#youngwriter

[notnocturne]

"i think I should like to be a writer. to take these words burrowed deep in my chest, my bones, and scribble them out into fruition. these words resonate in my body - shaking and thrashing and screaming as life deals its cards to me.

i don't tell people this desire. this purpose. they tend to suggest that it's some sort of childish wonder. some extreme ideal. they don't realise that I didn't choose this. i didn't ask to be burdened with so much to say. but the words are clawing their way out of my throat and spool from my hands. they erupt from my mind and dig themselves up from my flesh. they set themselves before my feet, ripe for the taking.

my fingertips themselves are points of punctuation. my lips are variations of intonations and language. my tongue craves the taste of ink on yellowed paper. the veins running down my legs beat a steady thrum of my tales meant to be told. writing, as I have found, is my own release where my mind meets my heart. how could it not? when every piece of evidence points to the naked fact that my very being is created from some kind of divine art?"

-my writing excerpts

[fineprintedsunsets]

sʜᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛs

Synopsis: Stephen Strange was known to be a dick, but what his could do far outweighed his smart mouth. 

Word Count: 1.9k

!Trigger Warnings!

-taking of virginity

-age!gap

-shower sex

-post-accident

-slight overstim

-aftercare

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :

   The Wolf- Spencer Lee Band

1:35 ───ㅇ───── 3:47

The warm water calmed Celia's nerves. The running shower water was making her forget what a shitty day she had. Training with Master Strange had been becoming more difficult as the days went by. He was a hard ass. A hot, sexy, hard ass. Celila plants a hand against the wall in anger. She’s been having these thoughts all day, and though she tries to shut them out, they always come back.

They're getting annoying, and she needs to relieve herself. Who would stop her in the sanctum's shower..

No. Cecilia shakes her head, clearing the thoughts of whatever relieving herself consisted of while grabbing a bottle of her own body wash, seeing this was her room's shower and popping the cap.

She reached for her pink loofah, soaking up the spongy drapes with the soap before placing the bottle back on the cap and setting it aside. Ceilia always got nervous taking a shower, since the panes of the shower walls were see-through. The fog from the hot water helps obscure her image just a bit.

Still, anyone could walk in here and see her body, her curves, her wet hair. Anyone could see her soaping herself up, dragging the loofah lower and lower and lower…

Fuck. She couldn’t take it anymore. Celia reached between her legs, forgetting the pink sponge on the floor of the shower. The water ran down her back, reliving her tense muscles, as a small finger, soaped up and wet circled her walls.

“Fuck.” She flinches at the touch but relishes in the pleasure that shut through her spine. A finger turned into a hand as she cupped herself, using the heel of her palm to dig into her clit. Celia bucked, one hand supporting herself on the shower wall, her eyes closed as water runs on her face, flowing down her back.

Soon, it was no longer her fingers rubbing her clit, no longer her mouth peppering outstretched kisses over her shoulders. It was his. God, she tried to block him out, but she was too far gone in her shower thoughts.

Stephen Strange was running his long, scarred fingers up her slit, teasing her, whispering praises as he stuck two digits inside. Celia moaned at her finger's intrusion, wishing it was him. Once her body took the fingers, she began to speed up, a moaning mess as she bucked and wiggled her hips, taking her fingers to the base.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t reach her spot, that special spot that made her get so close. Celia whimpered, crying out “Fuck. Stephen!” She pulled her fingers from herself, rubbing her clit to help better stimulate her entrance. What Celia didn’t know is that a set of eyes was on her, watching her as she took the fingers, her pussy clenching around the bones.

She felt the eyes on her, and when she looked over, although blurred by fog she could see Master Strange. Standing there.

“Oh, my god.” Ceilia plants both hands against the wall, pulling her fingers out of her cunt.

“This day could not get any worse.” She managed to mutter, although when she turned to face Stephen he was no longer there. He was inside the shower.

“Hello, Celia.” Strange gruffed, she tried not to focus on his cock, the way it was standing against his chest, or the fact that she could see his chest. He wasn’t overly muscular, but he was toned. You could see the outline of his muscles against his chest, along his neck, his arms, and his back if he turned around.

“Master Strange..” The truth was, no matter how hot Celia found this, this was her master, and even if he invited himself into her shower, knowing very well that she was just touching herself to him, it was inappropriate.

“Shh. I know. Feel guilty later, give into me now.” Her cunt clenches around nothing, hearing Stephen’s voice. He stood tall over her, backing her against the tiled wall. His hair meets the warm water, coating the dark strands and drenching them. Stephen planted both of his bare arms against the tile wall, leaving Celia stranded.

