#Just a little thing I wrote and then continued!

[ariessunsakura]

Disclaimer: I started writing my response to this in 2017 and found it in my drafts. I know the whole post is quite old at this point and I'm truly not interested in arguing with anyone or continuing any discussion here, but I decided I didn't want some of what I wrote back then to go to waste.

Back when I started writing my response to this, I was 21 and angry at the large swaths of the fandom insulting the intelligence of Sakura fans like myself. I still love Sakura and SS, but I don't have an issue now saying that men like Kishimoto writing dynamics like Sasuke and Sakura's is something that should be...looked into, let's put it that way haha. That being said, what I still find disheartening is seeing Sakura, very much torn down by misogynistic fans in a large, primarily male fanbase, also torn down or criticized for supposedly feminist reasons by people who are often just determined to dislike her for whatever reason or somehow clearly miss important details. Sakura was reckless and made mistakes and did questionable things, as did many other characters who for some reason draw less ire. Lots of double standards.

Just to reiterate something that's already been said many times, Naruto proves that pop culture aimed at boys should have carefully written main female characters. There is the blatant misogyny that's happened in this fandom that anyone can see. Meanwhile, certain specific fans in the Naruto fandom that I may or may not need to specify (lol) have acted like the gatekeepers of social justice discourse in the fandom when really they've often just been hypocritical and selective about the type of issues they apparently care about when it comes to how they manifest in pop culture, or at least in this bananas series. They've often been bystanders or apologists or worse to that blatant misogyny. In light of everything that's been going on in the world, I sincerely think we should be more careful about how we talk about female characters. So when people write supposedly feminist posts but say that Sakura is just the "female main character with her legs always wide open and ready with basically no standards or expectations" despite everything the story has shown us, I kinda hate it and don't think that's good or feminist at all. Back in 2017, I wrote: I'm sick of condescending takes about Sakura and her fans as though there's little about Sakura’s character or the end of her story that could or should possibly resonate positively with girls.

Again, I know the original post is old. I know that Kishimoto's writing deserves to be criticized and that Sakura made mistakes and should've been written more carefully and responsibly, but I still want to say my piece.

It's true that Sakura is insecure early on, but her feelings for Sasuke really have nothing to do with that. She doesn’t know that Sasuke is popular when she starts to like him, so her feelings have nothing to do with wanting validation.

She knows her worth as a ninja and among her loved ones by part 2. A lot of guys are interested in her, including ones she admires and cherishes (Naruto and Lee). She confronts Sasuke fiercely many times, even as a genin. She basically spent part 2 trying to save or fight or stop him, going so far as thinking she should kill him to protect the village. That's hardly looking for his validation.

And that's not even mentioning what we're shown rather than told about her feelings for him, which is a theme for them. It's often the nonverbal way they act with each other more than what they say.

Karin with her chakra sensing can tell Sakura's grief is genuine and that she must've known Sasuke well.

“There is nothing different or special about Sakura’s love.”

Kishimoto gives us Karin, whose love for Sasuke is written as different from Sakura’s. Karin enables some of Sasuke's destructive choices and ultimately gives up on him, while Sakura ultimately doesn't do either of those things. And we can hypothesize all we want about Ino or some other girl being no different from Sakura, but who's to say they'd have had the same chemistry with Sasuke personality-wise or otherwise, or mutual understanding? We see from inner Sakura and in other instances that she has parallel elements of Naruto's personality, so...yeah, enough said lol. And who's to say another girl would've known exactly when Sasuke would leave the village, unlike Naruto? I think these speak for themselves:

One of the themes of SS, asserted in Kakashi's 693 quote, is that it’s about Sasuke accepting love without an overt reason so he can heal. Love in real life isn't always rational, it's about passion and attraction and things that are unspoken and can't always be put into words, which I think is what Kishimoto wants to convey with SS. The emotion for Sakura in Sasuke's eyes is concealed from us each time he thanks her for a reason. Sasuke tries to make a show of not caring about any of Team 7 or having a reason to love Sakura, but is still clearly drawn to her despite himself.

He's proud of her in the middle of all of the chaos and strife. He can't help but react to her.

I think Kishimoto makes contradictions more than once in the series, maybe including with SS. Clearly he's made a point to write things that make Sakura special and unique in some way to Sasuke, but there's also the message that Sasuke should allow love in without rationalizing it.

Another theme for them and for other women in the story is stated by Shikamaru's father: Even the roughest woman is tender to the guy she loves.

"Sasuke has not singled her out. She doesn’t appeal to him or interest him. She doesn’t challenge him in any emotional, mental, or physical way."

I think all of the above indicates otherwise. She does challenge him and changes his behavior, least of all when he has his first taste of intoxicating power.

He says himself that he has to remove himself from her and Naruto's vicinity to accomplish his goals. I think the intensity of the genjutsu he puts her in mirrors the intensity of some of his fights with Naruto as statements of him forcing away his bonds.

Still, Kishimoto makes a point to include this theme that can also apply to Sasuke:

"...she doesn’t know him, she’s doesn’t understand him, she doesn’t even have a basic grasp on the concepts that are necessary for those things."

Not true. She works tirelessly to understand and learn everything she can, and it's just not her fault that she doesn't always know everything. It honestly doesn't matter that she doesn't.

Sakura gets a lot of heat for what she says when Sasuke leaves the village, but shows she clearly understands his pain later on when trying to reason with Sai:

Never mind that Sasuke isn't even angry at her for what she said when he left.

“Sakura was just afforded the opportunity of being the closest girl around and female main character with her legs always wide open and ready with basically no standards or expectations. But I think the worse part, the really bad thing about it, is it supports a Sakura never growing up(...)as the blind quest for Sasuke’s dick goes on forevermore. All the pathetic shit will forever be apart of her as she dusts a house for a husband who comes home twice a year, who has a child who feels neglected, and she is happy with her dysfunctional family because Sasuke-kun’s anything is enough.”

Anyways.

As for her family, Sakura is clearly distressed by Sarada's distress. Kishimoto inventing a task apparently only Sasuke can do leading to him being away from his family is questionable to say the least, but it's hardly the first time in the story that normal or expected standards maybe can't or don't apply. Never mind Kishimoto probably projecting his own sentiments about men's career burnout and sacrifice onto Sasuke and Naruto...lol

Sasuke treasures Sakura, there is no way around it.

I don't think anyone is saying Kishimoto's writing is always the pinnacle of excellence lol, and no one has to like Sakura or SS. But people should at least think a little more about what Sakura has meant to a lot of girls and how the story actually unfolds.

Just a Little Bit on Sakura and Sasusaku

You know what I think about Sakura? This is less about Sasuke and more about herself. See, as person who dislikes Sakura, I actually think that because I’m not biased with fanfiction interpretations that I have a better grasp of Sakura’s character than some people who love her. Sakura, despite her bravado, is not a person of real confidence. She has low self-esteem and very little self-worth. I think that part of the reason she is so hung up on Sasuke is its a sense of validation for herself. She was shy, friendless, unpopular, and overlooked as a child. She liked Sasuke, but even better, to be acknowledged by someone everyone likes, everyone admires, that would make her special. That would make her somebody worthwhile, right? Of course I do believe that Sakura does have feelings for Sasuke, but is she really in love with Sasuke the person, or is it the idea of him? That he doesn’t notice her or pay attention to her only makes this insecurity worse. Sakura is constantly angsting over not doing enough, not fitting in on her team, not belonging or being someone of necessity. As stated (in the only time she ever elaborates on her feelings) she is attracted to Sasuke because he’s attractive, talented, and “cool”. A person who personifies, in essence, everything she believes herself not to be. God, there’s so much to say about this really, but I’ll save it for later. 

It’s part of why Sasusaku is such an out of left field idea to me. Sasusaku shippers portray the ship as the exact same way that leads Sakura’s problematic behavior. They ship it because they love the idea of Sakura being the “special one” who is the exeption to Sasuke’s personality and his greatest weakness and is the “fangirl who’s different from all the other girls”, which is so irritating because she’s not. Sakura is the antithesis of these concepts. There is nothing different or special about Sakura’s love. There is nothing different or special about her as far as relating to Sasuke goes. As I detailed in my previous posts, she doesn’t know him, she’s doesn’t understand him, she doesn’t even have a basic grasp on the concepts that are necessary for those things. Sasuke has not singled her out. She doesn’t appeal to him or interest him. She doesn’t challenge him in any emotional, mental, or physical way. They’re not even close. What does Sasuke even know about Sakura, or understand about her? Sakura, as far as Sasusaku goes, has nothing different or special about their relationship or dynamic that couldn’t be done by any other generic fangirl. Absolutely nothing. Nothing that transpired between them is anything that wouldn’t have happened had any other fangirl been placed on his team. That’s really the only thing Sakura had going for her or that seperates her from, I don’t know, Ino. Do any of you Sasusakus honestly think that if Ino was on his team that he wouldn’t have saved her life? That he wouldn’t have grown to care for her as a teammate? That he wouldn’t have thanked her for caring about him? That he would have left her to die? Or treated her like dirt on the bottom of his shoe? Do you really think that these “Sasusaku proofs of love” aren’t just generic shit that would come with virtually any other teammate, and is actually something unique that would only be there with Sakura?

‘Cause see, that's my whole thing. Can’t say that about Naruto. I can’t say that if Kiba had been his teammate, everything about their relationship would be more or less exactly the same. Or Shikamaru. Or Chouji. Or Neji. 'Cause you see, the manga has shown me this. Its shown me the depth, the reason, the relationship, the uniqueness between the two. In fact, while reading this I bet you were thinking of how different the dynamics would have been between Sasuke and those male characters, because, surprise surprise, there is actually something substantial there that can’t be replicated and receive the same results. Seriously, replace Ino with Sakura and think of what would change in regards to Sasuke. Ino would have cared. Ino would have tried to stop him. Seeing as how there are no substantial moments of bonding or exclusivity between the two, there is nothing that would have happened that Ino couldn’t fill in for. Sasuke waxed lyrical about Naruto and how much he’s always loved him and the ways in which he enriched his life for two straight chapters while Sakura got no mention (except, of course, in the Team 7 picture where he refers to them as such). Sakura was just afforded the opportunity of being the closest girl around and female main character with her legs always wide open and ready with basically no standards or expectations. 

For fucks sake, Sakura literally has nothing to do with Sasuke’s character or story arc. Seriously, delete Sakura from the manga and tell me what about Sasuke’s person or journey as character throughout the story changes. Please. Tell me something that would have affected his plot if some other girl with healing powers were on his team.

I’m just saying, there is nothing inside of Sasusaku. Nothing at all. Kishimoto doesn’t give a fuck about this pairing (lol I don’t know how they got together I don’t want any SS in the pairings movie there wasn’t gonna be any in the Bolt movie either but the SS fans are complaining so I guess I’ll come up with something here have a family pic of Sasuke looking like he’s about to run away as soon as the camera flashes and a Karin lookalike child who feels neglected), and it cannot become more apparent how little actual thought goes into this ship. Its just a vicarious fantasy ship where Sasuke is standard shoujo angsty bad boy bishie and Sakura is “independent, normal girl who’s different from all the rest” which is pretty much the antithesis of these characters. 

But I think the worse part, the really bad thing about it, is it supports a Sakura never growing up. It takes all those things (the potential for self-reflection and learning to be a person who doesn’t need others to feel worth something) and throws it in the garbage as the blind quest for Sasuke’s dick goes on forevermore. All the pathetic shit will forever be apart of her as she dusts a house for a husband who comes home twice a year, who has a child who feels neglected, and she is happy with her dysfunctional family because Sasuke-kun’s anything is enough. I don’t even fucking like Sakura, but that anyone is defending that anything about what her character turned into is satisfactory and good is honestly some disheartening shit. 

[hottiesforhockey]

naughty or nice ⎜n.hischier

🎄pairings: nico hischier x afab!reader ⎜ platonic jack hughes x afab!reader 🎄genre: smut ⎜romance ⎜ colleagues - to - lovers ⎜fake dating⎜ 🎄warnings: mentions of creepy boss ⎜ inappropriate touching ⎜ car sex ⎜ no mentions of protection - wrap it before you tap it ⎜ nico getting feisty ⎜ 🎄synopsis: You just wanted to avoid your creepy coworker, you didn’t know you would have to rely on an a "stranger" to be your fake boyfriend. 🎄word count: 5.7k 🎄authors note:  this is the second last in my christmas special series, it is a rewrite of an old kpop fic I wrote but I hope you all still enjoy - next up is DDD with quinn hughes (not to mention my NYE John Marino fic) I hope you all enjoy, cause I know I did!

“The Christmas party will be held on Friday night at seven o’clock.” You boss begins concluding the meeting, shuffling his own papers into a pile before looking up at the group. “No kids permitted but partners are welcomed.” He adds looking at each of his team leaders, his eyes landing on you at the end of the table, “I look forwards to meeting everyone’s significant others.” Your bosses eye linger for a second too long before he calls your name,  “Would you mind staying for a little bit longer?” You nod in response, pretending to organise your papers as your other colleagues shuffle out of the meeting room. 

“So, are we going to be expecting your boyfriend to be attending this year?” You boss asks as the last person leaves the meeting room, the door swinging closed. You let out a quiet sigh as you turn towards you boss, a tight smile on your face. “You two have been together for a while now and we’ve never met him.” You boss continues, taking a few long strides till he stand in front of you. “I just find it funny, is all.” He tries to explain. 

You take deep breaths as you try to force yourself to stay still, the older man tucking a long piece of hair behind you ear. To him you’re sure the gesture seemed sweet and romantic, but to you it was a threat, a show of power. 

“I’ll see what I can do. He works night shifts so it’s hard to rearrange his schedule.” You say lightly, holding your papers tight to your chest, trying your hardest not to watch as your boss gazes over your body. 

“Well I expect him to be there…” You boss says, and you let out a breath thinking he would take the hint, but your body tenses again as he leans forwards, his lips pressing just below your ear, “otherwise I’ll have to assume you’re lying to me.” You continue to smile as your boss glances at you one more time before sauntering out of the room, your body falling into one of the table chairs, a shiver running up your spine. 

“Maybe I am lying to you, you absolute piece of garbage.” You hiss, wanting to cry out the frustration of your creepy boss. “What kind of disgusting, egotistical maniac think they can touch their employe— oh hey Jack.” You stop yourself short in your rant, only just noticing the stoic faced man who walks into the room. 

You feel your cheeks flush as Jack closes the door behind him, his expression unreadable. He’s always been hard to read, but right now, his quiet demeanour feels more intimidating than comforting.

“How long have you been standing there?” you ask, trying to sound casual as you scramble to sit up straighter in your chair. Your voice trembles slightly, betraying your nerves.

