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spectrumscribe · 7 years ago

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one, two, step-

@rhi-draws-things three million years ago drew me my goatsona (goat persona) for my DnD group, and i was supposed to give her something in exchange, so uh sorry i’m late Rhi but here’s a Thing that i hope you like.

set in/based on Rhi’s excellent tmnt 2012 Fusion AU. an alternate universe where mutants have the ability to fuse with other mutants and also humans. its v good trust me.

Borne out of habit and repetition, there’s eventually a day that Mikey wanders into the barn specifically just to see Donnie, because he’s got nothing else to do and no one else he wants to talk with. Not that he really wants to talk, what with a weight of aimless uselessness sitting in his chest and a snarl of unhappy emotions waiting to spark into a right storm. He just needs… something. Something to do, someone to see who isn’t anyone inside the farmhouse.

Of course, Donnie is about as welcoming as he ever is these days. Crookedly slouched, absolute intensity on his work, no room for niceties or kindness. Just steely determination to fix things.

Donnie has been like that since they got here, and even worse since he diagnosed Leo’s coma as one that could be indefinite. Mikey has seen only scarce glimpses of his older brother, since Donnie can’t figure out how to sit still longer than passing out on the couch for a few hours. It’s a little weird, seeing Donnie behave so much like Mikey sometimes does. Honestly, it’s disconcerting, and it gives away just how really upset Donnie probably is about Leo, and their father, and everything.

It makes him a right asshole to talk with, too.

Mikey says hello anyway, and rolls his eyes at the curt greeting he gets in return, as well as the “go away, Mikey, I’m busy,” that follows right after.

“You sure you’re busy? Not just obsessively working on shit ‘cause you’re neurotic as hell?” Mikey needles, leaning on the desk beside Donnie and hoping to maybe start a good bicker. His brother doesn’t even look up.

“Mmm,” is all Donnie grunts. Oh, so he’s regressed to monosyllables? Nice.

Mikey pokes Donnie’s shoulder. His brother shrugs it sharply and keeps working. Mikey just about rolls his eyes out of his skull.

“Skill testing question: when was the last time you stood up, and if that number is not below five hours ago, how much feeling have you lost in your lower half at this point?”

“Mgh.”

“That answer just fills me with new knowledge, really. I feel all warm and tingly and shit. I might write a thesis paper on it.”

“Go away, Mikey.”

Mikey sighs loudly, pushing away from the table dramatically. “Look, I’m bored as fuck, so not I’m leavin’ until you stand up and at least attempt to take care of yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Donnie says, even though his voice is rough and his eyes bloodshot. Mikey frowns, watching his brother’s steady fingers keep working at the helmet-thing for April. Though his hands move fluidly, Mikey sees a serious slump of exhaustion to Donnie’s shoulders.

And not even a herd of wild horses could drag Donnie off to bed, not while Leo’s still asleep and Donnie has work he apparently has to do, even though he needed a break like, forever ago. Mikey knows his brother well enough to know no matter what he says… nothing is going to make Donnie go and actually take care of himself right now.

Desire for a good mock fight evaporates in Mikey, and he’s left feeling worn out again.

Mikey sighs to himself, watching his brother try to single-mindedly solve everyone’s problems in one go. A part of him is kind of jealous of Donnie’s sheer determination and near compulsion- at least he has goals, and drive to do meet those goals. Mikey has energy to burn, but nowhere to aim it on this stupid farmland. Playing with chickens and cooking meals only keeps him entertained for so long, but right now that’s all he knows how to do. Everything else is outside his capabilities.

Mikey misses home, misses their friends, misses their missing father and things being easy, at least sometimes. They’re all cooped up in the farmhouse together right now- him, Donnie, Raph and Casey and April- and yet it feels like there’s distance between them all, so long as the gap Leo left remains open.

Mikey’s lonely, honestly, and he knows his brother probably is too. Unwillingness to actually talk that out doesn’t erase it from being a thing.

Donnie has no energy to keep this endless workhorse drudgery up anymore. Mikey has too much energy to handle and not a single task left to spend it on. Neither of them is willing yet to actually talk about all the horrible stuff sitting inside them, but they’re both in serious need of closeness with someone, because this isolation feels like it could kill.

And then Mikey nearly smacks himself upside the head. There’s an easy solution to all of this.

“Hey, Donnie?”

“Mm? What.”

“Turn around.”

“What? No I’m working-”

Mikey grabs the back of Donnie’s chair and spins him around. Donnie barely lets go of his tools in time, unwillingly rounding with a scowl in place and his mouth already open to scold.

“Fuse with me,” Mikey says seriously, and Donnie’s mouth clicks shut.

“…why?” Donnie asks, giving Mikey a suspicious look. Mikey grins, grabbing his hand.

“Do it and you’ll understand,” He says cryptically, just to annoy Donnie, and hauls his brother out of the seat he’s probably been in for the last ten hours. Donnie stumbles, blinking rapidly and muttering about hypoglycemic attacks and the chances of him passing out mid fusion dance. Mikey ignores Donnie’s grumblings, and artfully corrals his brother into the dance.

Donnie drags his feet at first, annoyed and clearly at the end of his science-‘til-I-drop binge, but Mikey feels a tingle start in tips of his fingers as they fall into sync. It spreads up his hands and arms, from his toes up his legs- fluttering and warm and making him feel lighter than air. There are hints of sadder things, of heavy hearted emotions and pain, and those feelings from Donnie are evenly matched by Mikey’s. Neither of them is okay, neither of them is willing to talk about it. Not yet.

Fusion removes the need to talk.

Mikey laughs in surprise as Donnie abruptly spins him, his brother abruptly throwing himself 100% into the effort to fuse, and there’s Donnie’s familiar laugh; something Mikey hasn’t heard in weeks since they arrived at the farmhouse. It’s creaky in places but its real, and it makes a bubbly feeling burst in Mikey’s chest.

They spin together, drawing close as their feet slide and tap in perfect sync- they’re at opposite ends of the scale nine times out of ten, and then there’s times like this, where it’s all ease of movement and simple knowledge that the other knows the exact step they’re going to take next- where everything just makes clear perfect sense, and there’s no falter in their communication at all.

They’re the B-team for a reason, and it’s not just because their older brothers are sometimes jerks and get too easily exasperated with their eccentricities. It’s because they sometimes just click.

Donnie actually smiles, and it’s like months of stress lift from his eyes just with that expression, and Mikey mirrors the toothy grin with all the sincerity he’s got in him. It overpowers all the twisty awful emotions he’d had before this, and Mikey finally feels nothing but okay.

Donnie obviously feels the same, laughing freely as they dance, and against the echo-y rafters of the barn and mixed with the smell of old wood and hay and substances Mikey couldn’t even name- it’s amazing sounding, and it draws more exhilarated laughter out of Mikey.

Step, step, and twirl- they crash together in a burst of feelings and understanding and unconditional familial affection and love-

-and Monnie opens his eyes, all three of them feeling significantly less achy and awful than Donnie’s had, and from a much higher perspective above the ground. He yawns, feeling the urge to go and sleep off the fading exhaustion one part of him has, but the burbling energy the other half provides gives boost to the absolute determination he possesses, and then he doesn’t need to anymore.

Stretching his four arms above his head and behind his back, Monnie sighs happily as strength and vigor erases aches and cramps from bending over a desk and bedside. Good fucking god, why didn’t he do this hours ago, if not days? Weeks, he could have done this weeks ago, rather than sit around feeling miserable and tired and aimless and too wired to sleep at all. Why didn’t he? Everything is so much easier to handle now that he’s fused.

Both sides of him respond that it’s because he’s two parts of dysfunctional individuals with communication problems. Monnie tells himselves to fuck off.

He glances at the now very short table all of Donnie’s projects are scattered across, and finds a dozen new solutions popping into his head now that he’s got a fresh streak of creativity to add to the genius’s, and all the knowledge needed to articulate, refine, and execute the ideas. The daunting tasks of medical, mechanical, and economical problem solving are much less stressful, now that he’s got a thrum of excitement in his chest and broader perspective.

Of course… a repressed part of one half is calling to the restless part of the other half, demanding to be outside in the sun and getting his blood pumping. Part of him has been cooped up in this barn for weeks, and it makes the other halve jittery just to experience secondhanded. Monnie feels it thirdhanded and he understands both sides of the equation.

“I need to finish this, though,” Monnie mutters to himself, picking up his tools and the helmet and examining them, as well as absently starting to rearrange the desk into a manner that suits all him instead of just one half of him. He really does have so many things to get done- so many things, jeez- but the sun is warm and the wind is sweet and part of him recalls a very lovely climbing tree not far from the farm.

Admittedly, Monnie is as determinedly focused as he is impulse and whim driven. He needs to get work done, but he also needs to get out and stretch and re-fucking-lax, Donnie, you’re tying yourself up in knots like this-

-I know what I’m doing-

-wrecking your posture is what you’re doing-

-like you’re one to-

-talk, slouching so-

-much of the time over-

-videogames-

-desks-

Monnie shakes his head, quieting the brief squabble with himselves. His fusion remains solid despite the bickering, which is nice since it’s been ages since he was himself, and while he has occasional scattering days where a lot of messy and painful feelings make his emotions and opinions invert and turn sharp and terrible and hating, aimed at himself and himselves and everything- Monnie really, really does love himself a lot. Even if he finds bits of himselves annoying at times.

He’s made of two halves that click just right, sometimes, despite being such laughable opposites in so many ways, a perfect mix of them both… and that topic of thought leads Monnie to an idea.

“…strike a balance!” He tells himself triumphantly, setting down his tools and projects. “One- two- one hour of hiking, and then work for a few more, and then dinner prep and another walk? Yeah, that seems fair.”

Both parts of him are in total agreement that being away from the farmhouse will be good; getting away from the oppressive silence and failure that lingers in the upstairs levels, choking and painful to even think on. That will ease the continuous worrying Leo’s coma causes for everyone.

Which Monnie isn’t going to do, because he has a tree to climb and a forest to explore with new eyes and so very many things to accomplish after that.

Monnie steps away from the desk, humming pleasantly to himself an aimless but upbeat tune as he walks towards the barn doors. They open easy as anything for him- he has twice the strength of either side of him- and Monnie is bathed in the hot afternoon sun as he steps out.

The wind is sweet, the more indoors-y half of him finds delightedly, and he laughs to himself as he squints up at the blue, blue sky. It really is such a lovely day, and being himself makes it seem even lovelier.

Raph is on the porch currently, fiddling with what looks like his sketchbook, and staring at Monnie with something between exasperation and confusion. Monnie waves cheerily, and turns the motion into a quadruple flipoff as he absconds from the farmhouse lawn. Raph had been snappish and unpleasant to Mikey this morning when he just tried to say hi, and Monnie feels absolutely justified in flipping his brother off and explaining nothing of why he’s fused.

The forest welcomes him and the jaunty steps he takes speed up as it does. The trees are taller and thicker than anywhere in NYC, a hundred birds and small animals are just nearby, and the earthy rich scent of everything speaks to a nearly buried part of his brain.

It feels wonderful. The tug of duty and responsibility and guilt and love remains, tying Monnie to the farmhouse despite how much he just wants to run and run and never look back, but he lets none of those things seize hold of him.

Monnie will go home later, finish projects and make dinner for everyone- later. For now, he has a tree to climb.

#rhi-draws-things #Donatello #michelangelo #b-team babes #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #Fusion AU #Monnie is a cutie #shame i didn't get to include how unstable his temper can be sometimes #oh well #that's for another time #My writing #man i owed this forever ago rhi i'm so sorry for being late #inspiration is Hard and writing is Harder and i get distracted so easily #glad i finally got this done #hope you like it <3

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muertawrites · 2 years ago

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Following a Siren (Eddie Munson x Reader) [18+]

Summary: Corroded Coffin desperately needs a singer to help balance out their first ever album. Lucky for them, Eddie shares a hall with a certified siren.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: 18+ only because i went a little crazy with perv!eddie (i just love him ok). i might write a second part where he gets to live his little fantasy... 👀 sappy romcom shit that i hate watching / reading but have no problem writing

Author’s Note: aged everyone up to their mid-late 20s when everybody is out of hawkins and happy. posting this unedited because it’s 4am and i have to at least try to get some sleep. inspired by my own experience singing this song in my high school choir (it’s so much fun the chorus parts are better than the solos) and amber riley’s performance which is the only redeeming quality of the glee version.

"I'm telling you, man, it's not gonna work. We need a chick."

Eddie glances between Gareth and Jeff, arms braced against the back of a chair, lips pursed together in frustration.

It's been hours and they still can't get any of the harmonies right. They're so close, but the song is just... unmemorable. A song easily and readily skipped, when it has the potential to be a totally amazing, stop-what-you're-doing, turn-the-volume-up, cream-in-your-pants showstopper. And Corroded Coffin needs it to be a showstopper; this is their first album - recorded in an actual studio with professional equipment and a genuine producer -and they can't blow their one chance at glory by having it flop.

But Gareth is right - it isn't going to work. They need vocals in a much higher range to balance out their lower tones. Unfortunately, they know about as many women between them as they did in high school.

"We can't afford to pay anyone," Jeff states. "Why don't we just scrap it?"

"We can't scrap it," Eddie quips. "It's too damn good. It just needs a little push."

"Could we do the harmony with instrumentals?" Gareth suggests. "You could just sing with the guitar."

"Nah, that wouldn't have the right umph," Eddie disagrees. "A vocal harmony would smash way harder."

"So we're stuck."

Eddie sighs, raking a hand through his hair.

"... I'll figure something out," he decides. "Just gimme some time. We're gonna do this if it fucking kills me."

Eddie huffs as he throws himself down onto his couch, snapping the tab on a beer can as he takes a long drag from a freshly rolled joint.

He's totally fucked. There's no way in hell he can find someone on short notice, with no budget, to carry the missing harmony. Nothing he has scrawled in the various notebooks stashed around his studio apartment is anywhere near finished, and even if it were, it wouldn't live up to what they already have.

Nobody will ever hear the song the way it's supposed to be heard. The thought crushes him.

The chime of keys and tread of boots echoes from the hallway, distracting Eddie from his visions of doom; you've returned home for the day. He closes his eyes, letting his mind wander to you - how you smiled sleepily at him this morning when you left for work, how pretty you looked in the dress you wore, how your lips were chapped and split, darkened with dry blood towards the center, how sweet your groggy laughter sounded when he said something stupid in passing. You've lived across the hall from him for the better part of a year - sharing the space above a convenience store, where you run into each other constantly - and his thoughts have been consumed by you since the day you moved in.

