#annie writes

[darthannie]

thesis statement

Pairing: professor!Jim x f!reader Summary: You accidentally bump into your Professor, Jim, at a sex shop. Word count: 3.3k Warnings: 18+ please for the love of god, age gap (reader is ~25, Jim is ~45), alcohol consumption (a few sips of wine), kissing, praise, soft dom! Jim kinda, fingering, p in v, Jim takes his time, a smidge of cockwarming, idk what else to put here! a/n: There will probably be a part two where they explore their little arrangement a bit more. Maybe it'll turn into something longer. I love Jim sm. I also want him to FUCK you know. We’ll get there, but I was feeling a lil soft. Also hmmm i wonder why Jim was at the sex shop in the first place.

It was around 5 pm on a Sunday and you were really in need of something new. Very in need. Your old toy just wasn’t cutting it anymore. To remedy this it was time for a trip to Deluxxx, your neighborhood sex shop. Your friend, Nadia, knew someone who worked there and you’d go there for all your wants and needs. You strolled in and gave a wave to the person behind the counter. 

“Hey, David! How’s the shop been treating ya?”

They looked around at the empty shop, “Hey! It’s slow but I can’t complain. What are you in for?” 

You sighed, “You remember that last toy I bought?“ 

”No way, does it suck?! It was so expensive.” 

“No, no it’s great! Gets the job done, waterproof, 10 settings-“ 

“So what’s the problem”, they asked.

You gestured in front of yourself with both hands, “It’s just… a little too small?"

They laughed and threw their head back. “Of course. Well lucky for you we got something new in recently that you might like. It’s in the back aisle, bottom shelf.” 

You thanked them and made your way to the back. You crouched down to find the one David was telling you about. It was definitely bigger than the one you had. And thicker. It didn’t have any extra frills but that wasn’t what you were looking for. You snapped a picture and sent it to Nadia with “new bf” as the caption. You let out a little laugh that was more like an exhale as you got up. Nadia has been nagging you about needing a boyfriend and you said you were just going to buy a new one. You were still looking at your phone as you turned to exit the aisle and bumped into someone. The apology on your lips died as you recognized the person in front of you as Jim, your professor and thesis advisor. 

His jaw went slack for a moment and his eyes widened as he recognized you. You were the last person he’d expect to see there but it wasn’t an unwelcome sight. He enjoyed teaching you, not knowing whether it was your interest in the subject or the fact he thought you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. He broke eye contact for a moment, scanned your body, took note of the item in your hand, and then met your eyes again. You were suddenly very aware of your surroundings and before anyone could say anything he cleared his throat, said “Excuse me” and walked past you.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive and it was becoming clear why you did not have a boyfriend. You wanted him. This wasn’t a new revelation by any means. Nadia was in the same class as you, and she bugged you about it almost daily. You hadn’t expected him to find you in such a vulnerable position. You collected yourself and walked swiftly to the counter and paid. Jim was long gone. You said your goodbyes to David and you texted Nadia to let her know what happened.

She called you almost immediately and opened by saying, “So you know you gotta fuck him now. Like you have to. You don’t have an option. You MUST”. You laughed. There was absolutely no way Jim wanted you. You let her know as much and she disagreed. 

“There’s no way he doesn’t want you. Come on. All the silent stares in class. Asking you to stay after. Constant emailing about things that have nothing to do with class. I mean who just emails their student a TED talk because they thought of them? All signs point to him wanting you. AND what about that one day where you teased him about not having a ring on his finger, and he just said I’m working on it? You know there was this smile he gave you afterward that I don’t think you caught. You were too busy hiding the blush on your face”

“I know I know.” You relented, “I don’t know, it just seems so far-fetched!” 

You knew that was the logical response but something was telling you Nadia was right. He had to have known that his voice sent a shiver down your spine. That you wanted him to take you right there on the table after class. You had caught him staring during class. Maybe she had a point. You couldn’t help but wonder if he really did want you too. 

Later on in the day, you got into the shower. Scalding hot water hit your back. You couldn’t help but recount the events from earlier. He had lingered, looked at the item in your hand, and raised an eyebrow. You would’ve been embarrassed if he didn’t already feel so familiar. 

Soft music played as you lathered a silky body wash along your body. Your mind started to wander, thinking about what it would be like if it were his hands instead of yours. You rinsed off the soap, running your hands over your arms and breasts all while imagining they were his. You turned off the water, dried off, and headed towards the bag you placed on your small table.

