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my toxic trait is thinking that i could've written season 5 better than the duffer brothers and satisfied way more people simply by virtue of actually caring about the story and characters i'm writing
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a small-town library or archive — somewhere filled with dust and forgotten things. you're both chasing the same case but from different angles. you’re tracking a sigil through ancient texts. sam’s following a trail of omens. your fingers brush when reaching for the same crumbling book, and he looks up — curious, calculating. it’s a moment out of time.
✧ are you a hunter or a civilian?
you’re not a traditional hunter. but you’ve seen enough to know better. you might be a researcher, someone with an occult background — maybe a descendant of a legacy family, someone who walked away. you’re precise, intelligent, and not easily rattled, thanks to that taurus mercury and venus. sam senses your knowledge immediately and respects it. you speak his language — facts, symbols, patience.
✧ what’s his first impression of you?
cautiously impressed. you feel grounded — taurus venus, taurus mercury, virgo rising — but there’s fire underneath with that aries moon and aqua mars. you don’t try to dominate the room, but you own it anyway. you carry yourself like someone who doesn’t bluff. sam thinks you're beautiful, but it's your mind that hooks him. he clocks you as someone who’s seen too much and still chooses to stay soft. that moves something in him.
ꔛ. friendship compatibility,
✧ how would the friendship be like?
gentle loyalty. intellectual synergy. private care. your friendship would run deep — the kind that doesn’t need words to feel understood. you’d both value privacy, consistency, and depth over drama. he’d feel safe around you — like he doesn’t have to perform. and you? you'd feel seen in ways no one else bothers to look. it’s a friendship that feels like home.
✧ how would it begin?
after a few shared cases. late-night study sessions. arguing over lore in motel rooms. he’d admire your calm in chaos. you’d admire his dedication. one night, you patch up a wound on his arm and he says “thank you” in a way that means something else entirely. that’s when the friendship anchors.
✧ quirks and fun things about it:
✶ you two would lowkey have the same playlists and argue over conspiracy documentaries.
✶ he drinks black coffee. you add something weird to yours and he makes fun of it but ends up liking it.
✶ you always steal his hoodie. he always acts grumpy about it.
✶ neither of you returns borrowed books.
✶ your inside jokes would be super dry — the kind that make others wonder if you even like each other (you do. deeply.)
ꔛ. romantic compatibility,
✧ are you compatible? is there a chance for friendship to develop into more?
yes, but only if you both choose it. your venus conjunct his mercury, your taurus placements mirroring his, and your virgo rising matching his own ascendant — it creates a strong base of mutual understanding. you’d get each other without needing to ask. but your aries moon and aqua mars bring fire that challenges his steady earth nature. the chemistry is real, but it’s not loud — it simmers. this could absolutely evolve — especially if you're partnered up long-term in the field.
✧ what type of relationship would it be?
slow, steady, grounding — but intense under the surface. you’d be the one who reads him when he’s silent. he’d be the one who holds your hand when you’re about to explode. it would be a relationship where everything unspoken means something. you’d keep each other sane. support each other’s healing. you’d be stronger together — a team in every sense.
✧ what are your love languages according to the charts?
✶ you: physical touch, acts of service, consistency.
✶ him: acts of service, quality time, deep conversations.
neither of you needs grand romantic gestures — you need presence. a hand on the back. a book left open with a note. coffee made the way you like it. these are your love poems.
ꔛ. scenario,
₊˚⊹౨ romantic partnersৎ ₊˚⊹
the motel is quiet. you’re both exhausted, the hunt over, the thing dead. your hands are scraped. your heart feels heavier than usual. sam’s sitting on the bed, flipping through his journal. you come out of the bathroom in his shirt, towel drying your hair. he looks up — not like he’s checking you out, but like he’s really seeing you.
“you okay?” he asks softly.
you nod, then hesitate. “i don’t want this to just be about the job.”
his brow furrows. “what do you mean?”
you sit beside him. close, knees brushing. “i mean us. if there is an ‘us.’”
he’s quiet for a moment. then he closes the journal. sets it down.
“there’s an ‘us,’” he says. “i think there has been for a while.”
you lean into him. his arm goes around you like it belongs there. like it always has.
no kiss. not yet. just warmth. just truth.
ꔛ. overall,
score : 9 / 10
this is a soul-deep, earth-meets-fire match. your stability matches his, but your curiosity and emotional boldness push him to grow. you challenge him in ways he needs, and he grounds you in ways you crave. you’re the storm he didn't expect. he’s the anchor you didn’t know you wanted. together, you’re unstoppable. the only downfall? it could stay platonic for too long if no one takes the risk. but once you do?
it’s real. it’s slow. it lasts.
ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ
* since the birth time of sam hasn't ever been mentioned, I've placed him as a virgo rising, since it's the sign that makes more sense to me.
everyday my urge to write some supernatural and the boys fanfic grows… desperately need more sam winchester fics out in the world along with domestic ben fics and maybe i’ll have to write them myself
it should be impossible to hate both sam AND dean because they are both the same amounts of fucked up but also silly and goofy! like, yeah they are codependent and idiotic in ways that make you want to rip your hair out, but they are BOTH codependent and idiotic! brotherhood fr!
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a/n - this might be the fastest i’ve ever written a fic??? it’s pure filth so that might be why but LMAO, i love love love the idea of soft dom sam sm he melts my brain, hopefully this is good!! getting back into writing after taking a break from being sick bc my brain wouldn’t work. special thanks to my friend who helped me brainstorm the delicious idea ilysm !! <3
The only thing she could hear was Sam’s soft breathing, and the soft tap tap tap of his laptop keys behind her.
If she paid close enough attention, she could hear the way his shirt rustled when he moved his arms, the soft fluttering of book pages being turned, but her focus wasn’t really attainable, it was slipping through her fingers with each excruciating moment that she was sat there.
Sam shifted in his seat out of a pure intention to get comfortable, and his cock nudged deeper inside of her wet heat, dragged a soft gasp from her lips, which just earned her a soft “shh, honey” against the shell of her ear.
It had been her fault that she was in that position in the first place. She’d been a little too needy with Sam when he was trying to research, and on her third attempt at trying to initiate a — much needed, mind you — make out, he’d grabbed her hips and tugged her into his lap facing him. His voice had been a little stern as he told her to pull his cock out, and the tone of his voice alone had her cunt clenching around nothing as she quickly did as she’d been asked. She knew that voice, she’d had it in her ear most nights, whispered against her throat, against the plush of her thighs. It meant he was in control.
Sam had sat back from the library's table for enough time for her to pull his cock out and pull aside her panties, sank down onto him with a soft moan, but before she could move he grabbed her hips tightly, kept her still.
“Don’t move,” he’d dipped his head down and kissed her throat, pulse fluttering beneath his lips. “Stay there while I finish up and I’ll take care of you after, hm?”
If she was feeling a bit more bratty she would’ve whined or complained or just moved anyways, but his voice in her ear and his hands on her hips had her head spinning, so she just nodded and tucked her head against his throat as he leaned over her to continue what he was doing, completely focused, as if he wasn’t buried deep inside her pussy at that moment.
That had been twenty minutes ago.
It was becoming torturous.
Sam was unfairly skilled at keeping composed. He was also unfairly skilled at winding her up. Those two went hand in hand, it seemed, because each second that passed just worked her up more and more. All she could focus on was the warmth of his body pressed to hers, his cock nestled deep inside of her, the lack of stimulation. When she’d came out to the library with her attempt at bothering him, she’d craved a genuine release, not this.
Her hips shifted slightly and she squeezed her eyes shut, huffed out a soft “Sammy” against his throat when that slight movement was enough for her pussy to throb around him.
“Stay still.” He murmured without as much of a look in her direction. She glanced up at him and his eyes were locked forwards, pupils shifting left to right as he read whatever was displayed on his laptop screen. Tap tap tap, more pages turned, more reading, rinse, repeat. He was killing her.
Barely a minute had passed before she made another soft sound against the warm skin of his throat, lips brushing his neck, “Baby please-”
“My hands are busy, sweetheart,” his voice was so nonchalant it drove her up the wall. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”
Her eyes squeezed shut as she huffed against his throat again. “Can you just take a break?”
“No,” he shook his head. “No, I’m almost done, you’ll just have to wait,” he tsked, a hand briefly pet her hair, the touch so light it was like he was purposely depriving her of any stimulation. “If you’re that needy, you have two hands of your own, baby. Sort yourself out until I’m finished with this.”
She released a shuddered breath against his throat, squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. It wasn’t the answer she’d wanted.
“Hey,” one of his hands came up to the side of her neck and he pressed his thumb against her jaw, tilted her head back until he could meet her eyes. “I told you I’d sort you out once I finished, didn’t I?”
She nodded, bit the inside of her cheek.
“So isn’t it nice of me that I’m letting you get yourself off in the meantime?”
Letting you. Her cunt throbbed again.
“Yeah.” She whispered.
Sam leaned down and kissed her, just a soft little peck, and somehow it just riled her up more. “I’ll be done soon. Go ahead and sort yourself out for me, sweetheart.”
He let go of her jaw and moved his arms to the table again, continued tapping at his laptop, and her eyes scrunched closed again as she tipped forward and rested her forehead against his throat. But she was so needy that she didn’t think twice about following his instructions. One hand stayed tucked at his waist, fingers curled into the soft material of his flannel, and her other reached between them and tucked under the material of her shirt, fingering at the waistband of her panties until she slipped beneath those too, and she was so fucking wet that she was undoubtedly making a mess of his jeans from just sitting there.