His cock twitches in his jeans, perking up at the images of you flitting around in his skull. Shame starts to rise in his stomach, but that doesn't stop him from going completely hard. He sighs.

C'mon man, don't be gross.

But it's too late. He's already relapsed into his favorite fantasy about you; inviting you backstage after one of his gigs and fucking you so hard you can't speak, skirt hiked up, panties pushed aside, makeup smeared and running as he drives you toward a messy, mewling orgasm. Holding you against his chest and kissing your lips, your face, your neck as you ride out the high.

His hand is in his pants before he can think better of it.

He's barely two strokes in when a gorgeous sound breaks him from his sexed-out haze. It starts as a simple chime, floating on the air as effortlessly as dust, before slowly growing louder, more joyous, every note driven with the force of a hurricane.

It's you.

You're singing.

And you're incredible.

Eddie springs to his feet, jeans still completely undone. He rushes across the hall, tapping frantically at the door to your apartment; your singing stops, and he almost regrets interrupting you for the loss.

The door swings open and you give him a once over, smirking amusedly when you clock his open fly, boxers tugged down to reveal the tiniest patch of his pubic hair.

"Eddie, I'm flattered," you tease, "but a date first would be nice."

"Shit, fuck, sorry."

He stuffs himself back into his pants, grinning bashfully before clearing his throat, leaning an arm against the doorframe as casually as he can. You can't help but giggle, having spent enough time with him that you'd developed an ever-growing crush on the eccentric, well-meaning man.

"What's up?" you ask.

"My band," he tells you. "We desperately need a singer and I think you're perfect."

He pauses for a moment, thinking over what he's said.

"As a singer!" he quickly clarifies. "As a singer."

You smile, biting your lip and entirely unable to stop the warmth that creeps across your cheeks. The way you gaze up through your lashes at Eddie makes him weak in the knees.

"I haven't done any serious singing since high school," you admit. "And never anything like you guys do. Plus... aren't you the vocalist?"

Eddie scoffs, waving away your statement with a slender, ring-adorned hand.

" 'Vocalist' is a stretch," he chuckles. "All I do is carry a tune. And it wouldn't be just you, anyway, we'd sing together. We can cover up each other's mistakes."

You sigh, still not entirely convinced.

"... I don't know. Like I said, I've never performed in a band before and I just... I would feel bad if I brought you guys down. I'm really not that good."

Eddie furrows his brow in confusion, craning his neck toward you as if you just told him Ozzy was a mediocre musician. He raises a hand to your forehead.

"Are you feeling okay?" he questions. "Your voice is fucking amazing! Why would I run over here with my pants down if it wasn't?"

He dramatically falls onto his knees, taking one of your hands in both of his as he fixes you with a pleading gaze. His thumbs softly stroke at your knuckles, causing an involuntary chill to run down your spine.

"Fair maiden from across the hall," he laments, "gentle lady with the voice of a siren, do us the honor of gracing us with your divine beauty. For my gratitude, I shall henceforth keep the volume on my stereo at a reasonable level, and shower you with the finest tributes of pizza and iced coffee."

You laugh, far too endeared by his antics for your own good.

"Get up, you goon," you playfully scold. "I'll come to your practice tomorrow for an audition. How about that?"

"Yes!"

Eddie springs to his feet, wrapping you in his arms and spinning you with joy.

"Thank you," he says as he sets you down. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you, you're a fucking life saver. You won't regret it, I promise."

He plants a kiss on your cheek, leaving you brimming with butterflies as he darts back into his apartment. He pops his head back out a moment later, phone in hand.

"What do you want on your pizza?"

At promptly six o’clock the next evening, you climb the steps to the little apartment in downtown Indianapolis that serves as Corroded Coffin’s makeshift studio. It’s an attic space, with slanted ceilings and wood floors padded with dirty, worn-out flea market rugs; posters featuring the likes of Sabbath and Megadeath line the walls, and most of the light is provided by a little circular window and a string of white Christmas bulbs strung along the edge of the room. The air is heavy with the scent of cannabis and incense. You’re reminded of Eddie’s apartment as you step inside, a fact you hate to admit calms your nerves a little bit.

“Alright.”

Eddie claps his hands together, grinning at you with his guitar slung over his shoulder.

“What beautiful sounds will you be blessing us with today, gorgeous?”

You purse your lips, taking a deep breath as you try to remind yourself that you’re good at this - there’s no reason to be so anxious.

“You guys know any Queen?” you ask, sounding meeker than you intend.

“Of course we do!” Gareth chirps from behind the drum set.

“How about you just start singing, yeah?” Jeff chimes in. “We’ll join in. We do better by ear, anyway.”

You nod, stepping up to the microphone as Eddie presses the start button on the tape recorder in the corner of the room. You clear your throat, inhaling slowly, holding the breath for a moment in your stomach before letting it go in a light, tentative note.

“Can... an-y-bo-dy... find me-e-e-e... somebody to-o...”

Eddie strums the last note on his guitar, making you smile.

As you start up the first verse, Jeff and Gareth follow your lead, backing up your low, contemplative words with matching instrumentals. To your surprise, Eddie takes over the choral accompaniment, hitting each note as if he’s listened to the song a million times over; his voice compliments yours so well you sound make a symphony together, the vibration of your harmonies causing chills to rush through your body like an electric shock.

“I get down on my knees and I start to pray ‘til the tears run down from my eyes!”

Your confidence builds with the song, each note you sing becoming a little more soulful, a little more impassioned as the verse presses on. You lose yourself in the music, having always loved this song and how weightless it makes you feel. Your eyes are locked on Eddie, swaying in time with each strum of his pick across the guitar strings, consumed by the starstruck look in his eye and the expert movement of his ringed fingers. It’s like magic, how enchantingly beautiful you sound together.

“I try and I try and I try-y-y! But e-e-e-ev’rybody wants to put me down; they say I’m goin’ crazy! They say I gotta lotta water in my brain; I got no common sense; I got nobody left to believe!”

“YEAH! YEAH! YEAH! YE-EAH!”

The final throes of the verse are shouted, Jeff and Gareth playing off your enthusiasm with as much excitement as if they were playing to a packed stadium. You bang your head with each beat, thrashing with their heavy rendition of the song, thoroughly enjoying every second. Your voices fade into the shredding wail of Eddie’s guitar, hammered out into an exquisite solo that leads into the final verse.

You reach your favorite part of the song; when all goes silent, the slow climb up to the huge finale. Jeff starts you off, his powerful bass rumbling over the speakers.

“Find, me, somebody to lo-ove...”

Then comes Gareth’s baritone, picking up the harmony in just the right spot. Eddie follows soon after in his achingly handsome tenor, and you fall in line behind him, uttering out the quiet pieces of the harmony that many miss in the chorus.

“Me somebody, to, lo-ove...”

Eddie’s voice breaks out of the din.

“Somebody!”

You fire back, hitting the high note without flinching.

“Somebody!”

You shoot back and forth at each other, your higher voice countering Eddie’s lower one in playful symmetry, until you reach the end of the short duel.

“Somebody find me somebody to love! Can anybody find me-e-e-e...?”

The men stop playing, pausing with rapt attention on you, anticipating how you’ll drive through the song’s climax. You take a deep breath, entirely unafraid of what you’re about to do.

“Somebody to-o-o... lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-ove!”

The notes soar from your chest, deafening everything else in the room - hell, in the world, probably. Eddie is the first to cheer, bounding up and down in uncontained joy at just how powerful you are; the other men follow suit, picking up where they left off a few beats too late from being so swept up in your tidal wave of sound.

Eddie finishes out the song gazing at you with dreamy, sparkling eyes, his chest fluttering as you look back at him and match his voice in perfect harmony. You really are a siren, and he’ll follow you to the depths of the sea if it means you’re the last sound ringing in his ears.

All is calm as you follow Eddie out onto the street a few hours later, stepping into the late night cold of the bustling city.

He turns to you, staring at you for a moment in giddy silence. Then, he lets out a celebratory shout as he wraps his arms around you, lifting you off the pavement and twirling you around. You laugh, your own arms falling around his neck, blushing furiously as he paints your face with kisses.

“You. Are. Amazing!” Eddie cheers as he sets you back onto solid ground. “Oh my fucking god, that was incredible! You saved us! You beautiful, divine, ethereal goddess! My fucking heroine!”

He captures you in another crushing hug, lips planting themselves firmly on your cheek once more.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

At first, you think he’s joking. But the breathless way he says it, the starry look in his wide, childlike eyes, the tender grip of his hand at your waist, all convey the truth. And you can’t lie to yourself - watching him play, hearing his voice entwined with yours, sharing the intimacy of song... you’re pretty certain you’re in love with him, too.

“... Kiss me,” you whisper.

“... What?”

You giggle, his dumbstruck expression the most adorable thing you think you’ve ever seen.

“Kiss me,” you repeat. “Baby, pull the string...”

A smile curls across Eddie’s face, his grip on you tightening.

“Did you... just quote Van Halen at me?”

You nod.

“Oh yeah,” he decides. “Comin’ in hot.”

You giggle, smiling into the kiss as he presses his lips to yours, leaning his whole body into the movement until you’re flush against him. God, his lips are plush, and he tastes deliciously like his last cigarette, and his chest is hard and broad, and he looms above you like some sort of ivory tower, captivating and unmovable. You clutch at the lapels of his leather jacket, never wanting this kiss to end.

Eddie hums softly as you pull apart, his eyes remaining closed for a moment as if he’s still savoring your lips. When he opens them, they’re lidded, lost within yours as he holds you in a lovers’ embrace on the corner of a busy street.

“Let’s get you home,” he murmurs. “Then we can make some more music together.”

🌹💀 get your eddie fix 💀🌹

#muerta's works #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #perv!eddie #perv!eddie x reader #minors dni

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lovelybarnes · 3 years ago

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get the girl- p. parker

pairings: peter parker x reader, mentions of ned, betty, mj, and brad warnings: unrequited love (kind of?? implied), lotsss of pining and fluff, a little long about: requested! (DF4) “you fell asleep, i couldn’t move.“ + (DF31) “maybe if you stop staring at her and actually talk to her, you might have a chance.” a/n: been wanting to write a peter parker friends to lovers for a while, so thank you so so much for requesting this. i swear i don’t usually take this long?? i got carried away and it got way longer than i expected, i hope you enjoy! thank you for requesting!

peter thinks it’s hopeless. the cliche he’s stuck in seems cruel- no matter what the movies you (and, fine, yes, him sometimes) make him watch say. nothing that happens in them ever transpires to real life; beautiful girls don’t fall in love with their nerdy best friends and guys like peter parker don’t get the girl.

it’s fun to fantasize, though. and especially fun to look at you, particularly when you’re laying on his bed, oblivious to him standing in the doorway, observing as you twist your neck to get a good look at the polaroids he hung up on his wall. a familiar smile grows on your face when your eyes scan them, flickering to the polaroid camera you got him for christmas years ago.

you move to try to get a better look at them without standing up, glancing down when you feel a sharp edge poke at your skin. he watches as your eyebrows furrow in possibly the prettiest way possible and you pull out a polaroid from under you. and oh, peter is just now realizing exactly what that photo is and why it’s on his bed instead of hanging off the empty miniature clothespin that comes from the pack you thrust at his chest when you noticed the increasing pile of pictures on his desk.

he’s moving on autopilot towards you, the foot already halfway through the door used as a stepping stone to go to your side faster. he’s with you in less than three steps, tugging on your ankle and then tackling you as sensibly as possible, laying his whole body on yours. you oof, dropping the picture, having seen it for too little to really question it, and laugh breathlessly. “pete!” you wheeze, curling your arms around his back, one of your hands absentmindedly drawing figures through his hoodie and your other one inching up to his hair, already beginning to thread through the chocolate curls. “yes?” he hums innocently, furtively grabbing the polaroid you dropped and shoving it in the pocket of his hoodie before his arms wrap around your thighs.

“i told you if you keep doing that, one day you’re gonna get hurt,” you scold, looking attentively as peter leans his head against your chest. “me?” he questions, feeling you nod under his cheek. “uh huh, you. you’ll hit your head or something. for a spider-”

“spiderman. superhero,” peter corrects, you ignore him, “you are really clumsy.” peter huffs in dissent, letting a comfortable silence blanket over the both of you for a minute before he looks up at you. “what?” you ask, a smile brimming at the edges of your words. you’re so pretty, peter wants to say, but instead, he goes with a more best-friend-friendly question, “d’you wanna watch a movie?”

you nod at him, pulling your hands away from his head to play with the strings of his hoodie, “sure, what do we want to watch today?” peter’s eyes immediately light up, and you realize you never actually needed to ask. “fine,” you agree, trying not to grin too hard at the way his face brightens. “which one?” you request, watching his freckled cheeks flush pink in excitement, “sixth one. the best one, of course.” you smirk, shrugging, “right, don’t know why i asked, i basically know the movie word for word now.” peter can’t help but give you heart eyes at the knowledge of your knowing the script of his favorite movie. god, you really were the dream girl.