You unpackaged your new toy and went back to the bathroom to clean it. Getting back to bed, you lied down and opened up an incognito tab on your phone. You looked for some porn to watch. Once you found an adequate video, you relaxed and continued to watch. The man in the video touched the woman’s body in all the right places. He laid her down and kissed up her thighs before starting to eat her out. This was enough for you to start teasing yourself with the toy, feeling the weight of it on your clit. Suddenly the video was unnecessary. All you could think about was Jim.

You positioned it just right and started to insert it. You gasped as you felt how it stretched you out. This was what you needed. You paused the video, throwing your phone on the side to focus on the task at hand. You put the rest of it inside you and let yourself adjust to the size. You began to move the toy as you thought of him. You wondered if he felt this good. He had to feel better than this. You got off that night thinking about him and only him. When you finally came down from your high you grabbed some water, cleaned your toy, and got straight to bed. 

You didn’t want what happened yesterday to impact your experience in class so you decided to just go on like nothing happened. 

You headed to the bathroom and began going through the movements of the morning. Before you knew it you were by the building where class was held. A bit further down the sidewalk was Jim walking from the opposite direction. The both of you got to the door at the same time. He didn’t say a thing. He just gave you a polite, awkward smile as he opened the door for you. You returned the smile and walked in. Side by side you walked to the classroom. This time you opened the door for him. You watched as he entered and mentally prepared yourself to take a class. It was just the two of you in the room. You sat at the round table with your laptop in front of you trying your best to seem busy.

He broke the silence, “Did you have a nice weekend?”

You summoned a response, “Yes, actually, I was able to spend some time with myself.”

He quipped back, “Oh, I’m sure you were.” 

Your eyes widened trying to process what he said. He let out a light chuckle as another student arrived. The class was full within the next five minutes. Nadia walked in and looked between you and him. She smirked at you. The air was buzzing for the next two hours. You could cut the tension between you two if you tried hard enough. You asked and answered questions like usual. Each time you spoke he paid extra attention to you. When class ended you began gathering your things slowly, hoping you were the last in the class. Nadia leaned over and whispered in your ear, “Just don’t do it by my seat.” You gave her a light slap on the arm and she laughed. Then, it was just you and him. He approached you and spoke softly. 

“Listen, I apologize if I overstepped a boundary with the joke I made earlier. I thought it would help ease the tension if, I don’t know-“ 

“It’s alright, Professor. We’re both mature adults who can bump into each other at a sex shop and move on with our lives.” You got up ready to leave but he spoke.

“Since when am I Professor?”, he asked. 

You looked at him confused. He clarified, “Since when do you call me Professor? You never call me Professor.”

You cleared your throat, “Well I just thought we should reestablish a professional boundary since the- you know. Keep the personal and the professional separate.”

He looked at you, pensive for a moment. He moved a bit closer to you. “Well, what if we don’t keep it separate?” 

Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening. “Are you serious?”

“Very.” He lowered his voice a bit and moved closer. He ran his hand down your arm.  His mouth was now near your ear. There was no chance someone else was going to hear him, but he whispered anyway. “I think you should come over tonight. If you want to.” 

“Yeah, I want to.” You mentally cursed yourself for caving in so quickly.  

“How’s seven?, he asked.

“Seven’s good.” Your head was spinning. This was happening.

“I’ll also need your number so I can send you the address.” He handed you his phone with a new contact page open. You entered it in, gave him a shy smile, and turned to leave.

He grabbed your wrist before you were able to move away from him. “By the way, leave your new purchase at home. You’re not going to need it.” 

Summoning some courage, you leaned in to kiss him. He didn’t close the gap all the way. “Let’s save it for tonight.”, he said as he pulled away. He gathered his things without looking at you and left. 

When you returned home you threw your stuff down and immediately called Nadia. “I KNEW IT!" she yelled. “I KNEW that’s why you hung back. God, it was so tense between you two.”

“You could tell?” You didn’t think it was that obvious until she chuckled and said that everyone could tell. The rest of the conversation consisted of Nadia giving you a pep talk and making her promise you’d tell her everything.  

As time passed you got more nervous. Around six you received a text from him telling you to wear something comfortable, along with his address. You sent a very quick response and, per his request, put on something comfortable. It would end up on the floor anyway. He didn’t live very far from you, which was lucky. You wondered if this would be a one-time thing. What would class be like now? I graduate soon anyway, you thought. If this all went south you could just forget it happened. You got to his apartment a couple of minutes before 7 and he let you up. When you got to the door you knocked twice and waited.

You’d never seen him so casual and… nervous. “Please, come in! You can put your things wherever you’d like,” he said. 

