#katy writes

[katyobsesses]

Song lyric ideas for an 🌞Apollo🌞 verse in The Campfire Song in The Lightning Thief Musical

My dad's Apollo, he's god of the sun Music, poetry, archery, oh I'm not done Medicine, prophecy... Am I missing one? Oh no

And then I have a few ideas for the last bit of the verse

This one is simply accurate

Any child of his is probably queer If there's a break in this song, we'll volunteer

This one is if Will sang a verse

Couldn't his children have the gift of foresight? All I can do is glow like sunlight

this one is if I sang a verse (link)

His children are healers, but some of us aint If I looked at blood, I'd probably faint

this one is after The Trials of Apollo

When he came to camp, he spoke in haikus He can take down a monster, by singing the blues

and this one fits the theme of the musical best imo

He flies his sun chariot across the skies He says that he loves us but it's probably lies

[katymacsupernatural]

Red and Green Satin

Dean Winchester x Reader

1600 Words

Written For: @spnchristmasbingo

Square Filled: Lingerie

Warnings: This is an 18+ fic. NSFW. Smut. 

It was a slow time of year for hunting, and you were grateful for it. It gave you a chance to recharge, to spend time with Dean without having to worry about catching the monster or getting killed. You weren’t sure if Monsters hibernated like bears, or if they hated the cold just as much as you did. 

Today was one of those relaxing days. While Dean was gone running some errands, you took the time to catch up on your reading. Lounging in the library, you ignored all the hardback, leather-covered books that you still needed to research, reaching for a romance from one of your favorite authors. 

With a cup of hot chocolate at your side, you dug into the story, immersing yourself in the tale of forbidden lovers and heroic escapades. At some point, you heard Dean come back to the bunker. He even came by, placing a kiss on the top of your head before taking your empty mug and leaving you to your reading.

Once the two characters finally realized their love for each other, you closed the book and stretched your back. Dean had left a sandwich by your side sometime during the day, and you munched on it as you made your way down the hallway and into the bedroom you shared with Dean.

Laying on the bed was a small white box wrapped with a silky red ribbon. Your name written in Dean’s cramped handwriting on the connected tag. You were curious, but also annoyed. The two of you had promised no gifts for Christmas this year.

Slowly pulling on the ribbon, you laid it on the side before lifting off the white lid. Inside, nestled in pink tissue paper were little scraps of red and green satin plaid tied together with gold ribbon. Holding the bottoms out, you weren’t even sure they would fit you, with the tiny triangle of fabric in the front, the three golden ribbons on each side, and the thin scrap that was the only piece of the back.

“Holy crap,” you whispered, setting it down to pick up the top. It had the same red and green satin fabric, mainly under the wire, wrapping around to the back. The cups were only half there, red sain, tied up like the big red bow on the package. You had never worn anything like this. It was much too skimpy. You liked to be covered, to hide all the scars, the cellulite, and stretch marks on your stomach and thighs. This would do nothing but highlight them.

You noticed a card hiding in the tissue paper, and with a shaky hand you pulled it out. ‘I know we said no Christmas presents this year. But I thought this would be for both of us. No pressure.”

No pressure. Just looking at it was pressure. Imagining what you would look like in it was pressure. Taking a deep breath, you started to shove it back in the box when you paused for a moment. A part of you wondered…wondered what it what be like to wear something like that. To be comfortable enough in your own skin to stand in that skimpy of outfit in front of the man you loved. A man who loved like Adonis himself.

Your curiosity got the better of you as you slipped out of your sweatpants and oversized shirt. Maybe you could try it on before Dean came to bed and let him know that it didn’t fit. Then he could return it, and you would never have to go through the humiliation of wearing it in front of him again. 

Your simple sports bra came off, along with your black panties. The satin of the lingerie felt smooth and soft against your skin as you struggled to pull it up your thighs. Finally, it was settled in place, the ribbon slightly rough against your skin. The bra was next, and you had a little more trouble with it. Getting it into place, you struggled to get the bow tied while supporting your generous breasts. Finally, the bow stayed tied, your girls pushed and piled high above the red ribbon. You were grateful that you had shaved that morning as you hesitantly stood in front of the mirror.

You tried to focus on the positives. How well the red and green highlighted your skin. Instead, your eyes went immediately to what you called the problem areas. Sighing in disappointment, you turned to take it back off when a loud whistle startled you.

“Damn, that even looks better than I expected,” Dean exclaimed as he leaned against the wall. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Crossing your arms over your chest did nothing but push your girls up even farther, pulling Dean’s gaze down. “Dean, you know I’m not a big fan of showing off my body,” you started to argue as he came forward. “I appreciate the gesture, but…,”

Your words faded away as his callused finger ran along the satin fabric, brushing the top of your breasts. “This is definitely a present I can’t wait to unwrap.”

“It’s a present you’ve seen before,” you retorted, but it ended in a whimper as his hand dipped down, following the gold ribbon from your hip to right in front where the tiny little green bow was perched. 

“And each and every time it’s like seeing it for the first time,” he answered as his hand pulled you tight against him. His green eyes were a darker, forest green as he leaned down, his lips ghosting against yours, driving you wild.

Suddenly it didn’t matter how exposed you felt in the skimpy lingerie. All that mattered was the feel of Dean’s arms around you, his lips rough against yours. Threading your fingers through his hair, you stood up on your tiptoes, your lips hot against his. 

Groaning against your skin, he picked you up, dropping you on the bed before stepping back. “Wow,” he whispered, kneeling between your legs, staring down at you. “How did I get so lucky?”

“No, how did I?” You argued as his finger traced the red bow on your breasts, tugging on it until it came untied. Pulling the fabric away, he greedily stared down at the present he had just unwrapped. “I definitely think I won here,” his voice was deeper, guttural as he leaned between your splayed legs, his hand resting warmly on the swell of your breast as his lips nestled against your neck. 

