#Idea Generated: Halloween Edition

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

hi chee!!! it’s jupie ^-^ how about the dialogue prompt “i’ve waited years for this” with ANY member and matching this picture!!!

i can’t wait to see what u come up with!!!!!

Jupie!!! Thanks for coming to play with me, sweetheart!

Idea Generated for my Halloween game; Idea Generator: Halloween Edition.

Mingyu x gender-neutral reader 🕯Warnings; magic curse, mingyu Suffers, mentions of illness, death, injury, minor blood. I think that's it?

Okay, so I'm thinking Mingyu for some reason. I don't know where this is going yet so bear with me lol

But oooh he's cursed, right? Some kind of centuries old curse that has meant he's been stuck living in this creepy little cottage out in the middle of nowhere all because he once broke the heart of a witch

Mingyu can't go futher than the garden of his cottage but the witch at least left him a bunch of seeds and such all those years ago so Mingyu grows his own crops to survive and sometimes wild animals stumble into his garden and traps so he gets meat now and then

Still, he's not exactly healthy or anything but he literally can't die thanks to the curse so the dude's suffering

Anyway, the curse goes that Mingyu will be forced to live his pitiful life until someone breaks his heart as painfully as he broke the witches and shows him how it feels.

Of course, being out in the middle of nowhere, Mingyu so rarely has the chance to interact with another human, let alone fall in love with them and get his heart brutally ripped apart. But he holds out hope because even heartbreak would hurt less than his lonely life where he's constantly on the verge of dying from malnutrition or illness but the curse won't let him so he just suffers in pain.

[Side note; I currently hate myself for making Gyu suffer like this omg]

Then, one day, you turn up knocking on his door in the middle of a storm.

As it turns out, you bought a house on the other side of the woods, a house he didn't even know exists until now. You had been in those woods to explore the land near your new home when the storm hit. Thanks to being so new to the area and vastly underprepared to venture here, you went the wrong direction and exited the trees on the wrong side. Yet you saw the creepy little cottage with an orange glow from firelight and decided it was better than braving the storm.

So Mingyu offers you some of his ratty clothes and ratty blankets to get out of your wet clothes and get warm by the fire.

You notice that his home is very outdated to the degree that there is neither running water or electricity, but you don't comment on it. Even if it's really fucking weird. The kind man let you into his home, gave you clothes and even cooked up a delicious vegetable soup and a strange tea he made with herbs he grows himself, so he can be as eccentric as he likes.

The storm rages until the next evening when you ask if you can stay another night to let the ground dry out. Mingyu agrees easily, both because it's the safest option and well, you're the first human he's seen in years, maybe even over a decade at this point.

Still, the next day you leave, back in your own clothes and tell Mingyu you'll come visit in a few days.

And you do, you return with a box of food in your arms and a duffle bag with brand new blankets and clothes.

You're the first person to show him genuine kindness and actually help him improve his living conditions instead of just turning your nose up at him.

It really doesn't take long for Mingyu to fall head over heels for you.

Over the following weeks, you return almost daily with more supplies to help fix up the house, things Mingyu can't access himself and you never try to push him to leave his garden even when you see the longing in his eyes.

You bring treats from the modern world, show him your phone and camera. There isn't any signal out here despite it being fine at your house, but Mingyu still is enraptured with the magical little device and cries in guilt and sadness when he runs the battery out the first time, scared he had broken your precious item.

Obviously, you're not blind, Mingyu is an unfairly attractive man, especially when his health improves thanks to all the food and vitamins you bring him. Once he's filled out some more and his skin isn't a pale, sickly pallor, you can't help but let your gaze linger and even, dare I say, flirt.

At first, Mingyu excitedly returns all the flirtations. He thinks you're absolutely beautiful and has from the first moment he opened his door and saw you, despite the fact you felt like a drowned rat.

But then one day he looks at the candle on the drawers in his bedroom, the candle that the witch had tied the curse to and the sight of the wax dripping down the side like sand through a timer, counting down the days or hours of his remaining life, well that reminds him that he can't have you even if his heart yearns in a way it never has before.

So Mingyu stops flirting and tries to put some distance between you so that his heart will let you go before you break it. He wants to keep you in his life, he isn't ready to let you go and if that means putting up strick platonic boundaries between you, that's what he'll do.

You notice the change in him but you don't take it to heart, you can see the longing and adoration in his eyes whenever he looks at you so you know that he still wants you.

Months after first meeting, the weather is finally nice enough to spend hours in the garden as Mingyu teaches you about growing various plants.

And well, a garden as big as Mingyu's needs a pool for the weather, right? So you turn up one day while he's still asleep and set up a small pool.

Mingyu almost has a heart attack when he opens the front door a few hours later and finds you in tiny little swimwear lounging in the pool. It takes hours for him to open the door again and then it's only because you're threaten to break it down and he really doesn't want to have to try and fix a broken door.

You're still in the swimsuit as you stroll into his home and Mingyu squeezes his eyes tightly closed while he scrambles to his bedroom to blindly find something to cover you up in.

He doesn't expect to be pushed down onto his bed so his eyes fly open in time to watch your scantily clad body to crawl ontop of his where he lays sideways across his small bed. "Are we going to keep pretending that we both don't want this, Gyu?"

As it turns out, Mingyu is far too weak for you when you so bluntly say you want him.

So falling into his bed together becomes natural after then and Mingyu intimately learns the curves of your body, how to touch you to make you gasp his name and pull him closer desperately.

And he falls in love even more.

For a while, months, Mingyu forgets that he's supposed to be protecting his heart, not filling it with your quirks and handing it to you on a silver platter.

Until the day he remembers.

It's been a year since you first met and Mingyu thought you were happy together.

His little cottage no longer has any holes to bring in rain and wind. It looks better than it ever has all thanks to you. You had even paid the high price to get plumbing installed because you really hated not having a modern toilet or taps whenever you stayed.

Which was often, you perhaps spent more nights in Mingyu's months-new cosy bed than your own. Just so that you can be tucked up in his arms.

But over the months, you've had a few disagreements about Mingyu's refusal to even try to leave his garden. He's never explained his curse to you and makes out that it's more of a fear of the outside world than anything else, and that he's happy here, with you. He doesn't need anything more than this.

But you do.

It all comes to a head one day when you return to Mingyu smelling like another man.

Mingyu has never been insecure exactly but when the person he's in love with smells like that cologne on more than a weekly basis, he loses his cool.

A fight happens and you know it's the final straw. This isn't one of your minor fights where you both manage to keep your cool and take time apart before coming back together to kiss and make up. This is loud and angry and full of a year of pent up anger and frustration at the situation.

And then it happens. Mingyu realises a second before it does, he sees your expression turn, the anger leaves and you just look done. Done with this, done with him.

"No, darling, please-" he tries to stop this before it happens. His heart is already trembling and threaten to crack.

"I can't do this anymore, Gyu. I need someone who will try but you've proven that you're not willing to meet me even part way."

The first crack forms and he gasps, gripping at this t-shirt over his aching chest. A t-shirt you bought him so long ago that he's worn it threadbare. You've tried to get him to throw it out and let you replace it but he refuses. It was the first t-shirt you ever bought him. He can never let it go.

"Please-" he begs, but you shake your head.

"It's too late. Do me a favour and pack up my things. I'll come by in a few days to pick them up."

Just like that, you turn and leave. Turn your back on Mingyu and the home you've spent a year making together.

Centuries of stomach pain from lack of food, or burning lungs from another infection doesn't even compare to the agony of his heart shattering.

Mingyu barely manages to keep his legs under him long enough to stumble into his bedroom.

It's late enough that no light filters in through the open curtains, the moon isn't even in the sky as if she too has turned her back on him.

The only light is of that single green candle Mingyu has never had to light in all these years.

As Mingyu's legs give out under him, sending him to the hard wooden flooring with a thud, the tiny flame flickers.

Mingyu can barely see the candle through the tears blurring his vision but he knows what's coming.

"I've waited years for this," he says, voice thick with tears and barely able to get the words out amongst his sobbing. "I-I thought I wanted this more than anything. But I just want them back."

The flame flickers once more.

Mingyu's breath catches and he can't remember how to level his breathing out, his mind is swimming and growing heavy along with his eyelids.

He curls up as small as he can on the floor with the last of his strength.

The candle dies and Mingyu's world turns black.

Ahahahha why can I never stick to my words? "this game is about coming up with ideas, not writing stories" then this bitch basically writes a whole damn fic. That one really ran away with me.

And guess what? I'm not done.

We're going bonus scene!

It's been a few days since you broke up with Mingyu and left him all alone.

The door isn't locked when you arrive, it never is and you don't think there's even a lock on the old door. You don't even bother knocking and let yourself in.

You're not at all surprised that everything is the same as when you left, your items left around the living room in the places they found a home in over the past year.

When you step into the open doorway of Mingyu's bedroom, you find his cold figure curled up on the floor at the foot of the bed, eyes still staring at the tiny stump of wax and burned out wick lifelessly.

"It sucks huh?" You comment as you walk over to step over his body and crouch down in front of him, resting your folded arms on your knees. "Getting your heart broken so violently."

You reach out to brush a finger over his pale cheek.

"For so long, I wanted this for you, I wanted you to feel even a fraction of the pain you caused me those years ago. I came here a year ago to make it happen. I knew you would've forgotten me, you found it so easy to forget me and replace me with other people back then, I knew you wouldn't recognise me now even if neither of us have changed."

You turn him onto his back carefully and arrange his body into a comfortable position that allows you to cut open his t-shirt and carve symbols into his skin that reflect the ones hidden with magic on your own.

"But I stupidly fell for you all over again even knowing what would happen. I thought that maybe we could remain together anyway. I had no intention of breaking your heart when you finally gave it to me, but I knew it wasn't viable. I'm immortal, Gyu, I can't live forever loving a man trapped to one area. I want to see the world, with you. So I had to break both of our hearts, hopefully for the last time."

You make a cut on your thumb and smear your blood over the fresh, unbleeding wounds on his chest.

"I hope that you'll still love me when you wake, and forgive me. But if not, we have all eternity for me to earn your heart back." You lean down and press your lips to his, a kiss before blowing life into his mouth. "So open your eyes."

Okay I'm done for real now hehe

You can decide what happens between reader and Mingyu from here on out. Does he forgive her? Does he hate her? Who knows? Not me, that's for sure

Thank you so much for sending this prompt in, Jupie! As you can tell, I had a lot of fun coming up with this idea!

If anyone else wants to get involved with my Idea Generator: Halloween Edition game, check out the post here and then send me an ask! I look forward to playing with you

[yokelfelonking]

Post 9/11 Trivia

Most folks on this site were either children on September 11, 2001, or weren’t even born yet.  But America went crazy for about a year afterwards.  Here’s some highlights that I remember that might not be in your history books:

There was national discussion on whether or not Halloween should be canceled because…fuck if I know why.  After planes crashed into buildings in NYC it follows that 6-year-olds in Iowa shouldn’t be allowed to dress up like Batman and ask their neighbors for candy, I guess.  (Halloween wasn’t canceled, by the way.)

On a similar note, people asked if comedy - any sort of comedy - was appropriate anymore, ever.

People sold shitty parachutes to suckers “in case your building gets attacked and you have to jump out the window.” There were honest-to-God news reports warning people not to jump out of the window with shitty mail-order parachutes because they wouldn't work.

As a follow-up to the attacks, someone mailed anthrax to some prominent politicians and news anchors - you know, famous people - along with some badly-written notes about “you cannot stop us, death to America, Allah is good” and after that every time some random dumbass found a package in the mail they didn’t recognize they thought that the terrorists were targeting them, too.

Everyone was similarly convinced that their town was going to be the next target, even if they were a little town in the middle of nowhere. "Our town of Bumblefuck, South Dakota (population 690) has the largest styrofoam pig statue west of the Mississippi! Terrorists might fly planes into that too! It's a prime target!"

People started taping up their windows and trying to make their houses or apartments airtight out of fear of chemical and biological attacks. There were news reports warning people that turning your house into an airtight box was a bad idea because, y'know, you need air to breathe.

"[X] supports terrorism!" and “if we do [X], the terrorists win!” were used as arguments for everything.  "Some rich Arab you never heard of donated to his organization that backs Hamas which backs al-Queda, and also owns stock in a holding company that has partial ownership of the Pringles company, so if you eat Pringles you're supporting terrorism!" "The terrorists want to tear down our freedoms and our way of life and rule us through fear! Eating what you want is one of our freedoms as Americans! If you're afraid to eat Pringles, the terrorists win!" (I promise you that this sort of argument is in no way hyperbole.) (This argument is how Halloween was saved, by the way.  “If we cancel Halloween, the terrorists win!”)

People worked 9/11 into everything, and I mean everything, whether it was appropriate or not.  If you went to the grocery store the tortilla chips would remind you to support the troops on the packaging. Used car sales would be dedicated to our brave first responders. You couldn't wipe your ass without the toilet paper rolls reminding you to never forget the fallen of 9/11, and again, this is not hyperbole. My uncle, who lived in Ohio and had never been to New York except to visit once in the 70′s, died of a stroke about 8 months after 9/11, and the priest brought up the attacks at the eulogy.

On a similar local note, on the day of 9/11, after the towers went down, gas stations in my home town immediately jacked up gas prices.  The mayor had the cops go around and force them to take them back down.  I doubt any of that was legal.

Before 9/11, Christianity in America - and religion in general - was on a downward swing, with reddit-tier atheism on the upswing. Religion was outdated superstition from a bygone age. The day after 9/11? Every single church was PACKED. (This wasn't a bad thing, but the power-hungry on the Evangelical Right saw this as a golden opportunity to grab power and influence.)

EDIT: By Popular Demand - Freedom Fries. I initially left these off because they came a couple years after the initial panic and most people thought they were kind of absurd (and I don't recall anyone really going along with it other than maybe some local diners here and there). France didn't want to get involved in our world policing so some folks were like "TRAITORS!" and wanted to call french fries "Freedom Fries" instead, so as to stick it to the French.

Besides dumb shit like that…it’s really hard to overstate how completely the national mood and character changed in the span of a day, or how much of the current culture war is a result of the aftermath. (9/11 was the impetus for the sharp rise in power of the Evangelical Right, who made themselves utterly odious and the following backlash helped the rise of the current Progressive Left, for instance.)

And if all of this seems batshit...well, it was. But I want you to think for a moment how people react today over even trivial shit. People send death threats over children's cartoons. They call for blood if the maker of a video game had an opinion they don't like. If someone made a racist joke a decade ago when they were a teenage edgelord, folks will go after people who even associate with them. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND ALL THE HARM THEY'RE DOING!?"

Now take that same level of over-the-top histrionics and apply it to the unprecedented event of passenger planes crashing into crowded buildings in America's most populous city and killing thousands of people all at once. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT WE WERE ATTACKED!?"

[sundrop-writes]

Stupid For You

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

Hey - tell me what you want me to say. You know I’m Stupid For You.

I’ll take what I can get.

The best is hard to grip when everybody wants you, and everybody wants you.

Summary:

Stiles tried to return your panties - he really did.

But he still has the contraband in his possession, and he accidentally drops the underwear in the locker room in front of the entire lacrosse team. To cover up the fact that he stole them, he lies and says that he got them from you after a hook-up. And surprisingly - you back up his story?

Only with the promise that he helps you turn his lie into the truth.

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Best Friend!Fem!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Smut/PWP.

Word Count: 11,900

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Before you read this fic, be sure to read BRAINWASHED. This fic can be read as a standalone, but you get more Stiles goodness by reading both, and the context of this one will make more sense if you read the other fic first.

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; this fic DOES use Y/N; as with the previous fic - the reader is implied to be fat/plus-sized; also again - for argument's sake, even though the character's in this fic are in high school, everyone is at least 18 (and the fic was inspired by a 20 something actor, so imagine the characters to be whatever age you want); mentions of panty stealing (carried over from the previous fic - Stiles stole a pair of the reader's panties in that fic and still has them in his possession); mentions of Stiles masturbating, but not described in detail like last time; mentions of Stiles having sexual fantasies about the reader; the rest of the lacrosse team finds Stiles with the panties and mocks him for it - they mock him for potentially having the panties to wear them and call him a 'cross-dresser', so I guess the warning here is transphobia and transphobic ideas (which would be very typical of high school boys, especially around the time this show was made in 2011); mentions of other members of the lacrosse team finding the reader sexually attractive (it is implied that the reader is generally known as a hot, attractive girl); mention of the reader wearing a 'slutty' Halloween costume to a party (Stiles has a picture of it that he 'loves'); for the actual smut section - the reader is dominant and Stiles is submissive; size kink - Stiles likes being manhandled by the reader because he is thin and skinny; the reader imposes rules on Stiles as a dom and he follows them, but there is no safeword implemented or needed (as the writer, I say they don't need one because they will never be put in danger of using one) (because they are fictional characters and their hard 'nos' will never come into play and only things they want will happen); orgasm restriction - Stiles has to ask the reader in order for permission before cumming; bondage - the reader uses a scarf to tie Stiles's wrists to the bed; the reader gives Stiles a handjob; lots of dirty talk; orgasm denial/edging (towards Stiles); the reader calls Stiles: needy boy, good boy, babe, baby, sweetheart; undertones of humiliation kink; undertones of pain kink (nothing severe, but Stiles does like a bit of pain); begging (from Stiles, a lot); protected penis in vagina sex (they DO use a condom this time) (different, I know); Stiles sucks on the reader's tits; Stiles eats the reader's pussy; thigh riding - Stiles grinds against the reader's thigh to cum; praise kink - towards Stiles; the reader calls Stiles 'pretty'; undertones of dumbification kink; I believe that is finally it. I hope you all enjoy!!

A/N: So, I have some mixed feelings about releasing this fic. Currently, I am only rushing to edit and release it in order to get it off my plate, and I want to do so before the end of the year. I wrote this during the hiatus, when I was writing fics without editing them and I really enjoyed getting to write a fic and go onto the sequel without having to stop and think too much about it. But to me, the first fic feels naturally complete. And so I didn't really like people nagging and continually asking for a sequel to the other fic as if it's not a complete fic on its own. It's only recently that I found a way to put it into words. Whenever I release a fic and people only care about seeing a sequel or a second part (especially if it's a oneshot with an intentional ending and people ask for a sequel like it's something so urgent), it makes me feel like that fic is not good enough because people view that fic as incomplete on its own. I know people think it's a compliment or flattering to ask for a sequel, but to me, if you like my writing, ask for me to write more for those same characters or in that same fandom - but if you are constantly asking for a sequel to a specific fic, it makes me think that you think that fic is not good and it needs to be completed in some way. But anyway - I tried to remember why I had fun writing this fic in the first place, and if anybody starts asking for a 'part three', I will start swinging. (THERE WILL NOT BE A PART THREE.) Also, when I originally wrote this, I was watching Season 1 and I had not met Isaac yet, so for my own fun, as my own special treat, I added Isaac to the locker room scene. Because he is my baby. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fic!

...

A week later, Stiles still had not returned the stolen panties to you. 

It was something that he kept meaning to do. Honestly, he really did. 

But he just never got the chance to. 

Somehow, in that entire week, he had never been left alone in your room. Not for long enough to actually figure out what to do with the stolen goods. Should he leave them in your hamper and let you find them in the laundry? Should he slip them back into your drawer like nothing had happened since, technically, they were clean? He always ended up panicking and shoving them back into his bag whenever he heard you coming back down the hall. 

On other nights when the two of you had been studying together, it had been at his place instead of yours. And any time he had gone over to your house, you had been with him pretty much the whole time. 