You looked around at his apartment. You could tell a professor lived there. Bookshelves lined the walls. On the dining table, there was a bottle of wine with two glasses. You put down your bag near the door. You didn’t know what to do with your hands. He noticed your apprehension. 

“Do you like wine? I got a nice Malbec after class today. Thought we could crack open a bottle.” 

“Yes, I’d like that very much.”

“Nerves?”

“Yeah.”, you confirmed.

“Me too. But, uh, there’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s just me.”

He smiled and the tension in your body slipped away. It was replaced by a sense of calm. Jim was letting you into his home, and into his life. You sat down at the table and he removed the cord from the bottle. You watched his hands work, feeling eager to get them on you. But that had to wait, he was about to take his time. He poured you and himself a glass. You sat across from him and took a sip, hoping its effects would be immediate. 

“I’m glad you came. You know, I thought you’d think I was too old for you.” And he might’ve been. Twenty years was a healthy gap but it wasn’t anything you wouldn’t indulge in. Hell, if you could, you’d date him. 

“Not at all.” You replied. “I can’t lie, I’ve been thinking about it all year.”

“About what?”, he pushed.

“About… seeing you.”

“You can say it.” He noticed your blush. 

“I want to hear you say it.”, he egged you on.

You sighed, trying to muster up the words. “I’ve been thinking about… being with you all year.”

“And doing what?”, he took another sip of his wine and raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to say it?”

“Yes.”, There was no way you would be able to admit it to him fully.

“You want your professor to fuck you. You want me to take you to my room, undress you, and take care of you better than anyone ever has.”

Your face was red. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.” You drank from your glass. 

“Come here.”, he spoke softly and you got up. “Straddle me, love.” 

You sat on his lap and he looked up at you, grinning ear to ear. He brought his hand up to your neck and pulled you down to kiss him. It was brief. He pulled away and looked into your eyes. Then he kissed you again. And, again. Then, he started kissing your neck. You couldn’t help but let out a small moan as you felt him getting hard underneath you. He kissed and nipped at your skin. His hands reached the hem of your shirt and he pulled it off before you could register it happening. Once it did, you helped him out of his. 

He tapped your ass a couple times, silently saying get up. He walked you backward and pushed you up against a nearby wall. He started removing a bra strap, but you stopped him.

“Well don’t get shy on me now.”, he chuckled. “Come.” He reached out his hand and you grabbed it. He led you down the hall to his bedroom and you sat down on the bed. You took your cues from him. As he started to lean over, you began to lay down. His hand was unhooking your bra with one hand. He was finicking with it and after a few moments, it was off. The cool air hitting your nipples caused them to rise. Jim kissed you again, then kissed down your neck, and finally put his hands on you. He licked, sucked, and grabbed your breasts. 

“You’re so beautiful. Even more gorgeous than I could have imagined. Baby, I need to taste you.” 

You wanted to protest but your pants were already coming off. Your panties followed. He groaned, “Fuck, baby, all this for me?

Before you could respond he kissed the inside of your thigh, then down, down, down until he reached your pussy. You were so wet for him already. He used his fingers first, wanting to feel you first. 

“You always get this wet for your Professor?”

“Yes.”, you responded breathlessly. His fingers were moving in and out of you. Slowly at first and then faster. He hit that perfect spot each time. Then he added his mouth. This time he didn’t go slow. He was licking and sucking on your clit. You moaned out his name and he smiled. He ate you out like his life depended on it. No one had ever done this to you. No one had ever paid this much attention to your body. You were a whimpering mess. His hand found its way back to your nipple, rolling it between his fingers. He then squeezed, hard, which made you load loudly. 

“Please Jim, I’m gonna cum.”, you plead. 

 He got you close to the edge and then pulled away. You whimpered at the loss of him. “Please, keep going.”

“No, if you’re gonna cum, I’m gonna be inside of you.” He took off the rest of his clothing. You moaned at the sight of him. He was right. You would never need the toy again. You couldn’t wait for him to be inside of you. He knew this and instead decided to tease you with his cock. He dragged it along you and tapped your clit the same way you did with your toy at home. Only this was a hundred times better.  

He nipped at your ear and whispered. “You really want it, huh?”

“Yes,” you begged “It’s all I want.” 

He grinned and entered you slowly and without warning. Your jaw dropped slightly. You couldn’t even make a sound, you were too busy with the feeling of him filling you up entirely. He let out a sigh and grabbed your chin.

“Look at me. Open your eyes. Look at me while I fuck you.” You did as he said. He started to pick up the pace. He was making this intimate. He caressed your face and made almost as much noise as you did. “Good girl. You’re such a good girl, following directions. Ready for another one?” You nodded. 