“‘kay, go make some popcorn and get everything ready while i go to the bathroom,” you request, tapping peter’s shoulder as a way to tell peter to let you out from under his body weight. he does the complete opposite of what you imply, however, nuzzling further into your chest and inhaling deeply. “peter,” you laugh, poking his shoulder again, “‘m comfy,” he mumbles, eyes closed. “pete, c’mon, i gotta pee and you’re lying on my bladder,” you whine, “also, don’t you wanna watch episode six of star wars while i eat popcorn and play with your hair?” you singsong. he’s suddenly moving his body off of yours to let you go, although not before pressing a sloppy- friendly- kiss to your arm, “hurry up.”

you giggle as you stand, stretching out your limbs and walking to the bathroom while peter watches you walk away. once he hears the bathroom door shut, he digs his hands into his pockets, fingers tugging on the polaroid he had shoved inside. a smile grows on his face without his permission when he holds it at his stomach, the light reflecting off of the smile that was printed on the picture. he traces a nail over your face, bright and open in the way that makes you gleam. it’s his favorite picture ever, the only one that managed to catch you so in your element, your natural halo of glow apparent in your outline. peter had scrawled the words best girl in red marker on the white space at the bottom- something he thought he could explain away easily if he had to. the picture had its own designated space on his wall, right in the middle so the importance was clear, but it was rarely actually up there, instead always next to him for inspiration when he was doing homework and on his dresser for when he couldn't sleep.

his lips quirk one last time at the photograph before walking to the wall where all the rest of them reside. he hangs it up, glancing at it once more until he turns to walk out of his room.

the movie is ready to play when you walk into the living room, and peter is in the kitchen making your popcorn. “it smells good,” you say in a greeting, sniffing the air and exhaling in satisfaction. peter laughs, “you do that every time we have a movie night.” you tilt your head at him, “do what?” he motions to you, “that. the whole smelling thing and letting me know how good it smells, it’s cute.”

your face heats when it slips out of his lips, pausing to absorb the words he doesn’t seem to have noticed he said. his back is to you, dumping the popcorn into a bowl for you. you can’t see it, but he’s freaking out, trying to think of an excuse if you decide it was too weird. you don’t do anything to imply that, though, just blink until the words dissolve in the air. “thanks,” you finally reply, as nonchalant as you can make it while you grab his m&ms. he hums in response, turning around to head to the couch, “star wars time,” he winks, making you grin.

you follow him as he heads to the couch, settling down next to him once he puts on the movie. the star wars theme starts, the tune fringed by peter’s humming. cute, you think, snuggling deeper into the crook of his arm and shoving popcorn into your mouth. “hmm, good,” you compliment, watching the scenes you’d seen so many times pass on the screens. you mouth along when you recognize the lines until your eyes feel heavy and they shut completely.

quiet thwips wake you up hours later, when the black of the night has bled the sky blue and the stars have littered over the clouds, the moon replacing the sun. you see that the movie is long over when you blink yourself awake, beginning to cuddle deeper into your pillow when you realize it’s too warm and hard to be a pillow. you are met with the vision of your best friend, lip tugged in between his teeth as he concentrates on something behind you. he doesn’t seem to notice that you’re awake, trying to remain as still as possibly while the thwip noises continue. he mutters a curse, scrunching his nose adorably before flicking his eyes to you. they widen when he notices you’re awake, dropping his hand. “what’re you doing?” you yawn, sitting up and away from the warmth of peter’s embrace. “uh- i just- the movie ended and you didn’t wake up, so i tried to get the remote, then i got hungry…” he scratches the back of his head awkwardly, scanning the room and you turn to observe, stunned to see the mess of webs and dropped items you weren’t sure how you didn’t hear. “oh my god, what the- did you try to get everything with your webs?” you ask in bewilderment, eyeing a bag of gummy worms open and on the floor, you snap your neck towards him to observe his burning cheeks. “um. yes,” he confesses, blushing harder. “why didn’t you just get up?” you question, looking back at the ruined living room, exhaling in surprise as you notice the remote on the ground.

“you... you fell asleep on me. i couldn’t move.”

you pause, tilting your head slightly to look at peter, “pete, god, that’s so sweet. but you really don’t need to…” you motion to the dropped items, “do all that,” you laugh. peter shrugs, and you notice the tips of his ears are red, too. “i didn’t want to wake you up. i know how much of a light sleeper you are.”

you feel like you’re melting, every single muscle in your body drooping in the loveliness that was peter parker. you weren’t sure how the boy was real. you suddenly drop yourself on him again, wrapping your arms around his burning neck, “thank you, peter,” you say into his skin. like a reflex, his own arms go around your waist, holding you securely so you won’t fall, “‘f course.”

a moment of quiet follows until peter’s stomach rumbles suddenly, making you laugh, “i think i’ve starved you long enough. you pick today. also, when did you get so ripped? your arms are so big--” peter cuts you off with a groan, dropping his head on your shoulder, “you had to ruin the moment--”

peter doesn’t know what it is with you (actually, he does) that makes you so distracting. you’re just waiting in line for lunch, standing next to mj and laughing occasionally when she says something. all you’re doing is standing, and maybe it’s peter’s boy-hormones combined with his spider-hormones that magnify every single perfect feature of yours, but he can’t take his eyes off of you. you’re so pretty. the curve of the smiles that pulls into your cheeks, the twinkle that remains permanent in the color of your eyes, the way you look in that skirt--

“maybe if you stop staring at her and actually talk to her, you might have a chance,” a voice points out from next to him. peter scoffs, ripping his sight away from you to turn to ned. “i talk to her all the time. she’s my best friend.” ned shakes his head and sighs, “you talk to her about star wars, you talk to me about star wars, how is that supposed to help you have a chance--”

“i have a chance,” peter mumbles, trying to believe it himself, “she knows that she and you stand at different levels of best friends--” ned looks offended, “different levels? what is that supposed to mean--” peter stares exasperatedly at his best friend, “it means i want to date her and i don’t want to date you--”

“that’s a little rude--”

“hey you guys,” you greet, sitting down on the seat in front of peter’s and patting the seat next to you for mj. she stares at you silently, and you frown, patting the seat harder, “sit.” you instruct. she sighs and does what she’s told. “what were you guys talking about?” you ask, picking up your small plate of cherry pie to replace the bowl of orange slices that you took from peter’s plate. “thank you,” peter mumbles, digging his fork into the pie the moment you set it down. you hum, stealing a cherry tomato from his salad.

“oh, you know. the usual, your friendship with peter,” the latter shoots him a look and you raise an eyebrow, “that’s the usual? a little strange, don’t you think?” ned shrugs, “did you know that you and i stand at ‘different levels’ as peter’s best friends?” peter nearly chokes on his pie, glaring at ned. you cock your head at peter, thinking as you steal another tomato, “i… guess i thought so? i’ve known peter since, like, preschool, and we tell each other everything.”

“everything, huh?” ned wonders, a sound of pain falling from his lips when peter kicks him under the table. “peter.” he hisses. mj narrows her eyes at the two boys, “what is going on with you guys today? you’re acting weirder than normal.” peter’s face screws up in confusion, looking to you for help. you shrug, “she’s right.”

“i usually am,” mj mutters.

“so what is it?” you query, popping an orange slice as peter cringes at the mere thought of the taste. “peter has a crush,” ned informs helpfully, oblivious to peter’s dismay, “i- i don’t-”

you blink, feeling mj’s elbow shove into your ribs as her own way to make sure you’re okay. you ignore her, and it tells her everything she needs to know. “it’s liz, right?” you guess, trying to mask the hurt on your face with a teasing smile, “i saw you looking at her the other day. she’s pretty.” “no! it’s not- i mean, yes, liz is pretty, but i don’t like her or anything- ned doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” peter rambles. “pete, you don’t have to be embarrassed, i’m just upset you didn’t tell me,” you lie. peter’s eyebrows furrow, “you’re just upset that… i didn’t tell you?” he repeats. you nod, biting into another orange slice. “just that?” he asks meekly. you cock your head at him.

“i just- never mind. it’s not liz,” he says, poking at his pie. “so you admit you have a crush?” you start with a fake smirk, jabbing at your best friend with your fork, “just not on liz?”

“i didn’t… i didn’t say that-” peter stutters. your eyes narrow at him, lip tugged between your teeth, “i’m gonna find out who it is by the end of the day.”

peter is unfortunately sure you will. he’s not subtle as is, but you’re never deliberately looking for the signs, which makes it a lot easier to hide his embarrassingly large crush on you. but now, you'll be paying attention to his every move, and knowing you, he knows you won’t stop until you find out what you want, unless he tells you to back off. but, does he want you to back off?

he pushes his tray away, suddenly not feeling so hungry.

you stay true to your promise, hanging off his arm for the rest of the day, observing the way he acts around some of your classmates, but somehow not noticing the way he blatantly refuses to look at you- which proves humiliatingly difficult; peter never realized exactly how much he turned to look if you laughed at the joke too, or to catch one of your smiles when you hear something funny or peter whispers a joke into the shell of your ear.

by the end of the day when you’re walking to the train station together, you’re groaning at him, putting your full weight on his arm as you tug at him. “who is it? is it betty? oh my god, is it mj? is that why you kept looking at her?” you ask excitedly. peter wants to tell you the truth: he wasn’t looking at mj, he was looking at you, because as much as he tried, he couldn’t pry his attention off of you, who just so happened to sit next to mj.

“not mj. not betty,” he replies, pulling you inside the subway and scanning for free seats. you trail behind him when he finds a spot, letting you take it as he stands in front of you. “not them… it has to be liz, right?” you pry, sighing when he shakes his head. “brad- it’s brad, right?” you grin, whining when he denies it again. “can you just tell me if i got them already? i’ve practically said everyone in the school,” you complain, “they do go to school with us, right?” at peter’s nod, you drop your head against his abdomen, “and you have not said their name yet.”

“peter,” you drag out, reaching out for his hand to pull it, “just tell me! i can probably set you up with them!”

“y/n, just drop it,” he sighs, and you sigh too, mumbling a fine before noticing an older lady standing at the door. you wave her over, standing next to peter and letting her take your seat. peter feels like his heart will pop out of his chest.

the bumps of the subway push you close enough to him to feel the thundering of his heart, and your eyebrows knit together in worry, “are you okay? your heart’s beating, like, really fast-” yeah and your hand on my chest is not helping- “‘m fine.”

“is it because of the crush thing?” yes, “because i’m sorry about annoying you about it so much, if you don’t want to talk about it, i won’t bother you with it. just know that if they don’t like you back, they’re insane, because you, peter parker, are a ca-”

it was like a rubber band snapping, and peter suddenly couldn’t help it anymore, pushing his lips against yours, effectively cutting you off and catching you so off-guard, you freeze for a second before reacting, pulling his jaw closer. you almost tug him back when he pulls away, before you remember you’re still standing on a crowded, moving subway, and while kissing your best friend had been all you wanted for way too long, you were absolutely going to miss your stop if you didn’t stop.

“i- i’m sorry, i just-” peter stammered, stepping back. “no! so, please don’t apologize, seriously, it’s fine, it’s, like, better than fine.”

a beat of awkward silence passed before the tube halted to the stop right before yours. “it’s you. in case that didn’t… come clear. you’re the person i like,” peter informs quietly. “really?” you ask, cheek already pulling in a shy smile. “really,” peter assures.

this time, you don’t really care if you miss your stop, and neither does peter, now that he knows that, sometimes, peter parker does get the girl.

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the-writers-bookshelf · 2 years ago

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I don't know if it's just me but I keep seeing videos or posts popping up criticizing the use of adjectives in books and with every single new one the just shows up out of no where I get a little more irritated because all of these people are taking it so literally.

No, unless it's a very specific type of book they did mean that this person actually purred or growled or whatever. But these words give each thing they're attached to very different tones and I think the tone is so important to get across the feeling you want to convey.

Sorry for the mini rant, I know it's such a small thing to be irritated about but it just keeps showing up everywhere and I can't seem to escape it.

I totally know what you mean, anon!

I find that the internet/social media can be chock full of very loud people who like to complain about the most inane things.

I got caught up in complaints about literally everything being "too cliche and overused." So I tried really, REALLY hard to make every damn line "original" and guess what: it didn't work. Because readers want a specific type of book so they go by those "cliches" (or tropes) in order to find more of what they want.

Online spaces can be absolutely amazing to find other writers. But it's also super easy to get inundated with all the negative nut jobs who like to nitpick EVERYTHING.

It's not a small thing to be irritated about. It gets under your skin. It sets impossible standards for aspiring writers (and current writers). It also gets into your head and feeds your inner critic, which makes it harder to write. Those are all big things and causes problems for you as a writer.

I am an AVID supporter of using the block and unfollow buttons and avoiding anyone who spouts stuff like that. Otherwise, it bogs you down and makes you distracted by stressing over the use of adjectives rather than telling a good story.

So your rant is absolutely 10000% valid and you make a very good point that these arguments aren't necessary. It's one thing if authors use them to the point of making it distracting to read the story, but that's an easily fixable thing, and it shouldn't be, "Avoid this at all costs." That's just...shitty advice.

If you want something fun, inspiring, and helpful, I've been listening to the SPA Girls podcast on Youtube (and Spotify). They talk about writing craft, the business side of publishing, and the varied ways people can succeed with their different writing processes. They're very positive and inclusive. It's really nice to listen to people who are supportive and upbeat! :)

#asks #anonymous

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pleasantanathema · 4 years ago

Text

Porco Galliard | Mercy

Pairing: Porco Galliard x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Bondage with a belt, Panties stuffed into Porco’s mouth, A little bit of degradation, Some power play dynamics, Established Relationship

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Part of my Nine Muses Event to celebrate 9k! Follow the link to read more fanfics I’m writing to celebrate. This is quite inspired by late night thirsting with @lady-lunaaa, who somehow loves Pock more than me 🧡

Porco Galliard looked so pretty with your panties stuffed in his mouth.

He was always so whiny, so vocal, so willing to wake up anyone and everyone with the way he begged whenever you decided to play with him. You just wanted to hear what those little pleas sounded like when muffled by your slick-stained panties—they were just as darling, especially when groaned so heartily that drool spilled over flush cheeks.

And those thick arms of his looked delicious tied above his head with his own belt. His muscles were bulging, biceps flexing as you took your time teasing his weeping cock. Thick fingers were turning white against the leather.

This wasn’t your end game, no, you were just winding him up, coiling him tighter and tighter until you decided to release him and see what kind of wrath you would face.

You didn’t often get to be in control of him like this, so you were going to revel in it, going to drown in the power of being able to make him thrash against his binds. It took a lot of effort to tie him up. You’d wrestled with him over it, naked limbs weaving together like rope as you struggled to overpower him.

Those were the terms he set, having agreed to allowing you to tie him up, only if you were able to force him into it. And you did, once you wrapped your thighs around his perfect jaw.

Who knew your pussy would be such a marvelous weapon of distraction. Porco had been groaning your name into your cunt when you secured the buckle around his wrists.

Sliding your panties past plump lips had been a treat. You watched his arched brows furrow, normally perfect hair already starting to spill on his forehead as his tongue pooled with the bittersweet tang of your slick.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it, baby. Besides you were the one making me wet by teasing me under the table.”

You were tracing your finger up the ridge of his hard cock, watching him twitch and leak just from a few moments of playful taunting. He’d never been good at self control, his fault only made more evident as a muffled cry left his throat when your thumb circled the head of his cock, smearing pre-cum over hot, silken skin. You could feel the blood pouring down to his groin, thickening him up and making his veins pump harder under your touch.

Your tongue swirled over his nipple, grunts vibrating in his thick chest against your mouth. Your name was in his mouth, soaking into the fabric as he probably begged you to hurry up, to sink your cunt onto his cock so the ache he felt would go away.

You were careful to keep your pussy away from his cock, even as you sat back on his thighs, you hovered over him, heat just out of reach.

“God you look so pretty like this,” your point was emphasized as you ran your palms over the arms above his head, feeling his muscles flex. He was always pretty, but now he looked so open, so vulnerable, pink with blush and glistening with sweat.