You weren’t about to argue as his thumb began a gentle caress of your pebbled nipple, pulling a soft groan from your lips. His lips left your skin long enough to join his thumb, his tongue swirling around the sensitive skin as his other hand skimmed down your belly, coming to rest on your satin covered mound. “As much as I love seeing these panties on you, I think it’s about time to unwrap my second part of the present.”

Your agreement was lifting your hips slightly off the bed so he could pull them down. They came off a lot easier than they went on, and you watched as Dean’s shirt and jeans joined them on the floor. “Much better,” he licked his lips as his hand continued it’s exploration down, rubbing against your most sensitive area. You were already warm and wet, turned on by the way he was looking at you and the feel of his callused fingers against your skin. 

He started to rub his finger against your nub when you pulled him back up for a kiss. “Need you,” you pleaded, wanting to skip the foreplay. Pushing on his shoulder until he was laying down, you straddled his waist. The red satin bow swung down, tickling his belly as you pulled his member from the slit in his boxers. Rubbing it along your slit, you groaned at the sensation before slipping the head inside. 

“Fuck me,” Dean groaned, his head tilted back, his teeth tugging on his lower lip. 

“That’s the point,” you chuckled, it ending in a moan as you sank down, filling yourself with his impressive girth. “Damn, that feels so good.”

Dean’s hands felt for and grasped your hips, helping you move up and down, creating a rhythm that worked for the both of you. Your head thrown back, you rocked up and down, loving the way he felt inside of you. 

One of Dean’s hands slid up your side, cupping your breast slightly rougher than before, rubbing your nipple between his fingers and you could feel the pressure building up low in your stomach. “Dean, I…, you moaned, wanting more. Needing more. Moving your hips faster, you ground against his hip bones before coming apart at the seams. 

Dean’s name left your lips in a screaming moan as you clenched around him, sending him over the edge as well. His hand grasped your hip tight enough to leave a bruise, yelling “Fuck,” loud enough for Sam to hear down the hall. 

Once the two of you stopped seeing stars, you laid down on your side beside him, his hand running up and down your arm gently. Both of you were half asleep, completely sated. “Well, I hope you enjoyed the present as much as I did,” he chuckled, using his other hand to play with the crumpled satin.

“Very much so,” you agreed, grateful that Dean had been able to pull you slightly away from your insecurities.

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278   @cap-just-said-language @colette2537   @deansgirl215  @flamencodiva @hamiltrash1411 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @justanotherwinchester @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller  @librarygeekery @magssteenkamp @misspygmypie @mlovesstories   @mrspeacem1nusone @nothinbuttrouble2 @ria132love @ruprecht0420  @screechingartisancashbailiff   @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @thoughts-and-funnies @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666 @beabutterfly987 @pink-sparkly-witch @sexyvixen7 @supernatural3002 @deans-baby-momma @brilovesdeanwinchester @deandreamernp @missmemoire09 @spngif

Forever Tags:  @aditimukul @alexwinchester23 @algudaodoce03-blog @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove   @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @caswinchester2000 @cpag7 @chelsea072498  @closetspngirl @deanwanddamons @docharleythegeekqueen @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008  @esoltis280   @tatted-trina6 @foxyjwls007 @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek  @heartislubbingdubbing @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99blog @imsuperawkward @internationalmusicteacher   @jayankles @jensen-gal @justsomedreaming  @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork  @lowlyapprentice   @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @mogaruke @monkeymcpoopoo @musiclovinchic93  @nanie5   @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25   @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing  @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @simonsbluee @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @spnbaby-67​  @spnwoman   @superbadassnatural @thatcrazybookwormgeek​   @thewinchesterchronicles​ @valsworldofcreativity @vvinch3st3r​  @whimsicalrobots​ @winchester-writes​ @zombiewerewolfqueen @lyarr24 @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers​ @theamyhead @440mxs-wife @stixnstripesworld @furiouscopshepherduniversity @thelastpyle 

[tothegatesofhell]

Day three of Techza Week! Yes, this is technically very late, but whatever. I chose the prompt "pets".

@techzaweek

[fruityfourgalore]

platonic stobin + cozy by the fire for the spooky szn fic prompts!!

friend, i hope you enjoy this! its more of a drabble than a fic, but i wanted to finally get it to you because if i stare at it any longer i am going to hit select all and delete it

Halloween fell on a Friday night in 1986. Steve is glad. Halloweens that fell on weekend nights were better than any other night. When he was a child it meant sleeping in after eating too much candy. When he was a teenager it meant sleeping in because he was hungover. 

Robin, Steve, Nancy, Eddie, Argyle, and Jonathan were all around the crackling, cozy fire in Steve’s backyard. The air is a crisp 62 degrees and the kids are in Steve’s living room sleeping off a candy coma. Robin could hear one of them snoring loudly and the static noise from the television saying their movie had ended. 

Steve reaches over to the bag of candy in Robin’s lap (she stole it from Mike, haha!) and digs around looking for something specific. “Where’s the Kit-Kats!” Steve mutters. 

“In my tummy,” Robin whispers and then giggles. 

Steve looks over at her with an expression of betrayal. “You ate them? All?” He whispers. 

“They are delicious.” 

Steve pouts. 

“Oh, oops, wrong verb tense.” Robin pats her belly. “Were. They were so delicious.” Steve gives her his bitchiest bitch face and she snorts a giggle. 

“Rude,” Steve mutters and looks at Eddie asleep on his shoulder. Robin readjusts her position and accidentally, but softly, elbows his ribs. “Ouch! Hey, Robs, you gotta move your legs, my thigh is falling asleep,” Steve says and Robin’s elbow nudges his ribs, a bit too hard. “Ow!” 

“Are you saying I am too heavy?” 

“No, I am saying my thigh is falling asleep,” Steve grunts as he tries to move his left leg out from under Robin’s legs, but it is useless. He takes one last drag of the blunt Eddie rolled for them and snubs it out on the armrest of the couch. 