“Get on top. Sit down on my cock.” You started moving before he even finished his sentence. There was no room for shyness anymore. He sat up against the headboard as you sunk down on him; the new angle was doing wonders for the both of you. He thrusted up, wanting to feel more of you. He held you close to him as you began to ride him. 

“You sure know how to treat a girl, Professor.”, you said breathlessly.

He chuckled and kissed you. “You sure know how to treat your Professor. You’re being so good for me. Such a good girl.”

His hand found its way back to your clit, his thumb rubbing circles. He wanted to make sure you came first.

And you did.

It came in waves. You felt it build up and told him you were close. Then, you fell apart. You pulled him close and kissed him passionately. He wrapped his arms around you and whispered sweet nothings in your ear as you came. 

“That’s it, baby. So, so good for me. God, such a pretty little thing.“ He took control, holding you up and thrusting into you. The sensation was almost too much to bear. 

“Where do you want it.”, he asked.

“Inside. Please. I’m on the-“

“Are you sure, love?” You could tell he couldn’t wait any longer. 

You begged, “Yes. Yes, I am, just please cum inside me.”

And he did.

He filled you to the brim. You felt him twitch inside of you as his hips stuttered. He held onto you so tightly you were sure it would leave marks. You were both breathing hard. He stayed inside of you and held you against him. He put his forehead against yours as you regained your breath. 

He kissed you again, this time not wanting to pull away. But, you did. You pulled yourself off of him and laid down as the realization of what you did started sinking in. He lied down next to you and stared at the ceiling.

Silence. And after a few moments, you turned your head and spoke.

“So, is this it?” It came out more timid than you would have liked it to. 

He gave you a look you couldn’t quite place and after a moment he said, “Oh, love, you’re mine now.”

#jim the delinquent season x reader #jim delinquent season #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #jim delinquent season x reader #jim delinquent season x f!reader #professor!jim x reader #i proofread this but no one is perfect #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #annie writes

[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

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv #annie writes

[nekoannie-chan]

December Sneak Peak

Next door (Brock Rumlow X Reader) Stolen? (Steve Rogers X Reader) Do that for me (Steve Rogers X Reader) Double? (Steve Rogers X Reader) Languages (Steve Rogers X Reader) Shock (Steve Rogers X Reader) Medicine (Jack Rollins X Reader) Dance practice (Steve Rogers X Reader) Regretful words (Steve Rogers X Reader) A funny spell (Steve Rogers X Reader) Just jealous (Jack Rollins X Reader) Not another Christmas alone (Steve Rogers X Reader) Fire (Steve Rogers X Reader) Flesh wound (Lorna Dane X Reader) Vacation (Steve Rogers X Reader) ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Ꭲꭺꮐꮮꮖꮪꭲ:

@saiyanprincessswanie @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighsss @marvelatthisonee @caplanbuckybarness @sapphire-rogerss @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot5555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989

#Annie writes

[deimosatellite]

OH ALSO i posted an odango to ao3.. lookie

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50798959

#ialso may have posted odango on anon before but ummm #this is my first odango not on anon! #HDKKDKF #annie writes #annie rambles #odango #ango sakaguchi #sakaguchi ango #sakunosuke oda #oda sakunosuke

[acourtofbisexuals]

A little Dramione Drabble posted on Twitter today for the prompt: “I need your help.”

Read on twt or below! :)

She knew what could happen when she crossed the property line of the Manor. The anti-muggleborn wards would alarm the master of the house, and her fate would be left uncertain.

She was hoping he would come for her, if she was lucky. He’d appear in a billow of black smoke, like so many times before, when he’d come to her in the secret of the night.

But of course, there was no guarantee it’d be him that would greet her.

If his father was the one to come, she’d no doubt end up in a cell beneath the very drawing room in which she’d been tortured. If his sadistic aunt came for her, she’d likely be cursed and killed on the spot.

But with hands dripping the crimson blood of betrayal, she had no other choice. Imprisonment or death were better fates than what awaited her with the Order.

She took the step. In mere moments, the smoke she’d been anxiously anticipating filled her lungs, ripping violent coughs from her throat, already sore from earlier screams.

He was there. Soot rained down and cloaked him like black angel wings folding against his body. His silver gaze turned steel in an instant. “Do you have a death wish, Granger?”

“I need your help.” She said it twice, thrice, like a prayer, holding up her bloodied hands. “I killed him.” Her voice shook more than her hands. “I killed him. I killed him. I killed him! I need your help. I need your help, Draco!”