And okay - maybe that wasn’t entirely true. Maybe you had taken bathroom breaks or left the room for a while because your mom wanted to talk to you. Or you ran downstairs to grab a pizza that you had ordered to share with him - but every time he opened his backpack to grab the panties in order to put them back, he felt some insane thing inside his head telling him that he just couldn’t do it. Part of him thought that it was fear over getting caught - the idea that you would walk back into the room just in time to see him with the evidence in hand. 

But deep down, he knew it was a possessiveness. The idea that these panties were now his. They belonged to him now and he didn’t want to put them back. Those panties were his prize - his special, secret little part of you. And he couldn’t give that up. Not yet. 

He hadn’t jacked off with them since that first time. Well, he hadn’t specifically put them around his cock and made a mess of them in the same way. But he held them in a clean hand and enjoyed the texture of the lace, enjoyed the thought of you wearing them - while he used his other lubed hand to make himself cum. And he had done that every single night, sometimes twice, since he had taken them. It was becoming a bit of a worrying habit. 

He was wondering if you had noticed them gone yet. 

Maybe, when he finally did get rid of them, he wouldn’t return them back to you - he would have to burn them or something, just to get rid of the evidence. And then he would have to go on believing that you either hadn’t noticed the specific pair gone or you went on thinking that you had simply just lost them. 

But he couldn’t dwell on that for too long - because he did actually have other things to do besides viciously jerking off to thoughts about you. Even though that activity alone took up way too much of his time these days. Surprisingly, he was doing a lot better in his classes thanks to studying with you (he actually managed to retain a lot more of the material when you explained it to him), and he had just made First Line of the lacrosse team due to a horrible outbreak of pink eye. So things in his life were really looking up. 

The team funneled into the locker room, sweaty and tired after their practice, but personally - Stiles was glowing. 

He felt like he had done particularly well that day, and you had shown up to watch his practice. Even if Coach kept getting his name wrong and you had almost stormed into the middle of the field to scream at him about it. Overall, it was a good day. And he had a study date with you planned after this, so he had nothing but excitement brewing in his stomach at the idea of getting to spend more time with you. 

But then - it happened. 

He had almost completely forgotten that the contraband stolen panties were even in his bag. The item had become such a normal part of his life now that he hadn’t even considered what might happen if someone else found them on his person. So he thought nothing of putting his bag on the bench in the middle of the room and rooting through it, wide open, looking for the fresh clothes he had brought with him. (Of course, the only reason he had even brought fresh clothes was because he knew he would be hanging out with you later, and he wanted to avoid another Mustard Stain Incident.) 

When he took out these fresh clothes and began dressing (fresh out of the showers, of course) - it was just a tiny blur in the corner of his eye. Just a little streak of purple falling to the floor. As he put his second foot into his jeans, he spotted them, right there, sitting in the middle of the locker room floor - and his heart stopped. 

Naturally - someone else spotted them too. 

And just as Stiles raced to pick them up, another hand snatched them out from under him. 

“Woah, Stiles.” Danny’s voice chuckled, rising back to his full height. “Are these yours?” 

Mockery was dripping in every inch of his words, and Stiles’s heart raced. He rushed to pull his pants up, not yet fastening his zipper, and he glared at Danny, entirely lost for words. He moved to snatch the purple lace panties where Danny was dangling them off one finger, partly disgusted, partly amused. 

Naturally, Danny dodged the move, still looking at Stiles with mockery written all over his face. 

“Ya know, this really isn’t your color - red would look much better on you.” Danny smirked. 

Wait - he thought that Stiles had them because he had been wearing them? 

This comment easily caught Jackson’s attention, who slammed his locker door shut and moved to see what his friend was talking about. 

“Oh my god,” He chuckled, looking at the item in Danny’s hand and then back to Stiles, amusement spreading into a horrible grin across his face. “You’re a cross-dresser! This is too good. I always knew you were a freak, but this just brings it to a whole new level.” 

Jackson’s loud voice caught the attention of the entire team, who all craned their necks to see what he spoke of - including Scott, who practically ran around the corner with his hair still soaking wet and some suds dripping off him, a towel hastily wrapped around his waist as he raced to see what Jackson meant. 

“What?” Scott balked, looking at Stiles entirely confused. 

“Look, they’re not mine!” 

Stiles barked, panic setting in as he realized how fast the rumor would spread. It would be incredibly juicy gossip, if it were true (and most people didn’t care if gossip was true or not, which would make it spread even faster) - so he rushed to stamp it out before that could happen. 

“They belong to Y/N!” 

With this harsh declaration, he reached out and snatched them back, and Danny was too shocked by these words to move away this time. 

The room fell deadly silent, save for the distant hum of the shower that Scott had left running in his haste to watch the confrontation unfold. Everyone was staring at Stiles unabashedly now, very clearly shocked by his words. 

Fuck. 

Stiles’s heartbeat ramped up again. He had been so quick to try and exonerate himself that he had walked into a whole new problem: 

Now everyone on the team would find out that he was a panty-stealing pervert. And he wasn’t sure which reputation was worse: that, or being assumed to be a secret cross-dresser. 

“Seriously?” Isaac asked, being the first one to speak up and break the silence. “Because if you of all people managed to hit that,” He let out a low whistle, let a train blowing out a hoot of steam. “I admire you. She is so fucking hot. Normally she doesn’t give guys at this school the time of day. How did you-?” 

“No, no fucking way, they’re not hers.” Jackson scoffed, cutting off Isaac’s congratulatory words, immediately in disbelief. His natural instinct was to think that Stiles would never be able to get with someone as hot as you. “She’s a ten and you’re a solid three. Maybe. In the dark. With a bag on your head. That so did not happen.” 

Stiles frowned at the insult, but he was relieved that nobody suspected that he had stolen the underwear. Nobody had seen through him to the much more likely truth. 

“Come on, he’s like a four.” Danny added on. “He could easily be a seven if he changed his hair.” 

Feeling suddenly self conscious, Stiles put a hand up to his head - and felt entirely confused about where this conversation was going. 

“You’re getting off topic,” Scott piped up, looking between Danny and Stiles, his face nothing but pure confusion. “You’re telling us that you finally, actually went for it?” 

He was shocked that you and Stiles had gotten together without him knowing it. And he was slightly disappointed that his best friend had gotten some action with his long-time crush without telling him about it. 

“Yeah, come on - give us some details.” Isaac added on with a grin.

“Yes, yes I did! I finally went for it.” Stiles replied, mocking confidence, puffing out his chest. “Y/N and I hooked up in my Jeep last week. And these are hers,” He added on, proudly holding up the underwear as his prize. 

If he was going to screw himself with a lie, he might as well make it a big one. 

“Really?” Jackson posed, clearly still not believing him. “So - how did it go down? Did you get to second base? Third?” 

“Uh… remind me of the bases again?” Stiles muttered. 

Isaac rolled his eyes, and Scott looked as though he was making calculations in his head. 

“What was it - handjob? Blowie? Did you finger her? When did you get those?” Jackson persisted. “Is she a screamer?” 

Stiles’s gut twisted. So he was going to need details for his fake story. 

“You are so utterly barbaric.” Danny muttered, turning back to his locker, clearly tuning out of the conversation now that it had gotten too ‘straight’ for him. 

“Gross!” Scott disrupted Stiles’s internal panic with a face of twisted disgust. “Can we not talk about one of my best friends like this? Please?” 

“Jesus, Scott, don’t ruin this for me,” Isaac whined, rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah, McCall, shut it.” Jackson grunted, dismissing him. “I just wanna know if Stiles here is lying.” 

Scott simply rolled his eyes and retreated back to the shower. He was someone who truly believed Stiles at his word. Even if he had never smelled the pheromones of sex on him, he guessed that ‘hooked up’ meant something else to Stiles. 

Stiles hated that this left him alone with several pairs of eyes dissecting him - the guys on the team who were perverted and gossipy enough to want to know the details of his hook-up with you. 

“Well - I’m not lying.” Stiles hissed through his teeth. “She - we. Well - we made-out in the backseat. And then - she - she rode my dick. Hard.” He said, knowing that his tone didn’t sound the most confident. But he supposedly had proof right there in the form of your underwear. 

“Hmm, really?” Jackson replied, still not convinced. “You know what? Why don’t we just go and ask Y/N about this whole thing? She and Lydia are waiting outside, aren’t they?” 

Oh fuck. 

Stiles was screwed. So, so screwed. 

His stomach rose up into his throat and he couldn’t get words out, couldn’t scream out ‘no’, couldn’t do anything to stop Jackson (who was fully dressed and ready) as he snatched the underwear out of Stiles’s hand and marched out into the hallway. All Stiles could do was rush out into the hallway in pursuit, following Jackson and the group of gawking looky-loos that had followed who now seemed very interested in this piece of drama. 

Stiles didn’t even have time to pay attention to the fact that he wasn’t yet dressed himself - he didn’t have a shirt or shoes on and his pants weren’t even fastened. He couldn’t bring himself to mind because he was about to be outed as a thief and a pervert, and likely about to be violently jumped by the entire team for it. 

He wished that he still had his lacrosse pads on. 

You and Lydia were standing against a couple of random lockers, chatting idly, and you both looked utterly confused by the mob approaching. Lydia looked even more confused (with a hint of disgust) when she saw that Stiles was still half naked, and if Stiles wasn’t flooded with panic, he might have noticed you raking your eyes over his torso with a certain hunger and then licking your lips. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Jackson smiled at you trying to be charming. “These fell out of-” He held up the underwear to show you, and you immediately frowned. 

“Ew! Why do you have them?” You cut him off, snatching them back before he could finish his sentence. 

“Are those your underwear?” Lydia asked, looking between you and Jackson with anger brewing. “Jackson, why do you have another girl’s underwear?” She ground out sharply. 

“Well, as I was saying,” He said, clearly annoyed. “Those fell out of Stiles’s backpack. And he claims that he only has them because he hooked up with you, Y/N,” 

You and Lydia both looked at Stiles - you, with a certain content glow in your eyes, and Lydia, glaring at him while her lips curled in unhidden disgust. Jackson stood there with a smirk, as though waiting to be right, and there was a moment where nobody spoke that Stiles swore his heart swelled up and climbed out of his throat. 

Then, you let out a soft laugh and said: 

“Yeah. We did. Why is this such big news?” 

Jackson glared at you and Lydia’s expression of disgust became even more prominent. Stiles became dizzy with shock and he hoped that nobody noticed the way his chest flexed as he let out a breath of relief. 

Thank God - you were covering for him. 

Wait. Why were you covering for him? 

“He and I have been hooking up for months now. We didn’t want to parade it around the school as gossip and I made him promise that I wouldn’t become locker room talk,” You stressed these words, giving him a small glare. 

Behind Jackson, Isaac’s face became painted with guilt. 

“But it’s true.” You said, giving Stiles an oddly sultry look. He knew he was standing there with his mouth stupidly agape, but he just couldn’t find it in him to close his mouth. “The last time we hooked up, I gave him these panties in case he got lonely on nights I can’t visit.” 

You reached out, running a single finger along his bare torso from sternum right to the waistband of his underwear where they were sticking out of his jeans - and yup, his dick was definitely ballooning to life now. 

“I didn’t intend for everybody on the lacrosse team to put their grubby hands all over them.” You said this sharply, glaring at Jackson now. 

He simply rolled his eyes in reply. Clearly, he hated the idea that he had been wrong, and he was pouting in silence now. 

“Okay, this has been sufficiently gross.” Lydia announced, effectively ending the conversation. “Jackson, can you go get your stuff so we can leave? We have dinner with my mom at five, and-” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Jackson sighed, rolling his eyes again. 

“Stiles, you better hurry up too.” You told him. “I need to get that bra I left in the back of your Jeep.” 

And then - much to his shock, you leaned in and laid a kiss right on his lips. Firm, but fast. Laying a claim on him right in front of everyone. Owning up to the story materially as much as you had with your words. 

If it hadn’t been for Jackson slapping him on the shoulder, Stiles would have been frozen with shock long after you pulled away. But then, he was on autopilot, walking back to the locker room with Jackson and the other onlookers who were whispering in hushed tones about him ‘banging such a hot girl’. 

“I gotta tell you, Stilinski, I did not think that you had it in you.” Jackson told him, this being a compliment coming from him. “But I guess somehow, you ended up with a ten.” 

“I definitely want more details later.” Isaac told him in a low whisper before he returned back to his own locker. 

Somehow - Stiles had come out on top in this situation. 

In the hallway behind them, Lydia sighed and locked you in a judgemental gaze. 

“Really? Stiles?” She asked, harshness seeping through her voice. 

“What?” You shrugged. “He’s cute.” 

Lydia waited for further explanation, and you folded. 

“...And he’s easy to boss around. I like it when he gets flustered from simple instructions, but then does it anyway.” 

“Oh.” Lydia nodded. “So it’s a kink thing.” 

You laughed, shaking your head. You couldn’t entirely disagree with her. 

… 

It wasn’t until Stiles was nearly finished dressing, sitting on the bench tying his shoes that it truly hit him: 

He was still utterly screwed. 

Even if the guys on the team thought he was some high school hero for somehow managing to get into your pants (some of them high-fiving him and patting him on the shoulder in congratulations before they left the locker room). And even if, for some bizarre reason, you had chosen to cover for him in front of everyone (he put that on you being a loyal best friend and quite literally not wanting to air your dirty laundry in front of everyone) - you still knew the truth. You and Stiles might be the only people who knew, but both of you still knew the truth. 

For a minute there, he had been deluded enough to start believing his own bullshit story. But it was still complete bullshit. 

There hadn’t been some heat of the moment romp in the back of his Jeep that resulted in you naked for him, losing your underwear or giving them to him as a reward. He was still a pathetic virgin who had stolen them and had no right to have them in the first place. He still had to face you, likely knowing that this was the end of your friendship, because you were the only person who knew about the horrible thing that he had done. 

Stiles dreaded facing you, but he knew that he couldn’t hide out in the locker room forever. So he grabbed his gear and he braved his way into the parking lot, where you were now waiting by the Jeep since Lydia had left with Jackson. You were distracted, looking at something on your phone, and Stiles savored the few moments he had left to admire your beauty before you would declare that you hated him forever and never speak to him again. 

In all honesty, Stiles expected you to slap him, yell at him, and then leave. He expected you to, at the very least, tell him that the friendship was over and that he should never talk to you again. 

He was entirely surprised when he approached you and nothing of that nature happened. 

Instead, you gave him a cold, uninterested look before you said: 

“Door.” 

In the most deadpan voice ever, while motioning to the passenger’s side door - oh, of course. Obviously meaning for him to open the door for you. 

It was something he usually did upon instinct anyway (always bending over backwards to impress you) but today, the intense dread hanging over his head had caused him to forget. 

He rushed to get the door for you and you climbed into the passenger’s seat as you usually did, still not yet speaking to him. So then he busied himself with putting his gear in the back, still feeling anxiety curl in his gut at the conversation that would inevitably take place during the ride home. At least you still felt okay with riding with him. Perhaps the friendship wasn’t entirely ruined after all. 

He climbed into the driver’s seat and began fumbling with his keys in nervous, shaky hands, not yet ready to look you in the eye. You were staring at yourself in the flip-down mirror, fixing your hair, wiping off some lip gloss that had smeared. Usually this would be a moment he would absolutely drink in, loving to stare at you while you did such menial tasks. But today, after being caught doing such a horrible thing, he was absolutely drenched in guilt and he just couldn’t bring himself to face you. 

The two of you simmered in the silence for a few moments. He was waiting for you to bring it up - for you to scream, yell, hit him, do something. 

He was surprised by what came next. 

“You said your dad isn’t gonna be home tonight, right?” You posed, still looking in the mirror rather than at him. 

It was what he had told you at lunch, inviting you over to watch some horror movies that you had been bugging him to see. 

He had guessed those plans would be canceled, hinging on what had just happened. 

“Uh, yeah.” He said, confirming it once again. “He’s working the night shift.” 

“Good. We’ll go to your place then.” 

You thought he would start to drive at this confirmation, but he was still unsettled by anxiety. He was still waiting for you to acknowledge it, at least. 

“Ugh, okay… are you gonna yell at me?” He burst out, knowing that it was incredibly stupid, asking to be yelled at, but he truly didn’t know what else to do at this point. You gave him a strange look, almost confused, and ran his hands over his face in frustration. “Come on! We both know what happened!” 

“Stiles, my, my… what are you talking about?” 

Your voice was dripping with sarcasm and your eyes were filled with determined mischief, and he knew then and there - you wanted him to say it. You wanted him to blatantly confirm in his own words what he had done. 

Stiles let out a harsh sigh, leaning his head down and accidentally bumping his forehead against the steering wheel in a way that made the horn dully beep, the knot growing larger and tighter in his gut. 

“Come on, you know…” 

He trailed off, hoping that you wouldn’t actually force him to say it. He sat upright again, and you continued to look at him expectantly, patiently, and he swallowed around the terrible dryness in his throat before he forced himself to say it. 

“I - I stole your underwear and kept them in my bag.” 

You both knew that he was leaving out the part where he had masturbated with them. Even if you had no proof of that, it was starkly obvious to you. 

But you decided not to push him about that detail. (For now.) 

“Oh. That.” You said, continuing to sound utterly sarcastic in your cluelessness. 

Then your tone switched to something oddly genuine as you said something he never would have expected. 

“I’ve been waiting for like a week to see if you even had them. I kind of thought I was going crazy. I thought maybe my cat stole them because you weren’t fessing up and you didn’t try to bring them back,” You sighed. “I was worried my whole plan failed.” 

Something inside of Stiles snapped, and he thought it was the last branch on his tree of his sanity. He chose not to worry about it for now. 

“Y - your plan?” He stuttered out, barely grasping at the reality of what you had meant. 

You had wanted him to find your underwear? You wanted him to take them? You wanted him to-? 

You let out a bright, amused laugh. 

“Yes, dummy!” You said, reaching up and poking the side of his head while he stared at you in utter shock. “I left the panties there for you to take. You’re cute, but god - you’re really dense sometimes.” You let out a sigh. “Now drive, please. As long as the blood currently trapped in your dick isn’t gonna distract you too much.” 

He hated that he got a sick thrill from you mocking him and calling him ‘cute, but dense’. But he was glad that he was used to driving with boners that you had given him, because it didn’t distract him too horribly. Thoughts of what would happen when the two of you got there had him running a few stops signs, though. 

…

Stiles still wasn’t entirely sure how the heinous crime of stealing your panties had gotten him into this glorious position, but with the way things were going, he no longer cared to question it. 

The minute that the two of you got through his bedroom door, you grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him into a bruising kiss. He struggled to keep up, clumsy but entirely excited against the movement of your mouth, wondering if he had somehow gotten sucked into another heated daydream. 

But no, that couldn’t be true - because this was so much fucking better. 

The smell of your perfume in his nose, the little puffing breaths you let out against his cheek, the little moans that emanated from your throat. And holy hell, the feeling of your tongue shoving past his lips that caused him to let out a pathetic moan of his own as you seemed determined to filthily fuck his mouth with it. 

You were a lot more aggressive in real life than you were in his dreams. 

But he fucking loved it. He loved it so much. 

His cock was already throbbing in his pants, likely staining his boxers with copious amounts of precum as you walked him back toward the bed. You then used the hand you had in the middle of his chest to shove him roughly back onto it. 

“Oh my god.” 

He squeaked out the words at the feeling of being manhandled by you - given, he knew he didn’t weigh that much and he had made no effort to put up a fight, but it was still hot to know that you could shove him around so easily. Which was something he would have to mentally unpack with himself later. But for now, he would simply just enjoy it. 

While his dick continued to ache harder, he looked up at you in awe. You were standing at the foot of the bed with your lip gloss smeared, your chest heaving slightly with a wicked grin on your face. Stiles had never seen a more beautiful predator in all his life. The look in your eyes told him that he was about to be absolutely devoured by you - and he couldn’t fucking wait. 