“I can’t move my legs because Nance is sleeping.” Robin reaches down and twirls some of Nancy’s hair around her finger. Nancy was the first to fall asleep, sitting on one of the ottomans, her legs laid across part of the patio couch and were currently being used as a pillow for Argyle and Jonathan. 

Jonathan and Argyle are also snoring softly to the right of Robin. The two of them are cuddled up against each other on the second patio couch. Argyle is apparently the small spoon in that relationship. Robin thought it was cute. 

Honestly, all six of them are disgustingly adorable. If Robin wasn’t so in love with Nance and had her and Steve never worked at Scoops, it was the kind of dynamic she would judge so hard. No way would she be the King of Hawkins High’s best “platonic soulmate” friend who is now annoyingly in love with an almost thrice convicted murderer metal head, while madly in love with said platonic soulmate’s ex-high school sweetheart Nancy Wheeler who used to date loner Johnathan Byers who is now dating the most adorable pothead from Cali. But, here she was. And here they all were. Tangled up together but spread across two patio chairs and a patio couch. 

Robin would give all the Kit-Kats in the world to whoever understood that string of words. 

“I think we should go as the Scooby gang next year.” Robin says to Steve. 

“Oh!” Steve picks out a Kit-Kat Robin must have missed and unwraps it. “The Scooby gang? Why?” He breaks one stick off and hands it down to Robin. 

Robin takes it and plops it in her mouth. Chewing, she answers. “Because, look at us.” She motions around them. “We are so codependent and, I mean, we do solve crimes. Argyle even drives us around in his van when Eddie’s van is in the shop.” She chuckles. 

Steve drops his head back and looks at the cloudy night sky. “Who would I be?” 

“Fred, obviously. I’m Thelma. Nance is Daphne.” 

“Eds would be Shaggy or would Jonathan be Shaggy?” Steve twirls his fingers through Eddie’s hair. 

“Jonathan would be Shaggy.” She giggled. “His hair looks identical to Shaggy.” 

“Okay, so then, what? Eddie is Scooby? Who’s Argyle going to be?” 

Robin thought about it for a moment. “Hmmm, Eddie is Scooby, Argyle is… the van! His van looks more like the Mystery Machine than Eddie’s.” 

Steve’s laugh pulled his head back in an upright position. He looked down at Eddie and smiled. He wasn’t sure if Eddie would sign off on dressing up as a dog, but they had a whole year to convince him. “So, that mean you’re the Thelma to my Fred, Robs?” He dropped the mostly empty, mostly full of empty wrappers, candy bag on the grass and reached to tousle Robin’s hair. 

“I mean, duh,” She looked over her shoulder at him and pressed her finger to his nose. “Boop!”

[calamitykaty]

[sicknessinmotion]

EVERY TIME I LOOK BACK, MY CHILDHOOD GROWS HORNS; ON AGING.

lorde // iasoup on tumblr // alain de botton // jenny slate // katie maria // silas denver melvin // chelsea wolfe

[inkskinned]

i got my isbn today for the book. 8 months to go. my mom and i were talking about what the next steps are. i was eating trail mix, standing on one foot, phone tucked into my ear.

"yeah," i said. "the problem is that tumblr as a market is like, not something that can be studied." there's this weird wave of nostalgia and affection for this place that came up over me: how lovely we avoid consumerism. okay, it sucks as a creator. but also? keep stickin' it to 'em.

my mother made the sound at the back of her throat that i also make, the one that means i've got an idea. "you should figure out some kind of reward for presale amounts. maybe you give out poems or a mug or a signed book or something. would your followers like that?" my mother is sweet, and kind, and i have no idea how to explain on this website you can buy someone crabs.

i put more m&ms down the hatch. i had to speak through peanuts and almonds. "if it passes 25 thousand i will print the book out in its entirety and eat it live on camera."

"oh god. no, you don't have to do that." she was anguished. "just tell them that you'd love them to read it, and that they've inspired you to write. you got started on that site, and they helped you keep going. raquel, you love these people. the community? you talk all the time about the other writers and artists and whatever else. tell them that you're hoping for their support, they'll come through."

"no," i assured her. i discovered i had dropped an m&m, but an ant had already found it, so it belonged to him now. i will let his little life have a surprise blue treasure in it, too. "i'm gonna fuckin' eat the book."

[rebelspykatie]

Steve’s never had anyone show any genuine interest in the things he likes. Robin rolls her eyes when he brings up sports or silly movies that don’t have a bigger plot or character work. Even though she played soccer, she doesn’t care about it in the same way that Steve cares about basketball or football. 

The kids make fun of everything from his taste in music to his choice in snacks for movie nights. Mike calls him a little housewife for baking one time and he never shows up with cookies again. They’re never intentionally mean spirited, or at least he doesn’t think so. He knows he can give as good as he gets when it comes to catty, sarcastic comments, but he tries to steer clear of personal attacks on someone’s identity these days. He learned that lesson with Jonathan. 

But even before the party came along, it was like that. His parents never stuck around long enough to find out what he was up to, never attending a game or meet, and certainly in the dark about what he might be up to outside of school. Tommy only ever cared about himself and Carol, only following Steve around for clout, popularity by association. If he asked him right now, he’d bet a lot of money that Tommy doesn’t even remember his favorite food or the movie he used to watch when he was sick. There was a point where he thought he could share things with him. Until he realized mid ramble about sports cars that Tommy wasn’t even listening to him. He was staring at Carol and nodding along with a vacant expression. 

So he stopped sharing. Stopped caring if people knew anything about him because they never asked. People always made assumptions about him anyway. The girls he slept with only wanted one thing. The kids were happy to let him chauffeur them around with no questions asked. Robin was the only one he let in, the only one that cared about digging deeper. But, and she never said in so many words, he could tell that she thought his interests were mundane, and clearly not something that sparked any enthusiasm from her. She couldn’t even keep up with the girls he slept with, giving him the same bored stare as Tommy. 