He took a step forward, taking her bloodied hands in his gloved ones. “Who, Granger?” When she merely shook her head, his jaw clicked. “Who?”

“He found out about us,” she gasped. “He was livid. Said I was a traitor. That you - that you would pay and I would too. I couldn’t - I couldn’t - I couldn’t let him take you from me! Fuck, it was you or him and I chose - ”

A hiss escaped between clenched teeth. He glanced at the Manor behind them. “I can’t bring you in.”

“I have nowhere else to go. When they find out, they’ll - ”

“I know what they’ll do, Granger. Fuck, you daft - ” he growled. “Do you really think I couldn’t take Potter?”

A sob escaped her cracked lips. “What do I do?”

A throb in his arm caused him to jerk away. “I’m being summoned,” he shook his arm, though he knew it wouldn’t dull the pain. “I’ve been here too long, they’ll expect a prisoner by now. You need to go.”

“Where?”

“Fuck, Granger,”

Another sob. A large hand grasped her face, forcing brown eyes to stare into his own. “Go to my mother. You know where the safe house is. Stay there until I come.”

“She’ll hex me on sight!”

Draco cursed, before reaching for his left hand. She watched as he pulled a ring off of his middle finger. Then, the warm metal was placed in her palm, and he wrapped her fingers around it tightly. “She knows I would never part with it without a reason.” Silver eyes flashed back to the Manor, then to her. “I’ll come for you both when this is over.”

“Draco, I,” she began, but the words escaped her. Three years into their secret affair, and neither had said it yet.

They’d shared intel which could cripple their own, fears which could be used against them, yet those three words had felt like the most dangerous secret of all.

His eyes softened. The understanding passed between them both; they had reached the point of no return, with nothing else to lose.

“I know, Hermione. I do too.”

And then, he was gone in another rain of ash and smoke.

As the soot rained down and coated her skin in his parting kiss, Hermione backtracked, stepping outside of the boundary.

With trembling fingers, she slipped the Malfoy signet onto her thumb and Apparated away.

#dramione #dramione drabble #dramione fanfic #dramione fic #draco x hermione #annie writes

[anniebibananie]

smoke me out in your own ways | rating: teen | 5k words

↳ for sweet, lovely @galmance

When Steve hears flattery works on Eddie Munson for a discounted rate, he figures why the hell not? It's the end of his senior year, he's single and a little pathetic, and getting high as shit certainly couldn't hurt. He knows how to pay a compliment so how hard can it be? He's good at compliments. Maybe too good?

based on this prompt by @to-be-deleted

#steddie #steddie au #steddie fanfiction #steveddie #stranger things #annie writes #my fanfiction #bro this was fun #thank u pal for the prompt and thank u all for giving it a lil read #nice to play in a different au and a different time period for the characters

[bouncingkadachi]

Gifts Sunk Into the Sea

Summary: “Grief is just love with no place to go.” — Jamie Anderson

OR: You are eleven, your grandfather is dead, and you are alone in a house that suddenly feels far too big for one.

Word Count: 1,198

Note(s): Pre-game start. POV Second Person. The player character is small and trying their best, OK.

Also available on AO3!

The house seems bigger after your grandfather dies.

Objectively, you know that’s a silly thought. You’re eleven, not stupid. Your grandfather’s passing—the news delivered to Chief Gara and your family by way of an impersonal slip of a letter via the courier Felyne—doesn’t suddenly negate the fact that this was the same house that you were born and raised in, surrounded by the same furniture and tools and decorations. The shutters of your ocean-facing window still creak stubbornly until you give them a sharp tap to the top-left corner, after which they swing out with way too much gusto. Your shelves are still overflowing with jars of pretty shells gathered off the beach. The half-finished braided strap that you’ve been testing a new pattern on as a present for your grandfather is still thrown halfheartedly over a small loom covered with yarn. Everything is still the same as it was when you woke up this morning, before the windswept courier had arrived with the letter.

There’s no body to send off. There’s not even your grandfather’s Kinship Stone. Instead, the village elders enshrine the letter as a cheap substitute and push the little boat into Kamuna Bay for the last farewell. You track the wavering speck of candlelight as it drifts further away from the shore while the Songstress carries out the rest of the rites. Later, you nudge a lantern up into the air so that it can join the rest that are flocking off towards the Sacred Mountain. The entire time, you are childishly hoping that perhaps this is all some sort of ridiculous skit; a horrible prank; an unfortunate oversight, perhaps. Any moment now, Guardian Ratha will see the rising lights calling him and your grandfather home, and slip back down through the clouds.

Nothing ever comes of your wishful thinking.

