischief behind her eyes, as if she's already seen through your true intentions and is simply wanting to tease you about it. You wouldn't put it past her — especially if it were made to get a reaction out of Rolan — and, normally, you would never indulge in her teasing.

Normally.

It's been a while since things have been nothing but abnormal. And there's a way too abnormal amount of ale running through your veins for you to hide the desire you feel for that sarcastic tiefling.

“We were merely wondering if I could manage another kind word from the snarky wizard,” you shrug, turning towards Rolan with a smirk as you lean — ever so slightly — more into him. “After all, I think I've deserved it.”

 The tiefling next to you scoffs, chuckling softly as he takes a sip of his mug before meeting your half-lidded gaze with his own. “I've thanked you once already.” He leans closer, his face stopping a few inches away. “Don't be greedy.”

A teasing smile pulls his lips on that last word, contradicting that last word as the tiefling keeps staring, his eyes darting to your mouth and then back to your gaze, almost daring you to press your mouth against his and savor the lingering taste of alcohol on his tongue. An invitation you’d gladly take on, if Lia’s gaze wasn’t still piercing through your right temple.

“Perhaps,” you utter softly, tapping your fingers on his arm. “I want something different than your gratitude.”

Rolan raises his eyebrows, his pupils widening as he looks at you. Despite the surprise painted in his eyes, his smirk doesn't quiver once.

“The ale makes you quite bold.”

As your hand moves up and down his forearm, you lean closer to him, until you're whispering into his ear. “If you like that, I could be even bolder, away from prying eyes.”

When you pull away, the smirk has left the tiefling's face. His cheeks, already flushed because of the cheap booze, are the same shade of red as the blood running through his veins — perhaps even darker. You chuckle lightly at his dumbfounded expression, the back of your fingers brushing against his scorching skin before you walk past him. You sway ever so slightly towards the stairs that bring upstairs, stopping just before the first step and leaning against the wall. Waiting.

“Lia.”

The summoned tiefling turns to her brother, whose gaze is still focused on you and your smirking face. “If you could leave the room to us for… an hour or so,” Rolan continues, his words stumbling over one another. “I- we need to discuss some important business,” — he nods to himself — “magic… wizard-y business.”

“Yeah,” she hums while swirling the remaining contents of her drink, a grin on her face. “I bet your dick has a lot of unfinished business with that ass.”

“Lia!”

His whisper is so loud that for a moment it seems to bring back to the present moment even Cal. His head, however, falls soon back onto his sister’s shoulder. Chuckling devilishly, Lia downs her ale and asks with a wave to the innkeeper for another one.

“I’ll give you two hours,” she agrees, cocking her eyebrows. “But you’re paying for the ale.”

Rolan rolls his eyes. “As always.”

“And tomorrow you’ll take care of this.”

She points with a nod to Cal, once again asleep and drooling all over her shirt as his snoring grows by the minute — a loud omen of how insufferable he will be the next day, complaining about his hangover. Rolan takes a deep breath before huffing it out, frustrated but unable to quarrel, given that you’re still waiting for him.

“Fine! I will do my due.” He turns to leave but stops, facing Lia for another moment as he gently squeezes her arm. “Thank you, sister.”

“Just remember this when I’ll need some business time of my own,” she screams at his turned back, but she might as well be talking to a wall. Rolan’s attention has left her and Cal, focusing completely on you and the way your figure is still leaning against the wooden, dirty wall.

As he steps closer, your brain finally catches on to what's going to happen in a handful of minutes and you can’t help the way your heartbeat quickens at the mere thought. You had often considered the possibility, fantasizing about the tiefling before going to sleep. They were simple dreams, delusions really, a way to ease the struggles of the day with a gentle thought to yourself. But there’s no time left for the fantasy: Rolan’s standing in front of you now, with his blood coloring his cheeks and his hand — real as the flesh and bones that’s made of — stretched towards you.

“Come. I’ll show you my room.”

You take it with a smirk, rubbing your thumb on his fingers when they close around yours. “Who’s the bold one now?”

He remains quiet as he pulls you with him into the stairwell. You leave behind the light of the tavern, stepping into a darkness so sudden that it blinds you. In the time that it takes to regain your sight, Rolan’s hands slither to your waist. You hold your breath as they gently guide you backwards until your back meets the wall. You don’t even see the tiefling’s face getting near yours, you simply feel his warm breath dancing on your lips and sending shivers down your spine.

