#seriously if you don't want to know don't read it

[fishnapple]

People's assumptions about you

This reading is about the assumptions people in general have about you. Which might not be true to how you really are.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

LILAC

• You have a quiet, mysterious vibe that makes people think you have been through a lot. This kind of being experienced creates a sense of knowing, like nothing can faze you, you have seen enough, the good, the bad, everything in between about life.

• They also assume you wield your power well, you're used to it and you can use it to seduce people or to deter them from getting closer. There's a contradictory feeling about you, on one hand, you seem intense and seductive, on another, you're aloof and impartial. So people think that you just like to appear attractive for the sake of being attractive, not to attract anything or anyone in particular.

• Those who are lucky enough to get into your inner circle will be treated differently, with generous care and intuitive understanding.

• They could think you're from a religious background. Or someone with mixed races and have a diverse religious background.

• They could assume you come from money or are well taken care of.

• You seem to be good at learning, fast thinker, intelligent. No matter how you actually think about your intelligence, people will assume you're smart and don't have trouble solving problems. Maybe you talk fast, have knowledge about a wide variety of subjects or people usually see you learning, researching something, especially about some niche or taboo subjects. This also contributes to your mysterious aura.

• Some could assume you like casual relationships. You revel in social interactions, you can chat anyone up and have some friendly banters with them. You enjoy hanging out with people but you don't want to be involved too deeply with anyone. Your goal in interactions with people is usually to learn something new, to satiate your curiosity. Again, the thought of getting close to you, being considered more special than the rest by you, is a great ego boost to some people.

• You're good at hiding your more unsavoury side. People generally think you're calm and worry-free but some will have a little suspicion that you're hiding your negativity, it's like they can't believe there's actually anyone who has no worry or problem. Especially if you're being anxious about the future, feeling lonely or lost, you won't show it. The people who suspect about this will likely want to dig deep to get to see your problems.

GRAPEFRUIT

• You have a brilliant aura that makes people automatically assume you have it easy in life. Like someone who has been treated so well by life that they are so positive and lighthearted.

• Enthusiastic and mischievous, people will assume you're younger than your actual age.

• You have no problem convincing someone, pulling someone to your side purely by talking and debating. People can see your cleverness and humour clearly.

• People think you have a fast lifestyle, always on the move, rarely at home, never sitting still, don't settle down. They assume you have an extensive travel backlog. Some will want to give you advice about settling down, having a stable family life. Maybe they think you're too young or have too many things going on for you to consider those topics seriously, but you will, in the future.

• Based on your cheerful or carefree demeanour, some will guess you are not well disciplined or are spoiled. They think your upbringing was a little loose and lacked proper guidance, resulting in a freestyle way of living.

• Maybe the way you dress or the things you use will make people think you're careless about money or have a lot to spare. You like shopping, hoarding material possessions and are just generous with your money in general.

• Some could assume you're too easy-going and simple-minded, despite your expression of cleverness, like someone who is easy to be taken advantage of, gullible. Some would want to protect you because of that, others would want to take advantage of that.

• You seem to be well liked and have no trouble getting a date. If you're single, they will just assume that you probably don't want to commit, prefer to stay single by choice, if you want to, people would jump at the chance to date you.

• Some would think you prefer older people for friendship and connections in general, you like to be spoiled and taken care of. But they also can sense that you treasure your friendships greatly, those who can stick to you through thick and thin will be revered and respected by you.

• Some can see you easily getting stressed, over exerting or are afflicted with some illness frequently. They might think to themselves that's the consequences of living a fast life, or you're going through some stressful situations that you don't want to talk about.

PEAR

• Maybe your reputation precedes you. People could form assumptions of you based on what they heard about you, not necessarily from interactions with you. They think that you're really a go-getter, ambitious, if not sometimes ruthless. You act on your impulses and zero in your targets, you get what you want, one way or another. They could feel that being the target of your gaze would equal to being a prey. You could give off a no-nonsense and efficient vibe that won't tolerate misbehaviour and disrespect.

• But they also feel that you put great value on friendship and community bonds. You would be a great leader, a pioneer, a protector of your group.

• The thing is, not many assumptions about your are correct. People could hear or see one aspect of you and proceed to make up a whole story about you. You could be a favourite topic in gossip. Some would put you on a pedestal and can't see you do anything wrong, while some would be so ready to find any dirt about you to make you seem less than ideal.