Kayna’s family eventually herds you towards their own house, where they feed you soup and wrap you in hugs and let you stay the night amidst sympathetic faces, all bound together by loss. They let you stay as long as you’d like, actually, on account of you being neighbors and everyone’s habit of coming and going from each other’s houses to begin with. But eventually, you start to miss your bed. You miss it less for the bed itself, but for the familiarity of the bright red covers—a buoy of constancy in the murky sea that your grandfather's death has thrown you into.

Auntie’s lips purse when you tell her this. She fusses and shoves a basket laden with fruit and sweets and pre-portioned meals wrapped in coconut leaves into your arms. She fusses some more when you put on a brave face with all your might, yet even that doesn’t prevent your feet from dragging as you make your way down the scant few meters between Kayna’s house and yours. You think you hear her muttering to her family that she’s going to drag you back to a house that’s warm and full and alive. You wish she does it. You’re glad she doesn’t.

Your house—your house, because you never knew what exactly happened to your parents and your grandfather is dead now—is quiet. It is empty. It is familiar and foreign all at once. It feels like the walls might press in and squeeze all the air out of your lungs. It feels much larger than it reasonably ought to be, now that it doesn’t have the possibility of your grandfather’s larger-than-life personality to make it snug and cozy.

There is a tidal wave of feeling upsetting your stomach, even days later. Your eleven-year-old vocabulary is terribly ill-equipped to deal with it, but you know anger. You know it in the frustration that spills over from how slowly your crafting project is going. You know it in the glare you give the knotted strands of thread in your hands. Feeling indignant, you find, is easier than feeling sad or whatever else is in that hot lump lodged somewhere deep in your throat.

You fight with the yarn and tell yourself that you shouldn’t miss him that much anyway. Your grandfather wasn’t home all that often to begin with. He was always traveling here or there, his arrivals and departures heralded by little more than the tell-tale sound of his Rathalo’s beating wings. But when he did come back—

When he came back, his Rathalos would hone in on the pier and touch down with such gentleness that the waters below wouldn’t even ripple. He would laugh as you sprinted towards him, full-bodied and deep and with the kind of genuine joy that made his eyes crinkle. When you would inevitably slam into him like a torpedo he’d just take the impact, letting Guardian Ratha support his back with a nudge of its great scaly head. And then he would greet you, large hands cupped on your cheeks, calloused from a life spent in the saddle. He’d rub his thumbs in hard enough to give your face artificial color, but not once have you ever minded. Only your grandfather greeted you like that, after all—fond and overenthusiastic and again and again and again on the short trek back home, just because you liked it. 

There won’t ever be anyone who will greet you like that ever again, even though you’ve always gotten and continue to get plenty of affection and love from your fellow villagers. There won’t be anyone to tackle in welcome on the pier anymore. When you go on trips out of the village, there would no longer be a familiar steady presence to guide you across the meadows or through the tangles of jungle. Guardian Ratha would no longer shadow your steps, gingerly picking up any spilled herbs and shrooms from your basket with his teeth. You are convinced, with all the power of your small childish self, that you will never find anyone who can laugh the same way that your grandfather did ever again.

Despite everything, you finish the strap, and sink it in the bay by heaving it into the water with a tremendous throw. Grief, you’d learned, was all the clumsy precision of small fingers and all the care of a hurting heart pouring into a project that would never be seen by its intended recipient. It is the habit of continuing to document the little going-ons of your life, of picking out your favorites and readying them to be shared, only to face the resulting misery when they sit, untold, in the hollow of your chest. Maybe—just maybe—you will finally be free of this nebulous feeling after you’ve sunk ten or even twenty more straps into the sea. Or maybe you will turn the bay into an entire graveyard of threads, and still it would not be enough. You are not sure which is worse. No one seems to have an answer for you, though they try their best.

You are eleven. (You are only eleven.)

Your grandfather is dead. (There was nothing to bury, not even his Kinship Stone.)

You are alone in a house that suddenly feels far too big for one. (You are alone.)

#monster hunter stories 2 #Annie writes #finally finishing a thing I had sitting around since forever

[rose-milkteaa]

The Annoying Blonde

Author's Note: This is gonna be short cause i literally do not have that many ideas for this-

Lee!Monoma Neito

Ler!Bakugou Katsuki

It was a normal day in UA, everyone of class 1A were doing their own things. Currently a certain blonde was storming through the halls, pushing anyone or anything that was in his way.