Jack doesn’t answer immediately. He moves to the chair across from you and sits down, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. His dark eyes lock onto yours, and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Long enough,” he finally says, his voice low but steady. “What the hell was that about?” You swallow hard, feeling your throat tighten. The last thing you want is to talk about what just happened, but Jack’s not going to let it go. He’s your best friend — well to be honest he’s your only friend — and he knows you too well to believe any excuse you might try to come up with.

“It’s nothing,” you mumble, looking down at your hands as you fiddle with the edge of your stack of papers.

Jack’s jaw tightens. “Don’t lie to me,” he says firmly. “Does he do that often?” You feel your stomach churn as the memory of your boss’s hand brushing against your hair comes rushing back. You hug the papers tighter to your chest, as if they’re a shield that can protect you from the humiliation and fear bubbling inside you.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly. “He’s just overly friendly.” You dismiss,  Jack leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He looks frustrated, but there’s something else in his expression—something softer, more vulnerable.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that,” he says after a long pause. “You shouldn’t have to put up with that creep by yourself, maybe you should tell someone about it.”

“I’ve been to HR, he’s my direct supervisor so no one will do anything. He’s my boss, Jack, there is nothing I can do except suck it up.” You rub your face lightly, trying to ignore the way Jack watches you with concern. 

“What about Nico?” Jack says softly. You head whipping towards him in surprise. 

“What about him?” You ask confused about where he was going with his suggestion. 

“People take his opinion pretty seriously and I’m sure if you asked him for help he would do his best.” Everyone and their mother knew that Nico was a good guy, and good guys do everything they can to help anyone they can and you knew Nico had the sway with the higher ups to help you out, but you can’t help the way your head shakes at the suggestion. 

“He has bigger things to worry about, than an entry level employee and her boundary crossing boss.” You whine, pushing the hair out of your face before standing from your chair, smiling one last time at your friend, hoping it reaches your eyes enough to convince him. 

“I’ll be fine.” You reassure the man, who shakes his head in disbelief but says nothing more, You’re about to keep arguing, to insist that you don’t need anyone’s help, when the door opens again. Your heart jumps, thinking it might be your boss coming back, but it’s not. 

It’s Nico.

Like captain of the team, Nico. 

Like first overall draft pick, Nico. 

Like your secret office crush, Nico. 

Like good guy, Nico. 

You freeze in place, caught somewhere between dread and disbelief. Nico steps into the room, his tall frame casting a shadow across the carpeted floor. His sharp brown eyes scan the room, landing briefly on Jack before settling on you. The warmth in his gaze feels out of place in the sterile tension hanging in the air.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asks, his voice smooth but tinged with concern.

Jack stands, his chair scraping against the floor as he does. “No, I was just leaving,” he says, giving Nico a pointed look that seems to communicate volumes. He turns back to you. “We’ll talk later,” he murmurs, before slipping out of the room and closing the door behind him.

You’re left alone with Nico, the silence almost suffocating. He takes a step closer, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. You feel a rush of heat creep up your neck as his eyes meet yours.

“You okay?” he asks, his tone gentle but direct. It’s such a simple question, but it’s enough to make your composure wobble.

“I… yeah, I’m fine,” you say, too quickly. You’re not sure if you’re trying to convince him or yourself.

Nico doesn’t look convinced. He tilts his head slightly, studying you like he’s piecing together a puzzle. “You sure? Jack seemed… worried.”

Your heart clenches. You glance away, pretending to straighten your papers on the table. “Jack worries too much. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Nico steps closer, and you feel the air shift around you. “That’s not what it looked like,” he says softly, his voice carrying an undercurrent of steel. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to handle it alone.”

The lump in your throat grows, but you swallow it down. You’ve always been good at bottling things up, at pretending everything’s fine even when it isn’t. But Nico’s earnestness chips away at your defences.

“It’s complicated,” you admit finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I… I don’t want to cause trouble.”

Nico’s brows knit together, and he exhales sharply through his nose. “Trouble?” he repeats, his tone incredulous. “You think standing up for yourself is causing trouble?”

You look up at him, startled by the intensity in his voice. His jaw is tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He’s angry, but not at you—you can see that clearly. It’s a protective kind of anger, one that makes your chest ache in a way you can’t quite explain.

But Nico never got angry. 

At anyone. 

Ever. 

Except maybe now.

“I… I don’t know,” you mumble, feeling suddenly exposed under his gaze. “He’s my boss, Nico. What am I supposed to do? Go up against him? Risk my job?”

Nico takes another step closer, until he’s standing right in front of you. His presence is overwhelming, but not in a bad way. It’s grounding, like an anchor in a storm.

“Yes,” he says firmly. “If that’s what it takes, then yes. You don’t deserve to be treated like that. No one does.” Your eyes sting, and you blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay. 

“You make it sound so easy,” you say, your voice cracking. “Do you know how hard I worked to even get considered for a job here?”  Nico’s expression softens, and he reaches out, his hand hovering near your arm. He doesn’t touch you, but the gesture is enough to steady your trembling resolve. 

“It’s not easy,” he says gently. “But you’re not alone. You have people who care about you. Jack, the team, me… we’ll have your back.” You look up at him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity. But all you see is determination and a quiet kind of kindness that makes your chest tighten.

“Why would you do that?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

Nico’s lips quirk into a small, almost shy smile. “Because it’s the right thing to do,” he says simply. “And because you… you matter.” Your breath catches, and for a moment, you forget how to speak. The vulnerability in his words, the way his eyes hold yours—it’s almost too much to handle.

“Thank you,” you manage to say, your voice thick with emotion.

Nico nods, his smile growing a fraction wider. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says. “Just let me help. Give me something I can do to help.” The idea pops into your head before you can even shake it away. 

“Nope, can’t think of anything.” 

“You’re lying, I can see that you’re lying.” He lets out a soft chuckle, his arms crossing against his chest in amusement. 

“There is no way you can tell, I’ve got a better poker face then anyone here.” You scoff, mirroring Nico’s position but crossing your arms, raising your brow in challenge. 

“You bite the inside of your cheek and you blink more when you’re lying.” Nico says quickly, a smile growing on your face as you mouth fall open a little. “Just tell me your idea.” 

“No, it’s stupid.” 

“I doubt it - I told you I just want to help.” Nico quips back, taking a step forwards his arms loosening as one reaches towards you, pausing before dropping back to his side, “C’mon spit it out.” 

“I need a fake boyfriend.” 

Nico’s eyebrows shoot up, and for a moment, he looks like he’s trying to process your words. His mouth opens slightly, then closes again, as if he’s weighing the best response.

“A fake boyfriend?” he repeats, his voice laced with cautious amusement.

You nod quickly, your cheeks burning. “Yeah… it’s stupid, I know,” you mumble, fiddling with the corner of your papers again. “But he’s been pressing me about bringing someone to the Christmas dinner, and so last year I just said my boyfriend couldn’t make it, and ever since he insisted on meeting him.” Nico leans back slightly, his arms now loosely crossed as he studies you. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—curiosity. “But I think he’s starting to catch on.” You admit

“And you think a fake boyfriend will… solve this?”

“I think it’ll buy me some breathing room,” you say hurriedly, your words tumbling out before you can stop them. “If he thinks I’m really in a relationship, maybe he’ll back off. At least for a little while.”

Nico doesn’t say anything right away. His eyes search your face, and you feel like he’s looking right through you, seeing every crack in the facade you’ve worked so hard to maintain. Finally, he exhales, running a hand through his hair.

“All right,” he says, his voice calm but decisive.

You blink. “All right… what?”

“All right, I’ll do it,” he says, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “I’ll be your fake boyfriend.” For a moment, you’re sure you’ve misheard him. 

“You will?” you stammer, staring at him like he’s grown a second head. Nico shrugs, his expression casual but with a hint of playfulness.

 “Why not? You need help, and I’m offering. Besides,” he adds, his smile growing just a little, “it might be fun.” Your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting. You hadn’t actually expected him to agree, let alone so quickly. 

“Nico, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupts gently, his gaze steady. “If it helps keep that guy off your back, I’m in.”

You swallow hard, trying to process the turn this conversation has taken. “I don’t know what to say,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Say yes,” Nico replies, his tone light but sincere. 

You bite your lip, the weight of his offer settling over you. It feels like a lifeline, and you know you’d be a fool to turn it down. “Okay,” you say finally, your voice shaky but resolute. “Thank you, Nico. Really.”

He grins, and for the first time in what feels like ages, you feel a flicker of hope. “Don’t worry about it.” Nico says quickly, “Besides no harm done in showing up to the party with a pretty girl on my arm.” 

+

+

The night of the Christmas dinner arrives faster than you anticipated, leaving you both excited and riddled with nerves. Your apartment is quiet, save for the sound of you pacing back and forth in front of your mirror, fussing over the dress you’d picked out weeks ago. It’s nice enough, but it feels lacklustre now that the evening is here.

You’re mid-sigh when a knock sounds at your door, startling you out of your thoughts. Quickly, you toss your robe over your half-zipped dress and shuffle to answer. When you pull the door open, Nico is there, looking so effortlessly put together in a pressed white dress shirt and tailored pin stripe suit that it makes your stomach do an annoying little flip.

“Hey,” he says, offering a small, boyish smile as he steps inside. You catch the faint scent of his cologne as he moves past you, and it takes an extra second to gather your thoughts.

“Hey,” you reply, trying to sound casual. Then you notice the garment bag draped over his arm. “What’s that?” Nico’s smile grows, but there’s something bashful about it, a faint dusting of pink rising to his cheeks. He holds the bag up, almost like he’s presenting you with a peace offering. 

“I, uh… I brought you something. For tonight.”

You blink, your eyes shifting between him and the garment bag. “What do you mean? I already have a dress—”

“I know,” he cuts in, scratching the back of his neck as his gaze flickers to the floor. “I just thought… maybe you’d like this one better. I mean, not that your dress isn’t great! I’m sure it’s great. I just—”

“Nico,” you interrupt, trying to hide a laugh. “Take a breath.”

He exhales sharply, a sheepish grin breaking through. “Right. Sorry. Here, just… look at it.” Carefully, he unzips the bag to reveal an absolutely breathtaking gown. It’s emerald green with subtle beading that catches the light just so, giving it a timeless elegance. The fabric flows beautifully, the kind of dress that looks like it belongs in an old Hollywood film.

Your jaw drops. “Nico…” You reach out to touch the dress, your fingers brushing over the soft, luxurious fabric.“This is… stunning. But you didn’t have to do this. This must have cost—”

“Don’t worry about that,” he says quickly, waving off your concern. “It’s… It’s a gift.”

Your heart skips a beat. “A gift?” Nico shifts on his feet, suddenly looking almost boyish in his discomfort. “Yeah. Well, I didn’t pick it out on my own,” he admits, his ears turning pink now. 

“I, uh… I called my mum. She’s the one who helped me pick it. She’s good at this kind of thing.”

For a second, you just stare at him, completely floored. “You got your mum involved?”

He rubs the back of his neck again, his smile turning shy. “She was thrilled, honestly. She’s been wanting to meet you since I told her about… well, you know, this whole thing.”

The mention of his mom melts something in your chest. The idea of Nico going out of his way to make sure everything was perfect—and even involving his mom—is almost too much to process.

“Nico, this is…” You pause, swallowing the lump in your throat. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” He looks up at you, something soft and earnest in his eyes.

 “You deserve to feel special tonight. And if we’re doing this whole fake couple thing, I figure we should go all in, right?” You just nod at his words, the two of you looking at each other briefly before you step away clearing your throat. 

“I’ll…um— go try it on.” You say quickly, turning to leave as Nico nods his head. 

“The car will be here in about 15 minutes.” He notes, “But don’t rush.” You just smile to yourself as you close the door to your bedroom, holding the dress tight against your chest as you let out a long breath. 

+

+

“Can you stop fidgeting?” Nico chastises as you adjust your dress once more as you look at yourself in the mirror. The stunning emerald dress was something Nico has been insistent on you wearing as despite you feeling severely overdressed for a christmas party. The two of you had spent the last few days deciding on the story you would weave to convince your coworkers of your dating history. 

“Remember we need to stick to the truth as much as possible, it’ll make things easier.” He had said the night you sat down with pizza to hash out your relationship. “We met through Jack.” He said quickly, the truth. 

“We spent christmas break together and decided to seek out something more with each other.” He continued, watching as your wrote it down. “We kept things a secret to avoid any scandals at work but decided after five years it was time to let everyone know.” You nodded as you jotted his words down on the piece of paper. 

“I’ll pull some strings with Janet in HR, ask her to play along, pretend there was a contract always filled out.” Nico says quietly and you freeze, your head shooting up to glance at him. “Don’t worry she’s an old friend, she won’t snitch.” His smile eases you and you jot it down on the paper. 

“Do you think this will actually work?” You ask turning away from the mirror towards him. His own hands finish smoothing out the vest of his pin stripe suit. 

“It will. I’ll make it work.” He assures you, his sunshine grin dampening any concerns that still drifted through your head. “We better head off if we want to get there in time.” You lean over to your bed, picking up the white purse slinging it over your shoulder. You watch him tuck his arms inside the suit jacket, straightening the expensive material. 

The work christmas party always involved people dressing to the nines - everyone wanted one day to pretend they were rich and famous, right? Nico has splurged on his suit, claiming “if we are announcing that we’re together I want to leave a good impression.”  You had balked at his words, this man was acting as if he was some stranger to the people attending, not the captain of the team they all worked for. 

Nico has prepaid a car to take you both to the event and both to your separate homes afterwards, he had spared no expense to make it seem as if you were really dating.

The car ride is filled mainly with the two of you rerunning the story, the plan. You were to enter the building first alone, Nico would come in after and fulfil his duties to the shareholders and management, he would always be within earshot in case you needed anything. He would eventually introduce himself to your boss as your secret boyfriend, as quietly as possible. 

Nico gives you a bright grin as his driver opens the car door, offering you a hand to slide out of the car. You return a tight smile back, repeating the words Nico has whispered in your ears as the car pulled up to the venue. 

“I will be there the whole time, if you want to leave just squeeze my hand twice.” 

Your entrance to the party was easy, you said brief hello’s and gave holiday greeting to the employees that you knew, keeping an eye out for your supervisor amongst the already tipsy guests. You manage to spot Janet from HR in the crowd the woman giving you a wink and a cheeky smile from across the room. 

“I feel like you’re going to need this.” Jack whispers in your ear, handing you the glass of champagne. He was aware of the plan with Nico, it felt wrong to leave him out of it. Jack stands a few steps away as he takes in your appearance. “You look amazing by the way.” He mumbles. 