The sparse, downy hair on his chest prickled when your hands moved over his pectorals, pinching at his nipples as you slid down his body. Those muffled whines get louder as you lick at his cock, short kitten licks that just leave spit to cool against his skin. Then you peppered his perfect balls with kisses, even going so far as to pop one between your lips before moving away again.

Amber eyes were practically melting with rage, his cheeks puffing as he spit your panties from between his lips.

“Untie me. Right now.”

He was giving you a chance—he could easily move his arms from the pillow if he wanted. But if you freed him, he’d show some kindness. But you didn’t want mercy.

“Or what, Pock?”

For once, he didn’t vocalize what he wanted to do to you. No whispers of I’m going to fuck you until you scream, I’ll make you beg for me to let you cum, none of the little threats he’d made in your ear at dinner. No, he was just going to show you.

Canine teeth ripped at leather and metal as he sat up, muscular thigh pressing up against your pussy as he freed himself. He was quick to pull you below him, man handling you until you were face down in his pillows, the belt he’d torn off being wrapped around your wrists.

“You’re fucking clever, I’ll give you that. You know I can’t resist that pretty pussy against my mouth.”

He pulled your hips up, keeping one hand against your back as the other pressed his swollen head against your folds. All you could smell was him on the sheets, all you could feel was his cock slapping against your clit to tease you.

“Fuck, you’re dripping. Little powertrip really got you off, hm?”

There was no chance to respond, your breath knocked out of your lungs when he shoved his cock into your cunt. He always felt so fucking good, so fat and full that it made your pussy flutter just to be stuffed with him.

Porco tangled his fist around your bound wrists, tugging until your shoulders burned and you had to arch your back to meet his strength. His hips were already relentless, his earlier teasing having him chasing that release as quickly as he could. Your body bounced against his, backs of your thighs burning from the sting of his own slapping against yours.

“I’ll show you what real power is, baby.”

He laughed as you just babbled out nonsense, brain struggling to keep up with the overload of pleasure building in your belly and racing over your nervous system. A slap to your ass had you crying, tears bubbling over your cheeks from the white-hot mixture of pleasure and pain from his strong hand. He repeated the action a few times, stopping only when he felt your cunt clench around him and cause his focus to fade.

“Such a good little slut,” he panted out his praise, using the muscles in his arm and shoulder to pull you back farther, grip tightening around the belt on your wrists, “such a tight pussy, god you look so good wrapped around my cock.”

You were ready to burst, the sounds of his cock thrusting into your wet pussy, the feel of him using you, the hot burn of him spreading you apart, all of it was too much. You were drowning in the ecstasy, floating in the haze of Porco’s fury. You knew he was capable of more, that he didn’t want to hurt you, just bring you into that delicious stupor of pleasure and pain that would have you coming undone.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, g-gonna fill you up,” he moaned, a sweaty hand gripping your hip so mean that you knew it to be true.

“P-Porco, please, let me—”

“Oh no, no, no, you don’t get to cum.”

He dropped you into the mattress as he came, hot cum spurting into your pussy. He always had such fat loads, always made you a fucking mess whenever he fucked you. You could feel his cock still pulsing, over, and over, and over again, strings of seed spilling into your hole for far too long. It dripped down your thighs nice and slow, enough to tease.

You only milked him more as your pussy sucked him in, looking for your own release. Porco whispered your name a few times in reverence, hand smoothing down your back and hooking around your binds again.

“Don’t tease me again,” he warned, “next time you tie me up, you better fuck me.”

#porco smut #porco x reader #Porco Galliard x reader #porco galliard #snk porco #aot porco #aot #snk #aot fanfic #porco fanfic #snk fanfic #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction

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elfwoodfae · 3 years ago

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Ima need you to write something filthy about Harry after he discovers y/n's erotic friend fiction about the team and learn what she really thinks about him.

Love, some one anonymous and your biggest fan

“Hurtful Lies” Harrison “Harry” Wells x reader

Author’s note: HUGE thank you to @wintersire for coming through and helping me keep Harry in character and help me edit and put together this story, honestly couldn’t have done it without her. Also I know is not exactly what you asked for but I could stop myself from the angst, I truly hope you like it. I loved writing it. I cried too while doing it.

WARNING: SMUT, ANSGT.

Gif credits to the owner, I found it on google.

4.5k

“Oh Harrison,” You moaned in his ear as he held you up against the wall, your legs tangled around his waist.

“I can’t wait to be inside of you,” He whispered, his hands going up your back and ripping open the fabric of your dress. His lips found yours, his teeth catching your bottom one, tugging on it for you to open your mouth.

His hand went down the curve of your ass to the inside of your thigh, feeling the heat coming from you.

“Every night since I met you I have dreamed about this moment, I've touched myself thinking of you, I adore you, everything about you.” You proclaimed against his mouth. He kissed you fiercely in response, savoring you.

You typed furiously into your computer, not wanting to lose the inspiration you had. This was your hobby, or more or less your practice into becoming a writer, and what better way to do it than writing about the center of your affections. Harrison Wells. Or more accurately, Earth 2 Harrison Wells. You had developed a hard crush on the man, everything about him drove you crazy, his hands, his hair, his lips, his back, and oh God did you wonder what was inside those pants; maybe that’s why he always wore them so baggy.

You could almost say it was an obsession at this point. At night, when you were alone, he was who you would think of while touching yourself, moaning his name. You wanted him so bad. It's gotten to the point where you would do anything for him, as scared as that thought made you.

Taking a break from typing and stretching your fingers, you leaned back to look at the screen and read over your writing. You wondered how long you've been writing for; it seemed like no time at all. When you catch the time you let out a curse. It was almost 8. and Cisco had insisted you all go out as a team for a very deserved family dinner at Barry’s place.

Saving the document and getting up from the computer you went over to your room, getting dressed up. While you readied yourself you heard a breach opening in your living room; Cisco was here to get you.

“I will be out in a minute! Get comfy.” You called out while struggling to fix the dress to make your breasts look more appetizing. Obviously you doubted Harry would notice, but at least you could dream he would. You had chosen a short float dress with an open back and low neckline, perfect for indiscreet kisses and flirty hands.

Back in the living room Cisco was moving through the apartment to get to the kitchen, leaving Harry, who had unexpectedly come with him, alone; something you were unaware of. The screen of your computer illuminated as a email notification appeared, catching Harry’s attention. He looked over and as he was about to dismiss it something called his attention back to it.

His name was written on whatever you were working on, moving towards it slowly he started to read it over, his eyes widening with every word he read. Just as he was about to scroll down the page the clicking of your heels could be heard, making him smack the screen down to hide what he was doing.

Trying to act normal he turned around, hiding his face from you and the blush softly creeping on it.

“Oh Harry, I didn’t know you had come with Cisco,” you said, looking at his back.

“He would take too long otherwise,” he grunted, unable to look you in the eye. His gaze stayed on your neck, trying to distract himself, but that was a mistake as he could see the way the dress hugged your body from his peripheral view. Memories of what you had written came to his mind as he wondered what it would feel like to run his hands up your back and take that dress off of you.

Clearing his throat he had to turn back around, hiding his hands in the pockets of his pants to try and hide something else triggered by the thought.

You took in his appearance. You don’t think you had ever seen him this formal, and for a moment he reminded you exactly of Thawne the night of the accelerator launch; his white shirt with a blazer on top, the first buttons open to show his skin, his black pants, and his hair; a little shorter and sharper on the sides. You wondered if this is what he looked like most of the time on his Earth; before zoom, when he was less worried about everything.

Cisco came back just in time from the kitchen, hurrying all of you into a breach to make it to Barry’s on time.

After the drinks started flowing, so did the good feelings; the atmosphere was joyful, everyone was having a good time, even Harry seemed relaxed in his own way.

As the night progressed and all of you sat around the living room, Caitlin asked about your project. She knew you had been working on a few pieces for a literature portfolio you had been building.

“Well I have been working on this piece I’m really excited about.” You said, causing Harry to suddenly choke on his drink.

“You good?” Cisco nudged him.

“Yeah yeah I’m just, I’m going to get some air,” he whispered getting up with his drink and walking over to the balcony.

Maybe it was the liquid courage the alcohol provided, or the fact that fate liked to play with you, but you suddenly felt brave enough to walk after him. You excused yourself quietly before following him into the cool night air.

“Hey,” you gently touched his shoulder. “Is everything okay?” You asked him with a kind smile. The one you always saved for him.

“Yeah, yeah, it's just a little crowded in there.” He lamely excused.

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure. I’ll be leaving soon, I think I had one too many drinks, I’ll ask Cisco to breach me.” You said as you turned around, ready to leave, but right before you went through the door his hand stopped you, grabbing your arm delicately.

“I can walk you, I’m leaving too.” He said. He was regretting this as the words were leaving his mouth but it was already too late, you had smiled at him and nodded, letting him know you were getting your purse and saying your goodbyes. He didn’t know where this had come from, certainly not from his common sense as he knew he shouldn’t be giving you any hopes after what he had read in your computer, but he couldn’t help it, the alcohol in his system made him think slower and not very clearly.

The walk home was quiet, only making small talk between you both. He didn’t know why he had offered to walk you, Cisco could have breached you easily. Once you made it to your door you turned around, facing him.

“Hey,” you started, trying to find a way to phrase what you wanted to ask him. This may after all be your only chance at this.

“Do you want to come in for a drink?” You asked him with a kind smile.

He shouldn’t stay, he should have said no and leave, he wasn’t thinking clearly and the consequences would prove to be devastating.

He nodded, too afraid of speaking and his words betraying him. He followed you inside, settling in the couch while you went to get some alcohol from the kitchen.

Serving him and yourself a drink you both settle on simple conversation, laughing and every once in a while you could see the way his eyes would fall to your lips.

Finishing your drinks, silence fell over you both, neither sure of what was supposed to happen, but the tension could be felt in the air. Softly, you moved closer to him, your hand finding his thigh as you leaned over him. He was studying you, his eyes on your lips. Slowly you touched his face, your lips connecting with his in a soft kiss.

He closed his eyes, his hands moving to the back of your neck as if by instinct, his lips pressed harder to yours, his teeth grazing your bottom one, prompting you to open your mouth. He had forgotten what it felt like to kiss someone else. His hands traveled down your back, feeling the soft skin of your back exposed by the dress. You moved to his lap, removing his blazer and playing with the buttons of his white shirt.

In a silent agreement you both decided to move this to the bedroom, you got up, offering him your hand for him to take and follow you. Once inside you turned around, kissing him again as you moved backwards towards the bed. His hands moved to the zipper of your dress, opening it and letting it fall of your form. There you stood, naked in front of him, only in your panties as you bit your lip, you looked absolutely stunning in his eyes.

He knew the only way he was being able to go through with this was because of the amount of alcohol in his system, and as he moved his hands to your waist to lean you back in the bed, kissing you, his breathing started to quicken. Heat spreading from the back of his neck to his shoulders. He was loosing focus on what he was doing.

Your hands moved to his pants, unbuckling them, opening the button of them and pushing them down, but the moment your hand touched his cock he lost it, he couldn’t do it. He started to panic, images of Tess came to his mind and his mind screamed at him that this was a betrayal to her memory.

Moving away from you quickly he turned around, trying to get himself back in his pants again.

“Harry?” You softly asked him, sitting up and covering yourself with the duvet.

“Hey it’s okay,” you tried again when he didn’t reply, noticing the way his breathing had quickened and he seemed to be panicking. Understanding came over you; he was probably nervous. You assumed he hasn’t been with anyone physically since his wife passed away.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you try again, touching his arm to reassure him, but the moment your skin touches his he flinched away from you.

“Don’t touch me” he says, getting up from the bed, his breathing quickening. He hasn't felt this way since Jessie was taken; the weight on his chest getting heavier every second he remained in your bedroom. He couldn’t explain why, but this sense of panic rose the moment he saw your face fall at him flinching away from you.

“Hey calm down, it's okay. I understand if you need time,” you began but he interrupted you with a breathy scoff. He was in a panic state now; he couldn’t think clearly anymore, he knew you knew what was happening to him, and somehow that show of weakness made the whole situation worse.

“What could you possibly understand, you're just a selfish brat. I don’t need you whoring yourself to me like you did to Thawne.” He spits quickly, not looking at you. He knew that seeing your face would be his last straw.

Your own panic becomes evident in the way your breathing changes. Tears pool in your eyes, so heavy that they start to fall without your consent. The hurt, the humiliation and embarrassment you feel at his words are obvious, how did he know what had happened with Thawne?

His panic dulls once his pants are securely covering him once more, clearing his head enough to allow him to process what he just said to you. He turns toward you, that feeling building once more but for a completely different reason this time. He shouldn’t have said that, he fucked up completely now. A sharp pain tugs at him the moment he sees your face; he went too far.

“No, y/n, I am,” he begins to say, he needs to fix this before is too late, but you close your eyes, whispering a quiet “get out”. When you open your eyes again, he is still there. He tries to reach for you but you dodge him, taking the blanket with you to the bathroom.

He tries to talk to you, to apologize, but by the way he can hear your sobbing from behind the closed door he knows there is nothing he can say to fix this, at least not now.

You stayed in the bathroom, sitting on the floor behind the door with your blankets around you until you heard the front door close, proving that he had indeed left.

How could he had done that to you? You had trusted him, you had trusted Harry to be different. You had never thought he could be so cruel, but once again you had been proven wrong and were hurt by two men wearing the same face.

Harry looks for you the next day. He needs to apologize, he needs to fix this because he can’t deal with the pain and guilt he is feeling now. He storms through the lab but he can’t find you. Eventually Ramon gets there, who informs him that you didn’t come today.

Harry seems to be in a even worse mood than before, yelling at everyone and throwing things every once in a while, a behavior he had overcome in his time on this earth.

“Okay, what’s wrong with you?” Cisco questions him, finally having been able to catch him.

He hesitates, unsure if telling Ramon what happened was the best idea but with how bad he screwed up he may need all the help he can get at fixing this.

“I, I made a mistake” he whispers, facing the white board he was writing on.

“Last night I walked y/n home, and we had a couple drinks and one thing led to another,” he says, fixing his glasses as he is unsure of how to continue.

“And” Cisco pushes.

“And we kissed and then I panicked, and I,” he sighs.

“Harry its okay." Cisco tries, but Harry doesn't face him. "Look, I am sure she didn’t take it personally.” Cisco stands and reaches out to pat his shoulder, trying to help Harry, but when he touched his arm he saw exactly what Harry said; he saw what happened, the way his words had affected you. He knew Harry had a temper but he never expected for him to be capable of being so hurtful, especially to you, who had been nothing but kind and understanding to him.