Her fingers dipped down, pressed against her clit, and she shuddered as the stimulation made her clench around his cock deliciously. She pressed her fingers forwards again, started to shamelessly rub herself, exhaled soft little moans and sighs against his throat.
Before she could do anything else Sam’s voice was in her ear again, “Quiet, sweetheart. You’re meant to be letting me work, don’t make me tell you to stop.”
Her jaw clenched as she exhaled shakily, eyes squeezed shut, and she huffed a breath against his throat as she took a moment to compose herself. Now that she’d started touching herself, it’d just be a torture to stop, so she just nodded against his throat with the intent to keep herself quiet.
It took a moment for her to settle on a pace. She was a bit too needy with it, her hand squished between their bodies, knuckles pressed to his hard muscles each time she shifted her hand, but eventually she settled into a pace that had her eyes rolled back and squeezed shut, the fingers of her other hand curled tightly into the material of his flannel.
She circled her clit with the pads of her fingers again and again, but it was the feeling inside of her every time her cunt clenched around his cock that made it hard for her to keep quiet. She was half tempted to bite down on his collar to shut herself up, but Sam seemed to be letting her get away with the slight gasps and whimpers that she couldn’t stop herself letting up.
It took an embarrassingly short time for her to get close — her forehead was pressed to his throat, hot breaths puffed out against his skin, trying not to shift her hips as she rubbed at her clit with a need that thrummed within her veins. Her jaw clenched and she held her breath, eyes squeezed shut tighter as she worked herself closer.
“Breathe,” Sam’s breath tickled her ear as he spoke softly. She had a tendency to hold her breath when she came sometimes if she was especially worked up — she didn’t even know Sam was paying attention. She took a shuddery breath, and he murmured a soft, “that’s it.”
It only took a few more circles on her clit before she came and she grit her teeth, huffed out a sharp breath through her nose as the feeling washed over her. Her cunt pulsed in pleasure, waves that kept her rubbing at her clit until it felt too much, and when she finally stopped she was breathing sharply against his neck. Her hand was a bit cramped, fingers wet, heartbeat drumming, but the release felt so nice after she’d been so worked up.
“Good girl,” Sam crooned, and she could’ve cum again at the tone of his voice. “Good girl. Did that help?”
She nodded against his throat, relaxed into his front.
“Yeah?” He asked. “Are you gonna keep still until I’m finished now?”
She nodded again.
“Baby,” she felt his hand smooth up her back until his fingers delicately tangled in her hair, only enough to pull her head back to look at him. “I wanna hear you say it.”
She blinked a few times up at him. He was so devastatingly handsome, it wasn’t fair. “I’ll keep still,” she mumbled, face feeling far too hot. “Promise.”
“Oh, you promise?” She didn’t miss the teasing edge to his words, the smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth.
She nodded again. “Yeah, Sammy.”
“Good girl,” he praised once more, and was nice enough to give her a proper kiss that time. It still wasn’t what she craved — she didn’t feel his tongue in her mouth, he didn’t kiss her until she went dizzy — but it was nicer and kinder than a little peck. “Ten minutes and I’m all yours.”
She settled back into his chest as he went back to work, comfy to just rest against him in her post-orgasm euphoria, happy to wait the ten minutes until he was finished. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fucked her on the library table that week.
there is a very real part of me that wishes greta gerwig would have focused a bit more on what it’s like to not only be a woman, but a woman of color. she had so much potential with america ferrera and her speech to draw focus on the fact that being a woman in the real world is even HARDER when you aren’t white because of all the racism that our world is built on.
and obviously greta might not be the one to write it, as she doesn’t have the experience, but i guarantee there was some working on the movie that could have. it was just such a missed an opportunity.
that being said, it was still an incredible movie. it felt so satisfying to be seen as woman in media. to hear women in media actually TALK about the reality of being a woman. 10/10 would see again
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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i hope @chloegong is having a good day. she deserves it after writing some of the best books i have ever read in my entire 20 years of life (i’m an english major so this saying a lot)
sneak peek at the first part of ‘nobody gets me’, a miguel o’hara x fem!reader regency era au
“He stepped a bit further into the room, his eyes never leaving yours as he glided into your space, certainly closer than what was considered proper for an unmarried man and woman who were without a chaperone. One of his large hands reached up and suddenly your chin was in his hands, his thumb resting dangerously close to where your lips sat on your face.”
titsay
andulkaphoto
annaxmalina
prguitarman
turnnoffyourmind
janainaart
izzy806