Even now, after a few years, Steve’s reminded that they never would have become friends if not for trauma and the secret inner workings of the Russian’s within Hawkins. He’s lucky to have her, but he doesn’t think she ever would’ve chosen this, chosen him. And that’s fine. He’s used to not being chosen. His parents didn’t choose him when they started leaving him alone at age 12. Tommy and Carol chose each other and the reign of a new king when Steve fell from his throne. Nancy chose Jonathan. 

He doesn’t think he has a lot to offer. 

Well, at least until Eddie comes along. He’s taken by surprise when Eddie asks after the song that’s playing in his car. He’d assumed Eddie only liked metal music, and yeah he pokes fun at the genre of music Steve seems to stick to, begging him to give metal a shot, but he doesn’t say a word about how lame it is. When they’re having a movie night, Eddie notices that Steve gravitates towards coke and brings him one without Steve asking.

After Eddie sees his bedroom, Steve gets a pack of hot wheels for Christmas. Eddie jokes that he should give one to each of the kids as their new ride, since they seem to be ungrateful little twerps. Steve places them right under his posters on his dresser and Eddie grins at them every time he comes over. They lay in bed and pretend to drive them on the ceiling like they’re kids again. It shakes something loose in Steve’s chest. 

Eddie hates sports, but he invites Steve over on Mondays, when Wayne is perched in his chair for football. He quietly works on his campaigns while Steve and Wayne watch the games. Eddie somehow worms his way into Steve’s heart, digging deeper and deeper with each new thing, like he wants to know more. Steve’s history is a minefield, but Eddie expertly navigates through it, leaving who they were behind, building something new together. Steve’s already halfway in love with him before he even realizes that Eddie is something that he likes. 

He expects to freak out a bit more, but who is going to stop him? Who is going to care if he wants to be with this boy? He’s spent so long ignoring parts of himself for others that he wants to cherish this fragile thing, to cradle it in his hands, make sure no one can ruin it for him. When he kisses Eddie, it feels like coming home, like he’s finally found that place he’s been searching for his whole life. It’s a kind of devotion that Steve’s not used to, born of love and not obsession or jealousy or anger. 

He’s not sure he deserves it, but he’ll do everything in his power to keep it.

[cheolism]

✧ CAUGHT IN A TRAP

✧ choi seungcheol x f!reader ✧ summary: you ask your brother's best friend to tie the top to your swimsuit. he's convinced that you've lured him into a trap and acts accordingly. ✧ wc is approx 4.5k ✧ tags: brother's best friend-to-lovers?? close proximity ✧ warnings: mdni. mentions of groping and luring!! grinding, oral and fingering, dick-in-vagina sex, overstim. cheol's dirty mouth, pet names (princess, baby, good girl, etc). begging, slightly mean cheol. this is basically all tension and porn. possibly morally questionable cheol? lmk if you think any should be added. ✧ author's note: first fic in a month! i've begun and quit so many fics in the past few weeks and this is the first one i've been able to finish. so i'm satisfied!! this is just desperate porn. this takes place during the summer so it is very out of season lol

"seungkwan," you call, opening your bedroom door just enough to peek out of it. you don't see your brother in the hall, so you call again; hopefully, he hasn't left for the lake already.

seungcheol appears before you can call for a third time. he's -- well. he's choi seungcheol and he's dressed for the lake, long trunks and a tank top that's somehow both too tight on his torso and just right, revealing his thick biceps and straining over his chest and making your eyes drop to trace the shape of them.

"seungkwan's already down at the dock," seungcheol answers, glancing at his phone. he looks back at you, lifting one of his thick brows at how you're poking only your head out. "everything okay?"

you can feel heat rush to your face. you refuse to look at his face, but then your eyes immediately drop back down to his chest and you can't look there because that would make you a huge creep, so you drop your gaze even further and it goes to his ankles.

"i need help," you mumble, "i can't tie the back of my top."

seungcheol's quiet and you refuse to look at him and repeat yourself. it's horrible. you think about him imagining you, the top of your swimsuit dangling around your shoulders and tits hanging out, and you slide the door shut just a little bit more.

"i'll just text seungkwan and tell him to come back up," you say, voice quiet with embarrassment. you shouldn't have even told seungcheol. he wasn't judging you out loud but seungcheol was -- he was perfect. he was the perfect man, the man you've dreamt about for as long as your brother's known him, and you're so overly aware of how you look to him -- of how he sees you as some silly little sibling to his dear friend, and you've just made yourself seem even more like a little kid.

"no need," seungcheol responds. his voice is deep, and you flick your eyes to watch him slide his phone into the pocket of his trunks. "i can tie it for you."

your eyes widen and your mouth drops a little. "no thanks!" you squeak, shutting the door entirely. "i'll just -- i'll just wear a shirt down!"

seungcheol laughs on the other side. he knocks against the door. "let me in, silly." he knocks again. "it's just tying a swimsuit."

right. it's just tying a swimsuit while you stand there, half-naked.

"no," you whine, "i'll really just --"

"let me tie your top." seungcheol's voice has taken on a more serious tone, the sort that he gets when he's trying to command a room.

you're quiet for half a minute, biting down on your lip and pressing your forehead against the door. it's just tying a swimsuit top, like seungcheol said; he just sees it as helping out his best friend's little sibling. but also, it's choi seungcheol, the man who inspires more crushes than he could ever be aware of, and you don't know if you can handle the mortification that comes with him seeing you like this.

but then, quietly, in the hopes that he'll miss it, you agree.

"let me in," he returns.