That was until he ran into Monoma. The blonde turned around upon hearing stomping and angry shouts, smirking sinisterly as he realized it was Bakugou. "Well, well. If it isn't one of the class 1A show offs, Katsuki Bakugou." He grinned at the fire quirk user, Katsuki only glared at him. "Something you want? If not then fuck off. I'm not trying to see your annoying fucking face." He growled as he stared down at him.

"Oh? Me? I don't want anything. I just want to tell you how terrible you and 1A is. 1B is totally better than you morons." The blonde snickered as he smirked at Bakugou, seeing that his eye was twitching.

"What.. Did you just call me?" He asked as he growled, walking straight to Monoma's direction, causing him to back away from him. "I called you a moron. Why? Something wrong with that pomeranian?" He grinned as he was backed up into a corner.

"Do you want to die, Copycat?" The dirty blonde asked, his red fierce eyes glaring daggers at Monoma. Monoma grinned mischievously, looking back into Bakugou's eyes. "Maybe, Maybe not. Do we have a problem pomeranian?"

Bakugou growled, pinning Monoma into the wall, both of his arms either side of the blonde. "You know, for someone with such mouth, i think you should use it for something else." Monoma raised an eyebrow as he smirked. "And what would that be?"

A terrifying smirk grew onto Katsuki's face, moving one of his hands as it latched onto his side. "Laughing." Was all Katsuki said as he started squeezing Monoma's side repeatedly, causing squeaks and giggling escaping the blonde's mouth.

Monoma started pushing at Bakugou's hand, hysterical giggling escaping his mouth. "Nohohohoho! Quihit ihit!" Katsuki raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing. "The idiot can't handle a little tickling? I'm only squeezing your sides!"

The class 1B student only squealed as Bakugou moved his hands to his ribs. "Shuhuhut ihit!" He shouted back as he laughed at the sensation, falling onto the ground as he did. Bakugou only followed him onto the ground, pinning him in the process. "You can't escape this dumbass! You asked for it, so it's your own fault." Bakugou responded, drilling his thumbs under his arms. Monoma shrieked, throwing his arms against his sides, loud laughter exploding through the halls. "NAHAHAT THEHERE!"

"Why not, Copycat?" Bakugou smirked as he drilled deeper into the hollows. "Ticklish?"

"YEHEHES! NOHOW LET MEHE GOHOHO!" Monoma squealed as he kicked his legs behind Bakugou.

Bakugou chuckled darkly. "Nah, you'll live another day. Now die extra." He said as he smirked evilly.

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

Bleh- this is short but whatever 💀 motivation went bye bye.

#mha #fanfic #writing #anime #annie writes #my hero acedamia #bakugou katsuki #monoma neito #lee!monoma #ler!bakugou #boku no hero academia #to loud blondes in one fanfic is never good ya'll 💀✋ #request #requested #angry pomeranian

[parseisflat]

a landscape of a river

rated g, 1k words

Jack and Kent talk for the first time after Kent showed up at Samwell and Fucked Shit Up. Featuring: a bouquet of flowers, hospital walls, and the end of a career.

#annie writes #i have not written fic in months however words just happened #omgcp #kent parson #jack zimmermann

[imaginationtherapy]

Unbreakable 5: Natural (Working title)

Hi, hello, it's me, ya local queer author.

I've written the Unbreakable (formerly Rusty Cage) series about Euwenn Gilmore and Rowan Morris, two magical young men in a local city. I wrote the main trilogy last year, spent a year writing random little snippets that I compiled into a fourth book, and recently (like ... ten days ago?) started work on book five.

And Holy Shit is it rough starting from scratch. A little known fact about the original book (Rusty Cage, from the Endeavour Universe) is that it was spawned entirely from a) a dream and b) my chronic pain. I wanted to project onto my blorbo, and then I had a dream, and boom! Fanfic. I ended up liking it so much that I wrote a back story (The Curse) and a wrap up (Alabaster's Revenge) for the "main" story (The Rescue). The whole thing grew out of a dream and some vague ideas I had.

This, though? This book? Good lord, I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm a pantser, not a plotter, but I kind of need to have an idea about something in order to write. So I've spent several days plotting, asking questions of my villain(s), trying to figure out what the hell is going on in this universe. It's like slogging through knee-high molasses. I don't like it. Usually chapters come flying off of my fingers, rapid fire typing and crafting worlds and adventures. Not right now. Ugh.

Anyhow, I wanted to express that.

Also, if you're like "What? What are they talking about?" check out tinyurl.com/TheCurseALCH (an amazon link to the first book in the series) All three of the original trilogy stories are up, the fourth book is in process (I need to proof it), and, well, we're 10k into the fifth book.

Wish me luck. Also .... please read? And come talk to me about it? I really really want to talk to people about my boys.