There’s a pause, a moment of stillness as you both get adjusted to the novel closeness, to the warmth that spreads between your clothed bodies and the heaviness of his hands and legs, pressed against and between yours. Rolan doesn’t move back, giving away none of the inches he’s gained towards you, but he doesn’t even close the distance that separates the two of you, leaving you in a limbo of desire that’s slowly driving you crazy by the second.

You nudge your nose against his, smirking when you feel his breath catching in his throat. “What are you waiting for, wizard? A written invitation?”

The question still rings in your mouth when Rolan shuts it with his own lips. They simply press on yours at first, sitting awkwardly on top of each other like all first kisses turn out to be. Then you move, opening and closing your lips onto his bottom one as you've pictured so many times in your dreams, and the dance begins. A dance made of drunken mouths and tongues desperately looking for one another, for a momentary pleasure, and perhaps for something more than a fire that extinguishes in the span of one night.

With all your attention focused on the way his teeth teasingly graze your jaw, you almost forget his hands; that is until they grab your ass and pull you even closer against him. Your fingers dig into his arm as you whimper ever so softly, mentally cursing the leather and clothes separating his bare skin from your touch.

A second later, it all disappears.

His mouth. His hands. The painful and blessed heat rushing through you. Completely gone.

You open your eyes to find Rolan staring at you, his golden irises piercing through the darkness like a lighthouse in a moonless night.

“Come now,” he whispers, a quiet order that you’re more than happy to comply with.

He slides his hand back into your grip and you follow him as he guides you up the stairs. You’re unsure how — despite the alcohol that's flowing and clouding both your brains — you manage to climb the two stories without faults or stumbles; what you know for certain is that the second the door closes behind the tiefling, your hands are pulling him back in before he can utter a single word.

Your mouth sloppily moves on his with the hunger of a starving wolf. With your fingers stroking and pulling his air, you drink in the soft moans that escape his lips — coal to feed the fire that burns within. His hands go back to your hips, squeezing them before his fingertips make their way under your shirt. The grazing touch of his claws on your bare skin is enough to make you gasp.

“Losing your breath for so little, my hero?”

As his whisper and the shivers caused by it linger on your skin, you grab him by the collar. You can feel him swallow as you do, his throat brushing against your knuckles.

“When I’m done with you,” you hum softly, taking a few steps back and dragging him to the bed, “you’ll be lucky if you still remember your name.”

You're not used to giving — or receiving — this kind of gentleness: your hands always find themselves more at ease when covered in blood than wrapped in the gentle hold of a lover. Yet, this softness seems to spring naturally from you as your fingertips inch tentatively along his bare skin, patiently tracing the shape of his bones and muscles instead of devouring every inch of flesh in sight. Despite your newfound care, his chest trembles under your touch, his shaky breath mixing with a soft whimper when you climb in his lap, legs spread and knees pointed on either side of him.

With his face even more flushed than ever, Rolan opens his mouth. Whatever thought crosses his glowing eyes, nothing leaves his lips other than a breathless sigh as he silently and wide-eyed stares at you. Chuckling softly, you turn him around and sit him down on the consumed mattress of the inn. You undo his belt and the knots of his leather bracers, despite the alcoholic numbness slowing your fingers down, before messily helping him out his light armor and tunic.

“You look scared.” You drag your fingers along his jaw before settling them on his burning cheek, your thumb caressing his cheekbone. “We can stop here, if you want. It's been a lot of fun already.”

Rolan chuckles quietly but his eyes don't leave yours. “I'm many things right now. Drunk, mostly. In utter awe of your beauty, most definitely. But frightened?” — he holds his breath, shaking his head ever so slightly — “How could I be afraid of something I desire so deeply?”

“And doesn’t that scare you?”

“Wanting?”

“No,” you mutter softly, your thumb digging deeper into his skin. “Not wanting.”

Since you’ve been old enough to recognize it, you’ve known the thrill that desire can set alight within you and others. You’ve cherished it deeply, abused it at times and chastised yourself for it afterwards. Because where there’s wanting — where affection and love and attachment grow stronger — the looming threat of losing’s always following closely behind. You’ve witnessed that pain, tested out on your own skin, and it never left you. It’s constantly with you, a sleeping presence that lives in the back of your mind, awaking like clockwork at the slightest hint of closeness and intimacy and filling your head with dark whispers that always manage to draw you away. From what was left of your family. From friends, lovers and anyone else you’ve ever cared about.