The four hundred and fifty dollar gown was swaying around your ankles. It was aline, tight along your bodice, the square neckline resembling a corset of sorts, the skirt of the dress a little more dramatic as it dropped off your hips. Your favourite part was how the dress tied with straps against your bare back, just grazing the base of your spine with  the skirt fabric. 

The room falls quiet as a presence walks through the door.

 Nico somehow managed to look larger in his suit. The three piece pin stripe attire fitting him with perfection, accentuation his broad shoulders and defined waist. The man exuding calmness as he walked in, welcoming everyone with a beaming ‘Merry Christmas’, the party resuming as the first chairman greeted the young captain.

Jack held his glass up in a cheers as the two of you continued your night by the bar, gossiping about the mothers who decided tonight was their night. You had managed to make it two hours into the party before even catching a glimpse of the man you hoped would be too drunk to notice you were even here. 

You could feel him finally catch you in the crowd, his eyes darkened as he spots you alone beside Jack. “I’m just going to run to the bathroom.” You say, handing your friend the empty glass of champagne, scuffling through the crowd hoping to escape to the restroom before your supervisor could catch up to you. 

“Now where do you think you’re going?” The voice calls from behind you, the hand gripping your forearms and wrenching you away from the bathroom door only a metre away. You let out a surprised yelp as your boss grips your arm pulling you towards him. 

“Let go of me.” You hiss as you try to tug your arm free of his grip. You could tell his was drunk, the way his steps stumbled, his eyes were blurred, not to mention the wafting smell of overpriced liquor. The man just laughed at your attempts to free your arm, reaching out with his other hand to secure you other arm as well. 

“I must say you look delicious as always.” He croons, his eyes grazing over your body as he takes in the tight bodice of your dress. “I was surprise to see you show up alone, couldn’t convince your boyfriend to tag along?” He teases, a shiver running up your spine as he pulls your closed to him, his breath running along the skin of your neck. 

“Please, let me go.” You say again, your voice not wavering as you look around for other passerby’s. “I won’t ask again, this is assault.” 

“You know, I’ve always wondered if maybe you just made up your boyfriend, pretended to play hard. You’ve always known how much I’ve wanted you, maybe you’re doing all this to tease me.” His words are slurred as he presses a wet kiss to your neck, your body tensing up. 

“Please don’t do this.” You plead, “Just let me go.” You ask one more time. You knew a drunk man was more likely to do things he shouldn’t, and with how brash your boss was sober your doubted he’d show you much professionalism while intoxicated. You tug your arms one more time, hoping to free at least one of them, when a hand reaches out to grip your assailants wrist. 

“She asked you three times.” Nico’s voice is dangerously low, he squeezes against the wrist hard, your boss letting out a pained groan as he releases your left arm. You watch in silence as Nico takes a step in front of you, reaching out to take your boss’s other wrist, repeating the action until both your arms are free, Nico having a tight hold of the drunk man’s arms. 

“Listen closely, because I will only say it once.” Nico starts, his eyebrows drawn tight as he leans in, “You will be escorted to your office, you will collect your belongings and vacate the building immediately, any resistance and you can sober up at the local police station.” You watch as your boss’s face pales, his eyes darting between you and his boss. 

“Don’t look at her.” Nico snaps. “You will be issues with a two week notice on Monday but you are not to return to the building on any circumstances, are we clear?” He says, 

“You can’t do this to me.” Your boss screams tugging at his arms still securely in Nico’s grip

“I can and I did — now were my instructions clear enough for you?” Nico continues, his body stepping closer to your boss, his voice barely above a whisper, your ex-supervisor nods furiously as Nico releases his arms, you recognise the large figure that steps up behind up and the security guard in the lobby. 

“Take good care of him.” Nico says with a tight nod, the security guard just grins back in response. 

You let out a shaky sigh as Nico turns towards you, his hand reaching out for you. 

“Did he hurt you?” He questions as he touches your arms gently. So gently you barely feel his fingers smooth the red bruising on your skin. 

“I’m okay.” You whisper, watching him look at the redness on your wrists with a frown. “Really, Nico, I’m okay.” You reiterate, his gaze finally snapping up to your face, his warm hands wrapping around your burning wrists, the one gesture soothing the ache. 

“I should’ve stayed with you.” He grumbles, his frown still sitting on his face. You smile and shake your head. 

You tug on your arms lightly, a clear difference between the man standing before you and the one that had been escorted away. Nico releases you easily, his frown growing as he fears you’ll step away from him. You hands reach out pushing some of his neatly swept hair back into place, the locks having fallen in front of his eyes in his rush to get to you. 

“I am okay.” You say one more time, your hands sitting on Nico’s cheeks as you force his to keep eye contact, to ensure he understand that you’re telling the truth. His expression relaxes slightly as he looks down at you, his eyes scanning you for any signs of untruth. 

You shake your head with a light laugh as you step forward, stepping up onto your tippy toes as you press a soft kiss to his cheek. “My hero.” You coo, as you fall back to the base of your heels, smiling up at him. 

Nico stands stunned for a few minutes before breaking out in a grin. He takes his turn, leaning down slowly, catching your lips with his. The kiss is soft, sweet, his hands gentle against the bare skin of your back as you pulls you to him. You fingers scratch at the base of his skull, fiddling with the hair. 

“I don’t know if this is appropriate after what happened.” He whispers against your lips but you just shrug, kissing him again. 

“Fuck appropriate.” You huff, pulling your face away from his, “I think you should take me home.”

Nico doesn’t waste time, he steps away from you, grabbing your hand with his, lacing your fingers together as he looks for the quickest escape route. The party is in full swing, as he guides you through the crowd, managing to somehow avoid every drunk colleague that tries to grab him for a conversation. You chuckle, as he side steps one of the sponsors, tugging you after him as he smack the button for the elevator. 

“The driver is on his break.” Nico says softly, as the elevator doors open, pulling the SUV’s keys from his jacket pocket. He hadn’t expected to leave for another hours or two and had told his driver to go down the street to get dinner. 

The elevator doors close, and you leans up pressing a breezy kiss on the underside of his ears, nipping at the skin lightly with your teeth. 

“The car will have to do.” You speak against his flushed skin, the man letting out a shudder as he holds your hand tighter. 

The sound of Nico wrenching open the car door brings you back to the moment, the man clambering inside the car, tugging you in after him. The door slams closed as Nico pulls you into his lap, his mouth finding the scented skin of your neck, letting out a long groan as the fresh smell of mango hits his senses. 

“This is so fucking wrong.” He swears, as you tug the dress up around your hips, straddling his thick things as he glances over your body. You just smile, your hands reaching for his belt. Nico puts up no resistance as you loosen the faux leather, tugging his button open and pulling down the zipper just as quickly. 

“We can do things right later.” You say, “Right now I need your dick inside me.” Nico hisses as your hand reaches into his tight breaches, pulling his hard cock from the restraints of his underwear. 

“Are you sure this isn’t some kind of hero complex?” He asks, as you pump his cock a few times, sliding the oozing pre cum down his length. “I heard girls tend to feel like they owe favours when someone helps them.” Nico groans out as your adjust your panties under your dress, shuffling further into his lap as his cock grazes your folds. 

“I don’t owe you anything.” You say softly, looking down at him as his cock sinks inside of you. “This is you doing me a favour.” You add, letting out a sigh of relief as Nico’s hand grip your hips, helping you slide down him slowly. 

“Can’t argue with that.” He responds, his voice light as you close your eyes the feeling of his thick cock bottoming out inside of you. He leans forwards pressing soft kiss against your shoulders as you rock your hips forwards and back. 

“I’m so glad you’re rich.” You whine as Nico sucks harshly against your skin, his gaze shooting to you confused for a moment before his lips reattach to your jaw. “You windows are tinted and no one can see their captain fucking an employee and his teammates best friend.” You coo, the man beneath you bucking his hips up at your words. 

“Does that turn you on?” You question with surprise, Nico just nods. 

“God, you’re so pretty.” He mumbles as he pushes hair of your shoulder, glancing down at your heaving chest, pressing kisses on any skin that available to him. Your thighs work hard in rising you up slightly, before dropping you back down, your hips bucking forwards every time his pelvis rubs against your clit. 

“Say it again.” You mumble, your lip catching between your teeth as he trails soft touches over your skin. 

“You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” He says. 

“I would give anything to have you like this, on top of me, every night.” He continues, his own hips bucking up to meet you as he feels your thrusts begin to slow. 

“I want you to be mine, I want us to be something.” He whispers, tucking hair behind your ear, his hand resting against your cheek. You nuzzle into his hand, pressing a gentle peck against his wrist as he smiles up at you. 

“That’s the sex talking.” You hiss at a particularly aggressive thrust. 

“No it’s cause you’re perfect.” He says in awe as your thighs clench, your body stopping as you let out a small whimper falling against his chest. His hips thrust up a few times before he’s joining you in a high, heavy gasps the only thing filling the car. 

The windows were fogged up, the both of you with a light layer of sweat on your skin. 

“Do you think you’re driver will be mad?” You question, tugging a laugh from the tired man under you. 

“Probably.” Nico answers, pressing a kiss to your cheek before helping you off of him, adjusting your dress to the best of his abilities. “Guess we’ll both just have to be on the naughty list this year.” 

[purpamint]

Even after two years this is still one of my favorite comics I’ve made, and since it’s the holiday season, here’s the text version of it I wrote for it today that has some fun bonus details that I’m pretty happy with:

Back when Kris and Noelle back were both kids, they were opening presents while sitting by a Christmas tree. Kris is wearing their red horns that they supposedly wore a lot as a kid. Kris opens their present and reveals a green and yellow striped sweater. After Kris opens their present, Noelle cheerily says, “Merry Krismas! Dess and I worked together to make you this sweater!!”

Kris looks in awe, exclaiming, “WOAH!! so cool....”

Noelle gives Kris a thumbs up with a happy expression, saying “why don’t you try it on?”

“ok!”

Asriel and Dess are both looking at Kris now that they’ve tried on their new sweater. The sweater is visibly way too big for Kris.

Asriel is smiling, but his expression betrays the fact that he is a bit worried that the sweater doesn’t fit Kris, however he is still trying to stay on the bright side.

Asriel expresses, “It’s a bit oversized…”

Dess, focusing more on Kris’s enjoyment of the present than the size, looks to Asriel and assuredly states, “They seem to like it!” She proudly stands with her hands on her hips with a satisfied smile.

Kris wears their sweater with a delighted smile as if they were as content as one could be. It was as if in nothing the world could be better than as small as sweater made just for them. It was as if they would be fine if this one moment lasted forever.

Dess, continuing what she was stating earlier, laughs, “Hah! It doesn’t matter if it fits as long as they like it!” Clearly pleased at how much Kris seems to enjoy their present, she remains unbothered by the minor issue of the size. Asriel, less concerned after realizing Kris’s genuine joy at the sweater, finally agrees with Dess, albeit still reserved “I guess so!”

Many years later…

The world is completely black. It feels as if so much time has passed. The darkness only brings back those warm distant memories. The darkness feels like daydreaming with eyes closed. Those dreams feel real yet so fragile…

Noelle sees Kris while at school

Casually starting a passing conversation with an old friend, she laughs, “Woah Kris… talk about a flashback!! Fa-ha!”

It was like she was suddenly propelled millions of years back in to the past, reminded of both the embarrassing and the bittersweet moments.

Caught up in the moment of remembrance— almost as if all the years of distance between the two teens had suddenly melted away to potentially forge some sense of reconnection— she continues, “You haven’t worn that since…” Quickly trailing off.

Reality comes back like a tsunami of ice water over a blacksmith’s freshly re-heated piece of iron. The once re-shapable metal is now chilled and harder to change.

Now, the darkness has faded out.

Noelle couldn’t help but wonder about Kris sometimes. Why wear that sweater…? Not that it’s a bad thing, but it hasn’t been worn in ages…

With an inquisitive expression, she politely asks, “Any reason why you’re wearing it?”

Kris sits at their school desk slightly leaning forward laying their chin on their right hand. Their other arm lays on their desk as if they were partially crossing their arms. They do not look directly at Noelle. They almost appear as if they are not looking at anything at all— or at least not towards anything in particular. They have an introspective expression. Like they are thinking about old friends, old memories, old dreams… at least that’s what it seems.

“I guess I have been feeling nostalgic lately…” Kris replies. An indirect response like that from them was not unusual.

…but…

It seemed like that they were being honest.

It’s generally hard to read them, it was even hard to read them back when they were more open…but Noelle is so familiar with them that it is almost natural, even if the skill has a little bit of rust.

Kris looks softly at their sweater. It’s been so long since they’ve worn it, but they still remember the day they got it. They wished that day would last forever back then. Sometimes they still do. It felt so big back then, but now it matches their size much closer, even if it is a bit baggy in some places. But it’s honestly more comfortable that way… they never minded oversized clothes anyways.

They loved it so much because it was made with care, just for them.

It’s their favorite sweater…

It fits almost perfectly…

Little deltarune comic for the holidays! (About the Holidays too, wow) This took a bit longer to make than expected because I chose to make it on paper, so I had to do a bit of color adjustments to make it look right in the photos. Despite it’s lateness hope y’all like it! :D

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Proud to be a blockhead

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/21/blockheads-r-us/#vocational-awe

This is my last Pluralistic post of the year, and rather than round up my most successful posts of the year, I figured I'd write a little about why it's impossible for me to do that, and why that is by design, and what that says about the arts, monopolies, and creative labor markets.

I started Pluralistic nearly five years ago, and from the outset, I was adamant that I wouldn't measure my success through quantitative measures. The canonical version of Pluralistic – the one that lives at pluralistic.net – has no metrics, no analytics, no logs, and no tracking. I don't know who visits the site. I don't know how many people visit the site. I don't know which posts are most popular, and which ones are the least popular. I can't know any of that.

The other versions of Pluralistic are less ascetic, but only because there's no way for me to turn off some metrics on those channels. The Mailman service that delivers the (tracker-free) email version of Pluralistic necessarily has a system for telling me how many subscribers I have, but I have never looked at that number, and have no intention of doing so. I have turned off notifications when someone signs up for the list, or resigns from it.

The commercial, surveillance-heavy channels for Pluralistic – Tumblr, Twitter – have a lot of metrics, but again, I don't consult them. Medium and Mastodon have some metrics, and again, I just pretend they don't exist.

What do I pay attention to? The qualitative impacts of my writing. Comments. Replies. Emails. Other bloggers who discuss it, or discussions on Metafilter, Slashdot, Reddit and Hacker News. That stuff matters to me a lot because I write for two reasons, which are, in order: to work out my own thinking, and; to influence other peoples' thinking.

