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jiggysaysfacts · 6 days

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I want to summon al the mdzs writers here, I just recently read about writing story and leaving it after 900 or so words so next writer can complete it, like it's cool maybe it starts from something rom and then turn political then random angst and again some fluff..

Lol..I genuinely wanted to try this out are anyone interested?

#mdzs #jin guangyao #lan xichen #the untamed #mdzs beta #wei wuxian #writers club #ao3

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dear-rose-days · 1 year

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Reminder

Hello Darling

I haven’t written in a while. I’ve been pulling thorns out of my heart. I’m pretty sure I was trying to grow some more roses and I ended up sprouting brambles.

I’m bleeding again. But I’ve learnt not to keep the wells full, a deluge is due each time the hive in my head comes alive. A complete firestorm of thoughts and feelings burning up inside and my chest is heaving…slightly. But I’m surviving, darling.

I tried reaching the moon this time and the storm clouds gathered the second my feet left the soil of my soul and I’ve been drifting in and out of grey - shades of grey. There’s lightning in the distance and the pattering of tears or rain or blood from my feet, running through shards, words stabbing, heart pulsing. Do I need a harness for these dreams, these thoughts - should I make a meal of these ashes I’ve been churning up in the hive?

I’m drifting again. The rain? The river of my prayers is filling up and pressing at the banks and my garden is at risk of going under and this time maybe I’ll breathe better under water, under my own caress against the window panes of my mind.

Darling, it’s out now. Out. Take a deep breath. The thorn, the shard? - you’ve ripped it out and now the clouds are shimmering and the lightning is coming back to you and you’re dreaming under the stars you put up - the hive is quiet. The queen has found a new budding rose and it’s called Hope.

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cloverpicking · 1 year

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I THINK IT’S READY TO SHARE???????

Here we go, gang!! A 16-page outline of my story that I’m (for now) calling Writers’ Club.

READ THE OUTLINE HERE

Let me know what you think :)))))

#usual disclaimer that these events and characters are subject to change blah blah blah #writers club

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emerald-notes · 11 months

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Death Before Water And Life After It

'The Avonlea Story Club'

Story no. #02 Inspired by prompt: “There was a legend about the well in the garden.” Time Duration: 1 May, 2023 - 31 May, 2023

Word Count: 2.6K Words Warning: horror elements, mention of illness, injuries, deaths etc.

Summary: Spending the summer vacation with an ill grandma in a remote village turns mysterious...

I attempted to write down a rare experience I got to have while I visited my late grandma’s village. The story I am about to tell is no ordinary tale. It is, in many ways, unbelievable too. So, I would rather let my readers decide upon believing it.

It was the summer of 2017. My grandma was diagnosed with a deadly disease and the doctors feared that she wouldn’t make it till the next year. I had a long vacation of two months from school. I didn’t have any plans either. At that moment, my only desire was to visit my grandma for the last time on her deathbed, even though it was said that she couldn’t recognize anyone.

It was the very first time I sat foot in that remote village. I had expected a lot from it since it was located far away from the city. But in reality, nothing about the village appealed to me. It was just an ordinary village with ordinary people.

My grandma didn’t come to greet me. When I went to meet her, she didn’t even bother to look at me. I could tell by looking in her eyes that she was in pain. But as always, my sweet grandma didn’t want to burden anyone with it. I spent three days in the house without getting out for once. Within these three days, I had constantly sat beside grandma and talked to her in hope that she might recognize her youngest granddaughter at some point. But that didn’t happen.

Finally, it was the fourth day when I got bored of playing offline games on my phone. Since the network connection wasn’t the best at that place, I decided to take a look at my surrounding areas. Like I had mentioned before, the village had nothing interesting to enjoy. There was no place for sightseeing.

After some minutes of aimlessly walking around I came to a stop near what looked like a ruin of an old garden. I spent a minute or two looking at its broken gate. Then I finally went in. Once again, I was disappointed after finding nothing but a bunch of wild plants growing all around the place.