“Y/N, please-” He was about to begin begging, but you cut him off sharply. 

“Shut up.” You barked, and he felt a beautiful wave of hormones crash over his body at this. You were much more aggressive than in his dreams. It was so perfect. “No more talking now.” 

You put a knee on the bed between where his thighs had naturally draped open and you leaned over his body, crowding tightly into his personal space. He hoped that the needy whine he couldn’t contain as you raked your nails across his scalp wouldn’t count as ‘talking’. He was desperate to follow your rules - so desperate to be a good boy for you. 

“You will do everything I tell you to.” You whispered against his lips, and he nearly began shaking as he resisted the urge to close the gap and kiss you again. “Unless you want me to tell all the boys on the team that you’re actually a filthy perv who stole my panties?” 

“Y-” He nearly gave a verbal confirmation of this, but then he remembered what you had said. 

No more talking. 

Instead, quickly picking up on following the rules, Stiles nodded his head aggressively. 

“From now on, you do not look at any other girl, you do not touch any other girl, you belong to me - do you understand?” 

He had no clue what ‘other girls’ you thought he might possibly be touching, or even talking to in a non-platonic way, but he got another tight thrill at being claimed as yours. He wanted so badly to be yours - to be your good boy. 

He nodded aggressively again - his tongue lolling out of his mouth, slick with want, practically drooling down his chin like a dog at this point, his eyes staring at you with a hypnotized kind of need. 

“When we are having sex, you do not speak unless prompted, you do not cum unless I give you permission, and from now on - you do not touch yourself unless I tell you to.” 

His cock throbbed weakly in protest at this. He swallowed thickly, his throat straining with complaints about your words. He knew it would be difficult to go from jerking off every morning and every night to likely not at all, but fuck - you, on top of him, you wanting to have sex with him - it was more than a fair price to pay. 

If someone had told him a week ago that he would be in this position, he would have given up anything for it. 

So naturally, he nodded again. 

“Do you understand?” 

He stayed silent, believing that he was following your rules. 

“Tell me that you understand.” 

“I understand.” Stiles breathed out in a rush, nodding again. 

“Good. Now take off your clothes.” 

You got off the bed again and he was momentarily distracted by watching you shuffle through your bag for something, but then he remembered the instruction. You wanted him to take off his clothes. You actually wanted to touch him. 

Stiles rushed to strip and he didn’t have time to be self conscious before you were kissing him again, drowning him in hot, open-mouthed kisses as he stepped out of his underwear and jeans where they were pooled around his ankles. You pushed him onto the bed again and this time followed him, straddling his waist while still fully clothed yourself. Wearing the shirt, skirt, and tights you had worn to school that day, making for an odd sensation as the fabric covering your hot cunt rubbed against his now bare, very hard dick. 

He didn’t think anything of it when you grabbed his hands and brought them above his head - but then there was fabric encircling his wrists, and he pulled himself away from your mouth to blink up dumbly, wondering what you were doing. 

You had gotten a scarf out of your bag, and you were tying him to the bedpost. 

“Remember what I said?” You grinned at him, tying a knot that was surprisingly secure. “Good boys get rewards, and bad boys get spanked.” 

He tugged experimentally on the hold, and it was pretty firm. Not tight enough to cut off his circulation - but he definitely didn’t see himself getting out of it without help. 

His stomach jumped as he wondered which you had deemed him as - good or bad. Especially because he was now tied up, completely at your mercy. He was splayed out on his back, so this wouldn’t be an optimal position to spank him in. But theoretically, you would do whatever else you wanted to him. And that thought sent an odd tingle through his body, causing a wonderful jolt through his cock.  

“I’m gonna give you a chance to earn a reward, Stiles.” You told him, delivering another messy kiss. “You gonna be a good boy for me?” 

“Yes.” He answered eagerly. “Fuck, yes - I wanna be good for you.” 

You grinned at this. 

He was more than eager to see what you were gonna do next. 

A sharp jolt of anxiety hit him when you sat up (leaning more of your weight on his cock, causing him to let out a pathetic moan) - he hated being separated from you already. He churned in anticipation as you took a moment to sit there and just admire him. 

Stiles was so pretty, tied up for you, ready to be devoured - his honey eyes glossed over with need and anticipation, his lips bitten pink and slightly swollen, parted in that beautifully dumb way as he heaved out shallow, desperate breaths. Yes, he was skinny - even playing lacrosse hadn’t managed to put much muscle tone on his body, but you did find a certain appeal in his lithe, thin form. You gained a certain thrill from knowing that you could so easily man-handle him, toss him down, and he really wasn’t strong enough to put up much of a fight in return. 

His cock, leaking frantically between your legs - was beautiful in its own way. A healthy six inches and nicely thick, his pubes dark, thick and untrimmed. Unkept because he definitely hadn’t been expecting anyone to see him without clothes anytime soon. Charming, in a sense. 

Just as Stiles was feeling smothered by the anticipation, by the heated gaze of your eyes running up and down his body, you then leaned to look in his bedside drawer. He wanted to scream for you not to do it, but he had a feeling that it would be breaking your rules; that it would be a ‘bad boy’ thing to do. And that would run the risk of you not touching him at all. 

You let out a laugh when you saw what was in the drawer. 

“You know, somehow I’m not surprised that this is almost empty.” You told him, bringing out the dwindling bottle of lube and placing it beside him. “You must like it really wet, huh?” 

The words were absolutely filthy coming off your lips, intentionally so on your part, but it sounded like a rhetorical question. He swallowed a whimper, but said nothing. 

“And this,” You picked up one of the many pictures he had of you in the drawer - one of you in your Halloween costume from last year. Lydia had dared you to wear something ‘slutty’, and you had shown up to her Halloween party in a black leather bra, a leather mini skirt, leather boots, and a pair of cat ears. Stiles had spent most of that night in the bathroom. “I have to say, I’m flattered.” 

You have another bright giggle before you put the picture back and then closed the drawer. 

“So - you think about me a lot, do you, Stiles?” You asked, scooting back on his thighs until you were sitting on his knees. 

Not a rhetorical question. 

He swallowed thickly, gathering himself to answer. 

“Yes.” He answered, his voice far too weak for his liking. “All the time.” 

You hummed thoughtfully at this. 

You reached to your waist, untucking your shirt from your skirt before you lifted it off completely over your head, revealing your blue lace bra to him. Dear god, you were so perfect. As you tossed your shirt off to the side, the bra strap slumped down your shoulder and he mourned over not having his hands free, wanting to gently lift it back up, or rip the whole thing off you, wanting to kiss along your shoulder-

“How often do you think about me?” You asked, reaching for the bottle of lube. 

Stiles felt a wave of shyness splash up inside of his gut. But he knew that it was useless to deny the truth now. He had already been caught, over and over again. You wouldn’t mock him now if he just admitted it. 

You cracked the top on the bottle, and the sound shook his insides - his dog-like mind so well trained to associate the sound with having his dick touched. He licked his lips, viciously trying to get his mouth to work in tandem with his brain. You had asked him to speak. He needed to speak. But that was growing more and more difficult while he stared down the ample cleavage coming out of your bra and shook with the anticipation of you about to touch his cock. 

“Every day.” He whimpered out. “All the time, I-” 

He let off a choked sound when you poured some lube into your hand and then finally, after years of him dreaming about it, you wrapped a loose, cool, wet grip around the base of his hard, leaking cock. His hips jumped up into your touch and he let out a choked sound from the back of his throat while you continued to look at him with an absolutely wicked grin. 

“Stiles,” You said his name in a firm tone, reminding him that he was supposed to be giving you an answer. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you!” He shouted, much louder than he had intended to. “All the time, I - I feel like I’m going insane. You’re too perfect, you’re too hot, I-I-I-”

“Hey, shh, baby.” You told him, running the other hand up his thigh in a way that made him gasp. 

You used that loose grip on his dick and began jerking him off, spreading the lube across him in the most leisurely way possible. It was a dull pleasure, but one so perfect because it was delivered by you. 

He had no clue how absolutely deliberate it was. But of course - everything you did with him was so deliberate, so well planned out to drive him entirely insane. 

“How often do you jerk off?” 

You asked, curiosity ripe within you as you imagined it: Stiles splayed out on this exact bed, pants around his ankles, his hand wet with lube and creating a sloppy blur on his cock as he jerked off as fast as possible, absolutely desperate to cum - his face twisted with pleasure, his thighs tensing, your name hot on his lips. 

You really wanted to know the kind of things he imagined, what made his kinky little mind tick. You wanted to know just how desperate he was to steal your panties in the first place. Did he think that he could get away without you noticing them gone or was he just too horny to care? 

You tightened your grip slightly, continuing to drag your hand up and down his dick in long, slow, deliberate strokes. You wanted him hard, throbbing, and desperate - even more so than he already was. You wanted him blinded with pleasure and begging. 

“A lot.” He breathed back, bucking his hips up to meet your touch, clearly already needy for more. 

You put a firm hand on his hip, pinning him to the bed. You tutted your tongue, scolding him. 

“Come on, Stiles.” You said, your tone somewhere between mocking and scolding. “You can be more specific than that.” 

You tightened your grip again, your hand now acting like a firm vice around his cock - something that made him moan deeply and close his eyes. You let him enjoy it for a few moments as you stroked him deeply, slowly - spreading the wetness over his cock in deep, pleasurably strokes. For the first time ever, delivering the pleasure of having a hand on his cock that wasn’t his own. 

Already, intense pleasure was knotting up in his stomach. Already - he was getting close to cumming. 

You could tell that from the way his breathing shallowed out, the way his stomach tensed. 

You pulled your hand back completely, leaving him to let out a confused sound and pop his eyes open at top speed, craning his neck up to look at you with utter disappointment while you continued to grin at him. 

“Tell me.” You instructed firmly. “How many times a week do you make yourself cum?” You continued your interrogation. When his face flashed with a streak of guilt, you changed the question. “How many times a day?” 

Stiles took a sharp breath. 

Again, he felt caught. 

“Twice.” He said it quietly, before gathering his courage. “Twice - twice a day. Usually… once in the morning and once at night.” 

You giggled. “Needy boy.” 

He was rewarded with your touch back on his cock. He let out a deep, satisfied moan as you started jerking him off again, wet and smooth, a bit faster this time. It created a lovely wet noise and he let out another moan when he heard it. 

“What do you think about when you touch yourself, Stiles?” You asked, your voice low and sultry - warm, inviting him to the possibilities. 

Perhaps, if he told you about the things he thought about, his most private and guarded thoughts, then you might make them come true. 

“You.” He moaned back almost instantly - trying to buck up into your touch again but being held down by you again. “I - I only think about you. I swear.” 

You licked your lips. 

It was something you loved to hear. But you yearned for more details. 

“Cute.” You sighed. “As flattering as that is, babe, I want specifics.” You pressed. “Specific fantasies. Come on, you must have kinks,” 

If he had to summarize it - his kink was you. 

And it was growing increasingly difficult to think with your hand pumping on his cock. 

“Your - your thighs!” Stiles blurted out frantically, saying the first thing that he thought of. 

Even now, feeling the heavy, warm fat of your thighs spread across his knees, had his cock jumping in your hand - had him buzzing and dizzy all over. It was one of his favourite parts about you, something that made him hard if your thighs brushed against him when the two of you sat too close together on the couch during a movie night. 

“Your thighs are so - so thick, and beautiful, and big, and-” He choked off into a moan when you moved your other hand to his balls, spreading some of the lube there and gently massaging them in a way that sent a jolt through his whole body, practically making him seize off the bed. 

You let out a giggle. 

“What else, baby?” 

His cock was hot and pulsing in your hand, and you knew he was close again. But you wanted him to get right to the edge before you cut him off this time. 

“I - I think about - about having your thighs wrapped around my head,” 

He choked out, stuttering as he began humping into your touch, so desperate to cum. He had pretty much forgotten about your earlier rules by now, had forgotten about asking for permission, and he just needed to cum into your touch. He needed it so badly. 

“I wanna eat you out so badly. I wanna taste you. I wanna eat your pussy. Please, please, please, please-!” 

This visceral begging tipped you off to the orgasmic delirium he was tipping into, and you squeezed your touch sharply around the base of his cock to keep him from cumming, even going so far as to give his balls a light tap in punishment. He let out a bitter gasp as his orgasm was sharply cut off, the feeling drowned bitterly in his stomach. It left his muscles so tight and left him flailing against his binds for a moment, squirming chaotically underneath you. 

“Bad boy.” You scolded him, your voice wicked and causing his dick to throb woefully in your unforgiving touch. “You didn’t ask if you could cum.” 

You leaned down and bit one of his nipples - pure teeth, unforgiving, and it made him cry out in a gargle of his own spit as his head became even dizzier. He didn’t even have the mental capacity to question why he liked the sharp spike of pain so much, especially not when his balls were throbbing so terribly, and he needed to cum so fucking badly. 

“Please?!” He cried out. “Please? Can I cum? I need it, I need-” 

“Shh, baby.” 

You hushed him again, taking your hand off his dick and leaving it to rest leaking against his stomach, running both your hands up his torso in a soothing touch as you leaned in and pressed a few sweet kisses on his open, whining mouth. 

“I’ll give you a chance to be good. Is that what you want?” 

“Please.” He replied, so desperate that he was on the verge of tears now. “I wanna be good for you, please.” 

“I’m gonna ride your pretty cock now. And if you wait to cum until I tell you,” You pressed these words hard, making sure he paid attention to this part. “Then I’ll let you eat my pussy. Does that sound like a good reward?” 

“Yes.” He replied, entirely breathy and excited. “Please, please. I’ll be good.” 

“Oh, baby. I know you will.” 

This spilled from your lips as an overly syrupy coo, and he couldn’t help but to yearn for more of that sound. 

You got off him, then, and he let out an utterly disappointed sound - instantly missing your weight and the heat of you above him. 

Stiles looked on with curiosity as you went back to your bag. His heart thumped with anticipation when you came back with a condom, and didn’t hesitate to open it and then roll it onto his still very stiff cock. (Just the few touches of you doing this had him warming with even more pleasure, and he worried that the touch of your pussy around him would cause him to cum instantly, disappointing you.) 

Then, he watched in awe as you stripped off. Your skirt, tights, and underwear, giving him a pang of disappointment that you left your bra on. You did this with intention, though, slightly worried that the sight of your bare tits would cause him to blow it too early. 

“Oh my god.” Stiles let out another whimper as you straddled him once again, putting a hand on his cock to line it up with your pussy. 

Fuck, holy fuck - this was really happening. He was really about to fuck you. He was about to fuck your perfect pussy. 

It was just as beautiful as he had imagined - covered in trimmed hair, which was glossy with your wetness. Fuck - he yearned to see that pussy spread out underneath him. He yearned to taste you. Even just feeling the heat coming off you as you lined up the tip, even through the condom - it was deadly. 

He was not going to survive this. 

He squeezed his eyes tight and held his breath, and you didn’t like that. You used your free hand to give him a light tap on the cheek - some small semblance of a slap, a grounding reminder that you were there, controlling him. 

“Hey, come on. Look at me.” 

Your words forced him to open his eyes, and he easily fell into a streak of obedience, eager to please you. His eyes snapped open and he looked right at you - absolutely enamored by your pretty face. 

“Good boy.” 

He let out another whimper at the praise. 

Then, you finally lowered yourself down onto his cock, sinking down in one smooth movement until you were fully seated - tightly wrapped around his dick and resting against his bony pelvis. 

He felt like the air had been punched out of him. That perfect, tight heat being wrapped around him - the wetness leaking out around his skin at the base of his dick, everything squeezing his cock like a vice, like you were made to fit him. It made him so dizzy, stole the air out of his lungs. It was all too perfect. 

“Oh. Oh. Oh god-” He gasped out, squirming underneath you, already intensely overwhelmed by the pleasure. 

You grabbed his jaw in one hand and held him still for another kiss, and he moaned hotly into your mouth, desperation growing inside of him. 

You started slowly grinding your hips into his pelvis, wanting to warm him up gently. As you pulled away from the kiss, he was panting frantically against your mouth, already overwhelmed. 

“Hey, shh.” You told him, smoothing your hands over his torso once again. “You gonna be good for me?” 

“Yes.” He quickly moaned in return, nodding his head eagerly. 

This was a side of Stiles that you had so quickly grown to love. You knew that you weren’t going to get enough of this - this beautiful soft obedience. Especially compared to usual sarcastic abrasiveness. 

This was your good boy. And you were going to have such a good time training him, having him learn the rules. You were heavily looking forward to shutting down his future quips on a dime with a simple threat of keeping future orgasms from him. 

You positioned your weight on your knees, then, and began lifting yourself off his cock halfway before you slammed your hips back down. You put your hands on either side of his head, between where his arms were stationed above him, still tangled up in the scarf and unable to move. After a moment, you built up a good, even pace - not quite gentle, but not entirely rough either. 

You were taking it easy on him for his first time. 

Stiles continued letting out shocked pants, sounding like a man drowning on dry land, hurriedly gasping for air. Soon, he began moaning as more wild pleasure was driven through his body from the feeling of your wet pussy gripping around his cock; from the feeling of you bouncing against his balls, from the sound of that perfect wet slap every single time you landed down on him. 

It caused a terrible need to brew in his stomach, and he knew it wouldn’t be long now. 

All too soon, he was going to cum. 

“Please!” He moaned out, trying to buck his hips up to meet yours - his muscles shaking so terribly that he couldn’t keep up with your pace and ended up just jostling wildly underneath you. “Please, please!” 

You grinned. 

You knew that you wouldn’t cum from this, but you were deeply enjoying yourself anyway. Stiles looked so pretty - so pathetic and pretty - gritting his teeth to try and hold back his sounds (which wasn’t working at all), tears rimming his eyes, a few even slipping out, his face tinging a lovely shade of pink from the exertion and the pure arousal. 

“Please ‘what’, baby?” 

You pressed, a slight edge of mocking on your voice that punched another harsh wave of arousal through his gut. It took everything he had in those moments not to cum - to hold it back. To be good for you. 

“Come on, sweetheart. You can say it. Just say the words-” 

“Please lemme cum,” He whined out, the words practically turning into a slur on his lips - mirroring exactly the way he had been begging to a fictional you as he had pumped his cock while sitting on this very bed not too long ago. “Please, please, please Y/N, please-” 

You leaned down to his ear then, whispering the words he so badly wanted to hear. 

“Cum for me, Stiles.” 

But this time it was so very real. 

With your permission given, his brain fired off, finally allowing himself to let it go. He let out a guttural, almost non-human sound as he humped his hips off the bed in harsh, fast strokes while you fucked down onto him tightly, roughly grinding into him to allow him to get the most out of it. Wanting him to have the most pressure from your hot cunt in those moments while his eyes rolled back into his head and he released a thick load into the condom. 

He was even pretty like this - his mouth wide open, his long lashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks, his chest heaving as he released a concert of beautiful, whorish sounds. 

When his hips stopped and his noises dissolved off into a more gentle panting, you leaned down to kiss him again. He most definitely deserved it. 

“Good boy.” You mumbled against his mouth, eager to praise him. “Such a good boy for me. You did so good.” 

This caused another sound from him, and you simply smiled as he began to kiss you back, eager and sloppy, smearing spit across your cheek while you reached up and began untying the knot in the scarf you had secured him with. 

“You want your reward now?” You asked him. 

You couldn’t lie, your cunt was thrumming at the idea of him getting between your thighs. You wondered if he would be able to make you cum. He seemed eager to please and so far, he was good at following instructions, so you could probably tell him exactly what to do to get you off. Even if he couldn’t, you would certainly enjoy the view. 

“Yes, yes, please.” He moaned against your cheek, that desperation thrashing back up inside of him. “Please, I’ve been good, please-”

“Yes, you have been.” You soothed him again. “Good boy.” 