Writing is a cognitive prosthesis for me. Working things out on the page helps me work things out in my life. And, of course, working things out on the page helps me work more things out on the page. Writing begets writing:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

Honestly, that is sufficient. Not in the sense that writing, without being read, would make me happy or fulfilled. Being read and being part of a community and a conversation matters a lot to me. But the very act of writing is so important to me that even if no one read me, I would still write.

This is a thing that writers aren't supposed to admit. As I wrote on this blog's fourth anniversary, the most laughably false statement about writing ever uttered is Samuel Johnson's notorious "No man but a blockhead ever wrote but for money":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/20/fore/#synthesis

Making art is not an "economically rational" activity. Neither is attempting to persuade other people to your point of view. These activities are not merely intrinsically satisfying, they are also necessary, at least for many of us. The long, stupid fight about copyright that started in the Napster era has rarely acknowledged this, nor has it grappled with the implications of it. On the one hand, you have copyright maximalists who say totally absurd things like, "If you don't pay for art, no one will make art, and art will disappear." This is one of those radioactively false statements whose falsity is so glaring that it can be seen from orbit.

But on the other hand, you know who knows this fact very well? The corporations that pay creative workers. Movie studios, record labels, publishers, games studios: they all know that they are in possession of a workforce that has to make art, and will continue to do so, paycheck or not, until someone pokes their eyes out or breaks their fingers. People make art because it matters to them, and this trait makes workers terribly exploitable. As Fobazi Ettarh writes in her seminal paper on "vocational awe," workers who care about their jobs are at a huge disadvantage in labor markets. Teachers, librarians, nurses, and yes, artists, are all motivated by a sense of mission that often trumps their own self-interest and well-being and their bosses know it:

https://www.inthelibrarywiththeleadpipe.org/2018/vocational-awe/

One of the most important ideas in David Graeber's magisterial book Bullshit Jobs is that the ground state of labor is to do a job that you are proud of and that matters to you, but late-stage capitalist alienation has gotten so grotesque that some people will actually sneer at the idea that, say, teachers should be well compensated: "Why should you get a living wage – isn't the satisfaction of helping children payment enough?"

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/06/20/david-graebers-bullshit-jobs-why-does-the-economy-sustain-jobs-that-no-one-values/

These are the most salient facts of the copyright fight: creativity is a non-economic activity, and this makes creative workers extremely vulnerable to exploitation. People make art because they have to. As Marx was finishing Kapital, he was often stuck working from home, having pawned his trousers so he could keep writing. The fact that artists don't respond rationally to economic incentives doesn't mean they should starve to death. Art – like nursing, teaching and librarianship – is necessary for human thriving.

No, the implication of the economic irrationality of vocational awe is this: the only tool that can secure economic justice for workers who truly can't help but do their jobs is solidarity. Creative workers need to be in solidarity with one another, and with our audiences – and, often, with the other workers at the corporations who bring our work to market. We are all class allies locked in struggle with the owners of both the entertainment companies and the technology companies that sit between us and our audiences (this is the thesis of Rebecca Giblin's and my 2022 book Chokepoint Capitalism):

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

The idea of artistic solidarity is an old and important one. Victor Hugo, creator of the first copyright treaty – the Berne Convention – wrote movingly about how the point of securing rights for creators wasn't to allow their biological children to exploit their work after their death, but rather, to ensure that the creative successors of artists could build on their forebears' accomplishments. Hugo – like any other artist who has a shred of honesty and has thought about the subject for more than ten seconds – knew that he was part of a creative community and tradition, one composed of readers and writers and critics and publishing workers, and that this was a community and a tradition worth fighting for and protecting.

One of the most important and memorable interviews Rebecca and I did for our book was with Liz Pelly, one of the sharpest critics of Spotify (our chapter about how Spotify steals from musicians is the only part of the audiobook available on Spotify itself – a "Spotify Exclusive"!):

https://open.spotify.com/show/7oLW9ANweI01CVbZUyH4Xg

Pelly has just published a major, important new book about Spotify's ripoffs, called Mood Machine:

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Mood-Machine/Liz-Pelly/9781668083505

A long article in Harper's unpacks one of the core mechanics at the heart of Spotify's systematic theft from creative workers: the use of "ghost artists," whose generic music is cheaper than real music, which is why Spotify crams it into their playlists:

https://harpers.org/archive/2025/01/the-ghosts-in-the-machine-liz-pelly-spotify-musicians/

The subject of Ghost Artists has long been shrouded in mystery and ardent – but highly selective – denials from Spotify itself. In her article – which features leaked internal chats from Spotify – Pelly gets to the heart of the matter. Ghost artists are musicians who are recruited by shadowy companies that offer flat fees for composing and performing inoffensive muzak that can fade into the background. This is wholesaled to Spotify, which crams it into wildly popular playlists of music that people put on while they're doing something else ("Deep Focus," "100% Lounge," "Bossa Nova Dinner," "Cocktail Jazz," "Deep Sleep," "Morning Stretch") and might therefore settle for an inferior product.

Spotify calls this "Perfect Fit Music" and it's the pink slime of music, an extruded, musiclike content that plugs a music-shaped hole in your life, without performing the communicative and aesthetic job that real music exists for.

After many dead-end leads with people involved in the musical pink slime industry, Pelly finally locates a musician who's willing to speak anonymously about his work (he asks for anonymity because he relies on the pittances he receives for making pink slime to survive). This jazz musician knows very little about where the music he's commissioned to produce ends up, which is by design. The musical pink slime industry, like all sleaze industries, is shrouded in the secrecy sought by bosses who know that they're running a racket they should be ashamed of.

The anonymous musician composes a stack of compositions on his couch, then goes into a studio for a series of one-take recordings. There's usually a rep from the PFC pink slime industry there, and the rep's feedback is always "play simpler." As the anonymous musician explains:

That’s definitely the thing: nothing that could be even remotely challenging or offensive, really. The goal, for sure, is to be as milquetoast as possible.

This source calls the arrangement "shameful." Another musician Pelly spoke to said "it felt unethical, like some kind of money-laundering scheme." The PFC companies say that these composers and performers are just making music, the way anyone might, and releasing it under pseudonyms in a way that "has been popular across mediums for decades." But Pelly's interview subjects told her that they don't consider their work to be art:

It feels like someone is giving you a prompt or a question, and you’re just answering it, whether it’s actually your conviction or not. Nobody I know would ever go into the studio and record music this way.

Artists who are recruited to make new pink slime are given reference links to existing pink slime and ordered to replicate it as closely as possible. The tracks produced this way that do the best are then fed to the next group of musicians to replicate, and so on. It's the musical equivalent of feeding slaughterhouse sweepings to the next generation of livestock, a version of the gag from Catch 22 where a patient in a body-cast has a catheter bag and an IV drip, and once a day a nurse comes and swaps them around.

Pelly reminds us that Spotify was supposed to be an answer to the painful question of the Napster era: how do we pay musicians for their labor? Spotify was sold as a way to bypass the "gatekeepers": the big three labels who own 70% of all recorded music, whose financial maltreatment of artists was seen as moral justification for file sharing ("Why buy the CD if the musician won't see any of the money from it?").

But the way that Spotify secured rights to all the popular music in the world was by handing over big equity stakes in its business to the Big Three labels, and giving them wildly preferential terms that made it impossible for independent musicians and labels to earn more than homeopathic fractions of a penny for each stream, even as Spotify became the one essential conduit for reaching an audience:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/03/16/wage-theft/#excessive-buyer-power

It turns out that getting fans to pay for music has no necessary connection to getting musicians paid. Vocational awe means that the fact that someone has induced a musician to make music doesn't mean that the musician is getting a fair share of what you pay for music. The same goes for every kind of art, and every field where vocational awe plays a role, from nursing to librarianship.

Chokepoint Capitalism tries very hard to grapple with this conundrum; the second half of the book is a series of detailed, shovel-ready policy prescriptions for labor, contract, and copyright reforms that will immediately and profoundly shift the share of income generated by creative labor from bosses to workers.

Which brings me back to this little publishing enterprise of mine, and the fact that I do it for free, and not only that, give it away under a Creative Commons Attribution license that allows you to share and republish it, for money, if you choose:

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

I am lucky enough that I make a good living from my writing, but I'm also honest enough with myself to know just how much luck was involved with that fact, and insecure enough to live in a state of constant near-terror about what happens when my luck runs out. I came up in science fiction, and I vividly remember the writers I admired whose careers popped like soap-bubbles when Reagan deregulated the retail sector, precipitating a collapse in the grocery stores and pharmacies where "midlist" mass-market paperbacks were sold by the millions across the country:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/04/self-publishing/

These writers – the ones who are still alive – are living proof of the fact that you have to break our fingers to get us to stop writing. Some of them haven't had a mainstream publisher in decades, but they're still writing, and self-publishing, or publishing with small presses, and often they're doing the best work of their careers, and almost no one is seeing it, and they're still doing it.

Because we aren't engaged in economically rational activity. We're doing something essential – essential to us, first and foremost, and essential to the audiences and peers our work reaches and changes and challenges.

Pluralistic is, in part, a way for me too face the fear I wake up with every day, that some day, my luck will run out, as it has for nearly all the writers I've ever admired, and to reassure myself that the writing will go on doing what I need it to do for my psyche and my heart even if – when – my career regresses to the mean.

It's a way for me to reaffirm the solidaristic nature of artistic activity, the connection with other writers and other readers (because I am, of course, an avid, constant reader). Commercial fortunes change. Monopolies lay waste to whole sectors and swallow up the livelihoods of people who believe in what they do like a whale straining tons of plankton through its baleen. But solidarity endures. Solidarietatis longa, vita brevis.

Happy New Year folks. See you in 2025.

[shiny-jr]

Dear author, I’m so sorry that someone plagiarised your work especially since you work so hard on your stories 💔😞

We want to help the plagiarised book get taken down so can you please share the link?

If enough people report, the fanfiction site admins will finally listen and take down the plagiarised book, instead of the plagiarism claim being buried.

I hope this issue gets resolved quickly and I hope you have a better day.

UPDATE! Based on this and that and also this.

Thank you, anon. I appreciate your words, but as I stated in one of my previous posts, Wattpad reports are finicky. I believe at this point, we're at day thirteen of dealing with this plagiarizer and day four of it being public and yet despite it all, the plagiarizer has still yet to budge.

So, I thought I'd give another update and give the information we discovered in our findings. As to what we know is copied and from who. Keep in mind, one of these four copies stories has already been taken down and done with. I'll specify which in a moment.

Before I proceed, if you happen to be one of the original writers mentioned in this post and you want your portion removed from this post for whatever reason, let me know. I do not want to upset anyone, except the plagiarizer. At this point in time, I care little for their feelings on the matter when they've had plenty of time to make things right.

The plagiarizer: Kristynaka1

FIRST.

Obviously, the first story that was discovered was mine, with all the information linked in the posts at the very top. I was made aware of this by the inbox from a kind reader. Ever since then, I've been dealing with this plagiarizer.

My mutuals and I found it weird that somehow, the plagiarizer had relatively good grammar with few mistakes in the story. Yet every little note or message they sent, had many spelling mistakes and was sometimes difficult to read. It was inconsistent and strange, and we couldn't make sense of it until we had a theory which some readers in the comments here have already suggested. We theorize that the plagiarizer began to use AI.

Of course, we can't prove this but how else would a user who can't format and type proper messages be able to write whole paragraphs that are actually legible and understandable?

ChatGPT was available to the public sometime in 2022. Before 2022, many of their "stories" were copy and pastes from Tumblr. After 2022, there were differences in the copied stories that made it harder to find the original story and connect it to the original writer. Differences in writing that I doubt the plagiarizer wrote themselves if we go by their messages like:

So yeah. Onto the evidence.

SECOND.

After a few days, one of my mutuals began to suggest searching for the origins of other stories as they doubted any of the posts belonged to the plagiarizer. Low and behold, we found three others. The first of which belonged to @monst and their post. Just by comparing the first paragraph was enough to confirm that.

I won't go into too much detail as the links pretty much say all you need when you actually look at the evidence.

THIRD.

Not even an hour later, we found the second copied story from that oneshot book. Thankfully, there were only two stories there, so there aren't any more copied parts from that series they claim is theirs. The original is @ppsycho and their post. This one again looks like a direct copy, even the image is the same.

FOURTH.

This is the one that was already deleted, thankfully. So there is not many good screenshots I can present, except one before it was gone. So the original writer is @mint-yooxgi and their post.

Here is the only screenshot I have of the wattpad version, just to showcase that it did in fact exist, and it was copied.

So yeah, that's everything for now. If you check out the plagiarizer's profile and recognize the other stories I did not name, please let me know. We thought we found one of them on Quotev, but it wasn't.

Please continue commenting discouragements and reporting the account!

I think I'll leave this off with something I typed last night in a chat:

In whatever way this ends, know that it will end badly for the plagiarizer. They can choose to ignore, but that won't make everything go away. People will remember, I will remember. If they go radio silent and try to forget everything but keep the stories up, comments will still be there. If they try to delete the comments, new comments will just be made. The comments will serve as warnings to others that might stumble across their account, and it will immediately make them click off the account or story because no one wants to read a plagiarized story. The account we see now will just be empty of real readers, so it will remain a miserable little place where each comment will serve as a reminder as to why plagiarism is bad.

Even if they do decide to delete and make another account yet again, whether they decide to copy the same stories they did before or pick entirely new writers to prey upon, it doesn't matter. Readers will either recognize them from before or new readers will notice the plagiarism taking place. It doesn't matter what they do. They will be found and dealt with in some way, shape, or form.

I hope those two or so years of small internet fame were worth it while they lasted.

[vmpivory]

but you're still a traitor.

౨ৎ﹒ [ 양정원 ] ☆ female reader / angst + cw. skinship + 0.8k wc - ( library ) now playing.. traitor by olivia rodrigo

raindrops hit the window slowly as you sat there, knees pulled to your chest. you were doing your favorite thing ever, listening to music with your earphones on a rainy day. favorite activities are supposed to make you feel better. but now it wasn't helping.

"brown guilty eyes and little white lies yeah, i played dumb but i always knew"

it was olivia rodrigo's 'traitor'. you know she didn't, but it felt like olivia herself wrote this song for you and jungwon. it explained everything happened between you two. 

sad songs make you feel better, they say. then why are tears rolling down your face now? ─ more under cut!

"that you'd talk to her, maybe did even worse i kept quiet so i could keep you"

no, you shouldn't be crying over a boy now, you keep telling yourself. but the harder you tried to convince yourself, the harder it became to stop the tears.

you stood up and walked to the mirror right beside your desk as the song continued. you looked at your reflection in the mirror, your eyes puffy and cheeks red. your makeup was also ruined.