There was an old well at the far corner. I felt like I should go and check it before I left the place for good. As I walked towards it I felt uncomfortable and strange. I remembered I was all alone in an abandoned garden with no house that could be seen or people that could be heard.

Yet I couldn’t turn back without a close view of the well. It was as abandoned as the garden itself. Vines and roots grew all around it. The huge stones had cracks. When I peeked inside I was shocked to see water that hadn’t dried out yet. I could see my reflection perfectly in the black water inside.

I was about to go away when I heard someone behind me. There was a little boy sitting on the ground, his back leaning against the well.

How come I didn't notice him in the first place?

He wasn’t wearing much clothes than necessary, I guessed it was because of the hot weather. He was dirty from his head to toe. I went closer to check on him. I found out that he was humming a tune while scratching his ankles.

“Hey!” I called him, “What are you doing here, all alone?”

He quitted humming at my intrusion and glanced at me for a moment. Then he looked down on his ankles and started to scratch them again. I felt an urge to stop him from doing that. His feet looked swollen and red.

Instead I asked, “Where are your parents?”

“They died… long ago,” he answered in a low voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that!” I went closer to sit in front of him, “Do you live nearby?” There were no houses in sight that could suggest his home. But I still looked around for any sign of life.

In reply, the boy looked at the well behind him for a moment. Then, he looked at me and asked, “Are you a foreigner?”

“No. I came from the city.” I replied.

“So, you are a foreigner!” he stated. This time with a thrill in his eyes. So, I nodded my head in defeat. Maybe he considered everyone apart from the villagers a foreigner.

“You shouldn’t do that.” I said, indicating his merciless scratching.

“It’s okay!” he smiled at me, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

I studied his face for a while. Even though it was dirty, I could tell that the boy was really beautiful. He had big doe eyes with long eyelashes. His small mouth looked really cute when he smiled. Also, he had the kind of smile that makes others do the same at its sight.

So, I automatically smiled back at him.

“C’mon!” I stood up, “I’m going now. You shouldn’t be here all alone. This place is giving me the creeps.”

“You’re going away already?” the boy asked. The smile on his face was gone. His big eyes were filling up with tears all of a sudden.

“Aww, don’t cry.” I said, giving him my hand, “I'm not leaving you. I’ll take you to your home.”

“I can’t go.” he shook his head.

“Why?” I asked, rather astonished at the bold reply coming from an otherwise soft spoken little boy.

The boy retreated to his previous position. He continued humming the tune and scratched his ankles as well. I tried convincing him to come with me for some time. He started to completely ignore me.

I checked my watch. It was past lunch time. I knew grandfather was probably really angry by now because he doesn’t like delaying meal times. So, I told the boy to go home early and not to come to the place again. I had to leave him alone by the well.

I had almost forgotten all about it. But another meeting reminded me of my encounter with the little boy by the well.

I laid awake in my bed. The little boy sat at the furthest corner from me. I stared at him for some time, watching him scratch his ankles and humming the familiar tune.

When our eyes met, he let himself smile. "You're awake!" He stated.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him.

"I came because you didn't come to see me again." He replied.

"Did you wait for me?" I asked.

The boy nodded.

"Where?"

"Why? By the well in the garden!"

"Didn't I tell you not to go there alone?"

The boy laughed at me, "But I live there, silly."

I didn't understand him. Suddenly I remembered I was sleeping and I hadn't really woken up.

How could I tell that I was dreaming?

"Oh no! You're gonna wake up now, aren't you?" The boy pouted his lips.

"How do you…" I couldn't finish my question. I was already awake. And as I checked, the boy was gone too.

I couldn't make myself go back to sleep again. It was already dawn. So, I walked around the house. I heard my grandma calling me from within her room as I walked past it. My eyes grew larger.

She remembered me!

"Oh, granny. My lovely, granny." I sprinted inside her room and hugged her.

"When did you come, my love?" She asked, a sweet smile on her lips.