“Let me get you off, baby.” That’s all it took for Celia's mouth to be on his. The reality of the situation had yet to dawn on her, that Stephen Strange was in here, with his tongue down her throat. Stephen pulls away from her mouth, planting sharp and prickly kisses down her neck. Water streams over Celia, as Stephen practically tears himself from her neck.

“Lift your leg for me.” She does as she’s told, Stephen grips her thigh, positing the tip of his cock at her entrance. Sparks of anticipation shoot up her spine, marking her cunt with want.

“You're already warmed up for me.” He breathes, his voice a husky growl. It makes Celia clench as heat pools into the pit of her stomach.

“You ready to take my cock?”

She nods, although she stumbles. She still has her virginity, and although this is not what Celia imagine it would be like to get it taken, Even better actually, she’s glad it will be him. But all of it still makes her a bit nervous.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll try my best not to make it hurt.” Stephen whispers in her ear, as her heart thrums. The pet names only make it better. Placing a small kiss against Celia’s wet forehead, he pushes the tip in.

Celia jolts in pain, as Stephen places his head by her shoulder, whispering praises in her ear. She can feel him around her, in her, beside her. His scent, his heat, his body. Everything.

“Good girl. Taking me so well. Just a little more. Your okay.” Stephen's reassurances get her past the pain for the moment.

“I’m gonna do it, baby. I’m gonna fill you up.” Stephen does just that, he thrusts inside of her, burying himself to the hilt.

“Baby you're so tight. That's all for me isn’t it?” Celia can barely form words as she nods. He groans, thrusting once. They both let out breathy moans while she winces at the pain. She clenches around his cock, feeling so filled, so melancholic it’s otherworldly. Stephen groans as he feels her folds take him in, his cock twitching at the feeling.

“Celia, Can I move?” Celia nods, holding back her moan as he thrust again.

“None of that. I want to hear the way I make you feel.” God. Her master's filthy words make her clench again, which only causes him to thrust again, feeling her wet cunt around his lenth.

Stephen holds Celia against the tilted wall, fucking into her pussy like a man starved, gripping her thighs with one hand as he drills into her, and peppering kisses along her breast with the other.

All the while she lets out ravenous moans, enough to make his heart stop. The truth about Stephen Strange is that he notices the way she looks at him, but Celia never does when he looks back. How he could hear her call his name from across the hall, and in almost an instant he ran to her room, only to find Celia's fingers deep into her cunt.

Now he could certainly help with that problem too.

“Your so big.” She groans as Stephen takes one of her nipples into her mouth, fondling its hard peak.

“Look at you taking my cock, you like it filling you up, don’t you? Bet you want me to shoot my load inside you too. Is that what you want, princess?”

“God yes.” She through her head back, letting Stephen have his way with her. Nothing could ruin this moment, and when she felt her high rising, she could only focus on her high as she came around his cock.

Stephen relished in that feeling, the feeling of his cock inside her, of his mouth on his breast, his heart when she looked at him and smiled. Celias started to shake, but Stephen wasn’t done yet, he had yet to come.

“Rub your clit for me, baby.”

“Wanna see you come around my cock again.”

Even as the overstimulation crowded her, making her back arch and her pussy sore she managed to reach her fingers between them and rub her clit, watching as Stephen took in the sight, his cock fucking her harder.

“Just like that. Taking me so well.” God. This man and his words. Stephen Strange was known to be a dick, but what his could do far outweighed his smart mouth.

“I’m gonna come, Celia.”

“Will you take my cum like a good girl?” Even now, he smirked at her, seeing the way she writhed and wiggled, deciding between taking his cock more and more, or giving into the feelings of overstimulation.

“I’m coming!” Stephen groans, his face twisting in relief. Celia could feel him inside of her, twitching as he filled her up, the pleasure was too much, the feeling of him inside of her and the rapid rubbing off her clit.

“Look at me when you come.” Stephen whispered at her ear, and he pulled away and watched. He felt her clench around his length before her own release coated himself. Celia winced as he pulled out of her, the water making it impossible to open her eyes fully.

“Stay right here baby, I’ll be right back.”

⌘

Stephen did in fact come back with a towel in his hand and a pair of grey sweat pants wrapped around his waist, his chest bare. It ha dCelia drooling but the ache in her thighs turned into a type of soreness she was not used to.