• Some would assume you have unique dreams that you want to achieve. Those that normal people won't understand or sympathise with. You're on your own road, doing your own things. People think you're really daring, you won't sit contentedly with what you're having, you're not afraid to upset the status quo. If you find a new inspiration, a new objective, you will be ready to pack your bag and get up and go, leaving behind everything you have achieved. In a less dramatic sense, people sense that you have the ability to let go, to search for a new horizon without attachment to the past.

• Speaking of the past, some would think that you're a nostalgic person. Some hobbies and favourite things of yours are those of the past. You might still keep doing or enjoying something that you had done when you were a child. Childhood could be your soft spot, the one thing that you guard so fiercely.

• They feel that you come from a traditional family with parents in their traditional roles. And somehow, you don't want to follow their footsteps, you want to rebel, to challenge that system. You might want to stay single and independent, focusing on yourself rather than family and partnership.

• If you ever get into a partnership, people think that would involve some deals and terms, something beneficial that is worthwhile of your effort. You approach every partnership like a business one, negotiating the terms, striking a deal, exchanging of values.

CHERRY

• People think you're in a purging period. You're not satisfied with your current life and the direction it's going. It's like you've reached a plateau, you need to find a new direction, a new way of living your life. And people think you're really brave for that intention, you're not afraid to discard unnecessary things, old thinking patterns, limited beliefs. You're willing to give yourself a makeover. Fears seem to not faze you at all, there seem to be no emotional turmoil. You act with your instincts and your heart's desire, charging forward.

• But people don't think you're a flaky, changeable person. You only change when your life demands it, your ultimate goal is stability and a stronger foundation.

• On the topic of instincts, some people feel you're really spontaneous in love. You fall in love easily, suddenly, with the naivete of a child. You love being in love, you don't take into consideration other practical matters surrounding a relationship, you just jump in for the pure bliss of romance.

• They would guess that you're usually the one doing the pursuing and confessing first. There could be a pattern in the people you're attracted to or a pattern in your relationships. Some would think, quietly, that you might be not aware of some deeper aspects within yourself, manifesting as these patterns. Like a certain part of you is repressed or neglected, so you seek that part in the other person.

• But in general, people think you have a lot of love to give. Your brave heart is undeniable.

• Other than romance, people also think that you're artistic and creative. Your ideas are unique and refreshing, some could be a little too grand, too far reaching. Some could guess that your job involves this kind of artistic talent.

• The way you act makes some feel that you're being sheltered by the people around you, like a precious child being protected by the community. But there's no envy or negative emotion here, they just observe that and can understand by themselves why you're like that. There's a honesty, a purity of thoughts in the way you express yourself and the way you share with people. They think you deserve that kind of good treatment.

• Also, due to that perceived honesty, some would feel comfortable confiding in you, they trust that you would keep their secrets for them.

GOLD

• The first thing people would assume about you is that you love hanging out with people, socialising, and having superficial fun with anyone you come across. You seem lighthearted like an excited kid in the middle of a carnival, wanting to see everything, to taste everything.

• People also think you like to shine, to feel seen and applauded. You're gregarious and seem to have no difficulty being yourself in front of a crowd. A bright confidence. Some would assume you like to be in a crowd because you like the attention. But most just assume you're friendly and have an extrovert nature.

• A few would try to guess the base of your desire to mingle with people. They think you're lonely or are sad about something, and you want to soothe that feeling by being with people, seeking the warmth of others. But most people don't seem to think too deeply about your nature, some would even find it hard to believe you're having some emotional turmoil inside.

• Some with a more suspicious nature might think you like to use joke and sarcasm to mask your insecurities and the difficulties you're having in your life. They think you're running away from the problems, trying to stay positive while a future disaster is pressing on your nerves. They think you need to change something or to be more brave in taking a new endeavour. It's not malicious though, they want to help and support you because they think you have potential.

• Right now, you seem to be pretty settled down with your life, doing things routinely, repeating days after days, like a drill. Some think that you're running in circles, wasting your time by immersing in the mundane details of other people's lives while refusing to look further for your own life. Or they assume your work requires that kind of lifestyle. You seem like a busybee, moving, talking constantly.

• People would assume based on your outgoing nature and the carefree way you show yourself, you have an active and passionate sex life. Your sexuality might be the question lots of people have in mind. Some would assume you can be quite dominant and aggressive in bed.

HONEY

• The assumptions about you would change a lot with time. Each period of your life will be accompanied by different assumptions from people. Could be that with each period, you are in a different environment with different types of people. So their values and beliefs would be different. Consequently, their assumptions about you and everything around them in general would be different. But the common point between these assumptions is that, they usually don't reflect your true self very well, people would likely be surprised when they get closer to you.