"and ain't if funny how you ran to her the second we called it quits?"

you quickly took your makeup bag, trying to fix your makeup. your friends were gonna come over in a few hours for a sleepover and you couldn't show up like this. 

as you tried to fix your mascara, your hands trembled slightly. you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

why was this so hard? jungwon wasn’t worth it. at least, that’s what your best friend giselle always said. "you’re too good for him, anyway." maybe she was right.

"and ain't it funny how you said you were friends? not it sure as hell don't look like it"

you heard a loud knock on the door. you froze, mascara brush still in your hand, eyes locked on your reflection. you hadn't expected anyone so soon. you wiped your eyes quickly, swiping away the last traces of tears and taking off your earphones. you walked over to the door, your heart pounding in your chest for reasons you didn't understand. you opened it and there he was, yang jungwon. standing there in a hoodie you bought for him, his hair messy and soaked because of the rain. he was holding a cup of your favorite coffee in his hand. "can we talk?" he asked, quietly. you know you turned off the song before opening the door but you could still hear it.

"you betrayed me and i know that you'll never feel sorry for the way i hurt, yeah"

"there's nothing to talk abou-"

"have you been crying?"

you quickly wiped your cheeks again, even though you knew it was pointless. "no" you muttered, voice shaky "i'm fine."

jungwon stepped closer, his eyes scanning your face, searching for the truth. "you don't look fine," he placed the coffee cup on the table beside you and reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "i'm really sorry, y/n"

you flinched slightly at his touch, not sure if you were ready to hear those words coming from him. the last time he apologized, it felt empty. he promised change, but it never came.

"you'd talk to her when we were together loved you at your worst but that didn't matter"

"you're sorry?" she repeated, "are you serious? you hurt me, jungwon. twice." his expression softened, guilt taking over him. "i know i messed up and i hate myself for it. i shouldn't have done those things, i was such an ass and-" "aren't you dating her now?" jungwon pauses, avoiding your eyes for a moment. "yeah but.." he muttered "i regret how we ended and what i did" you shook your head, holding back tears. "that's not how this works, jungwon. you can't just show up here, apologize, and expect things to go back to normal. did you do the same with me too? did you go up to her and apologized while you were dating me too?"

"it took you two weeks to go off and date her"

jungwon looked taken aback by your words, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right thing to say. "i-i didn't know how to fix it" he said, "i'm really sorry, y/n. i wasn't fair to you. i wasn't fair to either of you and i really regret it." you wanted to yell, to tell him how much he hurt you, how much you cried when you found out about him and her, but all of that felt like it would break you even more. no, he wasn’t the boy you once knew, the boy you once loved. he changed. "i'm done talking. goodbye, jungwon," you said, your voice steady but your heart aching. he didn’t respond, just nodded, turned and walked towards the door.

"guess you didn't cheat but you're still a traitor"

.vmpivory    ©    all rights reserved    ━    2024

i wrote this in an hour bc i was so bored and its not proofread TT hope ygs like it tho ! <3

PERM TAGLiST: @woniesprincess @orimuraa @heeaara

[sundrop-writes]

I am sooooo late replying to comments, but I have been feeling like crap so I am just now crawling out of my hole. And I know that Star isn't gonna mind that I'm late <3 anyway, here we go:

Star: I just LOVE these scenes of characters getting "caught" in a secret relationship (even if it's a fake relationship)

Sunny: okay but characters being 'caught' doing something that they 'shouldn't be' is SOOOO ICONIC. especially when what they're doing is not actually illegal or that immoral, they just feel like they need to hide their relationship and feel so caught out when other people find out. it is such a great trope (I really need to write it more). I especially love it when it's like "my super protective older brother can't catch us dating because he will kill you" and then the older brother catches them, attacks, and it prompts "don't hit me, okay, I love her!" and this is the first time that brooding emotionally disconnected love interested has ever said The Big L in front of his girlfriend. IT HIIIITS HARD

Star: "They belonged to him now and he didn’t want to put them back" don't be shy... put them on 🫣

Sunny: we need to see Stiles in panties at some point. we really really need to do a Pantyboy Stiles fic at some point. SECRETARY, PUT THAT ON MY SCHEDULE. oooooh IDEAAAAAAAAA - Stiles wearing panties, FORGETS HE IS WEARING THEM (would be such a Stiles thing) and goes to change after practice (maybe after a cross country running practice via S3?) and because he was late, the only other person in the locker room is Isaac, and Isaac sees the panties and will not let him live it down. teases him so badly, but because it's Horny Isaac, the mockery quickly turns into horny teasing, and when stuttering Stiles accidentally lets it slip that he was only wearing the panties because you, his girlfriend, likes it when he does, Isaac's brain goes nuts because you're a hot girl and you're kinky - and he knows immediately that he wants a threesome. (I feel like I need to write this fic now. I need to write it).

Star: “Ya know, this really isn’t your color - red would look much better on you.” Danny smirked" STOP PRETENDING YOU'RE NOT INTERESTED DANNY !!! A LITTLE TOO QUICK TO THINK OF STILES WEARING PANTIES !!!

Sunny: Danny is a gossipy bitch. He isn't super interested in Stiles, he just loves to talk shit. Also I mentioned Stiles wearing red because of that one TV show where Dylan wears a red lingerie set lmao

Star: "Seriously?” Isaac asked" hi baby !! not that I'm not happy about it but... have you .. always been here ...? hello (WAS HE HERE FOR THE DRAFT ???? every new Isaac line I'm like... "hi how long have you been here for?")

Sunny: this is hilarious to me because I know you didn't read the A/N where I was talking about the fact that I added Isaac in here just for my own fun - because when I wrote this, we were only on the early episodes of season 1 and Isaac doesn't come in until season 2 so I didn't have him in this draft. But I am very glad that I added him <3

Star: "Jesus, Scott, don’t ruin this for me,” Isaac whined, rolling his eyes" KSKSKSKS Isaac getting the spank bank ready AS WE SPEAK

Sunny: it's a lil treat for me <3 but I fucking love the idea of locker room talk perv Isaac

Star: “Ew! Why do you have them?” a hot girl cutting Jackson off with a very loud "EWWW" is very healing to me, you're so right diva...

Sunny: this reminds me of that tiktok audio EW DAVID!! EW DAVID!!!

Star: "Wait. Why were you covering for him?" now that the fear of god has settled in his heart, we must continue

Sunny: THE FEAR OF GOD. why is this one of the funniest things you have ever said lmao

Star: "running a single finger along his bare torso" i have a very vague memory of saying something that led to this... good job past Star, never change <33

Sunny: you ATE IT UUUPP with this. I am so thankful that you thought of this omg

Star: “Door.” this is still SO CUNTY !!!!!

Sunny: it is SOOOOO cunty. what are subby men if not little dogs to boss around?

Star: "Stiles was so pretty, tied up for you, ready to be devoured" love thinking about the next day in the locker room, everyone (Jackson and Isaac probably) grilling him for details and Stiles blue screening cause how does he explain it?

Sunny: I love describing Stiles's brain melt as 'blue screening' lmao. also Stiles would be so excited to brag and he would be like "there was some bondage involved" and the guys would be like "WOAH YOU TIED HER TO THE BED" and then he's like "no, she tied me to the bed" and then they're like "...oh"

Star: "Instantly, he let out a loud moan around your tit" Stiles, to me, is such a "boobs guy", it's CRAAAAAZY ! Like almost to a stereotypical degree

Sunny: he is another guy who would do anything for the promise of boobs. you could order him around with the promise of boobies and he would do anything

Star: “Dear god, what the hell is that?” I FORGOT ABOUT THIS !!!!!! INSAAAAANEEEE !!!! "His dad moved to leave the room, and then he sighed and paused in the doorway" SKSKKSKS i love that the awkward middle aged instincts were overpowered by the "responsible parent" ones

Sunny: this was one of my favourite endings to write ever!!!

I am so sorry I was late but I am so glad that you liked the fic!!! I love our little dumb subby Stiles

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

[ghostpebble]

SONIC MOVIE 3 SPOILERS AND RANT BELOW :)

SOBBING. SOBBING. SOBBING. WATCHED IT YESTERDAY AND I WAS CRYING THE WHOLE MOVIE BECAUSE THEY USED IT. THEY USED LIVE AND LEARN. AND NOT JUST ONCE. A MOTIF. THEY GAVE SHADOW A LIVE AND LEARN MOTIF. I AM EXTREMELY INDESCRIBABLY HAPPY. LET'S FUCKING GO

PLUS: EGGMAN'S MOTIF!!! IT WAS HERE!! THEY USED IT!! AND IT WAS ORCHESTRAL. BEAUTIFUL.

SONIC'S ESCAPE FROM THE CITY PLAYED, TOO, BUT NOT AS CONSISTENTLY. BUT ALSO, WHOEVER WROTE IN HAVING SONIC SAY "FOLLOW ME" UH HUH. I SAW YOU. YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE AND I LOVED IT

I WANT THE DONUT LORD SWEATER. THAT NEEDS TO BE MERCH. I DONT CARE HOW MUCH IT IS. IF SOMEONE MAKES IT DM ME I WANT ONE THANK YOU

SPEAKING OF DONUT LORD. I KNEW THEY WOULDN'T KILL HIM OUTRIGHT BUT OH MY GOD WAS I CONFLICTED. BECAUSE ON ONE HAND, OH MY GOD. SHADOW JUST BROKE LIKE ALL OF TOM'S RIBS. NO PLEASE NO. BUT ON THE OTHER HAND... OH MY GOD. YES. THIS WILL BE PERFECT FOR SONIC AND SHADOW'S PARALLEL.

AGAIN, SPEAKING OF: PARALLELS, SPECIFICALLY THE TIME HOPS IN SHADOW'S MEMORIES OF MARIA. BRUTAL. CRIED THE WHOLE TIME. THAT RECORD PLAYER ONE REALLY GOT ME. GOD DAMN. PLUS, THE PARALLELS FROM TOM'S HEART TALK THE ENTIRE MOVIE AND ESPECIALLY THE MOON SCENE. CRYING. I KNEW IT THE WHOLE TIME BUT STILL. CRYING.

ALSO, OPEN YOUR HEART. SPEAK WITH YOUR HEART. WE'RE WINNING

DAMN: WHY DID EGGMAN GET TO SAY DAMN BUT NOT SHADOW

AND ALSO, NO FAKER! THERE WAS THE CONVO ABOUT WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE ME, BUT NO FAKER :(( MAYBE NEXT TIME

I MIGHT BE REMEMBERING WRONG, IT MIGHTVE BEEN FROM THE KNUCKLES SERIES I WATCHED BEFORE, BUT OH MY GOD. THE WACHOWSKI KIDS' BEDS. KNUCKLES AND SONIC IN THEIR CARS ARE CUTE, BUT OH MY GOD TAILS AND HIS AIRPLANE.

OSSIE!! MORE OSSIE!! LOVE OSSIE. THANK YOU

CHAO GARDEN! AGENT STONE BEING A BADASS CONSISTENTLY. I LOVED AGENT STONE THIS WHOLE MOVIE. HE REALLY GOT A LOT OF DEVELOPMENT. LOVE HIM. ALSO A LITTLE SAD SONIC DIDN'T END UP WEARING A SPEED OR DARK CHAO MASK TO LOOK LIKE HIMSELF OR SHADOW, MISSED POTENTIAL :( STILL FUNNY

WALTERS' DEATH WAS UNEXPECTED TO ME NGL, JUST BECAUSE IT WAS SO ABRUPT. LIKE... OKAY. I GUESS. COOL. MAN'S DEAD.

THE MARIA BEING PULLED BY SHADOW ON SKATES. EVERYTHING MARIA. EVEN WITHOUT THE ILLNESS, THAT WAS THE PERFECT MARIA AND SHADOW DUO. YES

TBH, I LIKED THE GERALD AND IVO DUO. IT WAS SILLY. THEY WERE THE COMEDY IN AN OTHERWISE VERY HEAVY MOVIE STILL SOMEWHAT AIMED AT KIDS. SOME THINGS HAD ME LAUGHING BECAUSE IT WAS SO WRONG, LIKE THE SPANKING AND HOW GERALD JUST GOT ZAPPED LIKE A FLY IN AN ELECTRIC SWATTER. ALSO, EASY TO EXPLAIN GERALD'S AGE, HE KEPT LICKING SHADOW'S QUILL, WHICH IS LIKELY WHAT KEPT HIM ALIVE SO LONG. SO YEAH. I DIDNT THINK IT WAS BAD, MAYBE A LITTLE WEIRD, BUT THATS THE ROBOTNIK FAMILY'S THING

SHADOW'S "BOO." ENOUGH SAID

DID SHADOW REALLY HAVE TO SLAM SONIC'S FACE INTO THE GLASS LIKE THAT LMAO

ALSO SHADOW KICKED TAILS!!! THE STREAK CONTINUES

IT IS NOT LOST ON ME THAT SONIC'S POV BEGINS AT HIS B-EARTH-DAY PARTY. FUN REFERENCE TO GENERATIONS

LIVE AND LEARN. STILL HAPPY. JUST WANTED TO SAY IT AGAIN. THE WHOLE DOUBLE SUPER SCENE AND THEIR OWN FIGHT AND THE FIGHT AGAINST THE BOTS. EVERYTHING. PERFECTION. SOBBED. THE SUN RISE AND LOVE STILL EXISTING EVEN AFTER THE SOURCE IS GONE LIKE THE LIGHT. STILL SOBBING

THE WAY THEY HAD ROBOTNIK LEFT ON THE STATION LEAVES ME TO BELIEVE THEY LEFT IT OPEN ENDED ON IF HE LIVED SO THAT JIM CARREY HAD THE OPTION TO COME BACK, AND THATS FINE BY ME :)

PISSED ON THE MOON AND THE BROADCAST?? AND IT WAS A BROADCAST FOR STONE SPECIFICALLY??? WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK

SHADOW'S INHIBITORS. YES. HIM FALLING TO EARTH, ALTHOUGH DIFFERENT FROM THE GAME. YES. YES. YES.