"Almost a week ago."

We talked for some time. Grandma said that she felt a lot better and was so happy to see me. She wondered why mother didn't come. I said she was very busy with her work. I lied because I didn't want to worry her about mother's health. And I knew she wasn't the type to get hurt when someone couldn't manage their time. It is a cruel world, after all.

At some point, grandma was reminiscing about the old times. Long ago when she was young and not yet married. She used to live here, in this village, at that time. She talked as if her memory of her childhood was just a few days back. I felt like she had forgotten me at some stage and mistook me for her best friend of childhood instead as she talked.

At one point, I asked her about the old garden. I asked if it was in use at her times. She looked at me with dreadful eyes, "don't speak of it. Don't you know, it's a forbidden place to walk in?"

"Why is it forbidden, Grandma?" I asked curiously.

"Oh, dear!" She suddenly started to laugh, "I keep forgetting that it's you." and placed a kiss on my forehead.

"Grandma," I called, "Please, tell me about the garden. I wanna know."

"It was a long time ago. Even before I was born. There was a legend about the well in the garden." grandma spoke dreamily.

"What legend?"

"At the time when the first gypsies came to settle down in the land, it was a barren one. No river. No rain. Nothing. Nobody knows why the river gypsies chose to live in such a land after years of floating in water. But they struggled against this land. It wasn't habitable for life at all. They decided they'll excavate a well. After months of labor they did it too. But it was only a matter of days before the water dried out after the well was built."

"Why?" I asked as grandma stopped to take a breath.

Grandma nodded, "it was a cursed place. Everyone in the village had dreams about the well afterwards. An unknown entity would visit them in their dreams and ask them to negotiate with it. The negotiation was a human life in exchange for water.

"People were scared. They forbade everyone to go near the well. They decided to leave the place for good. Some of them even ran away from home in fear. But the nightmares didn't stop. The entity was hungry for human life. Finally, it got what it wanted.

"A little boy of a lonely mother wandered off to the well one day. When he returned home at sunset, both of his legs were found being chained. The mother walked along the long chains only to find that it led inside the very well her people had built. The more they pulled the chains, the more it grew in length, coming out of the dried well. No blacksmith could damage the chain, not even a little scratch could be made on it.

"The villagers started to see a different version of their same old nightmare. The entity now asked them the life of that little boy only. Then, started the gossip.

"The boy was an illegitimate child. His mother was not a very welcomed person in the community. They lived almost a separated life. Maybe the entity chose wisely. Maybe they should abide by its rule. Maybe the boy could be sacrificed for the sake of all.

"But the mother was a mad woman. She wouldn’t give up on her only gem. She would rather her son lived with the chains around his legs forever. The child cried. He cried all day and night. He said that his legs itched. And as he scratched them again and again, the skin had peeled off and left him wounded.

"'Mama, it hurts.' The boy pleaded with his mother to get rid of his shackles. But nothing could be done for his aid. The villagers, at one point, stopped even trying. The herbal remedy his mother gave him was useless.

"'Let me go, then.' The boy pleaded again. His mother denied.

"Finally, the boy decided for himself. When his mother would be asleep, he would go to the well again. He would ask the well what it wanted from him. And so he did. Nobody heard of the little boy anymore. Someone said that the boy had jumped off to the well himself. But nobody knew because there wasn't a body to be found.

"Since that day, there hasn't been any scarcity of water from the well. The well never dried off after. A beautiful garden grew around the land. No-one had any more nightmares. The gypsies finally overcame another adversary that was the most challenging in their community life. They lived happily ever after."

Grandma finished her story and looked at me with a smile.

"But Grandma," I spoke, "this isn't the type of story that ends with 'happily ever after'."

"Why not?" grandma asked, "the villagers, in fact, did live happily."

"What about the boy? And his mother?"

"Now," grandma stated, "they weren't the hero of my story, were they?"

"You've got a point," I said, "But don't you think that the boy could be the most tragic hero if it was said from his perspective?"