You released him from the binds and then finally got off him, allowing his softening cock to pop free from your pussy - something that caused him to loudly moan. 

You took off the condom and tossed it into the waste basket that he had by his desk, the lube and cum seeping into the crumbled up, forgotten papers that he had there. When you came back to the bed, he was looking at you with wide, eager eyes, waiting for his next instruction. Such a good boy. You really loved how this was turning out. 

“I’m gonna lay down, and then you can get between my legs. Okay, baby?” 

He nodded eagerly again, and hopped off the bed to give you room, nearly tripping over his own feet in doing so. 

You fluffed up his pillow and then laid down, spreading your legs wide, and when you looked back to him, he was tracing every single inch of your body with a wide-eyed gaze. His mouth was agape once again, absolutely not hiding the fact that he was absolutely lustful for you, becoming utterly distracted by the sight of you (almost completely) naked in his bed, laid out just for him. 

“Stiles.” You called his name, garnering his attention once again. “Come on, baby.” 

You held out an arm, signaling for him to come over, and he eagerly climbed into the bed between your thighs. 

You thought for sure that he would make himself comfortable down between your thighs and get right to tasting you, as eagerly as he had begged for it before, but it was his turn to surprise you now. 

“Please, can you-?” He cut himself off shyly, tracing a single finger along the cup of the bra that you still wore, the last scrap of clothing hiding your body from him. “Can you take it off?” 

That sent a thrill through you. Rather than being demanding, he was still so trepidatious - wondering if he had tread too far by asking you to remove clothing, even after you had ridden his cock. 

Still, you couldn’t help but to want to tease him - just a little bit more. 

“You wanna see my tits?” You asked, running your hands up your body, teasing your fingers along the edges of the bra cups as if threatening to pull them down. “You wanna… play with my tits, Stiles?” 

“Yes.” Stiles breathed out, entirely eager. 

You could see his cock swelling back to life between his thighs already. 

“Do you think you’ve been a good enough boy for that?” You questioned, lustful eagerness in your voice. 

His answer would entirely dictate whether or not you took the bra off. 

He swallowed thickly, still nervous, his eyes flickering between your cleavage and your own eyes, as if looking for a hint at the answer. He waited a careful moment, and then finally spoke. 

“Yes.” He said, pausing for a moment as if waiting for you to argue the point before he continued. “Yes, please, I’ve been good.” 

“Hmm…” You said, pretending to think. “Alright.” 

You reached up behind you, unhooking your bra and tossing it away. When your naked breasts were finally revealed to him, his tongue lolled out of his mouth in an almost puppy-like way, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he stared hungrily at the roundness of your perfect flesh. 

This time, he didn’t even ask you before he made his next move - entirely fueled by his own eagerness and desire, he swept down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth. Instantly, he let out a loud moan around your tit that told you just how much he was enjoying this, something that had your pussy getting wetter as you saw the way his eyes drifted closed with bliss while he sloppily laved his tongue over your skin. 

He was so fucking cute, so fucking pretty - so fucking perfect like this. 

He continued like this for a few moments before he trailed a line of sloppy kisses to the other tit and began sucking on that one, feeling the need to give both beautiful girls equal attention. He licked his tongue across the skin in a fat trail that had you tingling, that had your cunt clenching. You were glad he was enjoying himself, but it was making the space between your thighs feel rather neglected. 

“Stiles, baby,” You called out, starting to sound a bit breathy from need yourself. You raked your nails gently across his scalp again, causing him to let out another moan. “You said you were gonna eat my pussy, right? You don’t wanna disappoint me - do you, baby?” 

He popped off your tit immediately. 

“Not gonna disappoint you.” He said in a hurried tone, shaking his head. 

You pulled him in for another kiss, and when you released him, he rushed down to get comfortable between your legs, which you spread even more, dropping your foot off the bed on one side to give him more room. 

Your pussy was so gorgeous. 

So much better than he had dreamed of - wet, gleaming, smeared in your own juices and slightly gaped from his cock. A sight that absolutely thrilled him - seeing exactly where he had been, knowing that he had fucked you, he had been inside of you. 

The smell of your pretty cunt was something more unique than your sweat or perfume like he had originally thought. He leaned in eagerly and licked a fat, wide stripe from where you were fluttering and open all the way up to your mound, getting his first real taste of you - he let out a loud moan as it fully penetrated his senses, as everything that was you spread across his tongue for the first time. 

You were so fucking perfect. You tasted so fucking perfect. 

You let out a moan of your own when Stiles moaned against you again, the vibrations radiating through your sensitive core. This time, he latched into your clit, seemingly knowing that swollen bead was his ticket to success without you even having to tell him. He sucked harshly on it for a moment that made your thighs twitch and threaten to close around his head before he began digging his tongue against it, lapping at your cunt, trying to suck all the taste off it that he could. 

“Good boy,” You moaned, reaching out and cradling the back of his head (not having much hair to grab onto with the short buzzcut that he had) - keeping him tight against your pussy, not that he seemed intent to pull away any time soon. “Such a good boy. Good boy for me!” 

He wasn’t particularly skilled - it was obvious from a mile away that he didn’t have any experience, but fuck, he more than made up for it with his pure eagerness. He was eating your pussy like it was his last meal, moaning against you like he was getting more pleasure from this than you were - and hell, maybe he was. 

He didn’t back off or complain when you instinctively bucked your hips against his face. In fact, he seemed to take it in stride, downright enjoying the way your warm juices were smeared across his cheeks and chin, his eyes shut in bliss as he tongued openly across your cunt, his drool mixing with your wetness while he moaned against you. 

“Oh, fuck! Stiles!” 

He moaned harder at the sound of his own name on your lips, so beautifully pornographic, better than he had dreamed it would be - even when he had imagined it so many times over and over again. Somehow, even when you thought he might not get you there at all, his eager performance and the vibrations from his moans against your clit had you so close already. 

“Got me so close, baby,” You moaned, scratching the back of his head. “Such a good boy, so close-” 

He moaned in response and tongued more vigorously at your clit, and you worked your hips against him, practically riding his face in order to bring yourself over the edge. 

“Fuck! Stiles!” 

You let out a throaty moan as you came, beautiful pleasure surging through your body while your back arched against the bed. Inadvertently shoving your hips even closer to his face, making him even more beautifully messy while he sucked and licked you. He loved the feeling of your body twitching and seizing underneath him, he loved hearing your gorgeous moans, he loved knowing that he had made you cum. 

He lowered his face down and shoved his tongue inside you, determined to drink right from the source then, his nose bumping against your now orgasm-sensitive clit unintentionally, making you shout loudly. This further smothered him in your essence in a way that he loved, while he shoved his tongue inside of you as far as he possibly could, absolutely loving the way your pussy fluttered around him, the way your taste overwhelmed his senses, the pure heat smothering his face. 

“Baby, baby-” 

You gasped and struggled for air, knowing that he wasn’t overstimulating you on purpose - he was just eager. And that thought alone was so overwhelmingly hot to you that you almost let him continue. But your clit thrummed with an ache of protest, and you knew that you couldn’t spoil him this much, this soon. You couldn’t handle having a spoiled brat on your hands. 

“Baby, you have to come up now!” You ordered sharply, digging your nails into his shoulder as a warning, adding a tiny bite of pain to fully get his attention. 

Stiles let out a tiny whine of disappointment, but did as he was told, finally unlatching himself from your cunt. This move made a sinfully wet sound as he pushed himself up with his hands to sit between your thighs on his knees. Your eyes were immediately drawn to his once again hard, throbbing pink cock smearing precum against his stomach. 

You had a passing thought about telling him to grab another condom, but again - you didn’t need to spoil him so soon. 

You had another idea instead. 

“Oh baby,” You cooed, reaching out and loosely gripping his cock, causing him to let out a shuddering moan and buck into your hand furiously - which didn’t give him much sensation, only teased him more. “You got really excited from that, didn’t you?” 

He nodded vigorously, his mind completely mush at this point, too weak to form words. 

“Do you wanna get off against my thigh?” You purred, gently stroking your knuckles across his temple - feeling a wicked kind of joy in seeing his face smeared in your wetness, especially when paired with the dumb, glossy look in his eyes. 

He almost dared to ask for more - wanting to fuck you again, to put his cock between your tits and fuck them - but he had a feeling that you wouldn’t let him get away with it. And he wanted to be your good boy so badly. So he was willing to take whatever you had to give him. 

“Yes.” He croaked out, his voice slightly hoarse now from all the moaning. “Yes, please.” 

“Good boy.” You grinned at him. “Come on.” 

You moved your leg - already slightly stiff from how long he had been between them, stretched around his shoulders - and slotted your thigh between his. You raised it up slightly, gently propping the broadness of your flesh against his aching balls and his hard, leaking cock. 

“Wait, I want-” 

He looked around for a moment, and then grabbed up the bottle of lube where it had falling on the floor from the vigor of your fucking. He poured a good deal of it (almost emptying it) over his cock, letting it leak down over your thigh, before he capped it and threw it away again. 

You smiled. 

“You really do like it wet, don’t you?” 

He simply nodded, and began moving his hips. Instinctively, you reached out and grabbed him, taking a commanding hold on those narrow hips to guide him. He easily fell under your control, letting you guide his pace - which meant he moved in slow, languid, sloppy, wet (thanks to the lube) movements across your thigh - his cock dragging against your skin in a way that was delicious, but almost not enough at the same time. 

He began letting out whimpers, his face twisting with pleasure and the need for something more as his gut curled with a distinctive ache. As if sensing this, even unconsciously, you couldn’t help your mouth. 

“You look so pretty like this,” You told him, hot and breathy. 

Turns out - that was the something ‘more’ he so desperately needed. Hearing you call him ‘pretty’ would have been an insult on any other day, but today, it was downright delicious. Your voice curling around the word, directed at him - it felt like something he had been waiting to hear his whole life. 

“I love seeing you get off against my thigh, rubbing your pretty cock against me,” 

Stiles let out a moan and you felt him fighting to move faster, so you encouraged it, pushing and pulling his hips faster, causing more delicious friction on his cock. 

“Please, please-” He gasped. 

You knew it wouldn’t take much more. 

“You know, I’ve probably been waiting for this just as long as you have,” You whispered lowly in his ear, finally confessing your secret. “I’ve been watching you every single day, seeing how wonderful and dumb you are when you stare at me for hours, thinking I don’t notice. And I’ve just been waiting to pin you up against something and fuck your pretty little brains out-” 

Your words were cut off by him crying out, a wet splash against your thigh that had alerted you to him cumming. This was almost pathetic, just a few spurts of cum before it was over (you guessed that with how often he jerked off and from the fucking earlier, you had practically drained his balls). It made you curious if forcing him to abstain from masturbation for a few days would yield more impressive results. 

An experiment for later, you guessed. 

“Good boy.” 

You pulled him into another kiss, ultimately satisfied by the end result of your plan - leaving your panties on your bed as bait for Stiles to find as a way to gently tip him off to your attraction to him. It had worked out in the very best way. Even if you had to wait more than a week for the wheels to truly set in motion. 

… 

After a joint shower (which was filled with Stiles grinning at you, clearly soaking up the beauty of his luck in landing someone as gorgeous as you) - you changed the sheets on the bed while he made something to eat, and after the two of you ate together, you tucked him in to go to sleep. 

He was disappointed that you couldn’t stay the night, just as excited to do other non sexual things with you like wake up in your arms and hold your hand in the hallways at school - but you did have to get home before your curfew. Just as he was dosing off, you kissed him on the forehead, and you thought of something delightfully naughty for him to wake up to, even if you couldn’t be there. 

You took off the underwear that you were wearing - a pair of lacy blue ones, to match your bra - and you pinned them up on his corkboard for him to find in the morning. 

A perfect little present for your good boy.

… 

The next morning, Stiles woke up to a knock on his bedroom door. 

“Okay, rise n shine, kid, time for-” 

His father’s voice cut off abruptly, and Stiles didn’t have time to ponder why before-

“Dear god, what the hell is that?” 

Stiles shot up out of bed, practically falling on the floor, wondering what it could be - monster, werewolf, hunter, someone with a gun-

His eyes landed exactly where his dad was looking, and he was relieved not to find danger, and then terribly embarrassed to see your underwear from the day before pinned to his corkboard, spread out in plain view. Stiles immediately went into damage control mode. 

“Look, Dad, I can explain-” 

“You know what? I don’t wanna know.” His dad said firmly, making a motion with his hand that said he was brushing away the subject. “Just - get ready for school.” 

His dad moved to leave the room, and then he sighed and paused in the doorway, turning back to Stiles in a way that made his gut churn. 

“Just - did you use protection?” 

Stiles almost offered to show his father the used condom that was still sitting in the trash can - even if only as proof that the night before he had a real, living girl in his room. But he figured that would be going too far. 

“Yes.” He answered, calm and short. 

His dad nodded, and moved to leave again. He made it a bit further down the hallway this time before he turned around and appeared in the doorway again. 

“Son - you know, women aren’t objects, you can’t claim them like sexual conquests, and they deserve respect-” 

“Dad.” Stiles sharply cut off whatever speech his father was about to give, wanting his father to know that he hadn’t pinned the underwear to the corkboard himself. He wasn’t some fratboy who celebrated getting laid with a fucking trophy. 

“She - she gave them to me.” He said. “She did that.” He motioned to the underwear, and his father’s face shifted from anger to deep discomfort. 

“Oh.” He said simply. “Well - I - okay. I don’t wanna know any more.” He said firmly. “And for god’s sake, son, take them down.” 

Stiles nodded, rushing to do so. 

He was going to take them down - but he wasn’t rushing to give them back to you anytime soon.

...

Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, and this has a distinct, intentional ending. There will NOT be a continuation or a 'Part 3'. If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging it to show your appreciation, or commenting on this fic, or you can take a look at my Teen Wolf Masterlist for more of my fics from this fandom.

However, please do not comment on this fic asking for another sequel or asking for more - I generally consider that stressful and impolite. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written.

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider checking out my other fics about the criminally underrated character Isaac. Fics similar to this one are: Eager Little Puppy and Why Am I The One?

Or if you want more fics about subby boys, consider checking out Tongue Twister, Stop? (Baby, Don't Stop), or Lessons For A Genius.

Happy reading!! -Sunny <3

[honeytonedhottie]

honeys it girl magazine october edition!!⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀

welcome back to honeys it girl magazine, this is the october catalog. get ready for the inside scoop on data that i've collected, things i've learned/started doing, and just general info like that organized in kind of a teen-magazine inspired fashion. a magazine for it girls ✨ and now please enjoy, the it girl magazine.

HOW TO HAVE THE MOST DOLLY SLUMBER PARTY EVER ;

when i think of the month of october i think of GLAMOROUS parties. and that incorporates girly slumber parties, halloween parties, a LOT of parties. SOO the kind of party that i wanted to focus on in this month's catalogue is slumber parties.

to throw a successful slumber party we first need a plan. make sure that u have refreshments, entertainment, invitations and all of that planned. if u wanna have a SUPER cute slumber party have a theme. some theme ideas can be

♡ victoria's secret (V.S. pj's, lingerie, everyone wears a V.S. robe etc)♡ 2000's ♡ movie based pajamas♡ a color scheme (black and pink is my fave)

and we can't have our girls being bored at our slumber party can we? make sure that u plan fun activities like having a fashion show (playing dress up) playing dress to impress or video games like that, baking sweet treats, karaoke, dolling each other up ETC. for refreshments you could do a snack bar or make mocktails, you could even do a milkshake station!

THE VICTORIA'S SECRET FASHION SHOW 2024 ANALYSIS ;

🧁 anok yai’s floral number (she’s literally blooming, she looks like a FLOWER. her hair is giving barbie dolll and ultimately she had my favorite look of the whole entire night. the WINGSSS, the shoes everything just goes together beautifully.)

🧁 gigi hadid (she looks like a lavender princess fairy and it looks amazing on her. but PLEASEE why the slick hair?? when i think victorias secret im thinking of bouncy voluminous hair. i LOVE her wings though. they're so big and over the top and i love it)

🧁 imaan hamman (also goes with lisa and anok yai in my top three favorite looks of the night. its so simple but in my opinion her look gives the victorias secret that we all know and love the most.)

🧁 alex consani (i rly rly love baby blue on her, again, please bring back bouncy voluminous hair. and i kinda wish they gave her fluffier wings.)

🧁 lisa’s black lacy number (def one of my favorites on the whole runway. i wish she had black lacy wings instead of the structured ones but easily one of my favorites)

🧁 maty fall (the silk, the feathers, chefs KISS. in his case i think the minimal wings look the prettiest because her outfit is fuller, the delicate wings complement it beautifully.)

OCTOBER BODYCARE, MAKEUP AND FRAGRANCE FAVORITES ;

body care : hello kitty strawberry oat milk body balm from creme, vanilla creme brûlée body lotion from hempz (this one smells like HEAVEN), and fresh cream by philosophy. i rly loved the nyx marshmallow primer and for fragrance the soft and dreamy scent from victorias secret PINK (it just gives me so much nostalgia around this season 💗🍬)

DRESS TO IMPRESS NEW UPDATE ;

dress to impress is every hottie's favorite game, and when DTI dropped its halloween update, everyone including myself was so super STOKED about it. there are new codes and SO many new possibilities unlocked. speaking of codes…💬🎀

❤︎ CH00P1E_1S_B4CK (boots, jacket and skirt)

❤︎ UMOYAE (skater dress)

❤︎ D1ORST4R (star purse and hair bow)

❤︎ S3M_0W3N_Y4Y (axe weapon)

OCTOBER IT GIRL ACTIVITIES ;

like i said in the first section of this month's magazine, i associate october with PARTIES and ik a lot of us are going to halloween parties so i just wanted to share some rules of thumb especially if its ur first party, on how to have fun while also being safe.

make sure that u have a designated driver at all times

don't overdo it with the drinks, thats never hot

make sure u have ice cold water to sip on, on the car ride home

be careful, make sure that drinks are poured in front of u or you get them yourself

dont party by yourself GO WITH A FRIEND U TRUST AND STICK TOGETHER

and of course have fun 🍭 this year im dressing up as the white rabbit from alice in wonderland so im super excited to look cute and have fun with my friends

if partying is not ur thing there are SO many fun things that you can do this october. for example binge watching october movies, or doing fall related activities like we talked about in last month's section. some movies that i love to watch in october are

♡ jennifer's body

♡ ginger snaps

♡ scream

♡ the love witch

i dont usually watch things that are too scary which is why my list is so short 😭 i get scared rly easily so i try and watch movies that aren't SO scary but if you like that there are some rly good ones out there.

WHATS MY HOROSCOPE? (OCTOBER 27-31)

♡ for virgo, the libra solar eclipse on october 2 brings an unexpected opportunity to your financial realm and a boost of confidence as it allows you to showcase your talents. a surprising gift of abundance arrives! jupiter stations retrograde in gemini on the ninth, prompting you to review your long-term goals over the next five months.

♡ for aries, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse brings change to your relationships. unstable connections will be tested while authentic bonds will be strengthened. look for opportunities in love. jupiter stations retrograde on the ninth, traveling backward through the sign of gemini and your communication sector. between now and february 2025, you’re invited to explore the ways in which you connect with others. explore a variety of ways to express your mind. jupiter loves to facilitate growth, even when retrograde, making this a profound time to learn quickly.

♡ for taurus, the libra solar eclipse on october 2 awakens your mind, body, and soul! touching down in your sector of self-care, the eclipse offers the opportunity to embrace a new cycle of health and wellness. your skills will receive a boost. jupiter stations retrograde on the ninth in your zone of money and resources, challenging you to explore a new approach to the material world over the next five months.