"just a second," and then you're moving from the door. you push your open suitcase behind the bed so he won't be able to see how your stripped underwear sits on top, and you kick your dirty clothes underneath the bed.

you reach behind you, grabbing the strings of your top and pulling them taut so your tits don't hang out. then you open the door, just a smidge. "hurry!"

seungcheol chuckles as you slam the door shut behind him. "it's just a swimsuit," he says, eyes twinkling. and he's so handsome, his dark hair hanging around his face and lips twisted in a smirk. it's so ridiculous, and you don't know why seungkwan ever introduced you to seungcheol because surely your brother knew you would end up like this.

(surely your brother knew that when he introduced you to seungcheol and mingyu and wonwoo but mainly seungcheol that in three years' time you would be standing with seungcheol in a bedroom in a lodge, turning so seungcheol could tie the strings to your top.

it was all seungkwan's fault.)

slowly, you turn your back to seungcheol. "quickly," you urge him. "we gotta hurry."

seungcheol scoffs at you. your body is so alert that you can practically feel every step he takes, that you can picture seungcheol crossing the room. when he grabs the strings of your top his fingertips skim along your back, and you can't help but jump.

"we're not going to get in trouble," seungcheol says, pulling the strings from your grasp. "we're both adults."

"can you imagine what seungkwan would say if he saw you leaving my bedroom when the door was closed," you hiss, bringing both of your hands to your front and crossing them over your chest. seungcheol's fingers slide against your shoulder blades and then he's beginning to tie your top, and you can feel every pull as he tightens them. every single movement seems to jostle your heart, seems to alert every single cell in your body to seungcheol's fingers. "forget kwannie -- can you imagine soonyoung? or jihoon? they'd tattle."

"they'd tattle," seungcheol laughs. "we're adults. if you're so worried we should've just left the door open."

"so someone can pass and look in to you tying my top?" you say, shaking your head. "no thanks."

the strings pull once more, and then seungcheol is tapping your shoulders. "finished."

"it's tight?" you say, turning over your shoulder to look at him. "it won't come undone?"

seungcheol tugs the knot he made. "nope. we'll have to cut you out."

you grin, turning to face seungcheol. "thanks."

"wasn't so hard now was it?" seungcheol smirked down at you, lifting one of his thick brows. you hate it when he looks at you like this -- hate it because a single lift of his brow sends a tingling rush through you, one that shoots straight down to your cunt and makes you feel electric. "you were worried over nothing."

it's then, watching as he lowers his eyebrow but that smirk remains, that you realize just how close the two of you are. seungcheol had stepped close to you so he could tie your top and hadn't moved away. that meant that when you turned around there was hardly two feet of space between you.

and fuck, when you became aware of it you became aware.

his wide shoulders, the way his skin -- lightly tanned by the sun, as if even the sun had a crush on seungcheol and couldn't bear to burn his skin red like it had jihoon -- tightened around his biceps when he raised his arms up above his head in a stretch.

as he stretched you couldn't help but let your gaze flick back over his body. you were ogling him like he was some prize but, horribly, you couldn't help it. you couldn't help but take in the sight of his pecs, of how his nipples poked through the fabric of his dark tank top. the slight curve of his tummy, how he hadn't tucked his tank top into his trunks, and how the shirt rose as he stretched, revealing just a sliver of skin.

his neck, wide and thick, and his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed and side, angling his face up towards the ceiling as he stretched.

seungcheol was like a flame, passion running through his veins. and like a moth, you couldn't help but reach.

you weren't even thinking. not a single thought was in your mind. it was as if your brain went offline, leaving nothing but your heart and the want that left little tingles in your cunt to command your body.

and you were reaching and placing your hand over his collarbone. his skin was smooth beneath your fingers, and you couldn't help but swipe your thumb over his skin, watching as your thumb moved.

then seungcheol's hand was shooting out and grabbing your wrist and your brain came online.

mortification shot through you. your brain began to go into overdrive as you gawked at seungcheol as if he had been the one to touch you unsolicited, as if he had been the one to press his hand to your skin and feel.

"i --" you began, a thousand thoughts shooting through your brain and yet not a single one leaving your lips. you can't speak. you can't because you just -- just groped choi seungcheol. "wait -- i --"

seungcheol cocks his head at you, brows lifting and you can feel -- despite the situation at hand -- more tingling in your pussy. "oh. i get it now."

"i-- get -- what?"

seungcheol grins at you, cherry blossom pink lips quirking. he moves closer to you, though there hasn't been that much space between the two of you to begin with and wasn't that where this entire problem started, so why was he getting closer?

"you were luring me in here," seungcheol announces, walking closer and closer and you begin backing up, straight into the wall opposite to the door. "i was just a passing fly you caught in your trap. is that right?"

your back hits the wall and you have nowhere to go. you're gawking up at seungcheol, feeling as if you were the fly in his trap. "what -- what are you talking about --"

"you wanted me to come in," seungcheol says, still grinning down at you. "you were pretending you needed your top tied. you were pretending so you could get me in your room, door shut. you were pretending so you could grope me."

your mouth fell open with an audible click. "i -- i didn't! seungcheol, i promise i didn't!"

seungcheol laughs at you meanly. he moves your hand, the one that, horribly, reached out and groped him, and presses it above your head and against the wall. he crowds closer, his other hand sliding along your jaw to cup your cheek. "you planned this."

"i didn't," you say, voice going quiet due to the lack of space between the two of you. "i was searching for seungkwan."

"you were," he mocks, and he's so mean. choi seungcheol is so mean. "you've got me in your little trap, baby. what are you gonna do with me?"

you wonder what the fuck he means. seungcheol's the one who's got you against the wall, he's the one with your wrist in his grasp.

seungcheol's eyes flick down. he's taking you in, you realize; he's admiring you.

"i've trapped you," you echo weakly.

seungcheol's eyes return to your face. "you have," he responds. "now what will you do with me?"

you lick your lips. your bottoms are soaked, you realize. you can feel their dampness, can feel the heat trapped between your thighs.

"i -- i've trapped you," you say, slowly, testing out each word. "i better -- i better use you, then."