"He could be." Grandma thought for a moment, "Why don't you rewrite it in your own words then? Maybe you can do him some justice."

Before I left grandma for breakfast, I asked her one last question, "since everything is resolved, why did you say that it was a forbidden garden in the beginning?"

"Because, darling!" She looked at me as if it was so obvious, "the little boy can still be seen roaming around it."

I went to the garden that day. It was obvious what grandma told me was just a legend. And a legend can be a lie. Or at least partially. Maybe there was an incident of a boy's drowning. Maybe the nightmares originated from the collective superstitious belief of the gypsies. Or maybe, just maybe, there was an entity involved.

Whatever happened a long time ago, I could never know them for sure. I could only assume the story from my perspective and my beliefs in particular superstitions. But I didn't feel like I could rest till I saw that little boy again and demanded some kind of explanation. It might sound a little crazy to the readers but my mind couldn't make out any reasonable explanation of the boy's peculiar behavior at the moment.

I waited from morning till noon. But he didn't come. I didn’t know that some terrible news awaited me at home other than the fear that grandfather might be mad at me for missing another lunch.

Grandma was no more. My sweet, lovely grandma. The grandma who had talked with me just this dawn. I was told that the servant found her dead when he went to serve her breakfast. I almost didn’t believe it. But I accepted at last as we all do eventually.

I stayed till the funeral was over. Then I immediately packed everything to leave the place. I didn’t think I could stay at the house without feeling my grandma's presence.

But before I left, I had to solve something within myself. I had to see the boy again. I went to the garden for the last time. And as expected he was already waiting for me.

"Why didn't you tell me everything beforehand?" I questioned him, "Didn't you want me to know?"

"You know because I showed you." The same old smile on his face.

"But why me, of all people?"

He walked towards me and placed his cold hands on mine. It was the only time he had really touched me. He said hopefully, "You'll let them know, won't you? They'll finally know."

"Know what?" I asked, a little confused.

"The truth!"

I didn't understand him wholly that day. After years it somehow dawned on me. The little boy wanted the world to know. Not just the legend of the well in the garden. But the little life it took that made it possible.

Author's note: The story is inspired by a folktale my grandma had long ago told me that originated from her hometown. It was about how a pond was excavated and a child's life was offered for it to contain water. There are many versions of this story. The story is really memorable to me and honestly, I still get chills whenever I think about it. I made some changes to the plot to match the given prompt. I don't know if I could do it any justice. But I'm glad I made an effort to preserve one of the less known folktales of my country.

P.S. The country is Bangladesh…

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naomibeetee · 2 years

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Friends! I definitely had a nap after work yesterday and forgot to post this. Whoops. 🤦🏽‍♀️

I’m taking a mini break from blogging! May and June are going to be slightly hectic, and I’d like to take the precious spare time I have to focus on what I love most: writing.

During this break, I’d like to focus on my WIP, His Blue Eyes, and give it the attention it both desperately needs and definitely deserves. I’d like to also replenish my blog stock so I have more ammo to fire your way when I come back!

Thank you for understanding. I’d like to still post goodies from my weird, awkward life on here, but don’t expect any blogs for a hot minute! 🤍

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wright-words · 8 months

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I became an escape artist

Devoid of meaning but ripe w truth

I only cried x the number of time zones from the starting line I watched every sun rise and took setting as a sign And I was strange to myself

Time heals all things especially if it hurts: dead skin scraped, hairs pulled, cornea sliced, tooth extracted, shoulder separated, nerves pinched, cells killed. scabs. scars. Hair cut, grown, cut, grown, cut, grown, cut grown cut grown cutgrown cutgrown grown out. tears welled/streamed. tiny veins. jawbone trauma, heavy pliers. steel lodged. “No bikes on the bus.” (Can’t believe I have to say this) Spinal disks bulge

Open stasis_inability to thrive despite those who sell Thriving as a concept, or to behold

don’t let me learn you, doll face Because I will, and we’ll change

Even when we expect it, even when we apologize for it, even when we accommodate it, even when we bar ourselves from it, even when—

Change is the great pressurizer. Change is the tide we beg to return to sea.