1ST POST CREDIT OF METAL SONIC AND THE MISS AMY ROSE. HELL YEAH. IM SO HYPED. METAL LOOKS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING AND AMY IS SO CUTE. WONDERING HOW THAT'LL LEAD INTO THE NEXT MOVIE THOUGH?? WHO KNOWS

2ND POST CREDIT WITH PARALLELS?? WITH SHADOW LANDING ON EARTH IN A FIELD ALL ALONE FOR A SECOND TIME, THIS TIME MAYBE AMNESIAC AND HAVING TO ADJUST TO EARTH AGAIN?? OH MY GOD?? I WAS SO HAPPY THEY DIDN'T END UP JUST KILLING HIM OFF, ALTHOUGH IT WOULDVE BEEN REALLY GOOD. IF HE HAD DIED THOUGH, HE PROBABLY WOULDVE GOTTEN A LAST WORD IN TO MARIA ANYWAY, BUT STILL GLAD HE'S IN IT TO WIN IT

PLUS SHADOW SPIN OFF SERIES!! AND NEXT MOVIE IN 2027. THANK YOU KEANU FOR MAKING OUR FIRST MOVIE DREAMS COME TRUE, THANK YOU SONIC MOVIE TEAM, THANK YOU ALL CAST

THIS WAS MY TED TALK THANK YOU FOR READING

[jaggedamethyst]

because i love the golden boy girlies…here’s a bit i wrote originally but decided against for part 3. (where reader first sees jayce with mel and gets jealous)

💫

The sound of two sets of footsteps approaching immediately made you search for a place to hide. Had it been only Jayce, you’d endure it. Two sets of judging eyes, however, absolutely not.

You quickly made your way to a storage cabinet far from the entrance. You remembered Jayce saying something about reorganizing and that this particular one would now house some other nerd materials. It was just your luck that it was completely empty and big enough for you to walk right into and stand in.

You let the door remain cracked a bit, observing the pair. There was a woman, with Jayce, undoubtedly beautiful.

The distance of the cabinet made it hard to hear, save for some encouragement from the woman. When she rubbed Jayce’s shoulder, though, kissing him on the cheek, was when you’d lost all resolve. It started to feel all too familiar.

You watched as he followed her body leaving the room, his posture changing after a few seconds.

He went for the door, his back toward you. “She’s gone.”

You weren’t shocked he figured out you were here.

“It’s not at my workbench, if you're looking for that.”

Oh

You stayed silent and still.

“Just come with me okay?”

He slipped out of the door. By the time you’d crossed the room he was gone. There were only so many places he’d go from here. The route to his room was one you knew like the back of your hand. You made your way there as fast as you could without running, tears were dangerously close to escaping you.

The sight of him waiting for you when you rounded the corner made you stop in your tracks. It was dimly lit, as always. Books were in every inch of the space, a clear result of his continued pursuit of knowledge. There was clutter everywhere, but you were used to it.

You glanced between him and the room, suddenly feeling the weight of this. The time apart. Him with that woman. It was too much.

He saw you spiraling, this wasn’t like your usual reserved self at all.

“I’m sorry.”

You head shook, not believing him. You couldn’t.

He persisted, closing the gap between you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. If I could take it back I would.”

You didn’t care about that. He was so dumb. This was so dumb. You…felt so dumb.

“She kissed you.”

“What?”

“Who was that woman? What was that?”

He ran a hand over his face, “Mel. Her name’s Mel.”

“You like her?”

He hadn’t expected you to be this straightforward. The silence that filled the room was enough to make you crumble instantly.

The tears finally came, “I knew it.”

“I- I’m confused, okay? She’s been here when you’re not. She’s consistent.”

“Are you with her…I mean…were you?” The question was the closest you could get your mouth and brain to asking if they’d slept together. You didn’t want to know, truly. You just couldn’t go on if they had.

“Are you serious?”

“I don’t know-“

“Do you really think so little of me?”

“But-“

“Yes, Mel’s present. She’s here. She encourages me.” He contemplates his next sentence in detail. As a man of science he could only assume things based on evidence. He knew that in looking back at your past responses to him, you’d likely run from him—pull away. In some instances, though, variables result in differing results. He wouldn’t let you get away again.

“She gives me attention…but she’s not you.”

“Shut up.”

“Stop. Stop telling me to shut up. You shut up!”

That shocked you, “Jayce!”

“No! We have done this for so long and you never shut up and listen to me. I am standing in front of you…in fact,” he pushed you to sit on the edge of his bed. He knelt to the floor to meet you at eye level. “I am literally on my knees telling you…that I am here…with you.”

You looked at him, surveying the man once again trying his hardest to mend what was broken in you. It wasn’t enough.

“I’m not here for this,” you wiped your tears. “I just don’t wanna be disrespected by you being with someone else.”

Jayce inched away a bit, clearly taken aback. This was what you did, push him away. At any chance you got you’d relented.

“Fine,” he moved to take off his jacket. “This is what you want right?” His pants came off next. “You want me here, for you, and getting nothing in return. I can do that. I’m used to it right?”

[daughterofheartshaven]

A Virgin New Adventures reading guide

I told @gotyouanyway that I'd give them my reading guide for the Virgin New adventures that I made for a friend a while back and posting it publicly was easy and also means other people can use this too. I wrote this back in 2021, but stand by it from what I remember. It has been like 5-6 years since I read some of these books, so if I rated your favorite too low lemme know and I'll give it a re-read.

This might not be that helpful if you want to pick just a few books - I designed it more to streamline VNA experiance

The key:

1 - I'd recommend skipping

2 - Eh. You can skip, but there is at least something to be gained by reading it

3 - I would recommend reading this. It's not plot-critical, but it is a good read or useful setup

4 - Read this for sure. It's either plot-relevant, or just that damn good (or both).

Timewyrm: Genesys - 4 (introduces the timewyrm and the series; unfortunately it's also not great.)

Timewyrm: Exodus - 3 (continues the timewyrm story, and is a fairly straightforward but interesting story)

Timewyrm: Apocalypse - 2 (eh. Not much for or against it either way)

Timewyrm: Revelation - 4 (concludes the timewyrm arc with style)

Cat's Cradle: Time's Crucible - 3 (Good if you can wrap you head around it)

Cat's Cradle: Warhead - 2 (depressing as all get out, but very well written)

Cat's Cradle: Witch Mark - 3 (just plain weird. Does finish the current arc and sets up Return of the Living Dad)

Nightshade - 2 (kinda weird. Notable as the first Mark Gatiss story)

Love and War - 4 (plot-relevant. Also awesome)

Transit -4 (Introduces important recurring character. Hard to follow but really good even if you can't follow it)

The Highest Science - 3 (good story, but ultimately not amazingly important)

The Pit - 1 (I did not enjoy)

Deceit - 4 (Not a great read, but important to the plot)

Lucifer Rising - 4 (Amazing, with important character development for our protagonists)

White Darkness - 2 (first David A. McIntee novel, but not especially gripping)

Shadowmind - 3 (good demonstration of where Ace and Benny are as characters, vaguely interesting plot)

Birthright - 3 (good character piece for Ace and Benny, shows a darker side to the Doctor without being dumb about it)

Iceberg - 2 (plot is messy and weird. Only read if you need the Doctor's half of the story from Birthright)

Blood Heat - 4 (starts alternate universe arc, important developments for the Tardis)

The Dimension Riders - 2 (gonna be honest here - I don't remember a thing about this one either way)

The Left-Handed Hummingbird - 3 (first Kate Orman novel. Pretty good, although a little weird and hard to follow)

Conundrum - 3 (Be prepared for weirdness. And superheroes. Helps setup for No Future and Head Games)

No Future - 4 (concludes the alternate universe arc with style, establishes Ace from here on out)

Tragedy Day - 3 (dark, but good. Worth a read)

Legacy - 3 (Kinda dark, but it works. Be prepared for over-continuity)

Theatre of War - 4 (Pulls off one of the best plot twists I've seen anywhere, and introduces Braxieatel to the Whoniverse)

All-Consuming Fire - 4 (Not plot-relevent at all, but is very good, especially if you are a Sherlock Holmes fan)

Blood Harvest - 4 (Major plot point in the Whoniverse)

Strange England - 2 (takes strangeness to an art form. Can be freely skipped)

First Frontier - 4 (plot relevant for spoiler-y reasons)

St Anthony's Fire - 2 (dark and weird, but well written)

Falls the Shadow - 1 (Just... no)

Parasite - 1 (Written by Jim Mortimore, therefore depressing as all get out)

Warlock - 2 (I did not read. Sequel to Warhead, so only read if you liked it)

Set Piece - 4 (major plot developments for multiple characters)

Infinite Requiem - 2 (like The Dimension Riders, I remember nothing)

Sanctuary - 3 (a pure historical. Not really great on its own, but helps set up Human Nature)

Human Nature - 4 (The story that was adapted to TV. One of the best New Adventures by itself, becomes even better by having fun comparing it to the TV version)

Original Sin - 4 (plot-relevant)

Sky Pirates! - 2 (Only if you like Douglas-Adams-esque dark humor)

Zamper - 3 (Somewhat interesting follow-up to The Highest Science)

Toy Soldiers - 2 (Adds pretty much nothing, but not painfully bad) 

Head Games - 4 (a worthwhile look at where the Doctor has been going and who he is)

The Also People - 4 (probably my favorite New Adventure, although Theatre of War and Human Nature are also up there. Also resolves a recurring character's arc)

Shakedown - 3 (Fun, but ultimately fluff)

Just War - 2 (Weird and ultimately unimportant)

Warchild - 2 (Same situation as Warlock. Starts Psi arc, but can be skipped)

SLEEPY - 4 (Generally good story, sets up Psi arc if you skipped Warchild)

Death and Diplomacy - 3 (only worthwhile as setup for Happy Endings)

Happy Endings - 4 (Plot relevant. Ultimately fluff, but plot-relevant)

GodEngine - 4 (not plot-relevant, but an excellent story)

Christmas on a Rational Planet - 2 (part of Psi arc, and lays groundwork for Faction Paradox stuff, but I couldn't really follow it)

Return of the Living Dad - 4 (cleans up old plot threads, and is a great story in its own right)

Cold Fusion - 4 (Not plot relevant, but an excellent, gripping story)

The Death of Art - 2 (part of Psi arc, but not great)

Damaged Goods - 2 (Russel T. Davis's first Who work, but very dark and nasty)

So Vile a Sin - 4 (finishes Psi arc and has other plot relevance)

Bad Therapy - 2 (deals mostly with repercussions of previous story, but not great in and of itself)

Eternity Weeps - 1 (Jim Mortimore's writing is too depressing for me. Technically plot relevant in that Benny and Jason get divorced but not worth it)

The Room With No Doors - 4 (setup for Lungbarrow, good story in its own right)

Lungbarrow - 4 (concludes the new adventures of the seventh doctor in a surprisingly meaningful way)

The Dying Days - 4 (a nice little coda to the series that sets up Benny's adventures as well)

[strandnreyes]

because you want it

Late December always feels like a zoo for Carlos as he prepares his classroom for winter break, but when an afterwork errand causes him to bump into a handsome paramedic, Carlos’ holiday season takes a turn. As they begin to get to know one another through shared meals and traditions, Carlos finds a whole new reason to feel joyful this season.

“I will make this for you because I love you, because you need it, because you want it.” - Ella Risbridger, In the Kitchen

for @reyesstrand for @tarlos-santa who asked for TK and Carlos cooking together, developing traditions, working together to help someone, or an au. I wrote all of the above !! AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! ily friend 🤍 and thank you to @lightningboltreader for beta’ing

M // 12.5k // alternate universe

As far as evenings go, this one is pretty typical.

There’s a drug store only a mile away from Becker Elementary School and with the way the kids in Carlos’ third grade class have been coughing, picking up a pack of cold and flu medicine for just in case feels more like a necessity than and errand he could put off until his weekly shopping trip on Sunday.

While stopping at CVS isn't often in his nightly routine for when he’s done with work, running some sort of errand before he can go home is. It feels like there’s always something to do—a grocery item he forgot to pick up, a stop at the gym, or a visit to his parent’s house. Carlos doesn’t mind too much. After a day filled with rambunctious ten year olds, peace and quiet seem the only things Carlos would want. While that is true, there are times when the silence of his empty townhouse becomes too much, and these routine stops to prolong his time spent there make him feel a little more connected to the world.

continue on ao3

[amyispxnk]

My Kind of Woman

Chapter 7: You finally find, you and I Collide.

Series Masterlist || Previous Chapter

Series summary - Your song captivates Joel the second he hears you that night in Jackson, but he struggles to work up the courage to confess his feelings. With some (very heavy) encouragement from Ellie and Tommy, you two get closer and closer until he finally thinks he’s ready.

Chapter summary - Ellie turns 16, and the night goes even better than you and Joel had planned.

A/N: GUYS YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH SCREAMING AND GIGGLING TOOK PLACE WHEN I WROTE THIS CHAPTER. TRUST YOU WILL NOT BE DISAPPOINTED.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: fluff, dirty dirty thoughts, masturbation (f+m), language

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

Planning for Ellie’s birthday was challenging, but not because of the actual party. No. It was because of how much time you were spending with Joel.

It was really testing you, especially when he’d do things like turn up at your house with flowers or a pastry - jus’ a little thank you for all the help, y’know - he’d tell you, or when he invited you to his house and you’d turn up to him freshly out of the shower, hair damp and skin glistening, the water droplets clinging to him and just begging to be licked off.

Or like right now, as he was almost curled around you showing you the chords to a new song on the guitar.

For Ellie’s birthday, you of course suggested singing something for her; and it wouldn’t just be a simple ‘happy birthday’ (although you did plan on embarrassing her with that at some point during the event), it would be a version of one of her favourite songs - Take On Me.

Joel told you she listened to it all the time on her Walkman and even asked him to teach it to her, but she just couldn’t grasp all of the bar chords it required.

You could though, but still with some difficulty, resulting in Joel having to put his hand on yours to guide you through the motions, resulting in you practically in his lap as he manoeuvres this, and resulting in you being so flustered you can’t help but mess up the chords over and over again, causing the cycle to continue.

“Can we take a minute?” You ask, trying not to huff in frustration as you strum yet another muted note, fingers not quite strong enough for it when your brain is so muddled from the proximity with him.

“Sure, darlin’. Wanna do somethin’ else?” He smiles softly. He’s so at ease with you now, and it makes your heart flutter knowing you managed to secure a little bit of Joel’s affection and companionship for yourself. Lord knows it makes about half the female population in Jackson envy you.

You nod, and the two of you discuss the actual event. You decided on the Tipsy Bison, and easily secured a day there considering Joel’s relations to the 2 in charge, and your status as a performer there. Joel will help get Ellie there at around 5, and you and her friends will surprise her.

For decorations, you’ve made a ‘happy birthday!’ banner and a few hanging streamers. You also put in an order for a chocolate cake at the town bakery - Ellie’s favourite flavour according to Joel.

About 2 hours later, you’ve managed to get through the song a few times with him, and he’s left you with his handwritten sheet music to practice. As he uses the bathroom, you war with yourself in your mind because, you’re staring at the music right now and getting giddy thinking about the fact that he hand wrote the entire song out for you, and you’re blushing because his handwriting looks so good. You know it’s stupid and keep trying to snap yourself out of it, but your heart keeps thumping in your chest, telling you how special this all is and how much all this time spent together must mean.