"use me?" he says, cocking his head. seungcheol's eyes are sparkling, and you realize that he loves this. "how would you use me, baby? what would you do to me?"

your brain goes blank again. "uh. i'd -- i'd kiss you?"

"kiss me," he's grinning now as if you're amusing him. his thumb slides along your cheekbone. "is that it? you've got me in your hands for you to fuck around with and all you'd do is kiss me?"

"wanted to," you say. "i've wanted to kiss you for a while."

seungcheol's smile softens, and he's moving his hand from your cheek to press it next to your head on the wall. he's caging you in, and you're trapped between his arms, but you don't feel it. you don't feel like a trapped moth frantically looking for an escape.

shyly, you carry on. "i guess i'd -- if i had you, if i was going to use you -- i'd make you uh --"

"make me what?" he says, and he's enjoying it so much.

"you know."

"i don't," he says, brows raised. "you gotta tell me, baby. what do you want to do with me?"

you can't look at him. so you slide your gaze from his face and rest it on his collarbone. "i'd -- i'd sit on you."

"sit on me? that it?" seungcheol brings his face close, and his nose is against yours. "just sit on my lap? wouldn't do anything else? don't want to do anything else with me?"

you can't say it, so you shake your head.

seungcheol clicks his tongue. he trails his nose over your face, breath hot against your face. "okay. let me tell you what i'd do. if i had you in my trap i'd kiss you. kiss your cute little mouth, kiss your chin. kiss your throat, kiss your pretty tits. i'd kiss your tummy and i'd kiss your sweet little cunt -- i bet it's so pretty, princess. bet you have such a pretty little pussy."

you gasp, and his mouth is over your lips. he's not kissing you, but his lips are pressed to yours. you can feel them move as he speaks. "i'd have you take my cock," he carries on, each word sending heat and electricity to your pussy. "if i had you trapped i'd fuck you so good, baby."

you agree. you think of it, of seungcheol pressing his dick -- you just know he's big, know he's big and he'd feel so good around your cunt. you think of it and shift, feeling the wetness of your swimming bottoms.

"so?" he asks.

"so?"

seungcheol laughs at you. "would you let me trap you, baby? would you wander into my little trap and let me fuck you?"

"yes," you say, and it's the easiest thing you've ever said.

seungcheol kisses you. he immediately devours you, immediately traps you. seungcheol moves his mouth with intent, covering yours over and over and over, kissing you as if he had been wanting it, yearning for it.

you can't help but get lost in it--in him. his hands move from your wrists and to you, one of his hands sinking into your hair to guide you, his other going to wrap around your body and hold you close to him. he wants you, you think; wants you, wants you so desperately that he wants to mold your bodies into one.

your arms get trapped between your bodies, but you take the chance to press your hands against his chest and feel his body as he moves against you. it's not like you have the wits to do much else. with seungcheol's mouth devouring you, owning you, you can't do anything else than try and catch your breath between every eager press of your lips, can't do anything else than just stand there and let him take you.

seungcheol moves his tongue into your mouth, and that's when you break away. you gasp against him, trying to catch your breath, trying to focus. seungcheol moves on. he travels from your mouth, skimming his lips along your chin and jaw before going to your neck.

his hands move as his mouth does, and he's settling them on your hips and guiding them flush against his. you can feel his dick, can feel him as he mouths at your neck, never staying in one place, as if he would go crazy if he didn't press his mouth against every inch of you.

"seung--" you pant, your hands digging into the fabric of his tank top. he groans, a strangled noise against your skin. you try to speak again, but then he's skimming his teeth along your skin and you can't help but let out a high, keening whine.

he grins against your skin. "that's it, princess," he murmurs, "gotta me loud for me. gotta show me you really want it."

you groan, obedient, when he begins sucking at your neck. seungcheol works his mouth over you, sucking bruises into your skin.

"tell me," he commands, pressing his nose against your jaw, "tell me you want it."

"want it," you return, letting your head rest back against the wall. seungcheol moves his mouth back to your neck, and then he's running his lips along one of the strings of your swimming top, mouthing at it as if he was reminding you of how scantily clad you were. "want it, cheol, want you."

he hums. "tell me," he carries on, as if your words had no effect. "tell me you trapped me. tell me this was all part of your plan, baby."

you want to whine and protest, but then he's ducking his head and nipping at the exposed skin of your tits and you immediately give in. "it was," you whine, "i -- i trapped you, cheol. wanted you, want you so badly, cheol."

when seungcheol lifts his head, he's smirking. he presses you flat against the wall, mouth returning to the curve of your neck. seungcheol licks against your skin, drawing a noise from your mouth, just as he thrusts his leg between your thighs.

"too bad i caught onto your little plan, princess," he taunts. "i should turn around and walk out, shouldn't i? just leave you here in your room, all wet and desperate."

you whine, moving your hands against him. you run them over his pecs, over his shoulders. 

"don't," you beg, unable to keep your voice from going high in desperation. "please, seungcheol, please --"

"please what?"

"fuck me," you beg, wanton yearning seeking its talons into you. you wanted, wanted so desperately. he was all around you, surrounding you; you could feel the taste of him on your tongue, the feel of his skin beneath your hands. but it wasn't enough. you wanted him inside of you, wanted to feel him within. "please, please fuck me --"

"prove it to me, baby," he says. "prove it that you want me. show me. show me, precious."

he presses his knee up against you, shoving it underneath your cunt. "ride me," he commands, "ride my thigh, princess."

you immediately bare down on his thigh. you angle your hips so your clit is rubbing over his thigh through your bottoms, and the relief feels so good that you can't help but let your head fall back against the wall. seungcheol immediately takes advantage, pressing his face against your chest and mouthing at your tits, hands gripping your hips and guiding.

your nails sink into his skin. you fuck down onto his thigh, chasing that feeling that tugs at your cunt. it's as if you're mindless, as if you had been born just to fuck yourself against choi seungcheol's thigh.

and you ride him like that. ride him as if it was your one mission in life. your mouth falls open and he quickly covers it, licking into your mouth. "that's it, princess. gotta cum on me, gotta prove you want me."