But it won’t, it will barrel on endlessly, it knows eternity like we never will (we never will)

Simplified infinity the fountain of youth is cursed

Personally? I forget what I was trying to say Something about how I’mdone with this thing, this thing of being a strong healthy adult in the face of secondhand embarrassment and mixed emotions. I can’t write meaningful words on a 100 degree Red Line train in July.

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thundergrace · 1 year

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I'm honestly surprised there's never been a Netflix-specific strike. But I do think there's was a lawsuit that was settled or won, so there's that.

#Netflix #wga strike #writer's strike 2023 #first kill #warrior nun #archive 81 #odaat #teenage bounty hunters #santa clarita diet #the get down #the babysitters club #glow netflix

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summerfrwrks · 2 years

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girl, help i'm having long fic ideas i know will end up having me drenched in blood and crawling on the ground to stay committed for but i can't stop thinking about them

#this is specifically for:#jaysteph #jaystephroy #winx club reboot #man i should really type all of these out esp the new jaystephroy ideas grAHHHHH-#fanfiction #fanfic memes #writer memes #writing memes #summer.txt #jayroysteph #1k #5k #10k

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steddielations · 6 months

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Flight of Icarus lore dump:

Part 2 | Character List

- Eddie is a barback at the Hideout (rundown bar) where his band plays sometimes. He doesn’t sell drugs until the end. At 18, he moves in permanently with Wayne and starts dealing to help with the bills.

- Lots of people in town call Eddie “Junior” for his likeness to his dad and he hates this. He calls himself Junior condescendingly when he’s doing something that lives up to his dad’s criminal reputation.

- Steddie writers, when Wayne is conveniently absent from the trailer, he’s not always at work. He goes to a bar called the Attic on Fridays with guys that Eddie considers nice and upstanding.

- Eddie lives alone in his dad's house, but throughout his life, he’d stay with Wayne when Al disappeared. The first time, Eddie was 8, he fell asleep by the window waiting while he was left for days with little food until Wayne got him. At the start of the book, Eddie’s 18 and has been there alone for months. Wayne checks on him and brings him food. But Eddie is stubbornly independent, since 3rd grade he thought he could take care of himself.

- Eddie likes metal, but also rock, Chicago blues, country and bluegrass bc of his mom. His dad taught him guitar, but he learned to love music through his mom (Elizabeth Munson neé Franklin), who passed when he was 6. He still listens to her records, mostly Muddy Waters. He has memories standing on her feet dancing to that record. It brings him to tears once.

- Eddie’s dad Al is charismatic, Eddie calls it Munson Magic but doesn’t think he has it. “I inherited his hair, his van, and his guitar picks. But nobody’s loving Eddie Munson on sight.” Still, Eddie’s worst fear is being like his dad. Al only shows up to manipulate Eddie into helping him with schemes. Two of which get Eddie held at gunpoint twice and hit in the head with a shotgun. Al screws ppl over and gets their house burned down, with Eddie’s mom’s records.

#please steddie writers let wayne go to the club #definitely gonna do a part 2 there’s so much #eddie munson #flight of icarus #wayne munson #stranger things #al munson #flight of icarus spoilers #mp

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dear-rose-days · 2 years

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Spark

My darling, I’m writing again. It’s been some time since I glanced at the mirror - there’s that bee I hear, buzzing and tapping at the glass. My heart is thrashing a bit, like a humming bird caught in a web and the stars are scattering from my sky and the sun hasn’t risen yet. My cup is steaming by the window and it’s dark and my eyes are open but I can’t find my stars or my moon or see the gentle wings brush my cheeks. And I’m walking again through my garden but I haven’t found my self yet - I can hear my footsteps just vanishing beyond the point of the turn, my fingers grazing lightly against the walls to the cold panes of the windows in my eyes and I’m just missing the wings of faith, falling through the sky, to the earth to the soil of my garden where I wait for the roots of my soul to spread and my blood to water my hopes to grow up to heavens where my dreams unfurl and I’m painting the sky with my prayers and I’ll open the door and you’ll be there and I’ll be waiting, growing, breathing…sparking until I am a star again.