♡ for gemini, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse brings change to your romantic life. an empowering new cycle begins that encourages you to embrace pleasure and distance yourself from people or situations that no longer bring authentic joy. this is a time to prioritize what truly makes you happy. jupiter stations retrograde in your sign on the ninth, urging you to reinvent yourself over the next five months.

♡ for cancer, the libra solar eclipse on october 2 lands in your zone of intuition and brings a new cycle of emotional strength. this eclipse could bring unexpected changes to your environment, so be sure to honor your comfort and security. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini and your zone of rest on the ninth, inviting you to relax over the next five months.

♡ for leo, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse activates your communication zone, setting off a new cycle of connection. unexpected information emerges that inspires you to action. jupiter stations retrograde in your friendship sector on the ninth. over the next five months, consider ways you can strengthen your bonds with others.

♡ for libra, on october 2, a powerful eclipse in your sign brings surprising new beginnings! personal revelations provide fresh excitement for the future. as you walk a new path, remember how powerful you are. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini on the ninth, encouraging you to learn through experience over the next five months.

♡ for scorpio, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse touches down in your zone of rest, encouraging surrender and relaxation. through soul-searching, this eclipse could bring forth a much-needed spiritual awakening. the energy is also creative and imaginative. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini on the ninth, encouraging you to embrace transformation over the next five months.

♡ for sagittarius, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse activates your zone of friendship and hope, inspiring faith for the future. expect surprising information in your social circles! an exciting new collaboration could be in the works. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini and your relationship realm on the ninth, encouraging you to explore your role in your closest connections over the next five months.

♡ for capricorn, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse awakens your career zone, encouraging you to step into your power! an unexpected opportunity to showcase your gifts emerges, and important people are noticing your strengths. surprises related to your career could open new pathways to success. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini on the ninth, prompting you to explore new self-care practices over the next five months.

♡ for aquarius, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse activates your sector of adventure, eliciting excitement! you could be taking an unexpected trip or seizing an opportunity to broaden your horizons. knowledge is power, and this eclipse could provide surprising information that helps you expand. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini on the ninth, encouraging you to explore your creative side over the next five months.

♡ for pisces, the libra solar eclipse on october 2 brings major transformation in your realm of money and intimacy! unexpected changes open new doors of opportunity, and while this is exciting, it requires you to face your shadow and abandon fear. a surprising, magical moment of abundance emerges. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini on the ninth, inviting you to rest and embrace comfort over the next five months.

[chocourse]

locked.

➶ leon scott kennedy x gn!reader ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ “I'm just saying, if you shut my mouth again, I'll bite you.”

If you have to hide in a closet from the Artist with your worst enemy, well... it raises a lot of problems. And the unresolved tension.

➴ genre: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, there was only one locker, in the dead by daylight universe

: ̗̀➛ warnings: mature content, a lot of cursing, some heavy kissing & lingering sexual tension, also david is bleeding

⌨ :: 3.4K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ @honeytwo was the one who checked the translation. thank you very much, xoxo! <3

⁀➷ a/n: i uploaded this oneshot to ao3 around halloween. i wanted to upload it here right away, but i didn't feel like editing the "cover" and creating a new masterlist. but now i did!

by the way, the fic itself is made around 2021, in my great leon and dbd brainrot. very nostalgic.

➳ mlist

"What's up? With you and Leon?"

Feng's question makes you raise your head. It's not just the subject that piques your interest, but the way her question comes in the form of a worried, tired sigh. She's usually this exhausted when the current killer has been chasing her for at least a minute and a half.

It surprises you so much that you almost let go of the generator’s wires, and that would be a fatal blunder. Instead, you grip them tighter so she can work undisturbed.

That question makes no sense. You think the answer is obvious. You and Leon Scott Kennedy, the cop who knows more than anyone, hate each other. He makes you impossibly annoyed when he gives you orders, commands and gets on your nerves.

“I'd rather see him on the hook than around me," you say, summing up your feelings about the man.

“Interesting…” 

You don't like her tone, so instead of concentrating to keep the wire from slipping out of your sweaty palm, you glare at Feng.

“What do you mean?" your voice is perhaps a little irritated, trembling slightly with focused tension.

“That's not what I saw. I mean, sometimes it does feel like you're at each other's throats, but other times it's the opposite.” 

You don't know what she's talking about when she says the other times are opposite. Yesterday, you refused to go to a generator with Leon when he took it too personally, and from two hundred yards away you shouted about each other's uselessness, unnecessary and totally unprofessional behavior. Of course, the murderer is not deaf, he took the opportunity to hang someone, so Leon got you both into trouble with his displeasure.

Before he did, he asked you whether you wanted him to let you off the hook or continue with his 15% generator. He even expected you to thank him afterwards.

But that's just the way he is. He can't see past his ego. So you turn to him with contempt in every situation and you don't understand what Feng is talking about. You find her weird waffling somewhat offensive.

“I, for one, want to jump at his throat as soon as I see him. Maybe I could do a better job than the killer.”

Feng shakes her head. You're watching out of the corner of your eye because you need to focus on the job. You can't mess up this generator now, chitchat or no chitchat.

“Okay. Tell me what you're getting at," you say impatiently.

"I don't think you hate each other one hundred percent," she tells you. "Mutually," she adds meaningfully, and you're so freaked out by this that not only do your words fail you, but you even wave your hand defensively, idiotically, as if you could dismiss this sinister, completely false idea.

In other words, you let go of the wire, the generator sparks the key and fires up loudly. You mishandled it, and in doing so, you let the killer have you gave away your location. Feng does not address you, nor does she turn towards you, simply, following emergency protocol, crouches in the grass and sneaks away from the scene until she is certain that the killer - whose identity is currently unknown - will not come here, or if they do, will leave. Shamefully, you follow. You hide behind a log and watch the scene from there.

Someone is coming, not from the front, but from the grass. It's David. He's wounded, clutching his side, which is bleeding quite badly. You try to pry off his fingers to see how bad the cut is, and he screams in despair, pulls away.

“We've got the Artist, and she didn't spare me,” he reports in great pain.

“Get me a bandage!” Feng gives the task to you, then takes David's arm supportively. “David, we'll get a safe distance from the generator. You have a tetanus shot, right?”

Feng is in charge, but listening to her isn't hard at all. You understand what she's doing, and you know she has the collective interest at heart. And she's logical. Unlike Leon's orders, which are given out of thin air to protect only one man: himself. That selfish bastard.

These are the thoughts you fire yourself up with to stop shaking with fear by the time you get to the hut. In their cellars, there is always a box to help survivors. It's not too far away, but you approach it stealthily just in case, listening for any noises. As you start down the creaking stairs, you worry for David and yourself: someone is already opening the box. You hear the squeak of the lock, and there can only be one of the four of you downstairs. You feel sick in the stomach with anticipation of the inevitable encounter.

You take the final steps. Two lockers are in front of you, and to your left is the room, four hooks bounded by a wooden wall, the perfect sacrificial site. From here it's harder to rescue the one who's been hooked, this room is riskier and more isolated than all the others. Beyond the hooks are a few more lockers, and in the corner is the box. 

And as you'd expect, Leon kneels in front of it. He's so busy, he doesn't even know you're here. If you were a killer, you could easily pick him up and have him fiddle around, the hooks are just a few steps away. Yeah, this careless jerk thinks he's in charge.

“Now I understand why we're so fucked with the generators.” You cross your arms, sizing him up. His hands are bandaged, his face is dirty, and he's never wearing something more practical than his police uniform. So pompous.

“If you're so worried, you could make one. Maybe it’d calm you down.” He looks up, frowns. He doesn't understand what you're doing here. It's really none of his business.

“The only thing that would calm me down was if you got your ass up and contributed to the unit. If there were four of us, we'd be done a lot sooner with less risk.”

“I get that you've got hero syndrome, but I don't need saving. I can take care of myself.”

“I can see that. At everyone's cost.”

It's like there's pain in his eyes, but you can't analyze it. Grimacing as he returns to his task, he hits the lock so hard it breaks. The understatement of opening the top is more like slamming it against the wall. You've either angered him or offended him, or both. He's a drama queen who doesn't take defeat well. You glance over his shoulder at the exposed bracket and sigh in relief. In the trunk are clothes, a flashlight, and, thankfully, a first aid kit.

The tension is suffocating, the silence could be cut. You have to speak.

“David's hurt. I'll take the med kit.” You're trying to sound less hostile, more objective. He might not give it to you because you've stabbed him in the soul. You would expect that from him. He nods unconvincingly, so you reach for the box's ear in a hurry before he changes his mind. He's picking out the flashlight.

You barely grip the med kit, crows flutter above, the sound of running filters down. Leon was too loud. There's no time to think of escape, no time to make plans. The man jumps up, pulls you into the nearest closet. In his fury, he is fortunately careful not to slam the door, but to close it gently. You let the box down beside you.

And you languish in the cramped space in the dark, with danger lurking. You don't feel like kicking him or arguing or mouthing off. You're scared. You hate the hooks down below. You've been down them once or twice. You don't like it, you don't want to go back. 

A shaky, deep groaning whimper rises up from inside you. Leon puts his palm over your mouth. You press yourself against the wall, trying to relax, to slow your breathing.

The Artist arrives. She walks around the room, squawking. 

You close your eyes. You imagine you're somewhere else. 

A door slams creakily open. You tense up, Leon's thighs tighten. You feel him take your hand, his fingers close around yours. He's shaking, but he's holding on better than you are. You don't pull your hand away, you let him hold it.

The killer walks a little more. Then she pauses, ponders her next move, and finally leaves.

The sound of your breathing will be the only source of sound besides the creaking of the hut. Leon takes his palm away from your face, deliberately, as if he's not sure it's time. You sigh, throwing your head against the side of the closet.

“I'm still of the opinion that we'd be better off if you helped with the generators.”

“You're making things bigger.” His words are stiff and reserved. There's no trace of the intimate hand holding you just had. If you had any tenderness towards him, he's lost it, as well as his sweaty hands.

“Isn't it big enough that we almost died because of your carelessness?”

“And you ignore your own mistakes.” You can't see his eyes, but yours are aflame. You don't understand this guy. You've got more important things to do than to let him piss you off. “I saved your life.”

“You were the one who put me in danger, asshole.” That would be your last word, you'd end the duel of stifled whispers, leave your hiding place, but Leon pushes your shoulders against the wall, his legs pressed against yours, hips clashing. Only now do you realize how close you really are, how little closet space there is. The atmosphere is still thick, yet somehow this is different. He's not finished, and your stomach clenches at the unpleasant ideas of what else he's going to throw at you.

“I need great fucking restraint and patience when I'm with you. But it's no use. You are incapable of cooperating with me,” he mumbles.

“Your enormous patience is like an ant's dick. I say two words to you and you're ready to attack.”

“Just like you,” he sighs. Clearly, he's had enough of you. The feeling is mutual, so you don't understand at all why he hasn't let you go yet. By the time he says what he wants, David is bleeding to death.

“I never claimed to have patience with you.”

“Will you please shut up and listen to me for once?" he growls belligerently, his fingers digging into your skin.

“I’m not your subordinate. I’m under no obligation to listen to you,” you mutter, and you have no thought of showing any less resistance in his direction. You wouldn’t be you if you listened to him.

“How can someone be this annoying?”

“Here, you don't even have to ask.” You shrug, but you can feel how much he's squeezing. “On the other hand, you could really get off of me. I'm busy. Maybe another time I'll tell you about the world of non-egocentric, non-narcissistic people, so you at least get the theory," you sputter with derision, your heart about to plunge into your esophagus and choke you.

“What can I do to shut you up?” He thinks out loud. 

“I'm just saying, if you shut my mouth again, I'll bite you.”

“Fuck.” Leon groans deeply, disgruntled, worried and angry. His palm hits the space next to your head, his lips crashing against yours.

Willingly and wearily he kisses you, really wanting you to be quiet. You moan in surprise at how well he kisses you, instead of punching him in the face.

Your mind is still churning out pithy retorts, but your body is acting as if it has been ready for this. You grab the back of the man's head, holding him close. You press your legs to his hips, your soles against the bottom of the other wall. Maybe you'll manage to pry the closet open the way this make-out session does your lungs.

You grip his hair, trying to push him away a little to catch your breath, to think clearly, but Leon sweetly whimpers and kisses you more passionately. You melt into his arm, his pleasant earthy scent mingling with sweat. You no longer want to think clearly. 

His tongue dances around yours, caressing you, and you enjoy it more than when he uses it to mess with you. You press so hard against each other that you know why his pants are so relentlessly tight. He bites your bottom lip gently, making you go limp. And you promised that if he shut your mouth, you'd bite him, not the other way around.

Your lust-fuelled, angry and excruciatingly sensual games end when you accidentally kick the first aid box. You cringe, the moment is gone, and you have no idea what happened. You stare ahead languidly, your lips tingling, feeling a bit dizzy.

Leon strokes your cheek. The rough material of the gauze bandage sneaks over your skin. He presses your forehead together, panting softly.

“Listen to me, please," he whispers, hopeful and soft. 

He speaks to you so softly that every part of you feels hot again. You nod, because after all this you need an explanation to go on with your life from the point you fell into this closet with the man. It's a stupid idea, but you trust that he has a reason for your reaction. For example, he wears a perfume so seductive that even the people who dislike him the most can't resist kissing him.

“I experienced hell a few months ago,” he starts.

“Did you meet me?”

“Hush.” He puts his finger on your lips, and it's so intimate you don't feel like biting. You want to lick it instead. You have no idea what's going on with you. It's Leon, and you hate him. You hate him. “Killers are smart. I have a great friend, Jill. Nemesis built his plan on our friendship. We almost got caught because we were both protecting each other at all costs. When I met the rest of the survivors, I couldn't let you get in trouble. I pushed you away right at the beginning, just in case something happened.”

You remember the first moments. Actually, you started to hate Leon because he had a cocky, arrogant and uncaring attitude towards everyone you cared about. You never thought that was a strategy, not the ultimate in rudeness.

“Then why did you kiss me?”

Your question makes what just happened very real. Because he did kiss you and you enjoyed it.

“Because I couldn't take it anymore. You know, it's hard to insult you when all I can think about is wanting to kiss you.”

Now you understand what Feng was talking about. Leon's longing gaze must have told her a lot about his true intentions. You're not sure about the mutuality, though. You've never said anything about Leon other than you hate him... But if you think about it, your body language may have conveyed something suspicious that you didn't realize. After all, you just threw yourself at him the first chance you got when his lips touched yours... How long have you had this desire lurking inside you if it's been triggered like this?

You don’t answer. You're confused, and while he caresses your cheek so tenderly, you're unable to say anything, or even just to open your mouth.

“I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable,” he apologizes, and fails to hide the disappointment in his voice.

“I think it's much easier to hate you than to love you," you sigh, throwing your head against the locker. That's all you can suddenly say.

“Is it also better?”

“Excuse me, but you hate me in my defense.”

“That doesn't answer the question.”

"I have no idea," you shrug. “I've never tried to love you. I haven't dared.”

“And would you try?" These are hopefully light words, almost falling out of the man's mouth. 

“When we’re alone like this? Keeping it a secret from everyone? Maybe.”

Okay, it's not maybe, but you need to be firm and reserved a little longer. He needs to believe that a mind-blowing kiss and a heartwarming confession like that didn't sweep you off your feet. After all, half an hour ago you were wishing for his hanging.

He's smiling. That's for sure. You're glad you can't see it, so he won't notice your face is red. At most, he can feel it. This time his mouth is roaming your face instead of his finger. You shudder when he touches your cheekbone because the love in his movements is sincere and caring. If only he had treated you like this from the beginning! He would have spared you some very high blood pressure numbers.

“We can't do that here…”

“No one can see us here. And I have to prove to you that it’s worth being with me.” He's mumbling onto the skin of your throat. You moan, when he kisses your neck eagerly. He grabs your hips. You pull him tightly to you by the small of his back, so eager to let him prove the truth of his words with lots and lots of kisses and touches.

But then you remember David’s wound, the box, Feng. You're on a mission now, and you can't be seduced, you can't collapse into Leon's muscular arms to be undressed and ignited into true love in this closet. You'd gladly give yourself to him, but not now, when your friends are counting on you. Plus, there's a killer on the loose.

“David” your gasp makes the name sound a little longing, so Leon stiffens, trails off slightly. You rest your palm on his chest, feel how it rises, how it sinks. “Bleeding. Med kit.” You try to let him know in small words that you're not fantasizing about another guy when he's kissing you with his soul, ready to give you all he has. You're trying to clear your head, because it's foggy and stunned. No one has ever fallen like that for you in a closet.

To be clear, once Hillbilly dragged you out, but he's not known to be a kisser.

“Okay," Leon nods, presses a final kiss to your lips, then pauses, his hand hesitantly on the doorknob, "but what about us?”

“I’ll think about it. "Your answer is fifty percent, but the cheerful kiss you quickly plant on his lips increases his chances by twenty percent.

He opens the door. There’s no proper lighting, just a few candles, but that also disturbs your eyes after the total darkness. You grab the first aid, and squint as you stumble out of the closet that’s guarding the memory of your kiss.

You dodge the hooks, climb the creaking stairs, and a set bird trap awaits you. If you step inside, the crows will attack, and are so loud that the Artist will find you immediately. You pass it cautiously.

You are soon back. Feng and David are almost where you left them, continuing the generator, only David is holding his side. It is a desperate action to repair the generator, it has to be done at all costs.

Your moves are not too blunt, Feng snaps her head up. They both look towards you, and suddenly you can't think of anything forceful to say to Leon, or grumble about his presence. Instead, you close your eyes, kneel beside them and open the box.

Feng and you work quietly to tend to David's wound.

You want to be remorseful, shameful, do everything you can to help him, but it's hard to concentrate on that when Leon is lurking not far away, and you're still spinning about how he kissed you. which you loved, and you were really selfish.

“I'm off to another generator," he announces, as if reading your jumbled thoughts.

“No need to announce it. No one here needs your company,” you throw the judgment at him mockingly.

Feng's eyebrows furrow, she snaps at you in a whisper. She didn't expect you to go at Leon again. Well, sorry, now you have to, just to keep up the pretense.

"I just want to clear the record," you shrug.

You lock eyes with Leon. A mischievous glance flickers in both of your eyes, because this is far from what it used to be. They don't know, but you do. It's exciting and new, but you can't wait to be alone with him again, locked in your honest feelings.

Your notes, comments and Leon thoughts are warmly welcomed! 💓

[heartsteel-heartbeats]

More dating Heartsteel Kayn HCs (Birthday + Halloween Edition! ft. Rhaast)

Brief mention of drinking, but doesn’t go into full detail.

(( Happy birthday to this silly guy!! 😚😚 )) ~ OBBY 💗

You’ve known Kayn’s birthday was on the 30th and not the 31st thanks to a certain K/DA member texting him at a very unfortunate time, but you did enjoy the idea of celebrating both days in general. Kayn, on the other hand, prefers the 31st because that is what he says his birthday is. It doesn’t hurt to just simply indulge him. If he wants his birthday on the 31st, who the hell are you to say? Don’t let that stop you from doing something fun on the 30th though. Try to take advantage of the fact he has a habit of staying up very late. As long as you two aren’t caught, perhaps you could get away with a thing or two. Maybe a little spray paint to liven up this boring alley right?

Kayn might catch on to what your intentions are and he will tease you about it and telling you his birthday is tomorrow, but he truly does appreciate what you’re doing. Any moment he can spare just to be with you is everything to him.

“Is this for my birthday? You know that’s tomorrow.” “Whattt? Of course I know that.” “This is for my birthday, isn’t it?” “Totally not.” “It’s totally for my birthday!” “It’s past midnight anyway! It’s your birthday right now!”