Placing her carefully in bed, he made a bottle of some sort of liquid appear in his hand.

“Spread your legs.” Celia was caught off guard by the words, her eyes widening. As much as she would love to go again..

Stephen only laughed, seeing her eyes light up like a doe in headlights.

“Its alright, I’m just going to rub some petroleum jelly on your thighs, it'll help with the soreness.” Her heart thrummed at the worry in his voice, he was worried about her.

She did as he asked as he crawled up to her, inching her legs apart to rub the cool gel over her aching thighs.

Stephen started at the imprints his hand left, incredibly mesmerized as he traces the pattern on her flesh. Celia was already turning wet at the sight in front of her, Dr. Strange bowed between her thighs, his fingers rubbing against her skin.. but was too tired to act. He did as he said, before placing a kiss on both of her inner thighs and pulling a blanket over her.

“You're not leaving, are you?” Celia asked, sounding more like a whimper. She didn’t want to be needy but there was nothing in this world she wanted more than to fall asleep in Stephen Stranges arms.

“Of course not, baby.” He cooed, a bright smile on his lips. Stephen slid under the blankets, pulling her small body into him. Celia snuggled into the heat of him, growing mesmerized at the hum of his breaths.

“It hasn’t hit me yet.” She murmured into the pillow, feeling the warmth of his embrace.

“What hasn't?”

“The guilt.”

Stephen laughs, “And I don’t think it ever will.”

[shutired]

just clowning around.

A swish of the brush–my makeup is done

I give my gloves a tug and my sleeves a roll

Ladies and gentlemen…

Peddling around a unicycle

Twisting balloons into dogs

It’s showtime!

A puff of smoke–a swish of the glass

Feet propped up on a wooden end table

Ladies and gentlemen…

Costume sprawled across the floor

A painted-up buffon in the mirror stares at me

It’s showtime!

Persons disappearing from the deck with a shuffle

Balloons popping at the hands of shotguns

Ladies and gentlemen…

Miming authenticity to fools

Telecaster manipulating their puppets by strings

Lives balanced on stilts

Ladies and gentlemen…

[escritor91]

cuidado

[karolinium]

a little something i wrote last month

[peachi-bug]

RoseMoon is back up! As of today it begins. Chaos!

[batworks]

Nyctophobia

Knobby knuckles whiten, fingers wrapping around the blistered wood of the aged table. Nails grating upon the slab of which the timber is scraped into valleys behind the clawed grip of trembling hands.   Eyes peel open wide, barring their sights to the charcoal air with anguished hope. Hope to see into the nothingness soaking the air. Drenching the body in a wretched goo, sticking legs to the creaky chair and weighing greatly on the caving chest which is at loss for air by the second.

[slasherstories123]

If anyone is interested in horror commissions then I’m happy to oblige l. I have a kid I detonated to all horror stories and had it for a while. Here’s some examples of what I do.

The prices can vary depending on how much you want the word count to be,

From now on I’ll add my kofi link in my posts just in case if anyone’s interested in donating or want a commission. Have a nice day/night

@dootys @callmemeelah @fluffy-little-demon @mehidktbh @slash3rl0v3r @the-anxious-youth @charliedawn @mrs-heelshire @naxxsstuff @turdmongler @kawaistrawberry21 @l0sercat @beanbagbitch @oneofvincentscandles @vexeliers-breakroom @beel-mcburger @sleepypersonblog @slasherscrybaby @sadskies @bunnysenpai31 @alexxavicry @emychan @pink-apollo

[writerproducerdonatello]

Think of Starlight - Writer, Director, Producer

A woman finds herself trapped in a prison of her own making, so she must find the will to wake up, take charge of her life and learn more about the other entities that exist within this surreal mindscape. 

Directors: Donatello Lolos & Jude Parsons

Starring: Shermya Modupe

Screenplay by: Donatello Lolos

Editing: Jude Parsons 

VFX: Donatello Lolos

Director of Cinematography: Jude Parsons

Producer: Donatello Lolos

[trvvs]

I think I finally understand what you meant when you said "Don't be that broken tree."

Broken trees are the saddest thing one could witness, a devastating testament to the cruel world surrounding us all.

Seeing such beautiful living, breathing things endure such pain. No matter their resilience, it's just another feeling seeing them cracked and fallen apart on the ground. The life they once had so noticeably stripped away. From the acts of nature itself, or maybe even mankind as a whole.