• At first glance, they assume that you're very passionate and full of ardour. You're optimistic and like to believe in a bright future, regardless of your current situation.

• People would think that you're a relationship person. Another group also has a passionate and confident air about them when it comes to love and romance, but yours is softer and feels more mature. People think you don't chase love, but by being so intensely you, you attract love wherever you go.

• They would assume that being love by you would be an unforgettable experience, the kind of love that is so pure and nurturing, where you can put your heart out into the open. Some people would fall for your perceived ability to love. Your potential of being a lover.

• Right now, you seem to focus more on securing material comfort and building a foundation for yourself rather than focusing on relationships. You can be perceived as a very hardworking person, to the point of being a workaholic. The people who want to approach you think you don't have time for them. You completely committed yourself to your work and study. Determined to be stable and thriving.

• Money and material possessions might be a source of comfort for you. They think you would try everything to achieve that, even using some tricks or personal talents to help you get ahead. Nothing too serious or negative though, they just feel that you have a knack for completing tasks faster, skillful and flexible.

• If someone knows more about your upbringing and the traditional values surrounding it, they would assume that the you right now is rebelling against those values. It's like you've reinvented yourself anew, away from the old values that no longer resonate with you. You could have been disillusioned by them, a naive believer. But now you stand on your own, find and build your own set of values. You could change your jobs, your studies, your living places because of that.

[sirxlla]

Whispering dirty Christmas lines in the Batboys ears 🎄

----------------------------------------------------

Dick: "Are you a candy cane? Because I’d like to lick you up and down." You said to him through comms.

"Y/N, you know everyone can hear you on comms." Dick stiffled a laugh.

"Oh, shit! Are you serious?" Embarressment and worry filling your voice.

"Nah, I'm just messing with ya. I switched our comms to private." Dick said with major confidence.

"Yeah, you must've not done it right Dumbass cause we can hear you loud and clear." Jason teases as he states through comms. Making your heart fall into your stomach.

Dick, in his embarressment stays silent the rest of patrol, you do as well. He thinks back to the comment in his heart swells proud of you for being confident enough to try to flirt with him considering usually you are fairly quiet and turned into a stuttering mess whenever he would flirt with you.

Jason: He was sitting on the couch reading a book just chilling. Something sweet about Jason is how the both of you needed space from each other on occasion but always came back to bother each other to tell each other about something that the other thought was interesting or random other things. You snuck up behind him even though he a thousand percent knew you were there before you got even close enough to whisper in his ear.

"Is your name Father Christmas? Because you look like a daddy to me." Giggling a bit as you spoke, your lips brushing against his earlobe.

"Babygirl, I'll be whoever you want as long as it makes you happy." He said with a charming smile; Something so lovely about Jason was how he could say just about anything and make it sound like smooth talking. He pulled you over the couch after setting down his book on the coffe table, sliding you into his lap facing him.

Bruce: You were in the cave filling in for Barbara as Oracle because she was feeling extremely sick this evening and Bruce wanted to give you a spin. Of course you have been flirting with him all evening.

"I need help spelling Elf. I have an E and an L. Can you give me an F?" You spouted the random Christmas pickup lines you read online cause this is exactly what Bruce intended the Batcomputer to be used for.

"I'm sorry, what?" He stopped in the middle of what he was doing on patrol.

"Seriously you just now noticed? I've been flirting with you all evening." There was a humor to your voice as you asked him in disbelief.

"Are you serious?" He asked with complete confusion and disbelief.

"Yes, I'm serious." An infectious laughs escaping your lips.

"Well at least youre having fun, Darling." He stated with a smile begging to reach his lips.

Tim: Everyone was sitting down for dinner as you passed him you whispered in his ear.

"Are you the Polar Express? Because I’d like to ride you." That's all it took for him to choke on his drink his face turning bright red. Of course you just returned your seat and acted like nothing had happened.

"What'd she say?" Dick teased Tim, noticing his younger brothers bright red face.

"I don't know but he is sure definitely gonna give Rudolph a run for his money." Jason teased as well.

"My face is not red, I don't know what you guys are talking about." Tim suttered as he lied through his teeth glancing at you. Obviously you had no choice but to look at him but you famed and innocent smile like you didn't just say that until his ear.

Damian: Considering how grumpy of a man he is you kind of knew what to expect when what you flirted with him in any sort of cringey cliche sort of way but that didn't stop you from trying and the joy you felt from his reaction so you walked into the training room.