“Oh no Harry, what did you do?” Cisco quickly says, fear evident in his voice.

“What?” Harry says, turning to look at him.

“How could you had say that to her? How do you even know about Thawne?” Cisco demands, anger evident in his voice.

“I panicked Ramon, I wasn’t thinking when I said it.” He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes.

“I heard Barry talking about Thawne and he mentioned that he and y/n were seeing each other.”

“That’s not the worst part Harry, we never talk about what happened not because of him but because of her too.” Cisco begins, he takes in a breath before continuing.

“Barry and y/n were closer back then, they were always together, but when Barry found out about Thawne, he also found out that y/n and him had a relationship, he instantly thought that she knew who he was and he never gave her a chance to explain,” he sighs, his eyes lost in the memories of that day.

“He was going to lock her in the pipeline with him, but Joe stopped him. Thawne had told her that she had been nothing but a distraction and a way for him to have fun, that he had never loved her. Barry was sure she had betrayed the team as well and when she was trying to explain he called her a desperate slut and accused her of not caring that he was a murderer." Cisco looks to the side, lost in the memory. "I still remember her face, the tears and how Joe had to intercept because he had crossed the line. After he locked her up, Thawne confessed that y/n was innocent, that she never knew who or what his intentions were.” Cisco proceeded explaining, making Harry only feel worse and worse by the second.

“Even when Barry apologized and she explained everything they never recovered, they never were as close as before and the team was not the same after that.” Cisco finished. God had he screwed up.

“I need to fix this Ramon,” Harry said, rubbing his forehead.

“I don’t honestly think you can do anything to fix this. I’m sorry Harry, but I think you can only give it time.” He said.

As the week progressed you had manage to avoid Harry at all costs, working on a lab far away from the cortex and completely opposite from him. You had expected to feel better by now, but his insult had only revived the memories buried in your mind, every time you looked at him now you could only see the original Wells, you could only see Thawne because the difference between both in your head had been completely erased after that night.

It took a week for Harry to finally corner you; he knew you were avoiding him, and he was trying to give you space, at least the first few days but every time you seemed to get a glance of his presence you would flee. He knew he deserved it.

When you made it home that night, after changing and settling down on the sofa you tried to relax, in all honesty the anxiety of the whole situation had made you too tense and too anxious to even be able to properly function that week.

As you switched between channels trying to distract yourself, you heard the telltale signs of a breach opening behind your couch. Cisco knew what had happened, he had hugged you as you cried that first day back after the incident.

“Cisco I am fine, I will be fine in a couple days” you added without looking back.

“It’s not Cisco” his raspy voice said, almost in a whisper and you instantly froze, not wanting to see him.

He noticed the way you tensed, how you wouldn’t turn around to see him.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered, tears threatening to fall.

“Please let me fix this, I am so sorry,” he began.

You looked at him, and as he took a step closer to you, you flinched away. He could see the fear in your eyes and that only hurt him more, he knew he deserved this, how could he blame you? He was wearing the same face as the man who once hurt you the same way he had done, in your eyes there was no difference between himself and Thawne.

He moved closer, slower this time, afraid to scare you away.

“I am so sorry,” he said again, trying to find the right words to make you understand that he hadn’t meant it.

“The other night, I, I panicked, I,” he couldn’t explain himself. Eventually he gave up and sat on the edge of the couch, giving you a wide berth. He took a deep breath.

“Her name was Tess,” he begins, closing his eyes at the tears he knows are coming.

“I know you know of her from the other one, but she was mine. My amazing, beautiful wife.” You only looked at him, allowing him to explain himself.

“When Jessie was 5, Tess got sick. We couldn’t figure out what was happening, she only lasted a couple more months.” He had removed his glasses by now, wiping the tears away from his eyes.

“After she died I became a bitter man; I was angry and broken. I couldn’t rebuild my life without her.” He continued, his eyes focus on the memories.

“That night, was, that night was the first time since her that I had allowed myself to be with someone, and the moment you touched me I panicked, my mind screaming that I was betraying her.” He finished.

You could see the pain in his eyes, the way the tears fell down his cheeks. You had never seen Harry so vulnerable.

Now you felt sorry for him; you could understand his panic.

“I know that’s not an excuse for what I said or how I treated you and I’m not asking you to forgive me but I needed to explain to you. I owed you that much.” He finished.

“Harry,” you began, trying to clean your face from your own tears.

“Harry I forgive you, I just,” you continued, looking up to clear your eyes of the tears trying to fall again.

“If you didn’t feel the same way about me as I did about you, you could have told me,” you said.

“That’s the thing, I have dreamt of you since the day I met you, I have wished to be able to move forward but I’m stuck, guilt eating me alive.” He said.

If there was ever any doubt in your mind of Harry being the same as his evil doppelgänger it was gone now. This man had suffered so much, he deserved to be happy and after finding someone who could help him he had locked himself away.

Standing up, you moved in front of where he was sitting, tangling your hands in his hair and bringing his face to your stomach, hugging him. His puppy eyes watched your every move, his hands instantly went around your waist, holding you, allowing himself to feel you.

“Harry, I know that you loved her very much, and I could never pretend or try to replace that love you had for her,” you began, trying to phrase what you wanted him to understand.

“Harry, she would want you to be happy, to keep living.” You said, rubbing your fingers softly through his hair.

“Your mind is lying to you, this is not a betrayal, you could never betray that love” you finished.

You felt him nod his head, still hugging you. His hands tightening around you. You stayed like that for a few minutes, letting him process your words.

His hand moved tangled in your shirt, pulling you down to his lap, allowing him to hug you closer, your arms went around his neck as he held you, burying his face in your hair.

“Would you give me a second chance?” He whispered against your skin, he needed to move on, to show you how much he cared for you.

“Harry, I” you began, scare that if you did he would hurt you again, you wouldn’t be able to get over that if it happened again.

“Please y/n, I need to show you how much you mean to me, please” he begged you, planting a soft kiss to the side of your neck.

“Only if you are sure you want to go through with this, to see where it could lead us” you told him, aware of the risk you were taking.

“I am” he confirmed, his hands running up your back.

Your own hands tangled again in his hair, pulling him to you, your lips connecting, softer this time, slower, he was taking his time exploring your mouth. You broke away from the kiss, looking at him while removing his glasses and putting them aside, leaning back down to kiss him.

His hand went under your shirt, caressing your back, feeling the soft skin as his kisses became hungrier. He moved his mouth across your jawline, delivering soft kisses and moving down your neck, obtaining a few sighs from you, his lips leaving a trail of open mouth kisses.

He got up slowly, tangling your legs around his waist he moved you both to your bedroom. Leaving you back down against the bed, removing his jacket before lowering himself on top of you.

This time his mind was clear, his only focus was you. To show you how much he wanted you and needed you. His hands found the hem of your shirt, looking at you for consent before removing it. He took the time to admire you, looking at every detail of your skin. He lowered himself, kissing your neck, the top of your breast as his hands ran up your waist, squeezing slightly before moving to your breast, caressing them and feeling the softness of them.

Your hands removed his shirt, aching to feel him bare against your skin. You moved your hands to his shoulders, feeling the way his muscles tensed and how they relaxed when you moved your hands down his back, his kisses trailed up back to your neck, kissing and nipping at the skin while his hand moved to caress your leg, running up your thigh to your ass, squeezing it and feeling how your body reacted to his touches.

Your hands moved to his pants, opening them but leaving them like that, giving him the option to remove them himself whenever he felt ready.

His hands found the hem of your underwear, once again he looked at you, wanting to make sure you still wanted this, you nodded while he removed them, his hand trailing back up to feel you, feel how soft you were and how wet he was making you. He groaned once his hand connected to your center, feeling the slickness covering his fingers as he moved them across your entrance, he love the way you moaned for him, throwing your head back. He buried his face in your neck at the same time his finger moved inside of you, opening you up for him. You gripped his hair as his lips sucked a mark onto your skin. Soon after another finger found its way inside of you; he was getting you ready. He curled them inside, making a long moan fall out of you as your eyes rolled back in your head. He could feel the way you pulled him in, how you squeezed him and dripped on his fingers. He moved them faster, grinding his palm onto your clit, drawing an orgasm out of you. He wanted you to come first, knowing that he wouldn’t last long.

He felt you tightening around his fingers, as you lifted yourself on your elbows, coming while moaning into his mouth.

He helped you ride out your orgasm, taking in the face you made for him, the way your eyes looked up at him half lidded and your teeth caught your lips to stop the moans from coming out. He adored the way you looked, how warm you felt against him.

He quickly pulled his pants down along with his underwear, letting his cock free. He grabbed it, feeling it throbbing in his hand, the head moist from the precum that had leaked out.

He stroked himself a few times before moving the head against your entrance. His arms trembling when he started to push in. He closed his eyes as he bottomed out, groaning against your skin as the feeling of your warmth surrounding him. He started to move slowly, lifting you to pull almost completely out before dropping you down again. He kissed your neck, biting softly at it, trying to distract himself to last a little longer. He doubted he would after so long. You felt so warm and divine around him. His pace quickened, hearing you moan while he grunted, feeling his orgasm building up. He was close, he could feel his muscles tingling and his cock ready to burst in you.

Your hands found his face, holding his cheeks to bring him to you, kissing him as he started to come inside, having to break himself from your mouth to moan into the air. That was a sigh you never wanted to forget. He moved himself to rest against your chest, hiding his face in your neck and breathing you in while your hands played with his back. He hadn’t felt this calm, this content in such a long time. He loved the peace you brought him, and he promised himself that no matter what, he would never hurt you again, he would keep you safe, he would love you and cherish you for the rest of his days if you would have him.

#the flash imagines #harrison wells x y/n #earth 2 harrison wells #earth 2 harrison wells imagine #harrison harry wells smut #harrison harry wells imagine #harrison harry wells x reader #harrison harry wells fanfic #smut #angst #harrison wells fanfiction #harrison harry wells fanfiction #e2 harrison wells #harry wells x reader #harrison wells x reader fanfic #harrison wells x reader #harrison wells imagine #harrison wells x reader smut #harrison wells smut

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shorkbrian · 4 years ago

Note

THIS ISNT AN ASK I JUST GOT INSPIRED LOOKING AT YOUR TINGSSS; (Prohero) Yan Kiri responding to his (kidnapped) darlings' birthday request: Just do what they say for the day. Darling had to suck dick LONG AND HARD for this very special birthday wish, and spends the day dancing around the garden in a dress that they FINALLY got to choose themselves (the longest one they own) with gorgeous, full coverage underwear on. (1/2)

“This isn't an ask” then why it in my ask box hoe (Lolol I’m sorry I write what I see hope u don’t mind)

(What to expect - Cunnilingous, dubcon, noncon, NSFW, sexy birthday gift)

Yes you had to suck his dick, not to be allowed to wear the dress (Kirishima’s a sucker, and he likes seeing his baby in pretty little dresses that make them look all innocent), but to have him promise to not pin and fuck you the second she put it on (or at any point during your special day, just one day without sex, please? ur pussy needs a mf break)

Because it’s your birthday, Kirishima lets you order a dress online, sat in his lap of course, while he offers feedback.

“That one’s pretty.”

“Oo, you’d look so gorgeous in that color, you should get that one!”

“Eh, this one doesn’t seem like you, let’s look at a different one babe.”

“This is cute, but don’t you think it’s a little long? You might trip.”

His advice was unwarranted and mostly unwanted, hands distracting you by playing with your hair, kissing at your exposed shoulder while you scrolled through the options.

You finally decided on a dress, begging Kirishima to allow you to buy underwear as well to go with it. Kiri got excited for a second, and of course said yes, only to get confused and laugh when you added comfortable, un-sexy underwear to the cart.

But a promise is a promise, so everything gets purchased.

And the morning of your birthday, you get presented with the dress, the underwear, and breakfast in bed, which is slightly burnt, but the effort is somewhat appreciated.

Kirishima doesn’t bother you when you head to the shower (usually he follows you everywhere like an oversized puppy, and showers are never completed without his wandering hands and wet kisses), just smiles at you forlornly as he keeps his end of the “no touching” agreement for the day.

He doesn’t make you sit in his lap, or even next to him while you eat your breakfast in bed.

You don’t have his hands constantly touching you, wrapped around your waist, heavy on your shoulder, playing with your hair or skimming along your thigh.

Kirishima’s taken the day off, just so he can spend it with you, and he’s so glad. You’re laughing at his stupid jokes, you seem comfortable and relaxed, cheeks rosy, eyes bright, and the man has never been so in love.

It’s obvious that he’s struggling to hold himself back from grabbing you - his fingers itch, his smile is strained, he can’t stop staring at you in that dress. But he had promised, and you took advantage of that.

Flouncing around his bulky form, swishing your dress, giving an enthusiastic twirl that maybe showed off a bit more of your legs than was considered modest.

Teasing him about the slight bulge in his pants that appeared after a little bit of flirting, feeling safe because he wasn’t allowed to touch you.

You were shameless about the flirting too, a sort of confidence filling you and making you giggly and feel light, even though you weren’t exactly fond of the man you were flirting with on account of all the things he had done to you.

Kiri tried to convince you to stop, joking along with you at first but then quickly growing serious as you amped up your playful seductiveness, feeling powerful and in control because he couldn’t touch you no matter what.

His words were ignored, and you continued to live your best life, dancing around, licking food off of your finger with a mean smile, letting out little breathy moans whenever you stretched.

And the best part? Kirishima just had to sit there and take it. Just like he had forced you to accept his affection, you now forced him to accept the fact that you were wholly in reach, but absolutely off-limits.

That evening, you get ushered out to the garden, which Kirishima had “decorated” for you.

Technically, it was your garden, something for you to work on and occupy yourself with while Kirishima was off working. It wasn’t much, but you’d done your best with taking care of the plants.

Kiri had hung little twinkly lights in the trees, stringing them between the branches. He had set up a little table underneath the lights, a small cake, a bouquet of flowers, a few candles here and there.

It was romantic, and your heart swelled at the sight. In any other situation, this would be the absolute best birthday in the entire world. But today you wanted to be happy, so you didn’t think about all the reasons for why it wasn’t.

The two of you sat and ate cake, Kirishima recounting how many times he’d gotten cake slapped in his face by trying to surprise Bakugou on his birthday. You laughed, almost choking on cake, which made you laugh harder at the ungodly noise that left your throat.