#annie writes #writeblr #original story #my writing #original writing #original characters #original fiction #original series #the rusty cage #unbreakable series

[dungeonsdragonstdelinquents]

i think that sometimes people rag on the teenage drama in superman and lois a little too much. (those people being me). but the last episode, injustice, if i have my episodes right...that teenage drama was JUST like what was happening in highschool. sometimes i forget that i was just as dramatic and immature as the kids on the show during highschool. sara lying to junior to cover for jordan. john making fun of junior to cover for jordan. jordan covering for junior when hes being made fun of. sara going to her mom about how jordan is ‘bragging’ about being a superhero at school, not believing him when jordan says he was covering for junior. and yeah, jordan was enjoying the spotlight a little bit. but that kid doesn’t feel like he gets any attention at all. he’s always felt like nothing special, and then he finds out he has powers? and he wants to help people, and he does. but then he gets caught up in the moment, in the love from the people, from the fame for just a few seconds, and now his life and secret identity are going to hell. i love the show because i can (for the most part) see where every character is coming from with their actions and words that have been built up over the past seasons. i think jordan can be a little dramatic *coughs* the “I wish I never fell in love with you” at the senior party *cough*. and like i said i can see where everyone is coming from with their struggles but like...can we give the kid a break. lmao

#jordan kent #superman & lois #my writing #annie writes #superman and lois

[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. 

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader smut #i proofread this but no one is perfect #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian x reader #dark jonathan crane #dark!jonathan crane #annie writes #dark jonathan crane smut #scarecrow x reader #dr jonathan crane

[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.

#rolan x tav #rolan x reader #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fic #annie writes

[nekoannie-chan]

June Sneak Peak

Secrets chapter 15 (Steve Rogers X OC, Brock Rumlow X OC) I wish it wasn't true (Ex!Steve Rogers X Reader, ? X Reader) Signals (Steve Rogers X Reader X Brock Rumlow) Secrets chapter 16 (Steve Rogers X OC, Brock Rumlow X OC) Kiss me (Steve Rogers X Reader) Work (Steve Rogers X Reader) Secrets chapter 17 (Steve Rogers X OC, Brock Rumlow X OC) Continue (Underground mutants) Not worthy (Steve Rogers X Reader) Secrets chapter 18 (Steve Rogers X OC, Brock Rumlow X OC) Crossroads part II (Steve Rogers X Reader) Fractured (Brock Rumlow X Mutant!Reader) ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Ꭲꭺꮐꮮꮖꮪꭲ:

@saiyanprincessswanie​ @sinceimetyou​ @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad​ @navybrat817​ @angrythingstarlight​ @shield-agent78​ @charmed-asylum​ @pandaxnienke​ @real-fbi​ @smokeandnailz​ @white-wolf1940​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @xoxonotme​ @bluemusickid​ @caplanbuckybarnes​ @leyannrae​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @marvelatthisone​ @sapphire-rogers​ @lizzieolseniskinda​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @hallecarey1​ @nana1000night​ @talia-rumlow​ @mylifeispainandiloveit​ @writingshae​ @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga​ @daemonslittlebitch   @chaoticcollectivenightmare​ @endlesstwanted​ @chemtrails-club​ @marigoldreamer​ @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​ @here4thefanfics​ @theestorm​ @patzammit​

#Annie writes #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x OFC #brock rumlow x reader #brock rumlow x oc

[deimosatellite]

some bits from my ango backstory fic that i will probably not finish for a long time bc it is very long and i want to post it all at once bc im so normal anyways

#annie rambles #annie writes #ango sakaguchi #this stuffs from the prologue and first chapter dazai isnt in it much sowwy #its mostly abt ango taneda mori tsujimura and odasaku #but dazai is present in that he rlly is a parallel to ango #anyways #also srry for the philosophical rambling in it u might have to get used to it..HDKKFF #bungou stray dogs #wip

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

WIP Tag Game

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it.

thanks for the tag @loverhymeswith <3

also every single one of these is Jake Seresin x Bradshaw!OC (Ronnie) just in different AUs

The Boy Inside the Monster

an even better life

pacific rim au - from the same star

"is that a drawing of me?" regency au

"is that a drawing of me?" regular au

"you need to wake up cause i can't do this without you" werewolf au

"the first time you smiled it felt like the universe aligned" regency au

david in dc

all signs point to home

something something expendables 3

no pressure tags friends, just know I love ya <3 <3 <3: @blue-aconite @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @laracrofted and anyone else who sees and wants to join!

#annie writes #wip tag game #ask away about any of these friends!