Even now its honeyed whispers stick to your ears, a reminder that despite the rush flowing through your veins — despite the kindness that spills from your heart, this will be one of the many nights spent with a stranger in a dirty inn in the middle of nowhere. After all, you might’ve met before and bickered like an old married couple before parting ways, you might’ve thought endlessly about his hands roaming your naked body every night you were apart and you might want him just as much as he wants you, but Rolan remains nothing but a stranger.

“Then what-”

The tiefling’s words are lost in your mouth. The same gentleness from before spreads from your lips as you softly push yourself more into him until he’s laying down on the covers. His hands glide along your legs as his tail also wraps around one of them, with its pointy end brushing along your inner thigh. You can't help the sighs full of pleasure that slip through your kisses while that involuntary response continues to tease you. Or the way your insides seem to stir at Rolan's moan when you gently squeeze the bulge in his pants.

“Just relax, wizard.” You linger once again on his lips, a smirk pulling your mouth when you move away. “I'll take care of it. Then if you want, you can return the favor.”

He nods with a mischievous smile. “I’d be delighted to.”

As you keep kissing, slowly getting to his waist, you feel his muscles relax more and more under your touch. His breathing slows, getting more and more regular by the minute. Too regular in a way, unwavering even when your hands start pulling down his pants.

Chuckling lightly, you kiss him again, deeper this time. You move to his jaw, then lower, leaving a trail of spit and sloppy kisses from his neck to his chest. When you look up at him, he’s closed his eyes while his head rests on the mattress, mouth slightly open and lips shaking every once in a while whenever your tongue laps over a sensitive spot. Everytime you feel his chest tremble, you stop and torture that part of his skin, revelling in his quiet — and not so quiet — whimpers.

Another noise escapes his lips seconds later, a vibration that shakes his entire body and stops your movements on the spot.

“Are you kidding me…”

Rolan’s sleeping. You poke him in the abdomen with a finger but he doesn’t even flinch. You’ve definitely underestimated the amount of alcohol he’s managed to drink, or simply his resistance to it.

It would feel almost insulting, falling asleep like that with you about to give him head, if only he didn’t look so peaceful.

“You’re lucky you're cute,” you whisper with a pout as you get off him, ready to go back to camp and take care of your arousal in your own tent. However, as soon as you try to take a step from the bed, something pulls you back. Lowering your gaze, you find Rolan’s tail still wrapped around your leg.

“Really?”

You tap gently on it, pulling it to loosen its grip around you, but your maneuvers only make the tail tighten more. Sighing heavily, you consider every option that could aid your silent exit, but there isn’t one in which you don’t wake the wizard up. Then, as the weariness and alcohol start to take over your tired limbs, you consider staying. Not leaving, for once. Daring to want something more, something that lasts longer than a night. Maybe something that could last forever.

The mere thought awakes the dark presence in your mind. It’s louder than normal, ringing in your head like the most annoying headache. You push your hands into your eyes, rubbing quickly to soothe away the pain but to no avail. Normally at this point, with the reminder of the pain of losing so close, you’d be running away without thinking of anyone but yourself, selfishly guarding your heart like the frailest of glass sculptures.

However, once again, there’s nothing normal in your life lately.

Ignoring the shadowy voice that’s now screaming in the back of your head, you slip in bed with Rolan, snuggling next to him in the small space left. As soon as the mattress tilts under your weight, the tiefling turns towards you, his face resting so close that his nose brushes against yours with every breath.

You stare at him for a long time, taking in every detail in his face until the candle in the room runs out. Even when the shadows have wrapped you in their arms, your eyes keep searching for him in the dark. The longer you look at him — at the way his lips curl or the few scattered freckles on his cheeks and nose, the quieter the voice in your head gets.

When the door opens again and Lia and Cal step in, you’re still awake, still studying his features — the voice is a mere whisper. You hear Lia mutter something to herself, probably about the fact that you’re still there, but her voice is soon replaced with the sounds of regular breathing and soft snoring. It doesn’t take long after that for you to also give in to the pull of sleep.

However, before you shut your brain off, you let your hand slip in his hold. The last thing you feel before Selûne welcomes you in her realm is Rolan squeezing your hand.

[kald-dal-art]

More Victors art this time of one OC, one Cannon victor and a Victor that only exists in the marketing campaign for the movie but is cannon in my heart :’) The Victors makes me emotional have so many headcannons around the previous victors and games. Should really get around to write all of that down somewhere

Also the two anons who asked about Annie art, hope you are happy.