You talked about your garden, animatedly gesturing to the various plants, explaining how you took care of them and what you still needed to work on. Kirishima listened intently, smiling at you.

He interrupted you in the middle of a story about your life growing up, holding a bite of cake towards you on his fork. Without thinking (he had been very insistent at first that he hand-feed you), you leaned across the table, opening your mouth and accepting the food.

You made eye contact, Kirishima’s eyes flicking down to your mouth, the way your lips stretched around the fork, the pink of your tongue as it accepted the bite. A moan was uttered, a smile teasing your lips as you licked at the frosting around your lips, bringing a thumb up to swipe it clean, sucking the digit into your mouth while moaning about how good it tastes.

And then Kirishima was breathing hard, red eyes locked on your own, calmly putting down his fork.

You immediately recognized what was going on, started rising from your seat the same time Kiri rose from his, holding your hands out and reminding the man of his promise.

But he was done, you’d teased him all day. Enough was enough.

He grabbed your arm before you could even think about moving away, jerking you to him to capture your lips in a heated kiss, tasting the subtle hint of sweetness on your tongue.

As soon as he pulled away, you were admonishing him, saying he promised, telling him to stop touching you, he’s such a jerk.

But he had a one-track mind, picking you up to settle your weight in one hand, forearm under your rear as he cleared a space on the table quickly.

Then you were getting sat down on top of it, Kiri sitting back down in his chair as he pulled your hips to edge, quickly rucking up your dress.

“Kirishima! You-you promised! Stop, you said you wouldn't!” You cried, trying to push his hands away, push his head back, stop him from revealing your underwear, but he was determined.

“Sorry baby, I just can’t help myself.” Was the offered explanation while he pulled down your underwear, managing to get it off one of your kicking legs before giving up and letting it dangle off of one ankle.

He hunched over immediately, large hands gripping and angling your hips up so he could reach your pussy, licking over it messily. There was no technique, no rhythm, the man just wanted to taste you, practically drooling over your cunt.

You cried out, hands pulling at his hair, making him grunt, but he couldn’t be moved from between your plush thighs.

“You said-ah! Don’t Kiri-” You whined, resigning yourself to the fact that he wasn’t going to let up. “It’s my birthday, I-I didn’t want you touching me....”

Kirishima pulled back a little, brows furrowed. He reached over to the cake, your eyes following his hand as he scooped up a glob of frosting.

No, he wouldn’t-

He would.

“No!” You yelped, but his grip on your hip was firm as he slapped the handful of frosting onto your cunt. You keened at the odd sensation, the cool frosting quickly being heated by your warm skin, beginning to melt.

“Birthday girl, you’re all messy, gotta clean you up-” The man breathed, diving back down the suck at your skin, tongue enthusiastically licking up the frosting, your juices with it.

All you could do was cry.

He ate you out until the frosting was cleaned from you cunt, until your skin was shiny and slick with spit and your own creamy juices. By the time he seemed satisfied, you were shaking, thighs bracketing his hand while they trembled and convulsed at each eager lave of his tongue over your swollen slit.

It began raining, the soft pitter-patter droplets easily hiding the streaking of tears down your face.

Kirishima didn’t seem too phased, merely standing, pulling you into his arms and striding towards the door.

You could see the little area Kirishima had set up for your birthday, lights beginning to drop out of trees from the wind, the cake getting ruined by the elements, the scene quickly dissolving into a mess.

And Kirishima had barely gotten started with you.

#Yandere kirishima #kirishima x reader #bnha kirishima #kirishima #kirishima eijirou #yandere kirishima eijirou #yandere kirishima eijiro #birthday #tw dubcon #tw.dubcon #tw noncon #tw.noncon #bad writing #author sucks lol

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ghoulangerlee · 3 years ago

Note

kisses on the forehead or kisses from behind for Malex😊

so it takes me a while to write oops, but I didn't quite have inspiration but then 3x08 happened and well... y'know. I GUESS this could be considered a 3x08 coda because it takes place after The Kiss sorta. I haven't watched 3x09 yet so.

So, this is just. sweet and syrupy smut; there's both forehead kisses and kisses from behind ;;

Really though, sometimes you just wanna see Michael fucking Alex and like, write what you wanna see and all that hahaha.

Posted on tumblr bc I'm in denial that I'm writing for this fandom oop. (Side note: If you wanna support a writer I do have a ko-fi :). Please be gentle this is the first time I've written smut since like, before April this year.)

it's all under the read more because it immediately starts as smut, sorry adlkfjd.

------

Michael drops a tender kiss to the back of Alex’s neck as he settles on his knees between Alex’s spread legs, one hand curled around his thigh, shifting it outward until he’s spread just so.

Alex sighs out Michael’s name, turning his head to the side so he can watch the man from the corner of his eye—the early morning light is just now coming through the slats of the blinds, peeking through the curtains and it bathes Michael in a warm glow that almost makes everything feel like a dream.

It’s not though, a dream, finally after so much time apart, he—they can have this again, but slower now, less of a crash landing and more like coming home.

“This comfortable?” Michael’s voice is barely above a whisper, his words spoke into the soft skin behind Alex’s ear as he settles his weight down onto Alex.

A hum forces it’s way out of Alex’s throat, soft and pleased as he bends his other knee a little, using the leverage to push back against Michael, feeling where the other man is hard and ready, “S’good,” he finally manages, the words thick in his mouth, syrupy.

A soft hiss falls from Michael’s lips, the rush of cool air against Alex’s skin making him shudder, already so over sensitive from the soft, careful touches that Michael had woken him up with that morning. “I think we can make it better than just good,” he whispers, pressing another kiss behind Alex’s ear, “You up for it?”

Alex snorts softly, reaching back to halfheartedly swat at Michael’s side, the early morning must be getting to him, the new vulnerability of the two of them being together make Alex a little sentimental, a little honest, and before he can stop himself—“I’d been hoping for something like this for longer than I’d been willing to admit to myself.” He admits, voice quiet but clear, “I couldn’t dare to hope and now…”

Though he trails off, Michael seems to understand the implication as he shifts to the side, just enough to make the next kiss land somewhere near Alex’s lips, and when Alex turns his head just right, he catches Michael’s mouth in a kiss so sweet and slow that Michael’s weight presses him down more into the bed as a warm hand curls around his jaw, taking some of the strain off, holding him there for several long moments.

Distantly, Alex realizes that it’s Michael’s left hand, something that was once a reminder that what they had couldn’t be anything beyond a secret somewhere in the desert, but now—there’s no bandana wrapped around his hand anymore, there hasn’t been last night when Michael kissed him at the Pony, either, and something releases in his chest, something warm and happy—love.

“Michael,” Alex murmurs when they finally break apart, “Michael, I need—”

Michael’s lips press against Alex’s temple, “I’ve got you,” he whispers, dropping another kiss to his hairline before he pulls back, grabbing for the lube he’d tucked under his shin earlier, trying to warm it.

He smooths a hand down Alex’s back, shushing him softly when he makes a noise of discontent, “I’m not going nowhere,” he promises, voice low and full of intent, “Finally got you where I want you and I plan to take advantage of it.”

As he speaks, he’s squeezing lube onto his fingers, spreading it slowly as he closes the cap and drops it back down to bed, “Easy now,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Alex’s shoulder blade as he presses a finger into him slowly.

“Michael,” Alex breathes out then, at the careful, gentle touch, slow and easy like they’ve got all the time in the—

Oh. He realizes as Michael’s finger slides in deeper, they do have time now, they can afford themselves this luxury of taking things slow, of exploring each other and relearning everything that drives the other crazy.

“Michael,” he says again, clenching his fingers in the sheets, pressing his forehead against his wrist as he squeezes his eyes shut at the sudden onslaught of emotion that seizes him.

It’s new and he thinks, briefly that he might be moving way too fast in the grand scheme of things but this is what love feels like. This is what loving Michael Guerin is supposed to be.

Michael presses a kiss to Alex’s shoulder, “You still with me?” he murmurs, curling his finger in a way that has Alex gasping and shifting under him. “Seems like you’re thinking too hard for what’s going on right now.” He whispers the words into Alex’s skin, and Alex can feel the curl of his lips as he says it, playful and teasing.

“Thinking about you,” Alex manages, the words muffled into the skin of his wrist, “Always thinking about you.”

Michael hums at that, and Alex hears the click of the lube cap again before another finger presses inside him, the suddenness causing him to gasp, “I’m right here, baby,” he says, voice filled with soft amusement, “Don’t have to think that hard about me.”

When Alex groans this time, it’s mostly out of exasperation, “Michael,” he says, “Don’t be a dick.”

Michael laughs then, leaning over to press a kiss to Alex’s temple, “Darlin’,” he coos, “I’m just teasing you, helping you relax a little,” he murmurs, “Tryin’ not to blow my load while I finger you, baby. Thinkin’ about how after all this time, it finally feels like I’ve come home.”

“Jesus,” Alex groans, “I’m not going to last if you keep talking like that,” he says, with the slightest hint of desperation in his voice.

Michael hums, pressing another kiss to Alex’s temple, “Think you can handle another?”

“Could probably take you now,” Alex murmurs, shifting under Michael again, a little in impatience, a little to get friction against his dick, “Didn’t want to come across as too easy or too much so soon, but—”

Michael shushes him again, “I’ve always liked how easy you get for me,” he whispers into Alex’s ear, “How much you wanted to be with me back then. Always eager to get your hands on me, always wanting mine on you…” he smiles when he feels Alex shiver, “It’s okay to want things, and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you get them.”

Alex makes a punched out sort of noise, “I want to feel you,” he admits quietly, shifting under Michael again, “Next time, we can go slower, you can draw it out for hours if you want, I just…”

“I’m going to hold you to that offer for next time,” Michael murmurs with a smile, “I’d love to get you all desperate and eager for me, keep you like this for however long I want,” he presses a kiss to Alex’s temple, then cheek, then jaw, “But this time, we’ve both wanted this for so long, I’d be a fool to draw it out for much longer.”

Alex makes some sort of noise in agreement and within the next few minutes, Michael is carefully sliding his fingers out of Alex, pressing a lingering kiss to the center of his back before the weight disappears—

Before he can think too much, before his lust addled mind can protest, Michael’s back, and suddenly, Alex’s need to see Michael kicks his hard in the ribs, “Michael, Michael,” he says, and his voice sounds strange to his own ears, “Michael, I want to see you, please.”

Michael’s weight disappears for a moment, and then his hands, warm and only the slightest bit sticky from lube are on his sides, helping him roll over until he’s spread out almost in the center of the bed, staring up at Michael with flushed cheeks and half lidded eyes.

“There you are,” Michael says with a warm smile, settling between Alex’s spread legs, his palms resting against Alex’s inner thighs now, pushing outward just enough for Alex to feel the stretch of it, “Like this?”

Alex nods, pushing himself up with one hand so he can curl his other arm around Michael’s shoulders, pulling him down until their chests are pressed together, tilting his head up so he can meet Michael’s lips in a kiss—he throws every single feeling he can’t put into words into that kiss, curling his fingers into the back of Michael’s hair, tugging him closer.

Michael goes easily, one hand gently cupping Alex’s jaw to kiss him back just as sweetly.

“I love you,” Alex whispers when they part, breathing heavily, lips parted and red, tempting and Michael kisses him again, harder this time, a little more desperate.

Michael pulls away moments later, resting their foreheads together, “I love you too,” he whispers into the space between their lips.

Alex smiles up at him, his cheeks flushed, eyes bright and happy and Michael makes a soft noise, “Jesus, Manes, you’re going to kill me.”

“Only in good ways, I hope,” Alex says, running his fingers through Michael’s hair, “Now,” he murmurs, nudging Michael’s side with his knee, “I believe we were in the middle of something?”

Michael huffs softly, fondly, shaking his head at Alex before leaning down for another quick kiss, “You’ve got me all distracted again,” he mumbles, leaning back as Alex drops back down onto the bed, laughing softly to himself and looking so happy that Michael almost wishes he could take a picture of this moment and keep it somewhere he can look at it whenever he feels the self-doubt sink in.

“Let me distract you in other ways, then,” Alex says with a grin, finding the lube, half wedged under his thigh now, “I think you know what to do from here, right?” he asks, tilting his head in question.

Michael shakes his head, laughs and takes the lube from Alex, shifting closer as he squeezes some lube into his palm, “You’re the one who kept distracting me,” he says, hissing softly as he takes himself in hand.

Alex bites his lower lip as he watches Michael touch himself, “Uh huh, just giving you a chance to get yourself under control so it’s not over in two minutes,” he teases, raising an eyebrow at Michael when he looks up, “Now come on,” he says, somewhat impatiently. “I need you, Michael.”

Michael huffs softly, uses the hand already around his dick to steady it as he pulls Alex’s hips further into his lap, pressing the head teasingly against where Alex wants him the most—he waits, listens to the hitch in Alex’s breath before he pushes inside, slow.

It’s incredible, like coming home all over again and something that now Michael’s sure he could never live without.

Alex’s hands grab for Michael’s biceps, head pushing back against the bed as he moans, half Michael’s name, half gibberish, curling one leg around Michael’s lower back, trying to pull him closer.

“I’ve got you,” Michael whispers, breathless, leaning close to press kisses along the curve of Alex’s jaw, “I’ve got you baby,” he repeats, feeling one of Alex’s hands come up to cup the back of his neck, holding him close, “Fuck, you feel amazing, so good for me, Alex.”

Alex makes a soft noise, shifting his hips further into Michael’s lap, “I missed this,” he admits with a sigh, sliding his palm up Michael’s arm, across his shoulder, “Missed us being together like this, feeling you like this.” He tilts his head, catching Michael’s lips in a sweet kiss. “You can move,” he murmurs into it. “I’m ready.”

The first several thrusts are slow, a little shaky, as if Michael can’t seem to believe he’s actually allowed to have this again, that this isn’t a dream, that Alex is here and real under him, whispering soft words of pleasure against his mouth.

Michael rests his forehead against Alex’s shoulder and Alex’s arms come around him, holding onto him as each near breathless affirmation grows in volume, Alex’s hands petting along his upper back, nails scratching against skin so gentle that Michael almost wants to cry—

“Faster,” Alex murmurs into Michael’s ear, palms spreading out against Michael’s skin as he digs his heel into Michael’s lower back, “Wanna feel it, Michael,” he whispers, “Wanna feel you all day, wanna remember this when I’m alone,” he drags his nails lightly up the center of Michael’s back, feeling him shudder under his touch, feels his hips quicken, feels the way Michael grabs him with both hands, hitching him higher into his lap, “That’s it—”

Michael makes a noise, something low and guttural as he pulls back from Alex’s shoulder, his lips finding Alex’s in a desperate kiss; deepening it almost immediately in a way that has Alex groaning into it, digging his nails harshly into Michael’s back.