It's amazing how even an almost dead tree can still maintain such beauty. Standing tall and proud, with even the fewest limbs and leaves. Radiating with the littlest amount of life they still hold in their trembling grasp. Regardless of the amount of life they have left, it's a beautiful tale.

Yet the wind still blew all the same, the surrounding trees continued to live on. Nothing changed, the world kept living.

While dead and broken trees remain lifeless on the floor. Limbs snapped and de-barked, leaves orange and crumbling with swift breezes. The tree decaying as it's roots remain upturned. Compared to the surrounding breathing, lively trees and soft lush grass, it's a sinking feeling. Heartbreaking. Knowing that dead tree too, used to be full of the same life, filling the hole that was now tore into the ground from it's death.

So why didn't the tree deserve to keep living too?

[graspofanunprecedentedreality]

It Is Impossible to Speed Up Philosophical Realisations

My novel is supposed to be sent to a novella contest in August. I have about a month left to increase 3000 words to 20,000 words. The reason for this is because while I have most of the story planned out, I don’t have the ‘middle part’ of the story that is necessary for it to be whole.

The ‘middle part’ of a story is usually characterised by its series of events as well as everything that you learn from the story. I have found this in Orlando, in Middlemarch, in The Lighthouse, and several other books which I cannot remember right now. For me to write a novel, I need to have learnt a great number of life lessons already, which I honestly don’t think I have. How is it possible for things that take years to sink in to be perfectly grasped and trapped in a phrase or a sentence?

I hope that my novel will turn out well even though I have only a bit more than a decade of philosophical realisations to sustain me.

– Sarah

© Sarah Singh 2023

[shutired]

the doctor's office.

the bluish depressions of ripe bruises

the pitter-patter of blood drops

hardened scabs caked upon tender flesh

the sound of wheezing fills the air

germs play tag in pursuit of control

bones snap, akin to glass

muscles tear layer by layer

the smell of the sick is unavoidable

walls as pink as cotton candy

operating lights brighter than the sun

tools scratching in cacophony

closing your eyes won't help

take a swig of ale!

lay back on the table!

strapped down like a madman!

fear upon thy countenance!

pills melting on the tongue

elixirs down the throat

Beethoven lulling thee to rue

red marker dotted on the chest

eyes rolled back

body limp as a doll

hands twitching

a small incision wouldn't hurt...

"oh bliss! bliss and heaven!"

slice, slice, slice

the scalpel cleaves all lethargy and imperfection

per layer of skin, an impertinence: removed

a husk of a man lay on the operating table

bandaged, bloodied, but no longer lame

may thee be declared redeemed!

Prost! to a new man

crimson coat

dirty gloves

a twisted smile

the antidote behind a glass case

[escritor91]

[welcome-to-my-college-life]

Writing

Dude, I’ve been writing this book for a few months and am making excellent progress with it. Still, I am so bored with the beginning because I want to get to certain parts of the book, and now I think that is NOT a good thing because if I believe that the opening is dull, then everyone will, and no one will read it. I also am freaking out now because I cannot rewrite the beginning of the book. After all, it is just world-building and character-building, but I am just getting anxious to write certain parts of the book. It’s like I have this idea, and I cannot finish it fast enough because my brain keeps thinking of more plots and more things, and UGH, I need help. I also want to hire an editor, but I don’t have enough money for one yet, and it's so frustrating because I am afraid I will get this book all written up and it will fail. I am not sure if anyone would like it but me.

[girlwiththepurplepen]

my mind & me poem, inspired by the @selenagomez song. & a bonus poem! 🖤 I'm in the drafting stage of my next book, & the focus of this one is teen mental health, so I'm really trying to tune into the darker parts of my mind. To be honest, that's a little dangerous; but anything for a good story. Right? 🤟🏾🖤 • • • • #poetscorner #poetsclub #poetrycommunity #writingcommunity #writersblock #writersclub #writerscorner #writersofinstagram #poemoftheday #poetryisnotdead #poems #poetsociety #teenwriter #youngwriter #wordporn #mymindandme #mentalhealthawareness https://www.instagram.com/p/CrOyt_pvOpi/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ideasornot]

Me, Lil Ith

I just don't know where to start, this is like when we meet new people and we just can't have any idea of how this person is.

I'm Lil Ith:

Writer of Wattpad, but I get bored of my own creations at the third day.

Student of junior year, who has a hatelove relationship with the knowledge.

Drawer at times, but I only can draw nude people.

Language learner, but I change languages mid-sentence.

Poet, but I only write about my sexual desires.