"want you," you beg, "please, cheol. help me, want you so badly, cheol, please please --"

he curses. seungcheol pulls away from you completely, drawing a loud noise of disapproval from your mouth.

but then seungcheol's hands grip your hips, and then he's pulling you from the wall and spinning so he could push you back onto the bed. as soon as you fall he's on you, his mouth -- already red from the force of his passionate kisses -- covering your skin, frantically moving from the curve of your tits to your stomach to your bottoms.

seungcheol's hands go to your thighs and he's parting your legs. you don't even have a chance to get shy before he's mouthing at you through your swim bottoms, licking a broad stripe from your cunt to your clit.

your responding moan is loud, and you don't even have the presence of mind to try and cover it. seungcheol licks over your bottoms, pushing his tongue against them as if they weren't there at all. you're completely wet, you're soaked, it's as if you had gone down to the lake after all, but it's just from your cunt and you wonder if he's going to drown in it.

but you ride his face nonetheless; you move your hips as he works his mouth, chasing him, chasing that tongue of his. you can't help it. there's something desperate, something animalistic inside of you and it's taken over, and you can't help but wrap your thighs around his head and beg.

seungcheol slips his fingers into the bottoms, moving them aside. he uses his other hand to spread your pussy lips before he's latching onto your clit, sucking and sucking, and it's like something releases inside of you and you're cumming, thighs tight around his head and fingers twisting in the seats.

instead of giving you a moment to gather yourself seungcheol continues. he laps at your clit, laving his tongue over it, while he maneuvers his fingers against your hole. "be good for me," he says, breath hot against your cunt. "be good and prove to me that you want my dick, baby."

you nod, breathless, and he slides one of his fingers inside of your cunt. immediately you're clenching down on him, and he responds with a curse. seungcheol doesn't stop; he continues to lick at your cunt while feeds his fingers into your cunt, one at a time, spreading them out and preparing you for his cock.

you're electric. forget the moth and the flame. it's as if seungcheol's ignited something in you and you're buzzing with it. you just want more and more and more, and you don't even realize you're begging for it.

eventually, seungcheol pulls from your cunt. his face is soaked. he's smirking, though, and his eyes gleam as he pulls his tank top up and off. seungcheol lets you gawk at him, lets you look. and you really can't help but look.

you take in his pecs, his broad shoulders. his brown nipples and how they pebble in the cool air of your bedroom, his stomach. you can't help but be in awe of him, of the softness of his body and how it covers his strong muscles, and your cunt tightens around nothing.

seungcheol laughs at you, and then he's pulling your bottoms. you raise your hips off of the bed and let seungcheol pull them off and drop them onto the floor. he slips his fingers into the waistband of his trunks before they, too, drop to the floor.

he's beautiful, you think. he's completely bare before you, his dick large and straining, and he's absolutely beautiful.

seungcheol moves back onto the bed, slipping his hands underneath your thighs and moving them up. he presses them to your chest, and when he's close enough you can't help but thread your fingers through his hair and bring his face to yours. you kiss him, sliding your mouths together.

he grins against your mouth. seungcheol moves one of his hands, running it along your thigh before pressing his palm to your cunt. "you've trapped me, baby," he whispers, and then you feel his cock press against your pussy.

"please," you beg, fingers tightening around his blonde locks. "please cheol."

seungcheol guides his cockhead so it's against your entrance. but then he stops. he pauses, eyes flicking over your face. you can't help but feel frustrated; all of this playing and here he is, about to fuck you and stopping.

"seungcheol," you whine, wiggling against him in hopes he'll take mercy on you. "please, seungcheol. want you so badly, please, please!"

he hums. he's got a flush on his face, but he's trying to appear unaffected. "i don't know, baby. don't know if you really want it."

you let out a sob. in the future maybe you'll look back on this movement with shame. in the present, however, you feel tears spring to your eyes and you tighten your grip on his hair, bringing his head down so you can press desperate kisses to his face.

"please," you sob, pressing a kiss against his mouth. "please, cheolie. i -- i want you so bad, want you to fuck me, please, please --"

when he finally slides in he does it all at once. seungcheol fucks his cock into you in one swift movement, sheathing himself to the hilt inside of your cunt. you can't help but cry out, back arching and fingers digging into his shoulders.

it hurts, faintly. it's not an acute pain, but instead a dull ache of your cunt stretching around his cock. it goes away rather quickly, and then you're bucking your hips up against him.

"good girl," he whispers, and then he's withdrawing. he draws back until just the tip of his cock is at your entrance, and you can't help but be on edge -- every single neuron and electron in your body is on fucking edge, waiting, anticipating --

and then he fucks back into you, his balls slapping against your cunt. you let out a loud moan, uncaring of the noise. he does it again, drawing his hips out quickly and sheathing himself in a hurried movement. seungcheol fucks you deeply, quickly, and harshly.

he fucks you like a man depraved, like a man desperate. as if he had admired you all this time just as you had him.

every thrust drives you up the bed, every thrust making his balls slap against your pussy, each thrust accompanied by the loud slaps of skin and skin and the wet squelches from your cunt. you'll be sore in a matter of hours but you don't care. you don't care, not when he's fucking you so deeply and fitting so perfectly inside.

"good girl," he chants, slipping his hands behind your knees and keeping your thighs against your chest. he uses his grip on your body to angle himself, and the next time he thrusts into your cunt he's hitting that gummy core inside of you that makes your lips curl and your eyes squeeze shut.