On the 31st, do expect Rhaast to make an appearance. In fact, it may or may not have been his idea for you to dress up like him. He thinks it’d look cool, and luckily for both of you, some people seemed to have the same idea to dress up as him. Of course, it’d be obvious to tell which one was the real Rhaast, but you? The media can just say you were just a “mysterious talented artist” who practically nailed the costume. At least they never got a picture of your face or even your name, and they’ll never know that you actually got help from the man himself.

Rhaast does eventually escape from the crowd just to go to you and drag you onto a rooftop to watch everyone else. Does he make fun of other people’s attempts to dress up as him? Absolutely.

“[name]! Look at that one over there!” “A for effort, at least.” “No, that’s too high! Bump it down to C tier.” “Hah! That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? Not even low B tier?” “Not at all!” “Oh come on, look at that one. That one’s not that bad, right?” “Ugh, more like cheaply made.”

Rhaast himself is pretty anti-paparazzi. Not in the “literally blinding in the camera” kind of anti-paparazzi, but rather the one that tends to scare them away quite literally. Popping out of nowhere with a loud “BOO!” and a boisterous laugh. Although in general, Rhaast is just really hard to get a good picture of if it’s not during a show. I mean have you seen him? Look at him go.

tbh he’d probably scare some kids too

Since we’re talking about Rhaast, let’s talk about your relationship with him. He loves you. In fact, he’s the one that pushed Kayn to approach you when he realized how Kayn felt about you. In a way, you could say this relationship is polyamorous. Rhaast still gets very jealous if he’s not let out to have time with you, though it’s not so different with Kayn. Both of them can get pretty jealous in general.

“You’re such a wimp! Just do it!!” “No..!” “Oh come on!! They’re perfect! You even thought it!” “Well-! Yes, I did! But-!” “They even love the way I work things! If you want them, you have to get them before someone else does! Have you seen how that other guy was looking at them earlier?!” “I am not doing it.” “What’s that saying? “The worst they can do is say no”? Just do it Kayn!!" “Ugh! Fine! Tomorrow." "Pussy."

Rhaast was Kayn's personal alarm that next morning. He wasn't going to let Kayn forget the plan. Let’s just say he was a bit of a mess when he finally came to you thanks to Rhaast, but when you said yes, he was ecstatic. Kayn struggled trying to keep a straight face when all he can hear is Rhaast yelling triumphantly. That was also the day you realized Rhaast wasn't just his "alter-ego," but rather a whole other person that only Kayn hears and lets out time to time. Well, you did like Kayn, and you did like "not simply an alter-ego" Rhaast, so it worked out.

He definitely tried scaring you a few times. Maybe he succeeded, maybe he didn’t, but he’s done a handful of things to you and others to try and get a reaction. Maybe you grew a resistance to it overtime and your reactions gradually changed.

Rhaast does let you snap some pretty cool photos of him which probably includes him doing dangerous stunts. Still, seeing him go do what he loves to do without anything to stop him was nice. That didn’t stop you from being worried if he’ll actually get hurt, though. He sometimes teases you on that. To be fair, he does this all the time and comes out unscathed.

Heading towards your next destination (which would be wherever they had agreed to celebrate his birthday) had to be done with the two of you doing in different routes so that attention wasn’t drawn to either of you, or to you specifically. Wouldn’t want too many speculations now, though it is fun to see the fans create their own thoughts on the matter. They were either entirely wrong, or they were so close to the truth. You were going to meet up again a few blocks from the location, and of course, he was there first waiting for you in a wall just to kind of surprise you. You were greeted by Kayn instead of Rhaast, and he lifts the mask on your face to give you a kiss.

“Hey there gorgeous~” “Hey yourself. Were you just standing in that wall the entire time?” “Guilty as charged. You’re so slow.” “Says the one who can walk in walls.” “Yeah, but you love it when I do it.”

Serves as good time to just walk and chat now that you’re away from the crowd. Most people, and kids, would be at home and maybe sleeping by now, so the streets are rather empty.

“Not that I’m complaining, but are you here because Rhaast is tired?” “If I let Rhaast drink to his heart’s content, none of us will be going home.” “Since when did that ever stop you?” “Yeah… But Yone won’t be letting me off the hook, so I’m unfortunately at a limit.” “And on your birthday. What a shame.”

Whether this is your first time meeting the rest of Heartsteel or not, it’s safe to say you get along with them fairly well. Ezreal wanted all the details, but gets cut off by Kayn who would pull you away from him. K’Sante and Alune are always fun to talk to, so if things get too rowdy, you can run to them and chat for a while.

You’ve spotted Aphelios taking pictures of some stuff happening, like how Kayn and Ezreal are still bickering which he’ll post somewhere later. He’ll probably go to you to show you some photos he took of the others a few days or weeks prior. There was even a photo of Aphelios and Kayn beating Sett with plushies and pillows (Ezreal took the photo). He’ll send it to you if you ask.

You know those little charms he has on his belt of Rhaast and his shadow assassin form? Your gift to him were matching charms of you and him. He wears the charm of you with so much pride, he loves it so much. You're even placed between the two he already had. No one would suspect a thing either if they see your little charm of Kayn. It's normal for people to have silly pins and charms of their favorite artist, and if anyone asks where you got it from, just say you made it yourself. It wasn't a lie after all.

It’s safe to say both Kayn and Rhaast had fun on their 48 hour birthday.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Hey, hi, hello!

Sorry, not only did I get cocky and assume I wasn't gonna have to deal with PMS brain fog this month (and then got promptly slapped down when it came in full force, just a few days late), the last week or so was much busier than I was anticipating. I ended up having to host a family member for a couple of days, and as it turns out, it's hard to play hostess and write at the same time!

I'm very proud to say, though, that Shoot the Moon has finally, blessedly entered the wrap-up phase. I really love this piece, even though it's actually been somewhat difficult to write emotionally. It also won't stop growing, much like the recent Hancock piece. I put over 4,000 words into it just today, and it now sits at over 14,000, though I won't pretend that's a final length. It'll likely get a couple thousand more added between the little bit of "scene connector" that's still needed and general edits.

I can't say confidently that it'll be ready to go up tomorrow, especially since I'll be out of the house for at least part of the day, but late on the 2nd seems realistic. I'm quite literally working on a physical outline to iron out what I'll be working on after that. Thanks to y'all, I have what feels like an endless pot of inspiration and great ideas to use as jumping off points, but my AuDHD brain needs them laid out nicely or things start to fall through the cracks. I'm looking forward to working on it, actually.

I can't thank you guys enough for your patience while you wait for me to push smut at you. I hope everyone had a great, safe Halloween! Excited for what's coming! 💚🎃

[wintaerbaer]

kissing santa claus (kth)

summary: Taehyung may think you're a little bit of a Christmas Grinch, but maybe helping him start some Christmas Eve traditions will convince you of its magic.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader

rating: generally sfw, but there are some suggestive bits of dialogue (that being said, minors dni)

genre: established relationship au, pure fluff

word count: 1.6k

a/n: a couple days late, but i wanted to get this one out (it's therefore unbeta'd and minimally edited)! i hope everyone had a wonderful holiday! <3

MASTERLIST

“Tae. Babe. This is insane.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because she’s barely even two. She won’t remember this.”

“Maybe with that attitude she won’t.”

You roll your eyes at him, biting your lip in exasperation. “I get that you want to start with the Christmas traditions early, but don’t you think that maybe this,” you gesture up and down at his elaborate Santa Claus costume, complete with boots, belly, and a large, white beard, “might be a little too much?”

He tilts his gaze down, assessing his current look. “No.”

“She’s asleep, babe. She won’t even see you.”

“I need to get into character.” His eyes narrow, lower lip jutting out in a pout. “I didn’t realize I married the Grinch.”

You grant him another endeared roll of your eyes, giggling on the inside at how adorable he looks, and wave a hand in concession. “Fine, fine. What's on the agenda, Mr. Claus?”

“That's more like it,” he says, rubbing his hands together before beginning to tick off items on his fingers. “Cookies, footprints, presents. Ooh, and hot chocolate!”

“Again, she's asleep–”

“That last bit is for us.” He adjusts his beard, which keeps shifting askew as he speaks. “Okay, to the kitchen!”

He leads you downstairs, past the rows of family pictures in the hall and the banisters wrapped in garland. The house only gets more festive as you go, bows and snowmen, tiny Santas and elves adorning nearly every surface. And in the living room, barely fitting under the ceiling, is one of the tallest Christmas trees you've ever seen, every inch of it covered in lights.

It’s been mostly Taehyung's doing, the smaller decorations finding their way into your home as early as September. When you teased him, noted that it wasn't even Halloween yet, he'd claimed innocence, saying that it must've been the elves sneaking in at night. You'd decided to roll with it, especially seeing how happy your daughter was the day after–Taehyung holding her in his arms and pointing out the snowmen one by one as she clapped her little hands together.

A daddy's girl through and through.

Taehyung beelines for the plate of cookies and milk that he'd set out with her before bedtime, taking one of the lopsided-looking reindeer that they'd baked yesterday and popping it into his mouth with a flourish. His cheeks puff out like a hamster, and you have to resist pinching one.

“How is it?” you ask.

“Is tasty,” he garbles, picking another one up to offer it to you. “Here.”

You bite into the sugar cookie, savoring the way it almost melts in your mouth. “Wow, they came out great!”

“Our girl is quite the baker,” he says, and even through the beard, you can see his boxy smile.

“She contributed a ton, I'm sure.”

An idea strikes you as you're left with only a tiny piece of cookie, and you press it between your fingers, scattering the crumbs across the plate like constellations. Taehyung gazes at you quizzically, an eyebrow quirked in question.

“For dramatic effect,” you say, and he immediately brightens, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“You're getting the hang of this, Mrs. Claus.”

You giggle at him as he moves to the fridge, pulling out a carrot and crunching the vegetable between his teeth.

“Can't forget the reindeer,” he explains. “They're an integral part of this operation.”

“An operation? What is this, the mob?”

“Y/N, Y/N.” He shakes his head like he’s disappointed in you–a teacher about to impart wisdom. “Santa visits millions, nay, billions of households all in a single night.” A glove-clad finger waggles in front of your face. “You think that happens without the highest caliber of logistics planning?”

You purse your lips, trying to hold in the laugh that so desperately wants to escape–you don’t want him to think you’re laughing at him. He’s just so…endearing. “Why do I feel like you’ve done the math on how fast his sleigh must travel?”

“Over four-million-seven-hundred-thousand kilometers per hour,” he says without missing a beat, placing the half-eaten carrot on the plate and leaning over to grab a baking pan from a nearby cabinet. “Now grab the flour and meet me in the living room.”

The overhead lights in the living room are off, but the tree is more than enough, glowing in the corner like a beacon. And while the rest of the decorations throughout the house are fancy and neatly curated, the ornaments littered around the tree are a hodgepodge of poorly-crafted at-home projects. A few weeks ago, Taehyung found a DIY kit of dozens on the internet and spent an entire weekend putting them together with your daughter, their giggles echoing off the walls for hours as they made them at the kitchen table.

The result was the most beautiful tree you’ve ever seen.

Taehyung places the baking pan on the floor and snatches the bag of flour out of your hands, sprinkling a generous amount of the white powder into the pan below. Positioning himself by the fireplace, he gently presses his boots into the cooking vessel before creating a pattern of footprints leading towards the tree.

You tilt your head to the side, regarding his work. “Okay, that’s actually pretty cute.”

“Right?” His smile might be brighter than the tree.

“And you’re gonna–”

“I will take care of vacuuming it up, yes.”

“Cool, cool.”

He loses the boots after that, depositing them in the adjacent bathroom and disposing of the flour and pan in the kitchen; you spot bright green socks dotted with round Santas poking out from under his too-large pants. When he returns to the living room, he gives you a quick, “Wait here,” before skipping up the stairs.

Only to come back with an absolutely monstrous sack of presents.

It barely squeezes down the staircase, and you jump in to help him maneuver, turning the bag this way and that until he’s managed to drag it into the living room, both of you out of breath. The thing must weigh two tons.

“Did you buy more stuff?”

“Couldn’t resist,” he wheezes, hands perched on his knees. “And one of them is a gift for you that’s really a gift for me.”

“It’s Christmas lingerie, isn’t it.”

He winks. “The gift that keeps on giving.”

The two of you work together to unload the boxes until there’s a tiny mountain of presents under the tree just waiting to be unwrapped. You’ve always loved this part–the promise of tomorrow morning’s excitement finding its way into the air at the sight of wrapping paper and bows. And with Taehyung dressed up as the Big Man next to you, you have to admit that it does feel a little more magical.

“Ready for our grand finale?” he says with a glint in his eye once the stockings over the fireplace have been filled.

“Lead the way, Mr. Claus.”

Back to the kitchen you go, where Taehyung whips up mugs of hot chocolate for both of you, the aroma making the whole house smell as sweet as he is.

“I learned this at the North Pole,” he jokes, twirling a candy cane in each mug before handing you yours. The ceramic warms your hands in the most wonderful way.

“To the magic of Christmas?” you ask, and he grins, seemingly about to clink his cup with yours, when a cry sounds from upstairs.

In sync, you set your mugs down on the countertop and hurry to your daughter’s room where she’s standing up in her crib, rubbing at her eyes and whining.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” you coo, gathering her into your arms and swaying back and forth. “You can go back to sleep.”

But she’s already caught sight of the other figure lingering in the doorway, and she raises her arm sleepily to point a tiny finger at him. “San-tah.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen to the size of saucers, and suddenly he’s shuffling forward. When your daughter’s arms reach out for him, you pass her off, and she immediately snuggles into the fur on his coat, instantly soothed.

“San-tah,” she mumbles again, and it’s only a few moments in Taehyung’s arms until she’s back to sleep, a bit of drool slipping onto his shoulder.

He sets her down in her crib, murmuring a soft, “Merry Christmas, sweetie,” as she turns over, and the two of you exit the room as quietly as possible, closing the door with a muted click.

With the hush that’s fallen over the house, the dim lights in the hallway, and the smell of chocolate still drifting its way from downstairs, a complete sense of peace washes over you–the world outside frozen for a moment.

Taehyung pauses in the hallway, pulling you in close. “So, have I shown you the magic of Christmas?”

“Mmm, I might need a bit more convincing,” you tease. “Anything else on your list?”

“Just one thing,” he says, and points upwards.

Pinned to the ceiling above your heads is a sprig of mistletoe, tied off with a bright red ribbon.

He kisses you deeply, his lips soft against yours, and it makes you feel even warmer than the mug of hot chocolate did. But when you get a mouthful of synthetic beard, you pull back with a frustrated growl.

Taehyung, however, misunderstands the sound. “Oh, does the Santa thing do it for you?” he asks. “Because you can open that one present early if you want. You’re on the nice list–I checked.”

You lean in close, playfully tugging his beard down so you can give him one more chaste kiss. He can have this, you think. After all, it’s Christmas.

“Go get the present, lose the beard, and meet me in bed, Mr. Claus.”

a/n: pls consider liking/reblogging/commenting if you enjoyed! :)

[ancientphantom]

It's 2005 and we're still alive!

The Phantom's Love by Lila Hart is a romance featuring an unusual Phantom who is actually a ghost, on a loose plot of a sequel in which the Phantom has been haunting the place since his death and can fall in love once he and the girl who just moved in sort out his lingering trauma.

Phantom No More: Roisin by Grace King is another in King's series of alternatative romances for the Phantom, this time featuring a young woman who meets him while he is working on the construction of the Palais Garnier.

The Helpful Thoughts from Phantom Workbook by Aidan Morton is one of the weirder things I've seen lately: a philosophical workbook to help you understand and properly digest the themes of H.D. Carlton's recent spicy dark romance novel Phantom. I have no idea who it is for. Presumably people who have been yearning to be assigned homework lately. Even weirder, a peek at Morton's Amazon profile shows that he has one other publication - a guide to understanding a completely unrelated romantic thriller about a couple getting a divorce while trying to solve a kidnapping mystery, which is still forthcoming and won't be available until April. I have theories, but I have no proof.

And then we've got not one but two deluxe binding editions of the original Leroux novel out at the same time, one with gorgeous tooled artwork on the front (AI but still very attractive), the other with a timeless, classy British library-style look. No translator is attributed so they're almost certainly both the de Mattos translation, but they're still pretty handsome.

If Halloween and the spooky Phantoms weren't generous this year, it's about to be Valentine's Day - brace for romances!

[syd-djarin]

Sugar, Spice & Please Fuck Me Nice (neighbor!joel AU)

chapter two: sex and candy

*18+ minors DNI*

tags: mentions of anxiety, religious shame/guilt, reader being insecure, mentions of (negative) past sexual experiences and partners, brief mention of alcohol consumption, v fingering, oral (f receiving) joel is a cunnilinguist, 2000’s nostalgia, mentions of the patriarchy (booooo)  squirting (sue me),  Joel-Land™️™️™️

reader has hair that she fidgets with, "grows warm" /"cheeks burning" but not necessarily blushing, with embarrassment - minor edits to make this more inclusive for my readers <3

word count: ~4.5k

Author/s notes: Sorry it took longer to get ch. 2 out than I anticipated. I've had a lot going on in my personal life (I got a new job!) But I promise it won't be as long for ch. 3 hehe. this is a lengthy chapter, hope y'all enjoy!!

had to name reader's bestie after my dear friend @katiexpunk <3 thanks for always letting me run ideas by you and being a peach in general.

and thank you to @softiedingo for being a beta reader as well <333

It has been two weeks since you introduced yourself to Joel and Sarah. You hate to admit it, but you haven’t been able to stop thinking about Joel. Your mind will stay preoccupied temporarily, then they circle back to him. 

Throwing clothes in the washer? Joel. 

Boiling water for pasta? Joel. 

Doing the dishes? Joel. 

In the shower? Yep, definitely Joel. 

And this morning is no different. 

You’re staring at yourself in your bathroom mirror, brushing your teeth, mind deep into Joel-Land, then your thoughts take a sharp turn - for the worst. You’re thinking about all of your past sexual encounters. 

How unsatisfying and selfish your past partners were. You hadn’t been romantically involved with any of your past partners, all of them casual-no-strings-attached type of arrangements. 

Even if the sex was casual, did that mean the pleasure had to be one-sided? Of course not. 

However, after each encounter you found yourself feeling disappointed, and truthfully, it made you feel…..icky. Was it religious shame? Even though you don’t participate or believe in any religion anymore, your formative years were spent in a conservative, Christian church; where sex is bad, and sin is bad. And you don’t want to be bad, because you will go to hell. You don’t even believe in hell, yet, there is a small voice in your head that still worries about eternal damnation. Jeez, I should really see a therapist about that.  

 Perhaps it’s the misogyny and sexism, rampant and hard-wired into society and into mind’s since the beginning of time. 

Your internal theological and philosophical debate gives you a throbbing headache. 

+++

It’s Friday. Halloween falls on a Tuesday this year, so most Halloween celebrations would occur this weekend. 

If you were still in college, you’d most likely attend a costume party at a frat party and drink until the sun came up. These days, you don’t recover from hangovers as easily and find the anxiety spiral that follows a night of drinking to be too debilitating so you’re planning on keeping it chill this year. 

You’re pouring out a bag of candy into a bowl, so candy is easily accessible for your sweet tooth cravings when you hear a strong, loud cluster of knocks at your front door. 

Knock. Knock. Knock-knock. 

Shaking off your initial startling from the sudden knocks, you open your front door to find Joel. He’s leaning his shoulder on the doorframe, one half of his body bears all his weight. He swiftly straightens upright again when you greet him. He looks even more handsome from the last time you saw him. He’s wearing dark wash jeans that accentuate his body in the most delectable way and a black t-shirt with a faded MILLER CONSTRUCTION graphic that is just barely legible. 