“Gonna make you come first,” Michael mumbles as he pulls away, “Touch yourself for me, show me how good I’m making you feel, baby.” He brushes his nose gently against Alex’s before he’s glancing between them, watching Alex wrap a hand around himself, trying desperately to keep up with the quick pace Michael’s set.

It doesn’t take long after that, never takes long when they really get into it, Alex realizes somewhere distantly, they’d always been compatible sexually, everything about it explosive and mind blowing no matter the situation—but now, with Michael pressing kiss after kiss to every inch of exposed skin he can reach, with Michael whispering soft words against his shoulder, his chest, fucking into him just right, Alex can’t help himself—he gasps Michael’s name, long and low as he arches, feels Michael’s hand cover his as he comes, and together they stroke him through it until he’s sensitive and gasping, nudging their hands away with a shudder of almost too much.

Alex pulls him into another kiss, mostly gasping against Michael’s mouth, quietly urging Michael to keep moving, to keep going; half words of love and praise fall from his lips as Michael breaks away from the kiss, resting his forehead against Alex’s shoulder again, holding his hips tight enough to leave behind bruises and—fuck what a thought that is, and if Alex could get hard again, he probably would, at the thought of Michael marking him in a way that no one could see but the both of them would know.

“Come, Michael,” Alex whispers, tangling his fingers in Michael’s hair, giving it a light tug, turning his head to press a wet kiss to his temple, “Come for me, baby, let me feel you,” he murmurs, wrapping his free arm around Michael’s shoulders, holding onto him tight even as the shocks of overstimulation become just on the side of too much—he gasps when Michael’s teeth close over his skin, right on the curve of his shoulder and with one more good tug of his hair, Michael’s swearing softly into his skin, hips moving in quick, short thrusts as if he can’t help it.

Alex feels the warmth, the way Michael’s thrusts taper off until he’s pressed as close to Alex as he can, buried deep inside him, gasping wetly against his shoulder as he comes down from his high, Alex’s hands gentle now, one petting over his sweaty back, the other gently scratching Michael’s scalp.

“Fuck,” Michael eventually mutters, pulling back so he can look down at Alex, “We’ve still got it, huh?” he asks, face adorably flushed, looking completely fucked out as Alex feels and Alex laughs, gently pulling Michael down into another kiss.

Michael goes to pull back, to separate them, to clean up, but Alex just makes an impatient noise against his mouth, tugging him deeper into the kiss, into his embrace, until Michael’s weight is resting fully on Alex, pressing him down into the bed.

When they finally do separate, Alex laughs a little, brushing Michael’s hair back from his face, “I know we should clean up, maybe get breakfast, but I kind of want you right here for a little bit longer.” He admits softly, framing Michael’s face with his hands. “We have a lot to do still and I’m not ready for this to end just yet.”

“The afterglow?” Michael asks, leaning into Alex’s touch, eyes fluttering closed, smiling when Alex hums in reply. “I think we can stay like this a little bit longer, don’t think the world’s gonna end just yet.

Alex glances over at the window, where the curtain’s parted just enough to let in the early morning light—and Michael huffs a little, waves his hand as the curtains close on their own, the room suddenly a little darker than before.

“Michael,” Alex says, snatching his phone out of the air from where it’s floating just beside them, “What—”

“Set an alarm, give us an hour, and then, we’ll get ready and go save the world,” Michael says, “I think we can afford that, don’t you?”

Alex looks between his phone, at the time across the screen—it’s not even nine yet, and then he looks down at Michael who’s staring up at him with such a look of love that Alex’s heart seizes in his chest, “Okay,” he finally says, “Okay, yeah,” he blindly fumbles his way through setting an alarm, tossing his phone down onto the bed when he’s done, “An hour. Breakfast then? We can go to the Crashdown, together,” he says, extra emphasis on the word together.

Michael’s smile is bright, and he leans down, presses a kiss to Alex’s mouth, “I knew I could convince you,” he says, shifting enough to rest his head on Alex’s chest, “An hour for us and then we’ll face the world together.”

#malex #rnm #my writing #i find that posting this on tumblr vs ao3 just makes me feel better #bc i dont feel like i should write for this fandom??? IDK #i might crosspost to ao3 eventually bc i do like this fic

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royalscarlet · 2 years ago

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Let's Stay and Count the STARS (Ch 2)

My contribution to Chreon week: an eight chapter long fic of Re1/2 era Chris and Leon. I prefer to write longer fics, so each chapter was inspired by the given prompts. (Also posted on my Ao3)

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy / Chris Redfield

Prompt: Banter / “Wait for me.”

Words: 1.2K~

Tags: Mutual Pining

Leon hesitated as he took the last few steps towards the STARS office door. Marvin told him to come up here, but didn’t state a reason why. Leon opened the door and was met with the sight of Captain Wesker’s back.

“And here he is,” Wesker turned and motioned towards Leon.

Leon looked past Wesker to see Chris there, a scowl plastered on his face.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Chris muttered.

“Uhhh,” Leon looked between the two, “Lieutenant Branagh sent me.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Wesker turned towards Chris. “I was just telling Redfield here that he will be your mentor for the next few weeks.”

Chris crossed his arms and looked away as Leon made eye contact. Neither seemed incredibly keen on the proposal. Leon tried very hard to stay out of Chris’ way the past few days. Leon tried to convince himself it was just to prevent any office drama, he refused to acknowledge the way his stomach fluttered whenever he thought of him.

“Now Redfield,” Wesker spoke, “why don’t you take Kennedy here and have him help you with your reports. They are already a week late, after all.”

Leon stifled a laugh as Chris forced a smile and said, “yes, sir.”

Wesker smirked as he walked past Leon into his private office and left the two alone. After the door was shut, Leon and Chris silently looked around.

“So,” Leon looked up towards Chris and caught his eyes, “what do you need me to do?”

“Uhhh,” Chris quickly looked away. “You can help me sort through these,” he pointed to a large stack of reports on the corner of his desk.

Leon’s eyes grew wide as he looked at the pile on Chris’ desk, “why are there so many?”

Chris rubbed the back of his neck, “I was a little distracted this week, alright? And this paperwork isn’t exactly fun to do.”

Leon looked towards Chris as he continued to rub at his neck. He could feel that weird feeling in his stomach again, but passed it off as his lunch not being agreeable.

“We should run these down to records first,” Chris picked up a folder and pushed it into Leon’s hands while he carried a few binders.

Leon silently nodded and followed Chris as the two walked into the hallway. Chris nearly sprinted as he made his way down the empty hall.

“Would you wait for me?” Leon tried to catch up, but tripped and sent the folder, and its contents, flying. “Crap,” Leon muttered as he pushed himself up.

“Whoa,” Chris turned around and picked up a few of the loose sheets. “Are you alright, rookie?”

“Yeah,” Leon checked himself for any injuries before he grabbed the folder.

“Here,” Chris reached out his hand.

Leon grabbed it and was easily lifted onto his feet. “Thanks,” Leon said in a little over a whisper as he met with Chris’ eyes.

“Oh,” Chris quickly pulled his hand away, “yeah. No problem.” He cleared his throat and walked away.

Leon took a breath and tried to still his heart beat, must have been a harder fall than he thought.

The two silently went down to records and left their respective items before they returned to the STARS office. Leon’s shift was already half over, but every minute here seemed to drag on.

Chris handed some filled out reports to Leon, “put these in alphabetical order and we should be good to go.”

Leon took the pile and spread it out to sort through them. He stood over Chris’ desk and put his full attention on the papers. The faster he did this, the faster he could leave.

“Hey,” Chris pulled his chair from the desk, “you can take a seat if you want.”

“And you’re not just gonna pull it out from under me?” Leon looked up at him.

Chris chuckled, “no man.”

Leon sat down as Chris leaned on the table. Leon tried to look over the papers, but as Chris stood there motionless he started to get antsy.

“Am I doing something wrong?” Leon looked up at him.

“I wanted to apologize,” Chris blurted out, “about how we met. Wesker was up my ass about all this paperwork, and you caught me at a bad time. I really shouldn’t have taken it out on you like I did.”

Leon was completely stunned by the outburst. He went over his own apology several times in his head, but never an instance where Chris apologized.

Chris kept his eyes on Leon and awaited a response.

“It’s alright,” Leon sat back and grinned, “I was also having a rough day. All because of this jerk in a black truck.”

Chris chuckled and turned away, “Oh yeah? Sounds like a real piece of work.”

“You had to be there,” Leon laughed in turn. “Guy was a real maniac on the road.”

“You should have gotten his plate number,” Chris grabbed a nearby chair and rolled it over. “Send him a ticket or something.”

“You know, I might just have to do that.”

The tension between the two started to falter the longer time went on. Leon felt his shoulders start to relax as the two fell into silence as they worked. Chris would eye over and edit some reports, then hand them to Leon to be sorted.

The clock ticked towards five as the two were nearly done with the piled up work. It was an overall slow day in the office, but Leon didn’t mind the company he had.

“And here we go,” Chris handed Leon the last sheet on his desk.

“Finally,” Leon sighed as he put it in the correct folder. “Glad that’s over.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad to be around,” Chris smiled.

“How would you know? You’ve never enjoyed a room without you in it,” Leon grinned as he looked up at him.

“Now that just hurts, rookie,” Chris stood. “Coffee?”

Leon checked his watch; 5:15. “Uh, yeah. I got some time.” Leon stood and followed Chris to the door.

“Busy tonight? Got a hot date or something?” Chris’ playful tone faltered.

Leon laughed, “no way. Just don’t want to be out too late.”

They continued down the hall towards the downstairs lounge.

“Rookie has a bedtime?” Chris opened the door and let Leon walk in first.

“No,” Leon leaned against the table in the room, “just don’t want to be too tired for work.”

Chris shook his head as he grabbed the coffee pot. “Trust me, when you get a Captain like Wesker, you’ll want to be late every day.” Chris handed Leon his cup.

“He does seem,” Leon paused, “intimidating.”

Chris took a sip from his own cup, “that is a nice way of putting it.”

Leon took a drink and looked at Chris from over the lip of his cup. That feeling came back as the man smiled at him. ‘Must just be the caffeine kicking in,’ he thought.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” Chris asked after they finished their drinks.

“Yeah.” Leon smiled, “you better not be late.”

“Now what kind of person do you take me for?” Chris playfully slapped Leon’s shoulder.

“I’m not gonna answer that,” Leon laughed and left the room.

‘The RPD must have some strong coffee,’ Leon felt his heart rate spike.

#chreonweek2k22 #chris redfield #leon kennedy #chreon #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil #re #my writing

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not-poignant · 2 years ago

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New-author-Anon here. Thank you so much, Pia. It just... It's so easy to see the "small" wordcount and think "oh, this is nothing." I'm pretty good at churning words out normally, but on top of this, I have a legal job that takes up 25-30 hours a week, and I teach Japanese 3 hours a week. I kept telling myself that it's not too much. The salary is good for my area (about 19k AUD a year), and that's the probationary one. Thank you. You're probably right it's burnout. Ill try to adjust my workload

It's so easy to see the "small" wordcount and think "oh, this is nothing."

Honestly I agree! I saw the 1,600-1,900 words and thought 'oh that's not too bad' and then I saw 'twice a week' and was like '....hang on' and then added up the numbers on my calculator and did a tiny little scream in my head about what you'd committed yourself to.

I'm just a little worried about you anon! You're obviously a superstar with everything you do, and I'm really really glad you're getting paid a decent amount for your area! I want this to be a good fit for what you're doing because you like the content and you like the work. But man, non-fiction takes a toll. It's harder to write than fiction, for the most part, because it requires more research every single time. You don't get to 'settle down' into characters, and those hours of research and editing aren't invisible.

One thing you can maybe consider doing while you figure this all out, is sit down and - if you aren't doing this already - work out the hours you spend realistically on the writing job. Not just the writing itself, but the editing, the researching, and also thinking about what to write re: the topic itself. It's sometimes easy to forget that these are also the hours of your new job, and they are all equally important.

Another thing you could do if you're very committed to keeping this job, or can't restructure easily, is seeing if you can try and get ahead on your schedule, so that you feel less like you're constantly at the mercy of your deadlines - I don't know if it's possible, but if you can even get a week ahead sometimes, it can help remove some of that dread. ADHD makes this very hard, and so this may not be possible with what you're already doing, so don't stress if you can't. It's okay.

Your feeling of helplessness may be your body or mind trying to communicate to you that you're just overwhelmed right now. And if it is writer's block - there will absolutely be different techniques that you can use to help you.

And 100% you need to look at scheduling some rest. One of my hardest earned skills personally is the ability to go - after staring at a chapter and hating myself for not writing anything - is 'Right! I'm not going to write for the next four hours! I'm clearly tired! I'm going to go lie down, and get some rest. Or I'm going to do something fun or relaxing. Or I'm going to go for a walk. But the thing I'm 100% not going to do is stare at this document. I'll come back later.' The hardest part of this skill is catching it before 3 hours have gone by, lmao. Sometimes I'll just do the 'endless scroll' and distract myself and feel guilty and stressed, and I have to actually just be like 'walk away and go do something else.' I may still worry about it, but at least I gave my brain a TV show, or a movie I love, or a book, or I ate something tasty, or I drank some water.

The fact is, people tend to write better when they're not exhausted all the time. I have to take days off because of chronic illness anyway, but taking actual rest time is vital to you actually being able to feel inspired and motivated enough to write. You obviously have discipline! And reaching out for help is great too. Give yourself some mercy and kindness in amongst feeling like you're not getting anything done, you're getting a lot done, and are maybe now needing to re-evaluate a little. I really hope it works out though, and it sounds like you're working damn hard to achieve it. I do wish you all the best, seriously.

(Oh, and random tip that isn't in my other writer's block links - if you can, consider hooking up with some Twitch stream 'write ins' or other writing groups. Sometimes the gentle pressure of other people who 'get it' all kind of figuring it out at the same time can actually help? I'm not one of those writers who benefits from this, but I know plenty who are, and it might end up being your thing too!)

#asks and answers #pia on writing #dodgy advice #please dismiss anything i say that doesn't work for you!!#<3333333

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writing-in-april · 4 years ago

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The Big Bluff

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Spencer goes up against a professional poker player.