"pretty girl," he carries on, thrusts punishing. "pretty girl with her pretty cunt, so fucking wet 'n warm, so fucking good for me, made just for me --"

"for you," you echo, a loud, ugly sob coming out. "you, cheol -- yours, you -- for you, for you --"

seungcheol curses, and then he's cumming inside of you. his cum is hot and there's so much, and he fucks into your cunt, fucks his cum into your pussy until his dick is soft and he's wincing.

seungcheol moves. his dick slips out of you but before you can miss it, before you can miss him, he's returning to your pussy. seungcheol slaps his hand against your cunt once, and then he's thrusting his fingers against your clit harshly, rhythmically.

"such a good girl," he growls, thick brows furrowed. "good fucking good, taking me so good -- good girl, pretty girl. all mine, all fucking mine."

he slaps your cunt again and you cum, and it's like a thunderous wave has plunged over you. you can't hear or see, and you don't know if you're even breathing. but you're cumming and cumming and cumming, and his hand is working furiously at your clit and you don't know if you'll ever stop cumming.

seungcheol is still moving his fingers against your clit when you come to. he's moving them slowly, softly, guiding you back down from that high. his large eyes are taking you in as if he's trying to memorize how you look before him.

you meet his eyes; you smile.

and then he grins so brightly that you just know.

he's got you in his trap.

[thoughtkick]

You must allow yourself to outgrow and depart from certain eras of your life with a gentle sort of ruthlessness.

Katy Maxwell

[katyobsesses]

Rachel singing A Place In This World by Taylor Swift as she navigates her way through New York

[katymacsupernatural]

Surrounding Warmth

Dean Winchester x Reader

800 Words

Written For: @spnchristmasbingo

Square Filled: Sitting By the Fire

Every square inch of your body ached. From the nails on your toes to the hair on your head. You were battered and bruised. Not to mention exhausted. Barely able to slide out of the Impala, you leaned against it.

Dean was in just as bad of shape. He had a large gash above his eye, the skin already bruised and swollen beneath. His jeans were ripped, blood staining his thigh. Grimacing as he moved, he still came over and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “Shall we?”

Nodding in agreement, the two of you staggered down the hallway. “What the hell happened to you two?” Sam asked as he placed his duffel bag on the table. 

“Ghouls,” You both answered at the same time. Dean stopped at the table while you continued on, wanting nothing more than a long soak in a hot bath. 

“Where the hell are you going?” Dean asked Sam, pouring a tall glass of whiskey.

“Jody needs help. I wasn’t sure if you would be back or not, so I told her I’d come help.”

You sighed, wondering if your bath was going to have to wait. “We can come with,” Dean offered, just as you knew he would. 

“No, you two look like you need some time to relax. To heal. Jody and I have this,” Sam assured Dean. 

The rest of the conversation continued on behind your door as you closed it. Grateful to be back home, you immediately slipped off your bloody and ripped shirt, throwing it in the trash. Your jeans went next before you gingerly stepped into the connected bathroom. While a long soak in a bath sounded amazing, you decided on a long hot shower instead. Leaning against the white tiled walls, you watched as the dried blood mixed with the water, swirling down the drain along with some of the soreness.

Once your fingers started to wrinkle, you turned the water off. Wrapping a towel around you, you headed back into your room to see your favorite lounge pants and sweatshirt laid out on the bed with a note.

“Whenever you’re ready, come to the library.”

Slipping on your fuzziest slippers you felt completely rejuvenated. Sure, your lip was still split, and your ankle ached, but you felt so much better. 

Music spilled from the library, light from the Christmas tree filtering gently around the corner. Your slippers barely made a sound on the wood floor as you stepped around the corner. Stopping, you took in the scene in front of you, your heart full. 

Dean was already in the library, lounging in one of the old fashioned leather arm chairs. He had already showered, his hair still damp and plastered to his head. A crystal glass hung carelessly from his fingers, partially filled with his favorite whiskey. He had already started a fire, the glow sending shadows across his face. His feet were bare, a plain white shirt stretched across his shoulders. He was dressed so simply but to you he had never looked better.

A cup of hot chocolate sat on the table beside your chair, filled to the brim with marshmallows. Coming around the chair, you brushed your hand along his shoulder. He barely flinched, his hunter instincts sluggish. “How are you feeling?” You asked him, settling down sideways on his lap, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face. Keeping your hand on the swell of his chest, you waited for his answer. 

“Like I was hit by a truck,” he winched, shuffling his legs to get comfier. 

“I can move,” you offered, starting to move. His hands clamped down on your waist, holding you in place.

“Don’t you dare,” he insisted, one hand moving up to cover your cheek. “You make it feel better,’ he answered. “Stay.”

Resting your head against his chest, you breathed a sigh of contentment. With the heat from the fire and his body enveloping you, you could feel your eyelids growing heavy. “Love you,” you whispered against his skin, feeling his hand tightening against your waist. 

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278   @cap-just-said-language @colette2537   @deansgirl215  @flamencodiva @hamiltrash1411 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @justanotherwinchester @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller  @librarygeekery @magssteenkamp @misspygmypie @mlovesstories   @mrspeacem1nusone  @ria132love @ruprecht0420  @screechingartisancashbailiff   @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @thoughts-and-funnies @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666 @beabutterfly987  @sexyvixen7 @supernatural3002 @deans-baby-momma @brilovesdeanwinchester @deandreamernp @spngif​

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[tothegatesofhell]

posted a tiny bodyguard au snippet for @techzaweek!

[fruityfourgalore]

*dj khaled's voice* and anotha one

boston cream [read over on ao3] for my boo @thefreakandthehair MERRY CHRISTMAS ♡♡♡♡♡I LOVE YOUUUUU

The line for the drive-thru was irrationally long for a coffee shop that sucked at consistently making a latte. They could go in and grab their coffee, Eddie thought as he looked through the semi-foggy windows. There were maybe ten patrons in there and all of them were sitting down enjoying their coffee and donuts. It would surely be a faster, more sensible decision.

But if they did that then Eddie couldn’t lean over the center console and whisper, “I bet I can make you come before we get to place our order.”

[calamitykaty]

[perfectfeelings]

It's not your job to like me - it's mine.

Byron Katie