"Do you believe in kissing someone under the mistletoe? Because mistletoe is what I named my sheets." You asked Damian with a shit eating grin.

"That's the best you could come up with?" He says with a bit of an annoyed tone as he approches you. There's a glint in your eye as you try to run off before you tackles you, a smile graces his thin lips, his smile sharp and cheeky.

"Oh no, I didn't say you could leave." he says in a rather happy tone, a tone he didn't let a lot of people see. He was very mushy on occasion and he could be extremely sweet.

Masterlist

[queervegancryptid]

Seriously, academics and the like are flawed like the rest of us, so use critical thinking skills even when you're talking to an "expert" (obligatory disclaimer half because this is the internet and half because I majored in philosophy and am wont to quarrel about what exactly counts as an "expert" because my brain is wrong)

BUT

I promise that, in general, they will be very happy to talk about their work. Academics in particular, a lot of them I've known, don't get to pursue exactly what they want all the time. So when you engage with them on topics they actually have a background in, they sometimes forget how to act and infodump with the enthusiasm of your autistic friend who lights up talking about their special interests. All the ivory tower pretentious bullshit you sometimes have to cake onto yourself in that world, it can just crumble to dust with the force of their excitement about actually getting to talk about things that interest them rather than having to publish for publishing's sake or having to teach a course because someone in the department has to and it's their turn. (Seriously, I don't know if this is common knowledge, but that's actually how some departments run things: I taught the intro course last year, so it's so-and-so's turn next. See, for example, the dude who taught my intro to astronomy course. Lecture was a snoozefest. The planetarium and outdoor work? He was a different man. The final grades for the class had like a 40 point curve. It was kind of a mess. But it was cool when he actually wanted to be there.)

I used to say that was my favorite part of academia, but then I realized it's the main thing about that world that drew me in: I wanted a place where I would be expected and encouraged to explore in ways I wasn't allowed (or wasn't able, not having the resources and living in a small town) to do when I was a kid. It didn't work out the way I wanted it to, but that's a story for another post.

It's why I love libraries. There's a "bookmine" near me (I don't want to doxx myself naming it but DM me if you want and I'll elaborate) that I would fucking adore to roam for days and days. Or just nights. You know, sneak in and hide in this massive building full of books, wait for them to close and go home for the evening, and just go to town exploring various subjects. Also my partner would be there so we could gab to each other about our discoveries. I feel like a lot of people, academic types especially but not exclusively, can relate to this yearning to explore and share.

Don't feel like the only people worth talking to are folks with advanced degrees or prestigious titles, though. Academics can be easy to find relative to other kinds of experts, but good information can come from anybody. Not just somebody with an email address ending in edu. At the same time, beware of influencers and whatnot, obviously. Good information can come from anywhere, and the same is true of bad information. Someone saying things with a lot of confidence isn't necessarily telling you the truth and doesn't necessarily know what they're talking about.

Anyway. Send the email. I promise you're not bothering them by asking about the thing they literally got at least one advanced degree learning about on purpose (in the case of academics, but like I said, this can apply more broadly than that; read the room and shoot your shot, or whatever the kids are saying nowadays). I have a lot more to say about this and may even make a post to help people find experts in a given field of study and how to use responsible critical thinking skills and research methods more generally, especially if anybody expresses an interest in any of that. But I've babbled enough on somebody else's post lol I apologize and also it will happen again

Signed - your local autistic philosopher weirdo who just really really likes information and libraries and finding and exploring cool stuff and can't shut up about it sometimes

[silvergyus]

front of house/back of house- c.yj

pairing: cook!yeonjun x waitress!reader

summary: yeonjun invites you over for dinner, then invites you into his bed

warnings: implied co-workers to lovers, first date, yeonjun is a little subby, reader and yj have both drank alcohol but aren't drunk, soft sex, protected sex, yeonjun's pubes are mentioned a couple times

word count: 2,100+

author's note: sequel to this fic, but you don't need to read part one to understand this. tbh the co-workers dynamic isn't super relevant here.

You sit perched on the counter in Yeonjun’s tiny apartment. His roommates are gone for the night, leaving the place to just the two of you. He’s invited you over to cook you dinner- something different from the menu at work- wanted you to try some of his own creations.

His kitchen is filled with the same clear plastic organizers as the kitchen at work. His blocky handwriting scrawled on masking tape labels taped to the sides. He’s organized, even with the cramped space to work with.