He comes out of the bathroom and you can’t help but ask if he wants to stay for dinner. He says yes, of course, and you start cooking up some venison.

You sit down and pour some whiskey for the two of you - a risky move, which you’re fully aware of, but you don’t actually mind at this point. What happens, happens, right? You use this same logic when refilling the glasses.

He’s courteous as always, complimenting your cooking, thanking you for the help with Ellie’s birthday yet again, and offering to wash up afterwards.

“No, no, you’re my guest, Joel. Just sit for a bit. I know I’m exhausted after today.” You sigh, picking up the plates.

“All the more reason I should be cleanin’ up for ya,” he argues, and you just roll your eyes, moving to the sink.

You settle into a peaceful silence. It’s late, you’re ever so slightly drunk, and you’ve had a really long evening. It’s so quiet, in fact, that you let your thoughts wander, and don’t realise he’s coming up behind you until he accidentally nudges your hip, making you shriek and almost drop the mug you were washing.

“Shit, Joel!” You gasp, before dissolving into laughter at how much you overreacted.

“Sorry, hon.” He smiles lazily, making your heart flutter. His thumb tweaks your nose and your brows furrow. “Dunno how you got soap on yer face.” He mumurs, and you blink at him before coming back to your senses.

“Oh! Thanks, sorry.” You squeak, turning back to finish the washing and to hide your blushing face. He comes up next to you to help with drying everything off and your heart is about to burst from your chest by this point because you’ve just realised how domestic you’re both acting right now, how domestic this entire evening was. Talking with him on the couch after drinking coffee together, playing guitar before cooking, eating, and washing up, all together. There wasn’t a moment of discomfort or tension, and you realise just how wonderful he really is. And you realise how badly you want to kiss him, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. He’s zoned out looking at something through your kitchen window, thankfully, so you can look at him a little more clearly. You just want to grab his gorgeous face and kiss him with everything in you. It’s been months of waiting, building all of this tension until you can finally have him. Maybe the alcohol is getting to you, but you’re about to actually act on what you’re thinking when you realise your hands are covered in soap and so are his, and that it’d probably be weird to grab him and get soap all over him, making you sigh and shake your head.

The two of you chat some more about the birthday party before he leaves, and you practically run up to your bedroom, throwing your clothes off and then throwing yourself into the bed.

You hated the apocalypse for many reasons, and one of them was the fact that you still hadn’t managed to find a sex shop with any toys still in working condition. Your fingers would have to do - and right now they were actually working just fine as you worked yourself up, tracing slow circles around your clit and hissing when you finally start applying direct pressure to it, your other hand cupping your breast and teasing your nipple. You close your eyes and imagine it was his calloused fingers roaming your body currently, imagine his lips all over your skin and on your cunt.

Your gasps get higher, louder, and when you finally tip over the edge, it’s his name which floats past your lips. Your entire body trembles as your hips buck from how hard you fuck yourself on your fingers by this point, wanting this orgasm to last as long as possible, your mind conjuring up downright sinful images of you and Joel in this very bed and making you so horny you can barely think.

You finally come down from the high, panting and trembling, and stumble to the bathroom to clean up before falling asleep.

-

Joel’s night doesn’t play out too differently from yours. The whiskey you’d so dangerously decided to supply him with clearly played with his mind, resulting in him getting hard towards the end of the night after bumping into you. He had to touch you in some way, and came up with the weak excuse of something being on your face - there was, but it really wasn’t necessary for him to touch you and get rid of it. He had to restrain himself from cupping your cheek and kissing you right there. Your fucking doe eyes, your parted lips and flushed cheeks were making his efforts to keep from getting hard futile, and he hopes he didn’t seem like he was running away at the end, since he was actually just trying to hide his boner.

He’s thankful Ellie’s already in the garage when he gets home, because he’d genuinely crawl into a hole and die if she saw him in this state - drunk, dishevelled, and horny. He runs up to his room and locks the door behind him, always a little paranoid, before pulling his boxers down and letting his head fall back against the door when he finally wraps his hand around his cock. The precome which falls from the tip already provides some lubrication, but he spits on his hand before continuing to pump himself, imagining what he could’ve done tonight, what could’ve happened in that kitchen.

He could’ve cupped your cheek, pulled you closer and kissed you hard. Your tongues would clash together and you’d melt in his arms as you let him dominate. When you parted from the kiss, cheeks flushed and breathing heavy, you’d look up at him through your eyelashes and-

“Fuckk.” He moans, breaths coming quicker as his mind jumps to the main event of this little fantasy, knees almost buckling as he quickly squeezes the base, trying to stave off his release just a bit longer.

It seems to work and he continues letting his mind wander.

You’d look up at him, wide eyes peering into his as you asked to suck his cock. He’d never make you - in fact, he’d probably just eat you out instead before fucking you - but if you wanted it he wouldn’t deny you.

He’d nod and you’d sink to your knees in front of him, getting to work fast and wrapping those plump lips around his tip, starting to bob your head. His hand matches the pace that your mouth is at in his mind and he groans, hand working over himself even faster and faster until he finally comes, spurting release onto his hands and stomach as his brows draw upward and he gasps your name.

-

July 28th finally rolls around, and you get out of bed unbelievably excited. You love Ellie, and you can’t wait to give her the best surprise ever.

The entire plan works perfectly, and she arrives just after 5 with Joel to the surprise at the Tipsy Bison. After everyone greets her, they sit to listen to your performance.

“Now, before we begin, I just wanted to say a few words for the girl this song is dedicated to,” you start, smiling as your eyes meet Ellie’s, she’s sat at the front of the crowd of course. “Ellie, you are the most wonderful kid I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. You never fail to make my day better, and you always make me laugh - even with that terrible joke book of yours.” She rolls her eyes playfully and there are a few chuckles from the group - clearly she submits everyone she’s close with to the torture of her puns. “We’re all so grateful to have a friend like you, and you deserve the best birthday ever. Hopefully we did a good job.” You chuckle. A few cheers from the crowd, Ellie already beaming before you start playing the song.

When you do begin the song, she actually squeals from excitement, bouncing on her feet. You didn’t know her to act so excitable, especially in public, but it just makes you even more proud since you’d clearly done well by surprising her with this song.

Talking away,

I don’t know what I’m to say

I’ll say it anyway

Today’s another day to find you

Shying away

You don’t want the mood to be too low, although you smile softly at the sight of Ellie and Dina holding hands and murmuring to eachother about something, clearly having a little moment together.. but this is meant to be a party.

So, your strumming gets faster, singing louder and increasing in speed too, as you get some cheers from the crowd, a grin spreading across your face when you hear Joel’s encouragement too. Some people sing along, and people eventually start swaying and dancing. You take a little pause afterwards as people socialise, putting a song on the jukebox and setting your guitar down, sipping some water.

Ellie comes up to the stage with Joel, her smile so wide it prompts your own. You love making people happy, especially kids, and especially this kid.

“That was so fucking awesome! Thank you so much!” She beams, coming up to you and hugging you tight. Your brows raise and you hug her back, meeting Joel’s eyes. He has that look in his eyes you’ve noticed a lot more recently. You refuse to believe it’s the look of love, but.. what else would it be, really? It’s definitely some sort of affection for you, seeing you bonding so well with his surrogate daughter.

“That’s okay, honey. I’m really glad you liked it.” You say, and she thanks you again before requesting another song by A-ha, and you nod, recalling how to play it thankfully, before she leaves to go talk with her friends.

You sigh happily as you watch her go, beyond pleased with the outcome of the party, almost forgetting Joel who still stands before you.

“You were amazing, sweetheart.” He says, still smiling, making you blush when you thank him.

“‘s all thanks to you, Joel. You taught me the song.”

He hums, hands in his pockets. “But you played it up there, and you did it so well.”

“I guess…” You mumble, still a shy reciprocant of praise even after playing and performing in Jackson for all these years.

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short. You’re a real star.” He says, voice a little softer now, just intelligible over the music. You meet his eyes, so earnest and warm as they gaze into your own, and your breath catches.

“Thank you.” You say at last, smiling bashfully.

An hour later, some alcohol in pretty much everyone’s systems (even Ellie’s, after much pleading with Joel, arguing that 16 is basically 18 and that it’s the apocalypse anyway, man!) and your singing session over, the jukebox takes over and plays songs randomly. You sigh wistfully when ‘Collide’ plays, reminding you of that night not so long ago with Joel. The first of many perfect nights spent with him. He seems to have the same thought as he meets your eyes across the room.

Thank fuck for the alcohol, you think, when he comes up to you and boldly asks for a dance. There are people still on the dance floor, mindlessly chatting and dancing, so it wouldn’t be too obvious or embarrassing, you figure, nodding and taking his hand. You almost shudder at the feeling of it - have you even held his hand until now..? You don’t think so. But you still manage to control yourself.

That control flies out the window when you actually start dancing. The song isn’t exactly made for slow dancing, but you’re still close, and you know you’re close enough for him to see you blushing. You don’t really know what possesses you, because after a few murmured words, looking up at him as you dance, you’re taking his hand and somehow dragging him outside. Nobody even notices, and you’re thankful for it, unsure of how to navigate things after you finally do it.

You finally kiss him.

You get outside of the Tipsy Bison, soft orange light painting your faces, a cool breeze in the air. You exhale shakily, thinking of what to say before looking back up at him. All logic and thought fly out of your mind when you meet his eyes. They’re glowing in the sunlight, yet his pupils are so dilated as he looks at you. You can’t think straight and all your mind - no, your heart - is telling you to do is to just kiss him.

So you do, and it feels perfect.

Months, months of torturous waiting for this moment, and it’s actually fucking perfect.

He’s stunned for a second before he’s kissing you back hungrily, a hand tangling in your hair and the other wrapping around your waist, spinning and pinning you back against the wall. You moan softly as he presses into you, forgetting himself briefly.

The soft sound brings him back, though, and he parts from you, forehead resting against yours as he pants softly. You giggle, adrenaline high, and he smiles, huffing a little laugh.

“Well, shit.” A voice comes from your side, and you squeak, eyes shutting before you turn to see Ellie. She’s grinning as you squirm, the cheeky little bugger.

“Ellie-” Joel begins, suddenly sobering up, worried that Ellie won’t be comfortable with this at all.

She is though, laughing to herself before muttering “fucking finally” and heading back inside.

“She’s not wrong,” you murmur, still smiling, “that took us way too long.”

He nods, agreeing before kissing you again, a little softer this time, but it still makes you weak in the knees.

If he wasn’t drunk, and it wasn’t Ellie’s party right now, he’d definitely ask to take you home.. But he can’t tonight. You don’t ask either, probably in the same thought process as he is.

That doesn’t stop you from spending the rest of the evening together, chatting with friends here and there, but being inseparable otherwise.

It definitely doesn’t stop you both from darting back outside at least 5 more times during the night to make out like a pair of horny teenagers, either.

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated <3

Next Chapter

Tags- @mermaidgirl30 @tuquoquebrute @joelmillerisapunk @pascals-doll @casa-boiardi @konigslittleliebling @dendulinka6 @xxx-silhouette-xxx @hannah9921 @friskispunk @orcasoul @roryfuckedurmum @s0meoone @joyfulllittlething

[anim-ttrpgs]

Eureka is an absolute masterpiece of a ttrpg with so much thought and care put into it. I really can't say enough good things about it. I do want to know if you have made/plan to make any other ttrpgs? I would love to see more genres besides supernatural urban mystery from you because of how quality your work is (but it's completely understandable if you have no plans to do other things).

Thank you! It’s taken us years to refine Eureka’s rules to this level of polish, and I do think it shows! A warning to all other aspiring TTRPG designers, though, don’t make your first project something this big! Keep it short! Not “one page rules” type of short, but don’t be like us and make your first real project a full-on trad TTRPG with this many different moving parts.

If you have aspirations to make something as crunchy and fleshed-out as Eureka, maybe try to execute the concept in a more simpler “OSR” style, and then after you’ve gotten more experience under your belt, maybe made some money and/or gotten a team together, then maybe try that concept again with more crunch. Call it “Advanced [Your Earlier Game Title]”

As for the future of A.N.I.M., we are planning to continually release adventure modules for Eureka, and probably also add-ons like extra Traits, Monster Traits, etc. I would love to include some playable monsters from cultures outside “the west” too, but I wouldn’t want to half-ass them, I’d want to give them as much research, attention detail and themes, etc. that I’ve given to all the other monsters. That’s just a lot harder when the best sources aren’t always in English.

Speaking of shorter games, I already wrote a little tiny game on the side called Edge Hedge Arena.

This is a game where you google “[Your Name] the Hedgehog”, choose one of the many Sonic OCs that are likely to come up, then give them stats and battle them against those of other players using the rules provided.

Since I basically have no more rules to write for Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy and I’m mostly just waiting for other members of the team to finish working on their parts, I’ve partially moved on to working on A.N.I.M.’s next big game, too!

We’ve learned our lesson, it’s not going to be anywhere near the page count or crunch level of Eureka, even though you know I love crunchy games. Well, actually, it’s probably only slightly less crunchy than Eureka, but it’s about much more specific scenarios, so it’ll still overall have less mechanics. The scope is much smaller.

This is a dark comedy/satire game that kind of takes the Forgotten Realms “evil sexy matriarchal bdsm slavery society ruled by warriors who fight in lingerie” dark elf concept and asks the question of “What kind of society and circumstances would actually produce this?” (Though it doesn’t actually take place in Forgotten Realms or any other D&D setting)

And then makes the comparison to 20th and 21st century American capitalism. “No, these aren’t slaves, they aren’t chained up and are allowed to leave any time they want. But they only get food so long as they keep working, and if they disobey then can get beaten.” It started out as a joke, but we are probably going to add "media literacy" to the list of requirements alongside dice and stuff hahaha, like, the ability to understand that the world of this game is not supposed to represent the author's idea of a perfect society. We might add that to Eureka too.

Silk&Dagger is about class, gender roles, different ways that forced labor can manifest in a society, and most importantly surviving all of those things.

Going forward to understand what I’m saying you have to know that in this setting, “Drow” is a title, referring to the ruling warrior caste. Most Drow are dark elves, but not all dark elves are Drow. This society is structured a bit like ancient Sparta, with a very small ruling caste of warriors, and a very large servant caste. Social mobility between these castes is possible, but rather than getting into it in detail and making this post super long, let’s just say that many servants consider themselves temporarily embarrassed Drow.