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samandcolbyownme · 6 months

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Tangled Around You | Sam Golbach

Summary: Anon request - "ok could you like make it so y/n or whatever is on sams lap, making out with him, while watching tangled, and then things escalate iykwim. ive been like NEEDING THIS."

I wrote this as a Colby one shot first, and I didn't even realize it until AFTER I posted it on here, so click here if you want to read the Colby version of this request.

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, teasing, cute name calling, hair pulling, biting, fingering, unprotected sex, oral (f rec), creampie, fluff with smut

Word Count: 1.5k | Not really edited, it’s like 2am lol

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

"Do we have to watch this movie again?" Sam groans as he sits down on the couch. You smirk slightly and sigh, "I love this movie, Sam." He rests his head back on the back of the couch and looks over at you, "I couldn't tell."

He instantly laughs and you laugh, hitting his shoulder as you sit down on his lap, "Will this make it better?"

His hands slides around to rest in your lap, "This does makes it better."

You reach up to grab the remote, giving him a good view. Sam's eyes move to your ass and his tilts his head as he raises his eyebrows, "Yeah, definitely better."

You look back at him over your shoulder, shaking your head slightly as you smile. You lean back, getting comfortable as the movie starts.

You hum along with the songs, singing them to Sam as he just laughs with you, singing with you, teasing you in all sorts of ways.

Sam has been paying more attention to you than the movie anyway, and almost halfway through, you look over at him, "What are you looking at?"

He reaches up slowly, brushing hair from your face and ticking it behind your ear, "Nothing.” His hand slips under your shirt and he draws small circles into you skin, “I just like looking at you."

The heat in your cheeks rising, creating a rosy blush, "Sam." He makes you nervous, but in a good way. He smiles and stops you from looking away.

He leans in, pulling you to him so he can connect his lips to yours. You give in, laying a hand on his cheek as your lips move smoothly with his.

He pulls you into him, wanting to take things more, but you lay a hand on his chest, pushing yourself away, "Sam."

"Mm." He whines slightly, "Come on."

"After the movie." You say, knowing damn well it wouldn't be after, but you put up the fight. You move around slightly trying to avoid Sam's gaze on you.

"Can I have another kiss, at least?" You look at him finally, smirking as you see him pout, “Please.”

You sigh with a smile, leaning in to peck his lips. You quickly turn your head back to the tv, but as soon as your eyes lay on the tv, your head is turned and you're now looking into sam's eyes again,

"Y/n."

"Yes baby?" You smirk slightly and he tilts his head, "Is the movie over yet?"

"It can be.." you run your hand through his hair, "What's in it for me?"

He smirks and nods, "I can show you."

You think about it for a few moments before standing up, "Okay." You run towards the stairs and Sam follows behind you.

He grabs you by the waist and you both drop down onto the steps. Sam is on his knees, in between your legs and your arms are around his neck.

“We doing this here or?” His eyes move up and down your face, waiting for you to answer

“You ever do it on the stairs?” You bite your lip as he shakes his head, “We can change that.” He pulls you in, kissing you as he hands work as pushing your sweats down.

He stands up to pull them off and quickly reassumes the position he was in before. His hands slide up the outside of your thighs as you kiss down his neck.

His hand slides into the small open space between your thighs and quickly pulls your panties the side, “I knew you couldn’t wait until the end of the movie.”

He chuckles lowly as he feels how wet you are for him. It’s like that all the time, but he always acts surprised, “Fuck, babe.”

You whimper out as his fingers slowly slip into you. He tilts his head back, watching as your eyes roll back, “That feel good or something?”