Yeonjun is beautiful when he cooks. It’s like a dance the way he moves with precision, passion for his craft. The air is filled with enticing aromas and he hums along to the music playing quietly from the record player in his room. He stirs the contents of the pan and you take notice of the way his slender fingers hold the spoon, your gaze tracing up the veins that are visible on his lean forearms. 

He poured you a drink when you arrived, a cocktail to pair with the meal. You’re already halfway through your glass and you’re sure it isn’t just the alcohol that is making you want to kiss Yeonjun more than anything right now.

It doesn’t help, the way he keeps stealing glances at you. His gaze trails up your body, lingering where your thighs spill over the edge of the counter. His rich brown eyes stay just a little too long on your lips when you speak. His mouth looks soft, its natural pout just begging to be kissed.

This is the first time you’ve seen him without his hat on, not needing it since you aren’t at work. The subtle highlights in his bangs capture your attention when they fall into his face. You want to run your fingers through his dark hair, want to know if it’s as soft as it looks.

He finishes the dish with a hurrah, putting on a show just for you, his silly side slipping out, making you crush on him even harder. He serves you a plate and you follow him to his room- the tiny apartment not having any sort of dining area, formal or otherwise.

He apologizes for the lack of a better set up, but you don’t mind. His cramped bedroom is decorated well. His clothing rack is filled with hoodies and striped sweaters, his off-duty clothes much more fashionable than the ratty t-shirts he wears in the restaurant kitchen. His record player still turns, music filling the space from the corner next to his rack of vinyls. You make a mental note to look through them later. Behind his bed he has pictures with his roommates, the boys laughing together, smiling brightly.

And when you eat, the food is delicious. Flavors explode on your tongue. You don’t know whether or not to eat as quickly as possible or as slowly as you can, wanting it all at once but also wanting to savor it forever.

Yeonjun watches you eat, seeming to enjoy your reactions more than the meal itself. A big smile fills his face as he watches you, chuckling after your third “seriously, this is so good.” His cheeks and ears are tinged with pink, though he acts like he isn’t living for your praise.

You enjoy the meal and the cocktail, which do in fact, pair perfectly. Together with the soft jazz and low lights, Yeonjun’s bedroom feels like a five-star restaurant.

After you both finish, he stacks the plates and runs them to the kitchen. When he returns, he asks if you want to watch something on the small tv that is perched on his dresser.

A movie plays, something you’ve both seen before. It’s cute if you’re paying attention to it, but instead your attention is focused on how close you sit next to Yeonjun. You can feel the warmth radiating off of him. You can’t help the way your eyes trace his profile, pretty nose and full lips illuminated in the glow of the tv. His voice is shy and quiet when he asks if you want to kiss him. His normal confidence and swagger gone for a moment of open earnestness. You nod, shy with how honest the moment feels.

Yeonjun fills your senses as he slowly leans over you to cup your cheek. His eyes flicker between meeting your gaze and staring at your lips. You reach for his arm, holding onto him as he presses your lips together softly. He tastes like lime and tequila when his tongue dances with yours. His hands are gentle as he guides you to lay against the pillows, covering your body with his. You can’t help the soft moan that escapes you when he deepens the kiss, sighing into his open mouth.

The two of you stay like that, bodies pressed to one another, kisses soft, slow and deep. You’re lost in the moment, the feeling of him, the soft sounds he makes. His hair is soft beneath your fingers, just as soft as you imagined.

“Can I touch you?” He asks, his expression tender. You whisper back a sincere “yes,” wanting to feel him everywhere.

The room is warm, filled with a warm glow and the quiet hum of the heater just under the soft chatter of the tv. Yeonjun’s hands are warm as he gently palms your chest over the thin material of your shirt. He squeezes once, drawing a breath from you. “Does this feel good?” he checks in, making sure you’re enjoying yourself. You nod again, arching into his touch to let him know it really does. After a few more minutes of kissing you, his hands feeling you over your clothes, he pulls back to ask if he can take your shirt off.

The two of you are pressed chest to chest, skin touching as lazy kisses are exchanged. Yeonjun has tugged the cup of your bra down just enough to pinch and flick at your hardened nipple. You can feel him smile at every soft gasp you let.

His hips buck slightly, involuntarily, and you can feel him hard in his pants where he rests against your thigh. You mewl, breaking the kiss to now ask if you can touch him. Your hands explored the planes of his chest and back, traced the lean muscle of his arms as he held you, but now you want to touch him there. He breathes a needy “yes” against your lips and your hand finds his bulge.

He is hot through the material, cock weighing heavy in your hand. You palm him through his pants, earning a grunt when you grip the head. The feeling of him in your hand makes you clench your thighs, growing wet. His breathing is heavy against your skin, face still held close to yours as you both watch your hand learn the shape of his length.