A typical “party” in Silk&Dagger is will consist of one Drow PC and any number of servant PCs working for her. There are regular chores that need to be done around the palace, which provide challenges, but scenarios will also throw major issues into the mix.

A Drow’s Reputation is everything, if the Drow PC’s Reputation stat reaches 0, that is the failure state for the entire party, because it basically means no more food. (Even the servants, for lore reasons that I also won’t get into)

So a typical scenario will be like “Somebody very important is coming to visit, but the lower floor of the palace is starting to flood for an unknown reason.” We’re going to have multi-part tables where you can randomly generate these, but we will also have more in-depth adventure modules for it in the future.

We ran a playtest the other day basically based on this scenario. The intended comedy of the game really came out as we kept switching perspectives, with the Drow upstairs having to constantly come up with new ways to impress her guests and explain away that splashing sound while the servant worked down below trying to find and plug the leak.

So, the PCs will have to deal with all that while also making sure that all the chores get done, and the kicker is, they can’t easily communicate with each other. The massive gulf between the two castes is the real enemy here, along with the behavioral expectations placed on each.

They could’ve gotten a head start on dealing with the flooding if the servant had had permission to speak earlier and could’ve told the Drow that the lower floor is flooding, but

There’s a big list of behaviors that a servant has to fulfill when interacting with a Drow, which are basically designed to be impossible to follow and just get them in trouble, and a Drow who doesn’t strictly enforce this etiquette risks losing Reputation for it.

On the other side, Drow also have to constantly embody a list of six features, which basically means acting as evil as possible, their Reputation depends on it.

One other unique feature of Silk&Dagger is that it is a two-GM game. One GM does most of the normal GM stuff, while the other GM represents the ever-present societal expectations weighing on all the characters, subtracting Reputation points and important things every time the PCs do something that makes them look bad in the eyes of this society.

There may come times where PCs will just have to take the hit to get things done, or find clever ways to make it look like they’re upholding the status quo while secretly treating each other like equals when nobody’s looking.

You can expect, like, an alpha or beta version of this game to come to the patreon in probably January or February, and maybe even itchio if it is far along enough by then. It was actually supposed to be out on the patreon in December, but some personal issues and illnesses really held it up. I am really going to try and make it less than 200 pages.

I'll end the post with one of my favorite little bits from the setting/lore. One of the reasons that Drow dress like that is because it helps them identify each other by thermal vision in the pitch black tunnels. Unique patterns of covered and uncovered skin serve as a sort of personal heraldry.

Elegantly designed and thoroughly playtested, Eureka represents the culmination of three years of near-daily work from our team, as well as a lot of our own money. If you’re just now reading this and learning about Eureka for the first time, you missed the crowdfunding window unfortunately, but you can still check out the public beta on itch.io to learn more about what Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy actually is, as that is where we have all the fancy art assets, the animated trailer, links to video reviews by podcasts and youtubers, etc.!

You can also follow updates on our Kickstarter page where we post regular updates on the status of our progress finishing the game and getting it ready for final release.

Beta Copies through the Patreon

If you want more, you can download regularly updated playable beta versions of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy earlier, plus extra content such as adventure modules by subscribing to our Patreon at the $5 tier or higher. Subscribing to our patreon also grants you access to our patreon discord server where you can talk to us directly and offer valuable feedback on our progress and projects.

The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club

If you would like to meet the A.N.I.M. team and even have a chance to play Eureka with us, you can join the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club discord server. It’s also just a great place to talk and discuss TTRPGs, so there is no schedule obligation, but the main purpose of it is to nominate, vote on, then read, discuss, and play different indie TTRPGs. We put playgroups together based on scheduling compatibility, so it’s all extremely flexible. This is a free discord server, separate from our patreon exclusive one. https://discord.gg/7jdP8FBPes

Other Stuff

We also have a ko-fi and merchandise if you just wanna give us more money for any reason.

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

[fordford]

i want to write something nice and meaningful about fiddleford not hating gubby but i have to pack so this is all i have in me

transcript/screenreader version below cut because it's kind of long

image ID: a screenshot of a text file i wrote of a quarter-assed fanfiction about fiddleford and the shapeshifter. many words are misspelled and there are countless grammatical and punctuation errors. end image ID.

screenreader-friendly image transcript:

once upon a time fiddleford was hanging out in the bunker. bunkers are man-made underground spaces so you would think it would be really cold because places that are underground are usually cold. well you would be right but fiddleford was really hot today in the bunker because he was working so hard and sexily. he was sticking out his nonexistent ass as his head was buried in some machine thing i don't know engineering.

suddenly ford came up behind him. "hello" said ford.

"agh" said fiddleford and he was startled and banged his head against the machine and got a huge concussion and lost consciousness for a couple hours. but when he came to ford was still waiting there patiently so they continued their conversation. "what's up."

"look at this thing i found" said ford and he held up a pile of slime.

"that's disgusting waht is that. is that like a dead jellyfish" asked fiddleford. just then the slime moved! and took the shape of the wrench that fiddleford was holding (i forgot to mention he was holding a wrench but trust me it was there the whole time).

"what the hell is that." said fiddleford.

"it's a shapeshifter ❤️" said ford and he held the wrench up to his his lips and kissed it tenderly. for a split second fiddleford felt a little bit jealous of a wrench but stopped feeling that way because it was stupid. "i am going to raise it as my son" finished ford.

fiddleford watched as the wrench changed back into a grub thing and it jumped onto his head and started sucking on his open head wound. "idk it's kind of ugly" he said.

ford frowned. "fiddleford... i thought you of all people would be more accepting of guys who are a little bit different..." he said gayly.

fiddleford felt bad he didn't want to make ford feel isolated. and the grub was actually making his open head wound feel better or maybe he was just getting numb to the pain from blood loss. "well okay 🙂" said fiddleford and then they raised shifty as their child and lived happily ever after. the end. end transcript.

[feyd-meowtha]

@middlingmay's Fic Rec Questions

I saw this list and thought it would be fun to give it a go!!

1) Fic that's made you laugh the most

He May Be The Reason by @c-goldthorn. It's a Clegan Notting Hill au and it makes me squeal with delight. So cute that I got distracted while reading it and missed my stop on the train.

2) A fic that made you cry

my kingdom for a kiss upon your shoulder by pillar of our community @swifty-fox. I'm sure most ppl have probably read this one but it's such an amazing post-show continuation that really doesn't pull it's punches when it comes to both PTSD and the realities of being gay in the 40s

3) Fave comfort, silly fic

It's a little rogue but I'm gonna say Awake, Alive by the wonderful @whirlpool-blogs. It's a pet sematary au so not exactly what you would call traditionally comforting but the ending makes me so happy and the whole thing is just a joy. The fact that this came to mind when I thought 'comfort fic' is probably pretty telling about me as a person....

4) The fic that made you try a genre or trope that you don't usually read

This is also a bit rogue but it was tricky since I'll read anything, so I'll go with Strings of the Strings of Life by the lovely @weimarweekly, not because of any of the content but because I don't, as a general rule, read Dune fic that was written after Dune 2 released. I've bored everyone to tears with my complaints about that version of Feyd but it is what it is so I tend not to like any fics written about that version of the character BUT the prospect of a feydpaul Berlin techno au was too delicious to resist and the whole fic is so fun. It makes me miss Germany sooo bad.

5) An author who has inspired your own fic writing

This one has got to go to the anonymous author of both Close And Yet Closer and The Replacement. Both of these fics are god tier and their character psychology and willingness to allow their versions of the characters and relationships to be ugly and messy are so inspiring to me. They were also the first person in the John/Hausman tag on ao3 which is currently just me and them. I think about the replacement all the time and it was a HUGE influence on 3am Eternal. If I can ever write half as well as them I will die happy.

6) What are your fave underdog authors? Those that you feel are underappreciated and deserve a bit more love

Hmmm, this is kinda hard cus the MOTA fandom is pretty small so I feel like a lot of stuff gets decent buzz. Imma shout out @whirlpool-blogs again and especially their fucked up clegans fics, I have read and reread all of their works and they're always so so good. I will also add @steeseman for Up In Our Bedroom. It's another great post-canon fic and while it has a lot of hits, I don't think I've seen anyone talking about it on here.

7) What's one thing you wish writers/readers did more of when it comes to fanfiction.

The obvious one is comment, it really does make my day when I get a nice comment, even just a couple words or an emoji mean a lot. The other thing I would say is writing curt/Kenny fic, there's not much out there and I want more please. Also more fics where characters relationships are like genuinely kind of fucked up and toxic. I love that shit.

8) What's one thing you wish writers/readers did less of when it comes to fanfiction.

Oh man, I really do not know. The only thing I can think of is that I hate the word 'yap' or 'yapping' so if I see it in a fic I shudder. Hmmmm, I guess I also wish that there was a little more consideration when writing Gale's dad as an alcoholic because it's often treated as the basis for him being a shitty person. Addicts aren't automatically bad people and I sometimes feel like it's portrayed that way. @blixabargelds wrote an excellent post on this

9) I'm adding an extra one and that is current WIPs I am reading

Sympathy For The Devil by @blixabargelds, it's a modern ghost hunting AU and the set up is AMAZING. I will also throw Superstar in here even though it's not releasing main story chapters yet, everything Frankie writes is so tailored to my personal tastes it's crazy and I am so excited to read @mildharm's John POV chapters too. Literally foaming at the mouth thinking about it rn. When it starts being released fully, I fear it may kill me.

Love Song From A Dog and The Heart Is A Muscle by @swifty-fox. I've only just started THIAM but I'm so hyped for their take on the tattoo shop/flower shop au.

Hit Me Where The Heart Is by @london-cowboy makes me legitimately insane. I jump for joy whenever there is a new update, these versions of the characters and their stories are, as Paris Hilton would say, beyond. I do not have the words to say how much I am loving this fic. The characters and setting feel so real and it's just so creative. AMAZING.

I need to get around to starting let us not desert one another; we are an injured body and also the time skip fic whose name escapes me by @irregularcollapse and also catching up with @weimarweekly's rodeo fic, Looking For Eight

Writing this was very fun and I encourage anyone reading to give it a go if they fancy it!!

[limethefirst]

Mutual Understanding

pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x reader (platonic)

warnings: sonic 3 spoilers, mentions of death, trauma bonding lol!!!

summary: as the assistant in training for Stone, you’re tasked with keeping an eye on the black and red haired hedgehog

a/n: just watched sonic 3, I love it so much I immediately wrote this as soon as I got home, please enjoy and go watch it as soon as possible (I LOVE YOU SHADOW AUAGHH)

You watched as Stone left the Crab, running a quick errand so he could finish the suits he was making for Robotnik and his grandfather Gerald. You had a strange feeling about him and you could tell Stone did too but as assistants all you could do was brush it aside.

As Stone left you looked towards your right, Shadow stood near you his eyes staring at where your mentor was standing only moments ago, before his head tilted to glance at you. His eyes scanned you, as you scanned him back, you knew what he was capable of, you were warned but you couldn’t help but keep looking.

Shadow held his gaze on you before he turned away, looking at the television still playing in the background, the telenovela now capturing his attention.

You watched him as he stared ahead. Deciding you had nothing else to do, you sat down on the floor, not daring to get near Dr Robotniks chair, knowing he’d notice if it was moved even a centimeter. A sigh escaped your lips as whatever was going on in the strange show kept going on, you tried to get into it but it felt too generic for you.

“Why are you here,” Was the first thing you’d heard him say. You perked up at his sudden question, this was the first time since you’d met him that shadow had talked to you.

“What?” You asked him, curious as to what he meant.

He looked back at you, no longer paying attention to the show, “I asked why are you here”

You slightly raised a brow still somewhat confused, “Well I’m uh- an apprentice here so it’s like kinda my job?” You shrugged at the hedgehog, slightly raising your arms.

Shadow didn’t seem satisfied with your answer. The room settled into an uncomfortable silence as Shadow continued to just stare at you.

Nervously you glanced around the room, not out of fear but just confusion as to what he even meant.

“Are you alone?”

“What.” You asked, deadpanning at the straightforward question, “Obviously not-“

“No” Shadow cut you off, “Why are you with them?”

You knew who he was referring to, Stone and Robotnik. Obviously they weren’t your parents, it was easy to see from the way they treated you. Stone was kind but he wasn’t very parental, he was more of a teacher. Robotnik was definitely not parental, he was more like a demanding boss who didn’t give his workers equal pay.

“They’re all I have,” you bluntly responded to the hedgehog, as you slowly brought your legs closer to you.

Noticing the uncomfortable feeling you were getting Shadows gaze somewhat fell, maybe it was empathy or something else that you couldn’t quite understand.

Nervously you fiddled with the necklace around your neck, a two little star emblems given to you by your late mother.

Shadows eyes widened, he stepped closer to you trying to get a glimpse at the necklace. You looked up at him, an arm around your legs, the other gripping the necklace tight.

“You like?” You asked him, noticing how his legs uncontrollably moved him closer to you. His gaze was still fixed on it, as if he was remembering, “My mom gave this to me before she passed, she loved the stars, I do too honestly.”

He slowly sat down in front of you, both of you now looking at each other. Slightly noticing his distress you hesitantly took off the necklace, passing it to him so he could get a closer look. You knew he wouldn’t take it, of course you’d just met him but it felt as if you two had known each other before.

The necklace was silver, it was nicely kept; obviously cleaned regularly although it was a bit too small for you by now but that didn’t seem to stop you from wearing it. On it were two stars, one big star and another smaller star, it looked as if they were shining, but one was brighter than the other.

“A light still shines even though the star is gone,” You mumbled looking at the necklace in Shadows hands. His gaze quickly snapped up, his usual angry demeanor faltering to show a small look of shock.

“What?..” Shadow asked, as he looked between you and the necklace.

You laid on your back, your knees up letting out a sigh, “It’s just, you know something I like to say when I think about her,”

Shadow got up from his sitting position, he walked over to your side, handing you the necklace back as he laid down next to you. There were no stars inside the Crab, just a bunch of machine and technology that you truly didn’t understand half of.

There was a comfortable silence now, as you two laid down next to each other; Shadow sighed, for the first time it sounded like he was free, like the demons from his past were no longer attacking his every thought.

He turned his head to look at you, “You remind me of her,”

Snapping out of your trance you looked back at him, eyebrows slightly raised, “Who?” You asked, your tone soft as to not startle him.

His gaze was, soft, no longer angry at the world, maybe at himself, you really couldn’t tell, “Someone I used to know a long time ago,”

You let out a hum of acknowledgment, “She sounds nice,” you said, looking back towards the roof of the contraption.

Shadow still looked at you, you were no Maria, but you made him rethink; that maybe, maybe the world isn’t as bad as he thought it was, maybe there were people worth saving.

“She was.”