You have the urge to steal the well-worn shirt so you can sleep in it, relish his scent, and let it become a metaphorical embrace of Joel. 

Fuck, I really am down bad, you internally scold yourself to come back to the present moment. 

“Joel! Ho-how are you?” you manage to creak out through nerves and surprise. 

His beautiful, dark brown eyes are staring right into yours. His eyes could compel you to do anything. 

“I’m doin’ alright, you?” The word ‘alright’ is drawn out making it sound like “awllll-right���

“Can’t complain. Y’all settling in okay?” tilting your head unconsciously, as if to convey genuinity.  

“Oh yeah, ‘s a nice neighborhood. Sarah seems to be enjoyin’ her new school, I was a lil worried she’d have a hard time but she’s a smart kid and gets along with pretty much everyone. Awful silly of me to worry in the first place…” he’s rambling, hands moving at the same pace as his speech. 

You find his rambling to be cute, it’s a bit of a juxtaposition from his strong, demanding presence. 

Joel realizes he’s nervous after he concludes his tangent. When’s the last time he felt nervous around women? Especially a sweet, non-threatening woman like you? 

“Anywho, I came over to uh- ask you somethin’... Sarah liked your cookies so much she wants to learn how to make them herself and was wondering if you’d teach her?”

“I’d love to!” You shoot him a flattered smile,  learning that Sarah wanted you to teach her to bake makes your heart sing.

Joel is amazed at you. You agreed to teach a twelve year old, one who you hardly know, to bake. He shouldn’t be surprised given your sweet demeanor and generous heart, but he’s in awe of you. 

“You sure? I mean, you obviously don’t have to if you don’t want—”

“Joel, I’d be honored to. Send her over in an hour,” you cut him off, hoping to convey your delight in teaching someone else to bake, the same way your grandma did for you. 

Joel can’t stop the shit-eating grin that appears on his face. 

“Sounds good. I’ll send her your way, sweetheart,” he lingers just for a moment to watch your reaction to the nickname, the one he’s used twice. 

You desperately try to keep your composure cool and collected, but you’ve never had a good poker face. You wear your emotions like an accessory. And right now, you are flustered. You divert your attention to the ground as if looking into his eyes would expose your every thought. 

“O-okay!” You can barely stammer out a response before he is pivoting off your porch, back to his own house. 

You can’t see it with his back turned to you, but Joel is smirking to himself and feeling amused at his effect on you. 

+++

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

“Yes, dad. I don’t need a chaperone to bake cookies. I’m a big girl now, remember?”

Yes, he is acutely aware that she is a big girl now. Well, not really, to him she will always be his baby girl, but that doesn’t stop her from growing up. Too fast for his liking. The idea of her becoming a teenager almost gives him a coronary. It won’t be long before she’s driving, then graduating, and college. What if she wants to attend a school in another state? Across the country? 

He feels queasy at that thought, afraid that she will grow out of thinking her dad is the coolest, afraid that she doesn’t want to spend time with her old man anymore. 

He wills himself to think about something else. Anything else. Inevitably his thoughts wander to you. 

Joel hates to admit it, but he was hoping to join Sarah for the baking lesson. He wants an excuse to be in your radiant, sweet, beautiful presence again. 

While you can’t stop thinking about him, he can’t stop thinking about you. 

Driving home from work? You. 

Making dinner? You. 

Making his morning coffee? You. 

Laying in bed? Oh, yeah. Definitely you. 

Exactly one hour passes when Sarah arrives at your house. You’ve already set up in your kitchen in preparation; already pre-measured the ingredients, setting out all the necessary baking equipment and you even found a spare apron for Sarah to wear. Ya know, to give her the full experience. 

“Oooh, this apron makes me feel like a professional!” Sarah exclaims after tying the strings on her designated apron. 

“Well, after this, you will be.”

You can’t remember the last time you felt this much joy. Sharing a passion of yours with someone who is eager to learn from you delights your heart and soul in a way you didn’t know you needed until now. 

“So first, we’ll need to combine the butter and sugar,” Sarah dumps the butter and sugar into the mixing bowl. “Great, now we want to beat the mixture until it looks fluffy.” 

She is completely engrossed in watching for the desired texture, furrowing her brows together in a way that mimics Joel. You find it adorable. 

“Excellent, now we are going to add in the eggs and vanilla extract.” 

She follows your instructions to a T, meticulous and concentrated as if she were mixing hazardous chemicals in a lab. 

“You’re doing great.  Now let’s add our dry ingredients, half of it at a time.” 

Her eyes light up when it’s time to fold in the chocolate chips. You both agree it’s the best part, both of you indulging in a few before adding them to the dough. 

You assist Sarah in rolling the dough into little balls and placing them onto the baking sheet. 

While waiting for the cookies to bake, you learn more about Sarah and Joel. She tells you about their old house, the camping trip they went on this past summer, the catchy pop songs on the radio that Joel will pretend to hate but she catches him humming the tune later, how Joel makes a big breakfast for the two of them every Sunday, a ritual they started when Sarah started school - he makes pancakes just for her. 

Getting a snapshot of Joel and Sarah’s lives and their dynamic makes your mega crush on Joel that much bigger. From what Sarah has shared with you, he seems like a caring, protective yet fun dad. You’re aching to learn everything about him. 

“Do you have any plans for Halloween?” Sarah asks as you’re pulling the baking sheet out of the oven. 

“Oh um, I usually just hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. Nothing super exciting. What about you?”

“We always order pizza and watch a scary movie - nothing super scary though. We dress up too. Well, I dress up but dad thinks he is too cool to do that so he wears the same boring mask every year,” she has a mischievous grin on her face, concocting a plan when she asks, “do you want to come over and join us?” 

On one hand you’d love nothing more than to spend more time with your new friend and Joel, but on the other hand the thought of being in the same room as Joel, in his house, makes you both anxious and aroused. Dizzy, nervous, and horny makes for an unpleasant combination. 

Gaining a sliver of bravery, you swallow your apprehension and say yes. 

“Sure, yeah, what time should I come over?”

“6:30. And you better wear a costume!”

+++

You’ve spent the past hour trying to put a costume together. Not making any progress, you decide to seek external advice - your best friend Katie. 

You both met as freshman and have been close friends ever since, even rooming together in your first off-campus apartment. She moved to the West Coast shortly after graduation, though you still keep in touch via email and phone. You give her the scoop on Joel - him moving into the neighborhood, your gigantic crush on him, how you baked cookies with Sarah yesterday. She’s impatiently waiting for you to bone your hot neighbor. Girl, I’m waiting too. 

“Do you still have that bunny costume you wore junior year?”

You rummage through your tote of seasonal clothing in search of said costume. Pulling it out, you now realize just how skimpy the costume really is. Bunny ears and a tail paired with a skin tight black bodysuit leaves virtually nothing to the imagination and definitely too much skin for this occasion. 

“Dude, I can’t wear this! His daughter will be there! I can’t believe I wore this out in public. This is X-Rated,” you’re growing agitated in having no success in your costume, to the point that you are tempted to tell Sarah you came down with something so you don’t have to go. 

“Okay, okay, the ears and tail are still salvageable. Do you have something besides the bodysuit?”

“Ummm…” you trail off into the phone, frantically searching for something to replace the risque bodysuit. You find a plain white baby tee amongst the sea of clothing, deciding you can pair it with your favorite jeans, the ones that accentuate your body in all the right places. 

“This could work..” muttering to yourself when a devious thought pops into your head. White shirt, no bra. 

“Found it! Gotta go, loveyoubye!” You hang up the call before Katie has a chance to respond, tossing your pink Razr on your bed. Your body hums in anticipation and jitters, feeling emboldened by your no bra plot. 

After throwing on your outfit, you style your hair differently than you normally do. You add several coats of mascara to your lashes, sweep on some blush that complements your skin and add a sparkly lip gloss to your lips, making them appear extra plump and juicy. 

You grab a bag of Halloween candy and you practically skip across the street. Reaching the front door of your new bestie and her gorgeous dad, your confidence is replaced with a furious ball of anxiety. Your heart is palpitating and you feel your stomach churn. 

 Would Joel think you looked stupid? Or worse, childish? Fuck, you should’ve stayed home. 

Joel opening the door snaps you out of your thought spiral but only briefly, because he’s staring at you like you’ve started growing extra limbs. He looks both puzzled and pissed? 

“What uh-what’re you doing here?” 

His voice has a sharpness you haven’t heard before and it stings. 

You have a moment of realization. 

Sarah didn’t run the invitation by her dad.

 You deduct that he isn’t a fan of surprises. 

Before you can formulate a response, Sarah saves you from having to do so. 

“You dressed up! I’m glad you came,” she squeals while wrapping her arms around your middle in an embrace. 

She looks up at Joel from where she’s latched onto you and gives her confused dad an explanation. 

“Dad, it’s okay, I invited her.” 

That seems to alleviate his confusion. You, on the other hand, not so much. You’re internally screaming at yourself. It’s obvious to you that Joel wasn’t expecting you, and in conclusion, doesn’t want you here. 

“I didn’t mean to impose, I—I’m sorry, I’ll uh— just go back home,” fighting back tears of embarrassment, looking everywhere except at Joel.  You think now is a superb time to move across the country, change your name, dye your hair, somewhere far away from this humiliation. 

Joel senses you’re feeling rejected in some way.

“No, no, come on in. Jus’ wasn’t expectin’ you s’all,” he gives you his most reassuring smile. 

You swallow the lump of emotions in your throat. 

He didn’t expect you to come over, nor did he expect you’d show up as his personal version of a Playboy bunny.  He almost busted in his jeans when he could see your nipples through your very thin white t-shirt. He thinks you’re trying to kill him. 

+++

You’re starting to relax once you three settle on the couch, Sarah nestling between you and Joel, Alien on the TV. Turns out, you and Joel share a love for the film. You may or may not have gotten into a heated (playful) debate about the other films in the franchise.

Joel gets an influx of trick-or-treaters, more than you usually get, residents of the neighborhood taking advantage of this opportunity to be nosy. Again. 

In between costume clad visitors, you sneak glances at Joel, who looks absolutely scrumptious tonight. His hair had been damp and combed back when you arrived, his curls now almost dry and in all their glory. He’s wearing an obviously well-loved, faded Pearl Jam concert tee that clings to his arms and grey sweatpants that sit dangerously low on his hips. You wonder if all his shirts fit like that. When he stands, you can see the outline of his dick through his sweatpants.  You have to manually restrain yourself from pouncing on him. You’re soaking through your panties and you’re a little worried that if you stand, the seat beneath you will be soaked too. 

The scent of his body wash invades your nostrils, a heavenly mix of sandalwood and cinnamon. You’re imagining yourself running your hands through his hair and burying your nose into his neck, alternating between kissing and sucking on the skin there. You want to taste every inch of his skin, taking your time to savor him. 

Joel’s stealing glances at you, too. He’s never seen someone look so sweet and seductive, divine even. You smell warm and sweet, amber and vanilla. Not the artificial, manufactured type vanilla scent, it’s like vanilla straight from the bean. When you readjust your position on the couch to get more comfortable, your tits lightly bounce, unrestrained by a bra. He has to stifle a groan, disguising it as a cough. He wonders how much they’d bounce if you were riding his cock. Your lips are absolutely sinful. Pouty and plump, juicy from the lip gloss. The bunny ears are the nail in his coffin. He’s picturing you bent over on his couch, still wearing the bunny ears as he devours your pussy from behind. 

Only a quarter of the way through the movie, a few of Sarah’s friends from her old school pop in to invite her over for an impromptu sleepover to which Joel agrees to, since they no longer go to school together. 

Which means you and Joel are left alone. Together. Your body is aching to close space between you and the man you’re enamored with. You don’t know that Joel is itching to do the same. 

“Sarah couldn’t stop talkin’ bout yesterday. She loved hangin’ out with ya, thanks again for doin’ that.”

“She’s welcome to come over anytime. She’s a sweet kid,” you’re beaming at the fact she enjoyed baking with you. Joel notices the way your eyes gleam, overflowing with delight.

You finally have the courage to meet his eyes. The way his eyes are raking over your entire body makes your clit throb in anticipation. Your heartbeat is erratic, thumping loudly in your ears. 

The energy in the room is magnetic, pulling you and Joel closer together. 

“You can uh-scoot closer t’me if ya want,” he gruffs out, beckoning you to scoot closer to him. Joel wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but you make him feel like a flustered teenage boy about to kiss a girl for the first time. 

You scoot closer to Joel, hoping he doesn’t notice your body trembling from nerves. 

With your body flush next to his, he stretches one of his toned arms behind your head, resting it on the back of the couch. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body and it sends a shiver down your spine, straight to your aching core. 

The tension in the air is palpable, both of your bodies buzzing in arousal. You’re both pretending to watch the movie in front of you, but your minds are elsewhere. He gently removes his arm from the couch and rests it across your shoulders. It’s a seemingly innocuous gesture, but its impact makes you clench around nothing, more arousal dripping into your panties. 

He leans his head down close to yours, his mouth behind your ear.

“No bra? You’re a naughty lil bunny aren’t ya?” His hot breath tickles your ear, your eyes clamp shut involuntarily and you whimper. A high-pitched, whiny whimper, and Joel’s never heard anything sweeter. 

He places his other large palm on your thigh, gently squeezing it. Your skin prickling in goosebumps and your nipples are hard enough to cut glass. The wetness pooled in your panties is beyond the point of comfort. 

Joel presses a chaste kiss behind your ear, eliciting another whimper from you. He peppers kisses from your neck all the way to your collarbones.

“This okay?” 

“Mhmmm…”  You’re already so keyed up you feel hazy. Your whole body feels hot, lit aflame by Joel’s lips on your skin.  

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he rasps while his hand is caressing your thigh, intentionally not too close to where you want him. Need him. 

“Mhmmm,” you moan, still unable to form words, arousal taking over all of your bodily functions. 

“Need you to use your words, honey.” He squeezes your thigh again.

He pulls his face back from your neck to look you in the eyes, and slows his movements on your thigh so you can tell him to back off or give him the green light to continue. You grab his hand on your thigh and squeeze it, to keep him from removing it. 

“Joel, pleeease. Want it so bad. Need you so fuckin’ bad.” 

You beg in the most sultry voice you can muster, emphasizing every syllable. 

Your lust laden eyes and the way you mewl for him ignites something ravenous, primal, carnal in him. He hasn’t heard you cuss before and it sounds so filthy in your honeyed voice.  His rock hard cock twitches in his pants. 

He presses his plush lips against yours. It’s hesitant at first, but his apprehension dissipates when you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back with fervor. Joel deepens the kiss, one hand gripping your hip, the other hand splayed between your shoulder blades, pressing your body further into his. You tangle one of your hands in his luscious curls. He tastes like sweet peppermint and a hint of black coffee. You feel dizzy, tasting him, finally feeling him. 

He breaks the kiss, guiding you to lie down on your back and props your head up on one of the couch armrests. 

He’s looking down at you and he’s never seen anything more beautiful. You’re always pretty, effortlessly so. But seeing you underneath him, sweet and desperate for him? He’d do anything you ask him to.

“You’re the prettiest lil bunny. So fuckin’ pretty.”

You’re bashful under his gaze and his compliment, cheeks burning. 

Joel notices you trying to shy away and he places a thumb under your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him. 

Now you feel embarrassed for trying to shy away in the first place.

“Sorry I’m—”

“Nothing to ‘pologize for, sweetheart,” he’s caressing your chin with his thumb, alleviating all of the embarrassment from you.

“Wanna taste you. You’ve no idea how bad I’ve wanted to taste you. Needed to know if you were as sweet as your cookies.”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe out, “yes - yes please, taste me, Joel”

He chuckles softly at your enthusiasm and promptly rids you of your jeans, making the leather of the couch feel cool to the back of your thighs. 

Joel lets out a guttural moan when he sees your sky blue satin panties soaked through. He runs a finger over the damp spot, making you quiver. His touch is featherlight and it’s maddening. You’re squirming, hips lifting off the couch, chasing for more. 

He obliges, running a finger over your clit with added pressure. 

“Joel, please–” You’re a whiny mess under him, and he’s just getting started. He’s rubbing gentle circles over your bud, still-panty clad. 

He presses a kiss on your belly, just below your navel. The tenderness makes your body shudder.

He finally removes your panties and you gasp when the cool air hits your throbbing pussy. 

“Pretty girl with a pretty pussy to match.” Joel’s admiring the way your pussy is glistening for him, begging to be touched. 

He runs a finger through your drenched seam, your juices dripping onto his thick digit. He licks his finger, then shoves it into his mouth so he can taste every drop. His eyes clamp shut, groaning at how you taste. You commit the image to memory, not wanting to forget how he looks and sounds when he tastes you for the first time.

“Knew you’d taste sweet. So fuckin’ sweet.” 

Your brain short circuits when you realize that means he’s thought about this before. That he’s imagined how you’d taste. Picturing him fantasizing about you makes you light-headed. 

Joel spreads your legs wider, giving him full access to your pussy. He dives in without warning, licking from entrance up to your clit.

“Fuck, Joel!” You hoarsely shout with one hand gripping the couch cushion and one tugging onto Joel’s messy curls. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your pussy as you grind your hips into his mouth, desperate for release. 

 You see stars while he expertly alternates between flicking his tongue and sucking on your clit. He’s keeping a steady rhythm, on the slower side, taking his time pleasuring you. He’s enjoying this.

Obscene sounds fill the room; Joel devouring your pussy like it’s the Last Supper and your chorus of moans and expletives. 

“Fuck, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop!”

“Shitshitshit–”

“Joelllll-” 

He picks up the pace, your fingers cramping from their deathgrip on the couch. You feel your peak approaching - sweat beading on your forehead, chest heaving, head thrown back in ecstasy. 

Joel senses your approaching release and pushes one of his thick, dexterous fingers into your weeping hole. 

He reaches for your hand that’s tangled in his hair and intertwines your fingers with his, resting your connected hands on your inner thigh. It’s overwhelming; the intimacy of your interlocked fingers paired with the filthy onslaught of his mouth. 

He speeds up as he adds another finger, hitting the spot that no one except you has reached before. You never knew it could feel this amazing. You thought you were doomed to a life of bad sex. 

Apparently, you just needed Joel to show you differently. And you are so glad he proved you wrong. 

Joel hooks his fingers inside you bringing you closer and closer to that peak you’ve been dying to reach. You’re squeezing his fingers, both the ones inside you and the ones interlaced with yours. 

“Joel I-I’m close,” you manage to choke out, mind foggy from the intense pleasure. 

He sucks on your clit, hard and you’re coming, entering a euphoric plane of existence. You’re floating, body trembling, coming harder than you’ve ever come before. 

Joel slows his fingers and removes his mouth from your pussy, beard glistening with your release, gently bringing you back to reality. He keeps your fingers locked with his, grounding you in the present.

The orgasmic fog clears from your brain, regaining awareness of your surroundings when you feel how drenched your lower half is. Like, really drenched. You lift your head from the armrest and look down and you’re appalled by the scene. 

You fucking squirted. Everywhere. 

On yourself, on the couch, on Joel. His beard is soaked completely, to the point it’s dripping down his chin. He’s just as stunned as you are. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, fuck I-” you’re scrambling to get off the couch and Joel grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks. 

“What’re you sorry for? That was so fuckin’ hot, sweetheart.” 

“I-I didn’t know I could do that…”

“Oh yeah? First time ever squirtin’?

“Yeah, the first time anyone else has made me come… like, ever.” 

His gaze goes dark. 

You get the feeling that he’s just getting started with you. 

And just like your cookies, he’d never have enough. 

THE END

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Spooky season is upon us so I thought I’d try something fun to interact with you lovelies, while also creating some Seventeen content at the same time. This game will work a little differently to most of these events/games writers hold so please bear with me, I promise it’ll be fun!