“So big,” you whisper, mostly to yourself. Yeonjun blushes, ears burning red as he attempts to hide a shy smile. Despite his shyness at your praise, his hips lean into your touch.

You slip your hand into his waistband, pausing at the hem, waiting for his permission before you touch him skin to skin. He nods and you reach into his boxers. Your fingers trace his hipbone before sliding through the fuzz towards the heat of his cock. He jumps when you touch him there, cock twitching just as the rest of him does. It's cute, the way he's become so shy.

There's a bead of precum wetting his tip that you find when your thumb circles his head, earning a whine. You slowly drag your hand down his length, pumping him slowly until Yeonjun is panting beside you.

“Please,” his tongue darts out to wet his lips as he tries to catch his breath, unable to say more.

You kiss him again, pretty plump lips impossible to resist, your hand doesn’t leave him, moving slowly as you lean into his taste. “Do you have a condom?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, “bedside drawer.” He moves to grab them but you kiss him again, hands pushing gently at his shoulders to convince him to stay.

“Let me.”

The pack is easy to find and when you return to Yeonjun’s bed, he’s already discarded the remainder of his clothes. You’re slow and deliberate as you unclasp your bra and slip off your damp panties, tossing them into the corner of the small room. Yeonjun’s wide eyes take in your bare form, barely blinking as he drinks you in. It makes you giggle, his attention so focused on you, that you make his cheeks and ears burn red like this, make his pretty cock blush and leak. Your laugh only makes his blush grow redder, hand coming up to cover his mouth, an attempt to hide, to diffuse your attention.

You don’t let it though, instead ripping the packet open and wrapping your fingers around his length. He breathes through his teeth at your touch as his hips buck up into your hand. His skin is warm and smooth, a perfect trail of dark hair marks a line from his navel down to the soft fuzz that surrounds his cock. It’s pretty, head flushed red, and you don’t fail to notice the curve towards his hip. Excitement bubbles in you, wanting him now.

Yeonjun sighs when you place a closed-mouth kiss to the side of his cock, your tender affection felt everywhere. You slip the condom on and settle again into the warmth of his lap.

He kisses you again, sweet and slow. Want hangs heavy over the both of you, but there’s no rush. This will happen. You deepen the kiss and his hands tangle in your hair. The smooth planes of his chest feel so good against yours; his hard, lean planes contrasting with the soft curves of you, making you arch into him.

The kiss breaks and you’re both breathless. You can’t wait a second more. Reaching your hand back, you reposition yourself above his cock, guiding it towards your entrance. His eyes are so wide, dark pools as he watches, fixated, on the place where your bodies meet. You sigh as you sink down slowly onto him, his cock filling you perfectly, curve pushing the tip almost to where you’re most sensitive.

His hands are eager, reaching out to hold your hips, pulling you closer to him, flush to his chest. He kisses you, lips trailing down from yours, down the column of your throat to nip and suck along your collarbone. It brings a contented hum from you as you slowly move your hips, little circles that bring you both pleasure. Your hand twists in his hair and he moans, mouthing at the skin of your breast.

You carry on like this, slow rolls of your hips, exploration, adoration, of one another until you feel a twinge in your thigh, muscles beginning to tire of your movements. Yeonjun notices your frown and brings his thumb to your clit, drawing soft circles that make you sigh. “Can you go just a little longer?” he asks, voice sweet. You nod, moving your hips faster, chasing your peak in earnest now. He moans at the new pace, the feeling of you around him. His touch speeds up to match, sensations pushing you towards your high.

“Mmm, close.” You teeter on the edge, unable to tip over, to feel the tension inside snap and release.

Yeonjun slides the two of you down the bed a few inches, changing position so he can take over, hips snapping up into yours. All you have to do is let your pleasure wash over you. You cry out when the new angle pushes his cock against the spot inside you, the one that makes you see stars. “Right there,” you manage, voice shaky. He nods, holding you so he hits that spot with each thrust. You cry out again and slump forward, head falling to rest on his chest.

“That’s it,” he soothes, smoothing your hair away from your face, “cum for me.”

And you do, orgasm flooding over you at his words. He holds you in place as your legs shake, guiding you through your high as he chases his own. He isn’t far behind you, you can feel his hips stutter as he cums and you wish for a moment that you could feel his hot release splatter inside you.