A/N: This is almost a purely self indulgent fic, once I had this idea I really really wanted to write it for myself. I wrote all of this today while sick so I’m proud of myself lmao. Also ‘the woman’ Is definitely inspired by Irene Adler. Thanks for letting me have the third person today @zhuzhubii (inside joke thanks to)and thanks to @imagining-in-the-margins who helped me figure out where the story was gonna go. Last day of my 500 follower celebration!! I did 7 fics in 7 days!! Thanks y’all so much for supporting me!!

Warnings: Smut, Fighting for dominance, Hand job, Spitting, Fingering, Choking - uhh should be it.

Masterlist Word count: 2.3k

The casino lights were bright as she walked in through the main entrance of the casino that was dripping in finery. She was a vision in red, dressed to the nines in a red dress that left little to the imagination. She was here to blow off some steam, though not in the way people would assume. The woman in red was a professional poker player, normally playing high stakes games that were also televised for people’s enjoyment. Usually people would try to escape what they did at work on the weekends, but not her as she rather enjoyed the adrenaline that pumped through her veins just as she was about to win.

A man sat across from her at the table she chose with fluffy brown hair that curled slightly and wearing clothes that didn’t fit with the overall aesthetic of everyone else there. She would have assumed normally that he was an amateur player, only here to blow off steam (Plus his money) for the weekend by playing poker and laying in bed with someone. There was something about his demeanor however the way he acted just subtly arrogant as he waited for the dealer to start, that told her that he was the one to watch during the game.

Sure enough after the first round he had won, the woman lost nothing in the hand as she had folded right when she realized she’d gotten a bad hand. Worry still had creeped up on her as she gazed at the man who looked more like a teacher’s assistant rather than a poker player, she couldn’t be seen to lose even if this wasn’t a high stakes game, she had a reputation to uphold. She could’ve left the table, gone to find some easier people to swindle, but the challenge to bring the mystery man down was too hard to ignore.

During the next round her eyes almost never left the stranger only looking down every so often at the cards she had been dealt. It got to the point in the game where everyone had folded besides her and the man, she had been raising the stakes too high for everyone else to be comfortable with participating even if they thought they had a good hand. The whole table sucked in a breath as she went all in with her bet, no one at the table seemed to be able to get a read on her, including the man who thought he was unbeatable.

“I fold.” A triumphant smirk came across her face while taking a celebratory gulp of the wine she had ordered as the man had finally admitted defeat, this was exactly the kind of adrenaline rush she had been searching for. The look on his face was pure rage, she got the sense that he hardly got angry probably because he hardly lost.

She raked in all the chips she had earned, but then decided to not show her winning hand. It was far more satisfying to her to see the frustration on everyone’s faces, to see them try to figure out her game. Was she bluffing or not?

Once she had cashed them in she left to go to her hotel in a cab that she had called until she saw the man waiting by the entrance waiting and stopped. He looked like he was waiting for someone rather impatiently by the way he was tapping his foot.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

“Yeah you.” He remarked rather simply, his foot still tapped impatiently clearly fed up with her even though the amount of words they had spoken to each other could be counted on two hands.

“Why are you looking for me?” She played the part of a coy woman perfectly, she knew exactly why he was looking for her. His cocky demeanor at the table had quickly given away to her that he rarely lost any hand that he was dealt, whether it was a bad one or not.

“How did you win? Were you bluffing? You must have been bluffing...Or you just got lucky...” His ranting would’ve been cute in any other circumstance, the fact that he had assumed what had gone down, that she was in fact only lucky or bluffing made her blood boil.

“How did you get away with card counting?” She countered back a little irritated that he had assumed that the only way she could win was if she was bluffing or getting lucky. He seemed caught off guard by her question, unable to comprehend how someone had caught him after mastering the subtle art of card counting over the years. Though she was irritated at him, she still wanted to know more about the man who looked more like a teacher's assistant than a poker player, even if she had beaten him it was still obvious that he was good at the game. “What’s your name?”

“Spencer.” His impatience was even worse now looking almost frantic at her slow pace in the conversation, he was more focused on her skills rather than her name.

“Well- Spencer it was nice to meet you, but I have to get going, better luck next time.” She wasn’t dumb, she knew he was going to follow her out to her cab, her real aim was to hopefully get him to come back to the hotel with her. She may have been looking for a poker game to release some tension, that had somewhat worked, however this game seemed far more fun.

“Please- I need to know.” His shouted out words had attracted the attention of a few casino goers who were not happy with the fact that a man was yelling right outside the doors of the casino. The little wave he gave as an apology before sprinting a little to get closer to her was cute, deepening her desire to take the man for a ride, maybe he wasn’t as much of a hot arrogant asshole that she thought.

“Why don’t you come with me if you want to find out.” She flashed him a coy smirk before ducking into the cab. The man she now knew as Spencer may be arrogant when it comes to his poker skills, but underneath it all she could tell there was a man that was intriguing. She wanted to get to know him beyond his card counting skills and possibly jump his bones. The fact that he was gorgeous did nothing but stoke the fire that he ignited during their heated conversation.

Spencer did take up her offer and got into the back seat with her. Though, whether he had caught onto the other game that they had started to play was still a mystery to her.

They had made it up to her room in the swanky hotel on the strip, being a professional did bring her in big money. The look in his eyes as he stood waiting near the door told her that he had definitely caught onto the game she had carefully set up for them. There was still a way to back out, to exit through the door where he came from, there was no chance in hell he was backing away from the woman he found infuriating but extremely gorgeous.

“You still haven’t given me your name.” The one thing that was holding him back, the fact that he still didn’t know her name. The name fell from her lips dripping with seduction, she was irresistible to him almost nothing could make him leave the room.

He surged forward to capture her lips with his own, he expected to gain dominance over the kiss swiftly though it was more difficult than he first expected. He was met with a pair of lips that wouldn’t let him gain access that he wanted, he tried to slip his tongue into her mouth but was quickly barred from entering.

She would not be giving up dominance easily.

“Condom?” He said breathlessly into my lips while she worked on the buttons of his shirt after I had hastily pushed his cardigan off and tossed it somewhere in the room.

“In my purse.” She released him to rummage through the purse that had dropped onto the floor in their haste. Once she had found what she was looking for she stood up to find Spencer sitting at the edge of the bed, belt now discarded with his slacks undone.

She moved to stand just slightly in front of him then pulled the straps of her red dress down until it pooled onto the floor. Their eyes were both blown with lust only focused on each other. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath besides a lace red thong to match the dress. Spencer was practically salivating at the sight of her only in heels and a thong, he was so distracted by it that he was caught off guard when she moved to straddle him while also pushing him to lay flat on his back.

Pulling his boxers down just enough she pulled his cock out, he was half hard at this point, she was already impressed with his size though she masked it with her practiced poker face.

“Now you’re going to sit back and look pretty while I have my way with you.” The anger on his face was prevalent in response to her words, the fight was taken away from him when she spit into her hand and started to jerk his length. Her hand moved up and down in a teasing manner not getting him even close to the edge, his moans caught up in his throat though one did escape in frustration after she had almost completely pulled away from him. Finally he had enough of her teasing, batting away her hand and flipping her over.

“Now it’s your turn to look pretty.” He pinned both of her hands above her head holding them together with one hand while the other dipped down to the apex of her thighs. At first he didn’t let her have anything she wanted, only running his fingers on her inner thighs and dancing his fingers right above her hole that was now absolutely dripping.

“Beg.” His voice was now harsh and biting, that did little to intimidate her and all it did was make her even wetter. She fought his grip with vigor not wanting to give into his demand.

“No, I won’t beg.” She said through gritted teeth, it had become much harder to finish her sentence when Spencer had unexpectedly curled his fingers inside of her, finding that perfect spot inside her faster than she had expected.

“You don’t want to beg fine, but don’t expect to cum.” The growl in frustration that came from her made Spencer pause just a little, long enough that she could retake control and flip him back over. A squeak fell from him clearly not expecting her to be able to take back control again and another noise came out from him, this time a broken moan, after she quickly put the condom down and she sunk down onto his length.

“I don’t beg for anyone.” She started at a rough pace, her anger came out in her movements as she undulated her hips with fury that Spencer had never experienced before in the bedroom. The moans falling from each of their lips would surely get her a complaint from her neighbors, neither of them could really care less as they both chased their release.

Spencer may have been on the bottom at this point, but he still had not submitted completely to her. His hands sat firmly on her hips, tight enough to create finger shaped bruises that she hoped would remain for the days after this tryst while he also thrusted with the same vigor as her bounces.

She wrapped her hands around his jaw pulling him up slightly to envelope him into a kiss full of teeth and tongue. As her hand slowly pulled away from him it made contact with the hollow of his throat, his breath hitched at the light contact and he gripped her hips a little harder. She hesitantly moved her hand to connect with his throat to lightly choke him, she may have wanted to dominate him, but she didn’t want to scare him off. He gave an approving grunt at her actions, starting to meet her thrusts even harder than he had before and moved his thumb to rub circles into her clit.

“Cum.” She ordered as soon as she sensed their coming releases. He wanted to fight her on the order, not wanting to give up what little dominance he still held, but his release was so close that he didn’t want to give it up. Their releases washed over them, Spencer first and then her not long after being shoved over the ledge after seeing how pretty he looked while cumming. She fell on top of him, limbs quite tired from her vigorous work.

As soon as she had caught her breath she enveloped Spencer in a long languid kiss that was much slower than any of their previous ones then getting up to meander with shaky legs her way to the bathroom in her hotel room to clean up. She slipped into a pair of her sexier pajamas, just in case Spencer was going to stay the night like she wanted.

“So will you tell me now if you were bluffing?” He quickly pounced the question onto me as soon as I emerged from the bathroom, he did seem a little less frustrated about the fact that he had lost, more like he genuinely wanted to know my process.

“Guess you’ll never know. It could take a long time to figure out our tells.” She feigned exhaustion with a sigh though the smirk on her face told Spencer what she really wanted. He was an expert on behavior after all.

“I've got time.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg #matthew gray gubler character #smut

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charlotteswriting · 4 years ago

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Hi there! This may be a bit too specific but is it ok to ask for Kiyotaka, Korekyo and Hajime with reader who has issues with time-management? Like they procrastinate a lot but they are willing to change that! Also they are too easy to distract and they tend to pick the skin near nails, touch their hair a lot, etc (sorry if it's strange, the last detail is optional ><)

Hii!! That’s a cool idea, anon!! But I’m sorry if this is wrong or bad because I am actually good at managing my time so I hope you don’t mind ^^’ Anyways, have fun!!! 🧡💖💘

-Mod Kaede

Kiyotaka Ishimaru

Oh hell no.

You ain’t getting away with it

It’s just something he can’t ignore because he manages his time well

Okay but he’ll sit you down and will have a serious talk about this because it’s really important, you know

He’d talk to you about your priorities and how everything needs to be organized so you’ll have more free time for yourself

When you told him you are willing to change that he was more than willing to help you with that!!

He would totally make a to-do list and make a schedule for you and he’d constantly check on you to make sure you aren’t procrastinating. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you. It’s become a habit of yours, so yeah 😩 Man gotta keep an eye out

If you are getting distracted too easily he’d?? Scold you?? Lmao okay, mom

He is reading with you in order to you organize your thoughts and focus on it properly

He’s giving you more tasks and works as punishment lol

Please don’t be mad, this is his way of getting the work done 😩

Breaks? He never heard of it. Work hard so you’ll have the most free time ever!!!

Taka, give them a break

“Finally...” You thought.

“What? We’re not done yet. You still have assignments to do, don’t you?”

“Taka, no,” ❤️

Even though he’s so serious about it, he acknowledges your work 😌

Korekiyo Shinguji

Okay but this man studies people behaviors

So he’s the one that understands you best

You’re easy to read, he can tell by just looking at you 🙂

He can see why you are struggling and getting distracted easily, so he’ll turn off all distractions. Bye-bye phone 💔

Basically he creates the best environment for you so you don’t get distracted when working

Don’t. Try. To. Do. Everything. At. A. Time.

“Multitask is just wasting your energy more” He’d say, “We need to make you a to-do list, Y/n.”

Seriously, you need a schedule, S/o!!

If you’re willing to change that, he’s willing to help

Like, he’d meditate with you!!

Finds your efforts fascinating ✨

He’s the type of person who’s willing to do their best, but in your condition, he’ll tell you to avoid perfection, so you don’t go too harsh on yourself at all

If you don’t like your schedule, he’ll do some changes but in a way that’ll help you

To increase your focus, he’d listen to relaxing music with you or read books and you’d listen to him

Also he doesn’t want to make you tired so he gives you breaks when you need it. (ha, take that, Taka!)

The biggest inspiration for you is his support, you know? A simple “I know you can do it” increases your hard working level. It’s really effective lol (I wish 😩)

A kiss will do, too :)

Hajime Hinata

Aa, Idk but I feel like he’d have problems managing his time himself, too

Well, if not now, he had it before

But he changed this and now he’s willing to help you since he can relate to you so well!!

If you don’t have any idea what to do, just leave it to him. He’d talk to you about your priorities.

It might sound a bit awkward though, and you two would burst into laughs lol

Please listen to him, S/o, he got a point!!

He’d tell you his ways of managing time, such as making a to-do list or working harder at weekends, not interrupting his work for some other things

Yeah, he’s like that. Like, if you are sending him a message, he’ll not check it unless he’s done with his work.

He also tries to create the best environment for you!!

He removes everything that might distract you. (He gotta remove himself 😭✌️

If you wanted him to work with you he’d refuse because he’s a huge distraction for you and he’s aware. Boy can’t risk it 😤

He’s a stress reliever. He’s ready to tell you “You got this!” Everytime you need it

How he inspires himself? By giving himself rewards, of course! Try it, it really helps, I do know because I used to do that too

He can easily tell you are tired, so he’ll just hug you and say you should rest for now

Don’t overwork, it’s not healthy, you know

Breaks help, too. You two play video games, watch movies, take a walk or stuff like that. If you are feeling really tired, he’d put you to sleep

Hii!! I don’t know I wanted to write something that would help so I hope this actually helps lmfao Also my mom says “Sleeping 7-8 hours is important so don’t stay up too late 😤” I did some research for this but I write the most according to my work schedule, hehe so I hope you don’t mind!! 😌💘

I’m currently writing requests and it seems there is quite a lot- uGh I’m excited!! Anyways hope you guys enjoy reading this ajjhdjg Have a lovely day! 🥳💖

#danganronpa #danganronpa headcanons #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa x reader #drv2 #danganronpa goodbye despair #anime x reader #drv3 #danganronpa killing harmony #hajime hinata x reader #korekiyo x reader #kiyotaka x reader

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