All information can be found below the cut!

The aim of this game is for you lovely people to come up with visual prompts that I will then create story ideas off of! This game isn’t about writing fics but coming up with ideas.

I am more than happy for other people to use any ideas I come up with during this game as inspiration to write a fic with, just please credit properly.

The prompts can be moodboards, edits, gifs or even a photo you find, but please apply credit where necessary and don’t claim another’s hard work. 

The main focus is the visual aspect but, of course, you can send keywords alongside or a bonus dialogue prompt. For example; you could send me a photo of a cabin with “you’re out of luck” as a prompt and I’d come up with an idea based on that.

Of course, there’s a few rules for this game in regards to what I will and will not write, plus what to send with your prompt. 

Please do not include; ❌Underage main characters ❌Major character death ❌Depictions of non-con ❌Incest ❌A long list of themes you want in the idea ❌Any group/idols other than Seventeen However, these are okay; 👍Background characters who are minors (creepy kids are a-okay) 👍Ghost/ other supernatural creatures for main characters who are “dead” from the start 👍Temporary character death 👍A few keywords/genres you would like included in the idea theme Of course, there may be other things that I am uncomfortable writing even in idea form but I’m open to most things.

When sending a prompt, please include this information; 👻First of all, please tell me that it’s for Idea Generator: Halloween Edition  👻A visual prompt; moodboard, edit, pictures(s), gif etc 👻The pairing/member focus you want. If you don’t mind which Seventeen member the idea is for, please state as much and I’ll just use whoever fits the idea best, or leave it open! 👻Any keywords/ genres you would like me to focus on or entirely avoid. This isn’t necessary if you’re happy with anything 👻If you have a dialogue prompt that matches, you can send that too but this also isn’t necessary if you don’t want to!

I’m open to any genres/rating for this game, so long as it’s somehow related to Halloween! That doesn’t mean it has to be horror, it can be fluff or crack if those are what you like, just make sure to include your preference when you send a prompt! 

I will write; horror, thriller, supernatural, monster, fluff, crack, angst, hybrid/shapeshifter, royal, magic, whatever AU you want really, I love fantasy so don’t be shy to request those genres!

This game is open to NSFW too but if you request that or interact with any NSFW I write, whether for this game or otherwise, please have an age indicator in your bio/an about me post. If I can’t see that you are 18+ while interacting with my NSFW content, I will block you.

If anything doesn’t make sense or you have questions, please feel free to send me an ask!

This game is open throughout October.

I hope you will join in and play with me to celebrate the spooky season together! 🦇👻👽😈🧙‍♀️🧙‍♂️🧛‍♂️🧚‍♂️🧟‍♀️🧜‍♀️🧝‍♂️🎃🏰

Ideas Generated; - Cursed Mingyu

[oct0berpumpkin]

FINE, here's my intro post 😒😒

Hi! I'm October/Virgil, a trans, bisexual man who goes by he/him pronouns. I like to draw, write, make characters, and edit.

Also, Pumpkins are my brand >:3/hj

On that note, I leave you to my fandoms/interests!

Doctor Who

The Magnus Archives

Gravity Falls

Something Bad Will Happen Soon (roblox)

Dandy's World

Toon Turf/Danno Cal Drawings

Good Omens

Ducktales 2017

Hamilton

Chicago 2002

EPIC

Be More Chill

Portal

Nimona

Deadpool

The Boiled One/Doctor Nowhere's videos in general

Rick & Morty (A bit ashamed about this one..)

Mouthwashing

Bistro Huddy

The Disasterous Life of Saiki K

Lumpytouch's Waldo horror... thing

Cult of the Lamb

Legends of Avantris

The Ghost & Molly McGee

TADC

The Stanley Parable

Metal Family

House MD

(The ones that aren't colored I probably didn't have an idea for lol)

Tags:

#🎃Shitpost🎃

#🎃Ask!🎃

#🎃Nerdy Stuff/Fandoms🎃

#🎃FRIEND!🎃

#🎃Rambles🎃

#🎃Intro post🎃

#🎃Other blogs I made🎃

#🎃Ocs🎃

#🎃Art🎃

#🎃Writing🎃

#🎃Reblog Bait🎃

#🎃Reblog🎃

#🎃Queue🎃

#🎃Polish Polish Spam – Doctor Who🎃

DNI:

None. I block freely.

More info about me:

Straw.page

Pronouns.cc

Other blogs

@ask-the-cohen-brothers

@splinter-winter

Divider Credits:

@strangergraphics (Pumpkin-related/Halloween dividers + 2/4 star dividers)

@enchanthings-a (2/4 Star dividers)

@cyberangel-graphics (Moon Divider)

[drinkabletoxicdishsoap]

drop ur antony headcanons pls

Thank you for asking me anon!!! I love to share my headcanons about him he’s so silly!!

1. I feel like more than half of his closet is just graphic tees/t-shirts. That’s like the only kind of shirt he wears.

2. For his crush on Dejah, he acts like a stuttering and complete mess of front of her. Super awkward and everything. But she doesn’t mind! I think she finds it and him very sweet. I don’t know if you’ve ever watched my little pony friendship is magic, but they give me Shining Armor x Cadence vibes.

3. I’d like to think he played an instrument as a kid. He was probably a band kid.

4. Whenever he went to zoos as a kid or even now, he rushes to the reptile section. It’s most likely for him to look at iguanas since he’s in the iguana society. Though I feel like he loves every single kind of reptile.

5. He’s the Godzilla’s movies #1 fan. Bro RUNS to the theaters whenever a new movie drops. He always cheers on Godzilla for the Godzilla vs. literal any creature or just any Godzilla movie in general.

6. Amusement park enthusiast. He absolutely LOVES any and all kinds of amusement parks. He will ride absolutely anything!! Maybe not the VERY VERY high rollercoasters but he will ride anything and everything else. He’s still a kid at heart.

7. His favorite holiday is basically any where he can spend time with his family. Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Halloween are his top ones. He loves going trick or treating with Hazel and I feel like they always had matching Halloween costumes.

8. He played some sports as a kid. I have no idea which ones but I feel like he’d be a soccer kid (maybe I’m bias because I play soccer LMAO).

9. Secretly LOVES reality tv shows. He acts like he doesn’t, but whenever Angela has it on he sits next to her and watches it. They totally gossip about it together.

10. He will do ANYTHING and EVERYTHING for Hazel. He cares so much about her.

11. Whenever the Wells Family is on a trip, he’s the one to suggest excursions and everything like that.

12. Energy drinks are his LIFE. He doesn’t drink coffee but bro will absolutely DOWN any energy drink.

13. I feel like he helps build whatever ghost hunting or paranormal investigation invention Marcus wants. He probably even helped him build the the ghost one that we see in the show! He doesn’t really get his dad’s obsession with the paranormal but he will forever cheer his dad on!

14. Since he now knows about Cosmo, Peri, and Wanda, he will guard their secret with his life for Hazel. He helps when they have a few little slips. I feel like he would get along great with Cosmo and Wanda! He definitely appreciates what they’ve done for his little sister. He tries to get along with Peri but I feel like they don’t really get along at first. You know, younger brother vs older brother. Maybe they do get along but at first, absolutely not.

15. He’s a great cook! He helps cook meals for Hazel whenever his parents are out and about.

16. He has silly little karaoke nights with Hazel :3

That’s all the headcanons I have for him <33 if I do think of more I’ll either edit the post or make a new post about it! Thank you for the ask anon!! And thank you for reading! I hope you have a great day or night :3

[kiththecat]

how do you make the plot of your fanfics? do you just wing it? or do you have a plot outline or a lore document of some sort

ok this answer became longer than i intended but i love talking about writing. im just going to talk about it from ajwiaap perspective but this is my general experience with all longer works. 

i kiiiinda wing it. i'm good at storing ideas in my head so i rarely put them on paper because everything changes so much all the time that it'd be a lot of effort to write down.

i'd say the main thing i do for plotting is just thinking about it. a lot. like every time i go for a walk, or before falling asleep, or when im doing every day tasks, or sometimes just sitting down somewhere and jumping into my head for an hour to play out scenes and tweak ideas.

my outline and all the lore exists pretty much only in my head. i have a short list of acts of physical affection that i'd like for clownzy to do and turn to that for inspiration every time im writing a scene. i also have a list of park-related ideas. and i did keep an outline for the first few chapters but, well, the level of effort put into it can be shown in the way i wrote chapter 10 plot down:

- “Watch and learn, Kaboodle.” fucks shit up!!!!!!!

- (gets depressed)

with the "watch and learn, kaboodle" dialogue never happening and the (gets depressed) being his stir crazy arc.

i DO have a vague plan, but i also give myself a lot of freedom to switch things up. i find it more fun to write when the scene im writing can take a sudden turn because i came up with something new on the spot.

a few instances where this has happened:

chapter 12 was almost fully written and edited before i came up with the breaking the wrist conflict, so i had to rewrite and edit almost all of it

despite setting up ash and squiddo spending a night in the park, i only came up with the idea of them being there the same night as minute as i was writing the start of chapter 9

the chapter 13 clownzy renegotiation is literally two drafted scenes with vastly different contexts and atmospheres in a trenchcoat. honestly have no idea how i pulled it off.

for the first two months of writing i imagined clowns house to be a much smaller, cosier place, until they finally got there and i was like.... this is no place for branzy to go insane

when i wrote the halloween murder scene i too had no clue who the murderer was. all i knew was that clown knew.

the scene where rek and branzy call the kids on new years eve simply did not exist until i was editing, but now it's important to the plot.

(for every new lovely idea made on the spot there's like two drafted scenes that will never see the light of day also god bless)

in the earlier chapters, back when i was updating every week (insane behavior) i was much more focused on writing... clownzy. in a way. like, yes, still big clownzy now! they're weirder than ever. but back then, the plot was kind of a background thing to me and i prioritised silly and weird flirting. but as my attachment to the fic grew (and as i started getting a lot of feedback from you guys like !!!!!!!!!!!!! holy motivation) i started wanted to just flesh things out more, build the world a little better. one reader asked me some worldbuilding questions in chapter 9 and i found it really fun to think out the answers.

which is also why the updates are slower now. i spend hours thinking about how to make the plot work and how to set up the concepts that need to be introduced (it's either thinking deeply about the world and the complexities of the character dynamics or me just thinking about clownzy kissing. no in between. one is much more productive). i dont wanna post something if i have this sense that there's a better direction to take it, or if the dialogue sounds clunky to me. im also mildly upset that i didn't get into proper worldbuilding a bit sooner but i think the evil capitalism workaround + branzy being unreliable narrator has helped it make sense, even though there are things i would go back and change in earlier chapters to make the worldbuilding better (if i wasn't too lazy to be bothered)

all that being said. in short terms. what happens with me and writing long fics is that usually, i'm like "ah, this will probably be about 20k words" and then i get to 20k words and the fic has taken over my life and i'm suddenly saddled with the task to think of a proper storyline. and the "taken over my life" is not hyperbolic, it is literally all i think about.

and as of now, the outline is as polished as it's ever been. it also still only exists in my head, but ive set up things for the major plot points im planning, so im not winging it entirely, just keeping it in my head! :D

[wylanzahn]

New-ish post, kinda posting this on different platforms and getting a general vibe check for some ideas I have. But basically this Halloween I want to actually do something for the TTRPG and Actualplay world (oh yeah I’m into those kinds of things). I want to try and get both players, GMs, and casual viewers alike something fun to look forward to this especially spooky season. I’ll probably talk a little more when we get closer to the actual season of scare-giving but just know that if you’re interested I’m still looking for people to join in!!

As my team and I’d first debut we’re going to try and do a two to four session actual play, which will probably be released in the weeks leading up to Halloween. We’ve had a couple good friend way in on the matter of “setting” but now I come to you fine folk. Mind you this is a horror campaign/arc so if…

Isn’t your thing, keep on a moving.

But without further ado here are a couple of the possible settings for our players, and myself, this coming espookee season…

1.) Somewhere off the coast of Florida, 1926 end of the first major housing boom in the state, a small island which calls back to the Spanish Empire, is Isla Boñyela, a small port made tourist location during the boom of disposable wealth in 1920s America. A small group of friends from the northeast tag along down for the perfect paradise vacation. Only to discover the island is much much older than anyone could have ever assumed. Whilst dealing with upstart gangsters, unnerving US soldiers, and the terrified locals they find something older than even undead conquistadors.

While I don’t have a working title, this is an old project in the running which I’ve had a few attempts at revamping over time. Its previous title was “perfect paradise vacation,” and runs on the Call of Cthulhu 7th Edition game. Anywho it’s a blast of fun with Caribbean lore, tone of anti-imperialism, and something dark lurking beneath the waves.

2.) 1950’s America, the nonexistent state of Mid-Atlantia (DMV coded) in a small suburban neighborhood where nothing goes wrong… it’s almost “All-Hallows-Eve” and little Johnny and Susie want nothing more than to trick or treat this year with all the big kids, Dad’s finally getting the big promotion at work, and Mom just got a new waffle iron! Sure everything is neat here in America. Heck you just got new neighbors! Newlyweds in fact from somewhere big and fancy, they sure aren’t like any of us in our simple town. But… and you can’t say exactly why but things are different. Or perhaps they’re all too the same? Everyday a repeat of ever other bland day that followed you over and over and over and over… and you could swear, while no one may listen to you there’s someone out there. Stalking you from outside your own home- or- perhaps, he’s just your friendly new neighbor welcoming you… to the end.

Ahhhhhh! I’ve also been working on this one for a sec and god writing it out does excite me. This is also a Call of Cthulhu game but modified/homebrewed to have a uniquely 1950s horror feel. This is definitely one of the more unique games I’ve written and am truly interested in seeing where it goes (even if we don’t choose it). This is for those who feel like isolation, fear of the unknown, fear from within, and liminal space horror comes best into play! So whadya say neighbor?

3.) The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend, or How I Learned to Love Strahd, okay so this one is a lot less horror-y and falls much more under the comedic spooky category, just so yall know. Deep in the middle of Barovia, the ancient kingdom of Vampires, meets a council of Count Strahd von Zarovich's greatest commanders and lieutenants to hunt down Strahd's greatest enemy Rudolph van Richten and his party of heroes known as "The Grape-Smashers." Strahd's lieutenants have been gifted powers greater than any mere mortals, but are these gifts enough to stop Van Richten, or even enough to stop the personal ambitions of each other? Come find out in "How I Learned to Love Strahd."

Okay, as much as this may seem like a joke suggestion it cracks me up and I feel like it would be ill-advised of me to not at least mention it. In an era where "The Curse of Strahd," is well-overdone at this point, it's worth a take from an all evil "revenge story." Obviously this will be in Dungeons and Dragons 5th Edition, which, in my opinion, is really hard to use for horror, but this is a nice go-around. Come for the evil PCs, maybe a PvP battle or two, and a game of intrigue in the shadows of Barovia! All that and a buff Van Richten.

4.) Before Annapolis was ever called such it was known as Providence, a settlement of exiled Puritans in the Province of Maryland, but these early days were no easy set-up for the far-flung protestants... in the mid 1600s the English Civil War spilled out into their holdings across the waves as brother turned on brother, clan erasing clan, and something from the shores of the Old World would arrive in the New. When around every corner could be someone you've known your whole life, what's stopping them from hunting you in the depths of winter. All matters made worse when rumors of a witch begins circulating your small home.

Think "The VVitch" (2015) meets "A Field in England" (2013) meets Atun Shei's recent film "The Sudsbury Devil" (2023). It is the unexplored wilderness of early colonial Maryland, but the hateful warmongering that slowly builds that makes the horror and tension so clear. Unsure of what system we'll be using, but maybe the new Regency Cthulhu system.

5.) The Great Baltimore Fire of 1904 destroyed some 140 Acres of Baltimore proper... and in it's rubble awakened something far worse. But you and your fellow survivors are just trying to get by in the aftermath of the fire... only for something to call out, whether some strange magicks or perhaps just a sickness... but sickness doesn't even linger like this... it doesn't call to you...

Some more local history, aspiring from the actual Fire of 1904 things quickly devolve from there as rumors of a cult begin to spread along the streets of Rosland Park... a mysterious illness leaving even more dead... and the death of an eclectic professor. Definitely using the Call of Cthulhu 7th Edition for this one.

Aaaaaaaand that's it! Let me know what y'all think!

[dragon-queen21]

Fall/halloween themed agere headcanons

Demon slayer edition

~~~

~Sanemi gets dragged to the pumpkin patch by his little brother who wants to pick out a pumpkin for a carving contest his friends are doing.

~Sanemi has no idea why he agreed.

~Scratch that he absolutely does, so he can go and get a pumpkin spice latte.

~Tengen would go all out for costumes, not to mention his own

~Takes a group of littles (Tanjiro, Nezuko, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Muichiro, Genya) out for trick or treating.

~How he keeps track of them all is a mystery

~Buys the full sized candy bars because clearly those are the flashiest candy and everyone needs to receive at least one if not multiple✨

~Rengoku is responsible for the inevitable sugar rushes and sugar crashes that everyone else will have to deal with

~he just can’t enforce any type of rules when it comes to candy consumption.

~He goes with Tengen and the trick or treat group and brings a bunch of glow sticks for everyone to wear (and the only attempt at being able to keep track of everyone)

~Dad vibes, checking everyone’s candy and picking out what he thinks is the best and confiscating it

~Why do I feel like Gyomei would be surprisingly good at face painting

~Stays behind and tells kiddo friendly Halloween stories

~Enjoys listening to old spooky radio shows

~Mitsuri makes a bunch of homemade treats. Candy apples, pies, cobblers.

~Giyu is her helper when baking

~Convincing everyone to do Halloween themed activities. Bobbing for apples, carving pumpkins, doing a scavenger hunt

~Giyu despite being regressed on halloween did not want to go out trick or treating (the idea of walking around for miles was just too exhausting)

~He stays behind and watches movies with Kagaya, Gyomei and Shinobu

~He absolutely loves wearing fuzzy sweaters. If it was his choice that would be as far as he goes as far as ‘dressing up’

~His costume ends up consisting of a headband and a clip on tail themed as a tanuki that Tanjiro forces him to wear

~ Obanai dresses up Kaburamaru before he even considers getting dressed up himself

~Helps the little’s carve pumpkins

~Tries to convince Kagaya to let them do a haunted house. It doesn’t go through as there are too many littles who would start sobbing. Inosuke, Genya and Nezuko would probably enjoy it though so maybe he puts on a small one

~Genya and Nezuko would have some unspoken agreement to see which one of them can scare their caregivers first

~Why do I feel like their favorite candies would be gushers

~Most energetic duo over trick or treating

~Inosuke who doesn’t quite understand the concept of dressing up

~He gets forced to anyways

~Has the most fun carving pumpkins.

~Specifically scooping out all the pumpkin guts and chasing around the others who finds it to be too gross

~Zenitsu being so fussy over the candy he gets after trick or treating

~Forces whatever he doesn’t like on Rengoku, Inosuke or Genya for them to eat

~He just sits on Tengen’s lap and picks through his caregiver’s candy as well for what he likes

~Gave up walking a quarter of the way through trick or treating. Just regressing far to small for all the walking. He probably should have stayed with the group doing movie night and handing out candy but he didn’t want to leave Tengen’s side

~Tanjiro would enjoy decorating the sound estate to fit the season

~Also a sweater baby! He just likes fall in general

~Apple cider boy. Just always has a sippy cup full for the spiced drink

~Sits with the Uzui wives and watches the leaves fall. If he finishes his drink first he steals sips from his mamas’ glasses

~Helping Tengen rake up leaves and jump into the piles, throwing the leaves up into the air and essentially making his caregiver’s job ten times harder

If anyone has any holiday headcanons of their own they would like to share feel free to reblog with them or send me an ask