What feels like a perfect eternity passes before Yeonjun slips out of you, the two of you collapsing into a pile of tangled limbs and soft skin. The tv still chatters quietly in the background, the heater still hums beside you. As you both catch your breath, kisses are exchanged, pressed to foreheads, cheeks, and wrists, anywhere that feels soft and tender.

“Thank you for coming over,” Yeonjun says against your skin.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

“Mmm,” he hums, “I’ll have to do it more often.”

“As long as you make me dinner again.”

He smiles, placing a kiss in your hair, “anytime you want.”

author’s note: this is a work of fiction not meant to accurately represent the idol. please do not repost.

taglist: @lunesdesire, @dearlyjun, @moamidzyism, @miupow, @mapofthemazeinthemirror, @ohhdet

[hellsslibrary]

Could you write about Hiori, Chigiri, and Bachira giving their male!reader boyfriend a blowjob? Maybe Chigiri thigh fucking... Hiori sadistically making you wait to cum, and Bachira with his feet?

Blow it, move it, bite it, ride it. Just come on, make a move on it.

#a.n. : I absolutely loved writing this, so it's okay!! And it's kind of implied that you're all in Blue Lock... I have no idea where the camera-less bedroom came from, so :).

!!Warnings: male!reader, dom!Hiori and implied dom!bachira, top!reader in Chigiri's part (kind of), blowjob (Hiori), footjob (Bachira), thigh-fuck (Chigiri), Hiori is a sadist, overstimulation (Hiori), Chigiri is a sass (like always), Bachira... A little strange (but in a good way as always, yea). And reader is a football player too. Purely theoretically, one can imagine that this is a strap (except for the Hiori part, of course), so anyone can read it, I don't care anyway.

Hiori Yo.

Your hand slides through the blue hair for the umpteenth time that night. You have an incredible, overwhelming urge to grab them and plant that face deeper on your dick, but no... You just can't. How many times have you been denied an orgasm? Three or so, or maybe you've lost count.

Only that smug face with those bright blue eyes glowing with joy knows the exact number.

"Yo... Am I seriously unable to cum, even after all this?" you ask, knowing the answer perfectly well, but just like in the past, smoldering with hope that he will break up and give in.

"No," of course he won't, Hiori has been mumbling around your cock, sucking on your thick shaft for the last half hour.

You practically growl in frustration, trying not to move your hips or anything else, because it will only prolong this torture. And all because of what? In training, you didn't score a goal from his pass, which made him angry at you. He gave you such a perfect pass, and you missed it.

"Absent-minded boys like you need self-control, don't you think?" Hiori asks, batting his long eyelashes at you, looking straight into your eyes with that innocent look, which makes you almost melt.

His hand moves rhythmically on your cock while his tongue licks your glans from time to time, sometimes gliding over the base and over the bulging veins. He was clearly enjoying tormenting you like that, watching the precum trickle down your head, which he rather licked off, slurping on purpose.

The bed creaks slightly under your weight, clearly not designed for two people, especially if they are muscular in one way or another. It would probably fall apart if you were doing something more active here, but you don't even want to think about it, considering that you have to explain it to the Ego.

"Please, Yo... I'll do anything, please, it hurts," your voice is quiet, a whimper escapes from your throat; Hiyori's eyes rise to you again and a smile blooms on his lips when he notices tears in the corners of your eyes.

"Whatever you say..." The football player mutters, leaning closer and wiping the tears from your eyes before they can roll down your cheeks. "Okay, I'll let you."

Your hips jerk as you are suddenly pierced by the feeling of his mouth around your cock. Not teasing. Not slow. Uninterrupted. And the persistent, rhythmic sucking of your length, which makes you feel like you're already in Heaven.

Of course, it doesn't take long for you to cum. In just a matter of seconds, the knot in your stomach unties and you cum in Hiori's mouth with a guttural moan, clutching his hair in your hands, pushing into his mouth for a couple of seconds, and then exhaling tiredly.

Yo straightens up, licking the droplets of your cum from the corners of his lips, looking at your peaceful face, and then suddenly squeezes your softened cock.

"You said you'd do anything, darling," the blue-eyed man whispers, ecstatically watching your surprised face... If you don't like the deprivation of orgasm, then you will have to accept your fate of overexcitation.

Chigiri Hyoma.

"Mmm, you're enjoying this too much, big guy" Hyoma says, as he stares at your barely present face as you fuck between his thighs.

You wanted to fuck him so damn badly for real, just slide inside those damn tight muscles, but you didn't have too much time until the end of the break, so you had to manage somehow.

