I'm going to get some writing done today, but first I want to annotate the first chapter of Wuthering Heights bc my friend and I are reading it together. I've been currently reading Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin and the writing is breathtaking.
I discovered the concept of morning pages and have been journaling everyday. It takes me about 6 pages before I finally run out of things to say, but it's great. Just journaling, exercising, eating better, writing, drawing, reading. I feel great. It's sort of annoying how well it works.
I'm writing a Harvey and also Shane x f.Reader fic rn so I can post them in July.
Also, if you've dm'd me and I haven't responded it's bc your age isn't in your bio. This tumblr is 18+
There's like this sort of breathless tenderness to him? Him peering down at you while you're underneath him. Taking short, flustered breaths that fog up his glasses while he comes up with the courage to tell you what position he wants you in.
Or like...idk he wraps his tie around your eyes. Then while he's hitting it from the back, he firmly grasps the tail end of tie, pulling your head back a bit. His big hand gripping, knuckles white, the veins on his hands surging while he tries to last as long as possible for you. š¤·āāļø
There's like this sort of breathless tenderness to him? Him peering down at you while you're underneath him. Taking short, flustered breaths that fog up his glasses while he comes up with the courage to tell you what position he wants you in.
Farmer has been missing for a few days and Harvey goes and checks up on them, finds out the farmer is sick, she had eaten something that was basically aphrodisiac.
Harvey tries to be a professional doctor at first but professionalism goes out the window when the farmer he's been crushing on is basically begging to ride him.
I don't write noncon, and I don't really take requests.
You can send me requests, but as to whether or not I'll actually write them, it's a gamble. I pick what to write based on what I feel like writing.
This one's not for me, but I'm sure you can find someone else to write it for you.
I've been having a good ass time writing sdv fanfic this year.
I'm going to see how many first drafts I can finish in June, and I'll edit and post them in July, ok? Nothing too crazy. I'll prob finish one or two fics.
In the meanwhile, if you want to check out my best friend's Alex x f.Reader fic you should! She's my favorite fanfic writer.
Sharing my writing has been cool. It's neat to see how my writing can impact others. It's always fun to see reblogs and likes, especially from those of you who have wild usernames. I have zero expectations when I post, so I'm stoked with whatever happens.
I also have a little blog where my friend and I write sdv writing prompts together and you're welcome to join us -> here <-
If youāre taking requests, might we have a oneshot for Shane on the phone with the farmer when heās in Zuzu City for therapy, and they just really miss each other?
I'm writing a Harvey x f.Reader next, but after that I'll see what I can do. I have an idea š¤
My other fics are sort of romantic, this one is not. This is toxic af.
Alex checks the time again. Youāre late.
Itās already three, and he should leave, but he wonāt. He stares at a deep crack splitting a faded blue floor tile. The sharp smell of chlorine clings to the air, though heās long since gone nose-blind to it.
He should leave. See if you even care. It pisses him offāthe way you avoid eye contact with him in public, pretending he doesnāt exist anywhere outside this room. It wouldnāt kill you to wave or say hi every once in a while.
He racks the weight with more force than necessary. The bench creaks beneath him as he sits up, sweat cooling against his back in the humid air.
He scowls.
One day a week. Thatās all this is. And you still canāt show up on time. Bullshit. He crosses his arms tighter across his chest and tells himself if you ever blow him off, heās done.
Itās a lie, but a comforting one.
He used to think if he fucked you good enough, maybe youād want to be his girlfriend.
He scoffs under his breath. Youāre never going to want anything more from him anyway. Fine. Whatever. If you just want to get off, heāll do it. Hell, heās probably the only one who can.
Where the hell are you? Itās ten after three. You know what? You can enjoy your stupid assā
The sound of the doorknob turning sends a pathetic burst of excitement through him, like a dog waiting for his owner to come home.
You slip inside the spaās weight room and glance back through the narrow crack in the door to make sure no one noticed before quietly shutting it behind you.
āYouāre late,ā he snaps.
You shrug.
Something hot and frustrated twists in his chest.
āDo you want to do this or not?ā you ask, lifting your shirt over your head.
He watches you undress while pushing his shorts and boxers down his legs. The second youāre naked, heās moving toward you. Too eager, he realizes too late. He grabs the back of your neck and crashes his lips against yours.
He loves the pressure of your mouth against his. You always kiss him, even though you donāt have to.
He pulls away, irritated by how hard kissing you makes him. Later, heāll taste you and think about you all over again. You probably never do the same.
Overwhelmed, he guides you down onto your knees. Your face hovers level with his cock as he grips the back of your neck tighter, making you look up at him.
He looks down at you.
You lick your lips.
āYou could at least say youāre sorry,ā he mutters.
You roll your eyes, and something bitter twists inside him.
āFuck,ā he mutters before shoving his cock into your mouth.
You let him, relaxing your throat to take his entire length.
He watches you take him so easily. The familiarity of itāthe way your body already knows hisāmakes something ache inside him.
Are you just using him? Is this all he is to you?
Irritated, he pulls away from your mouth and smacks your cheek with his cock, needing some kind of reaction from you. Anything that proves this affects you too.
You do nothing. Eyes wide. Mouth open. The look in your eyes twists something ugly and needy inside him.
āYou can come on my face if you want.ā
He sees your mouth move, but it takes him a second to process the words. His heartās beating too hard. You think he wants to come on your face? How about a sorry for being late? Or even a how are you for once?
You stare at him, breathless. Your flushed skin glows beneath the harsh lighting, chest rising and falling while your nipples harden in the cold air.
He enjoys this part, pretending heās in control.
āGet up,ā he says, gently pulling your hair. His hand slides to the nape of your neck as he guides you toward the weight bench. āBend over.ā
You bend over, resting your forearms on the bench, your ass in the air. Itās nice not having to think for a while.
He slides his hand between your thighs. Youāre wet. A self-satisfied smirk spreads across his face. He traces slippery circles around your clit while your hips grind against his hand. You always moan loud, like you forget about getting caught. He likes that.
When you come, it slicks his fingers and drips down to his palm.
He pulls away. What would you do if he hugged you right now?
A sick feeling settles in his stomach as he plants his hands on your ass, steadying himself. He pauses for a second, then thrusts into you. His whole body tuned to your softness taking him in. Itās almost like a hug.
He groans, squeezes his eyes shut, and fucks you hard enough to drown everything else out. Like heās underwater, staring up past the surface.
He grabs your hips like they belong to him. Pretending you do.
He imagines you waiting all week to see him. That heās the first person you think about when you wake up. That you reach for him even though you know he wonāt be there. He pictures the two of you eating meals together, going on runs together, pretending this is something real.
His breath quickens, and his body jerks as he comes apart.
Immediately you pull away. Wordlessly, you get dressed like heās not even there and leave.
Naked, he stands there wondering what your husband thinks youāre doing right now.
want more Alex? check out my friend's Alex x f.Reader fic š
One day a week. Thatās all this is. And you still canāt show up on time. Bullshit. He crosses his arms tighter across his chest and tells himself if you ever blow him off, heās done.
Itās a lie, but a comforting one.
He used to think if he fucked you good enough, maybe youād want to be his girlfriend.
He scoffs under his breath. Youāre never going to want anything more from him anyway. Fine. Whatever. If you just want to get off, heāll do it. Hell, heās probably the only one who can.