You open your eyes, wanting to fight back but you wanted Sam this whole time, you didn’t care.

He runs his hand through your hair, tangling it around as he pulls, “Need you.”

He moves down a stair or two to dip his head down to attach his lips to your clit. You lay a hand on the back of his head as you grip the stair next to you, moaning out.

He thrusts his fingers in and out of you as his tongue works your clit, groaning against you as he feels you reaching your point of orgasm.

You watch down at him, moaning and whimpering out his name as you squeeze his fingers, “Fuck, fuck. Right there.”

You arch your back, pushing your chest out as you cum, “Yes yes yes.” You gasp and look down, breathing out quiet, “Fuck.”

He moves back up, “C’mon. My knees are killing me.” You laugh as you watch him stand up, “Now you know my pain, Golbach.”

His head snaps down at you and you stand up, a little wobbly, but he picks you up bridal style and walks up the steps, “I should have known something like that was going to slip from those pretty little lips.”

You smirk at him before he tosses you onto the bed and immediately discarding his clothes. You watch him as he moves up to hover above you.

He shifts in between your legs as you spread them and you can feel the tip of his cock brushing against where you want him most, “Please.” You whimper as you move your hips.

“Oh so now you want to be nice?” He smirks as he leans down to kiss you, moving back your jaw and down your neck, “maybe if you take the rest of your clothes off too, we can finish this and watch the rest of the movie.”

You lean up slightly, pulling the shirt from your body and tossing it, “Fuck the movie.”

Sam hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down just enough for you to slip a leg out and he wastes no more time.

You freeze and grip his shoulders as you feel him slide into you, “Sam.” You moan out almost breathless. He buries his face into your neck, moaning along with you.

His hands have a harsh grip on your hips, “Goddamn.” He lifts his head and looks down at you only to crash his lips onto yours as he starts thrusting slow, but quickly builds up to a punishing pace.

You swallow each other’s moans as you both cling to each other. Getting so tangled up into the moment that you don’t realize you left red lines across his back.

“So close..” you whimper out, “S-Sam..”

Your back arches off the bed, pressing your chest to his as you cum around his cock. His arm slides under you, holding you against him as his thrusts bring you to that point all over again, “cum for me.”

You hang your head back, moaning out as Sam fucks you through your high. Your nails paint even more scratches on his back before sliding a hand up to the back of his head.

He rests his forehead against yours, groaning out as he’s getting ready to cum, “Fuck, y/n.” He moves his head down to push yours up as he kisses you.

His thrusts are growing sloppy, and soon after he slows his thrusts down, your legs pulling him into you more.

“Sh-Shit.” He pulls out and lays on you, breathing heavy just like you. Your hand instantly goes to play with his hair and you let out a content sigh, “Thank you.”

“For what?” He asks keeping his head rested on your chest and you try to hold in your laugh but you can’t, “For getting me to not wait until the end of the movie.”

He slowly lifts his head and looks up at you with a smirk, “Anytime, babe. Anytime.”

——

Thank you for reading!

Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

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ladylightning · 10 months

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the way the absence of john winchester haunt sam and dean in ways that are more real than any ghost they have ever faced. the way john echoes so loudly in the narrative even in episodes he’s not mentioned, in seasons where he never appears. the way john possesses dean when he’s angry and sam when he’s grieving. the way john is the one true god of the narrative, the absent father who does not answer prayers or phone calls. the righteous man who does not break in hell but breaks down and hands his child a gun. john and the memory of his holy mary. john the prophet and his sacred text. john and his prodigal son that he knows has to die.

#john winchester #john as a character and narrative tool is so fascinating to me #the way the show utilizes both his presence and absence #the intergenerational trauma and cycle of abuse stuff is what elevates the show #even when the writers are fumbling the motw stuff or the season arcs #the impact of john is still so apparent and raw and visible #a lot of that is on the actors vs the writers tho #john winchester hate club #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #SPN

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emerald-notes · 1 year

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