[dump-troy-marry-me]

The first time Annie goes back home, it isn't home anymore. It's been four years, and the locks have changed, and she can see the window to what was once her room on the second floor, now framed by off-white curtains instead of the pink her mom had hung up for her when she was 14. Somehow both a strange, unfamiliar place, and the home she grew up in.

The domesticity of the suburb her mother's house is nestled in is cloying now, oppressive. She doesn't know how she didn't notice it before, the way every house on the street has the same perfectly manicured lawn, the same perfectly manicured roofs and windows and faux-brick siding. The same perfectly manicured facade.

The diploma - not even wrapped in a fake leather cover like her high school diploma had been, just a flimsy sheet of paper that lists her valedictorian status at the least respected college in the state - hangs limp at her side. It's not enough. To bring home a diploma that means to next to nothing, especially when compared with the full-ride scholarship to Yale she had lost, it's not enough.

Not enough for her mother, or herself, or this cheerily fake brick house. Not enough.

She turns on heel at the very beginning of the sidewalk leading up to the door, and walks away.

It doesn't matter, she decides. She's here to say goodbye, to give one last look to her old life before she heads out to DC, that's it. It doesn't matter what had changed and what she had missed and whether this house was still home to the old life that she remembers, almost second-hand.

The second time she goes back, it's to say goodbye. It's two years later, and the house still looks exactly the same from the outside. Through her old window, still framed by that off-white that had gone just a bit off-er with sun exposure, she could see a wooden crib, and it sinks in her stomach like lead. What else had changed?

Every step up the sidewalk toward that old, imposing wooden door reverberates up through her spine, in time with the beat of her heart. She gets closer and closer, and the buzzing in her ears gets louder and louder, and she can see her mother's face so clearly in her mind. She wonders if she'll still look the same.

She gets halfway up the path, this time. Still, she turns back. No need to say goodbye, she decides.

The third time is the very last time she'll ever look at her childhood home. Her fiancee had offered to come, so had Troy and Abed, and Jeff, and Britta, and Shirley. She had turned them all down.

It's not an invitation. It's just - to let her know. Because she'd always imagined, when she got engaged, that she'd tell her mother.

She straightens a hand down the front of her sundress, and watches the shadows cast by the oak tree move across the grass. It's the only thing that's different. The shadows - the oak tree. It's grown in the decade she'd been gone. Nearly unrecognizable from the one she'd climbed as a kid.

She does get up to the door this time - close enough to see the grain of the wood, the perfectly polished shine of the doorknob. She raises a hand to knock before she can think any better of it, before she can talk herself out of it.

It sounds weak in the face of suburbia, and she wonders if anyone could hear it at all.

A man opens the door, and it shakes her that she doesn't recognize him.

"Hello?" He asks, all cheery smiles and politeness and it makes her stomach turn.

"Hi," she says, voice trailing up almost in question and she clears her throat. "Is, uh, is Nancy Edison there?"

His smile turns apologetic. "Oh, no, sorry. She moved out a few years ago. Hey, I have some of her mail if you know her."

The twist in her stomach turns sharper, and she fights the urge to vomit. A few years ago. Had she even been here, the last time Annie was here? When did Annie fade so deeply into obscurity in her mother's life that she couldn't even call to let her know?

Her eyes feel prickly, a lump in her throat, but it sits okay with her, despite everything. Almost relief. She had spent the past decade carrying around a weight that she could finally, finally let go. It wasn't her home anymore, not her life or her family.

That's all sitting back in her apartment, or at Greendale, or back in DC. None of that's here, in this house. Why had she come here again?

The man had gathered a few envelopes, held out toward her. She smiles.

"No, you can keep them," she says, already turning away. "I don't know her."

[phoenixtakaramono]

(Illustration drawn in 2022)

The Boys S4 Sneak Peek (2024)

*surprised Pikachu face*

[moonspirit]

"Embers," She remarks and her heart rattles in her ribcage. She's feeling too much.

"No," he laughs, dropping his head to lean in close, brushing his nose with hers. His eyes pour emotions into hers that she's too flustered to read.

"Lanterns," he whispers.

Wanted to post this absolutely STUNNING, lovely, gorgeous piece of art @annawayne gifted me last week!! A moment from my fic Time Falls like Moonlight, brought to vivid life by Anna's terrific talent and skill! Thank you so much Anna, this is soooooo beautiful!!!