"I'm sorry... You have juicy thighs, has anyone ever told you that?" you ask, squeezing his knees a little tighter, trying not to put too much pressure on his right leg, rubbing your cocks together with your movements.

"Yes, thank you. You've said that about eleven times, if I remember correctly. For the last ten minutes," he replies, shrugging his shoulders, looking at how your cock slides between his thighs, over his smaller penis, smearing the precum on your stomach.

His hands instinctively grab onto the sheets, and he moans softly, arching his back. Your cock perfectly covered his own length from below, perfectly rubbed against the head, touching the sensitive bridle. Your "waters" were mixed together.

"We have a training session soon, come on... Otherwise, they'll be looking for us. And they will definitely find us, considering that you don't even hide your moans," Chigiri cheers you on, squeezing his own hips harder, which even started to make a sound from how your cock bumped lightly against his muscular thighs.

"I'm sorry..." you mumble it again, just staring at Hyoma's stomach, where you could see your cock sliding in and out of his thighs.

He snorts, placing his own hands on your palms, which are holding him under his knees, pulling you out of your semi-trance. His red eyes seem to be staring into your very soul, still filled with their usual cocky sparkle, but now clouded with lust.

"What?" your voice is softly heard in the empty bedroom, followed by Chigiri's moan as your cock grazes the bridle of his own again, and he exhales, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Nothing, nothing... You're just drooling," the red-haired man whispers, and you see a drop of water from your chin land on the back of Hyoma's thigh.

... Well, maybe you enjoyed it a little too much. So what? You're a simple man.

You quickly wipe your mouth on your shoulder, pushing Chigiri a little harder into the bed, making his back arch even more and a moan escapes your lips when you feel a familiar feeling in your stomach.

"Huh... Come on, come on, come on. Let's get together, okay? I want you to come, please..." Chigiri whispers, completely unaware of how much more beautiful he is now with red cheeks and a face bathed in pleasure... But what's the difference, huh? Your pace started to become less rhythmic and increasingly rough.

The sound of tremors echoed more and more through the almost empty room, and there it was... White light behind the eyes, two male moaning voices.

Ka-sploosh!

Bachira Meguru.

"This is a fun position, you know?" Bachira chuckles in your ear as he literally hangs on your back, his arms wrapped around your neck and his legs resting on your cock, rubbing it lazily.

"Are you sure you're comfortable? You can always sit forward..." You ask as his chest presses closer to your back and he kisses your cheek long and hard with a smile.

"Thanks for caring! But it's okay, really... Let's give [Your name] the younger a little more attention?"

You moan, throwing your head back on Bachira's shoulder as he starts to move his feet a little more actively. One of his feet runs along the length of your cock, while the other lifts your shaft. How does he even bend his legs like that? Who knows these football players.

His lips slide down your neck, covering it with kisses, occasionally sucking on your skin, making you sigh softly in pleasure. The forward's feet wrap around your entire length, starting to rub it in perfect synchronization.

"Megu... So good, it's weird, but good," you whisper into his neck, inhaling his scent mixed with the light scent of sweat, considering you're both post-workout.

"I'm glad! And he seems to like it too... Or is it her?" Meguru is seriously discussing the gender of your dick... Oh, the things you put up with for this man, honestly.

Your hand slides behind you, supporting his hip, so that it would be at least a little easier for him. Although he doesn't seem to care, because his feet move and hold your cock just perfectly.

His toes deliberately touch your veins along the base or run along the head of your cock, his heels sometimes stroking in circles on your balls, which are getting tighter with each passing second.

Why the hell did you even think to ask him about this? You looked at some new dribble he came up with, and your brain switched off and you asked him. Of course, it's not surprising that he agreed, but fuck...

Who knew that his feet were talented with more than just a soccer ball, right? Your balls were also satisfied, it seems.

"Want to cum? You always can, you know," a sweet voice breaks you out of your thoughts as Meguru presses his heel lightly on your balls, causing you to twitch a little, causing him to smile even wider.

"Of course... You'll make me cum embarrassingly fast..."

"There's nothing embarrassing about it! You make me cum just as fast when...! Mhmhm!"

He lightly punches your chest as you push your head into his neck to shut him up and not embarrass yourself any further.

The feel and sight of his toes on your cock is enough without him saying anything. Your cock twitches in his feet, but he holds it expertly, continuing to rub your cock, as if his orgasm depends on it, not yours. Although it's the same thing to him.

"B-Bachi..." You whine, really embarrassingly fast cumming as your sperm drips down his feet and he kisses your cheek encouragingly.

And then he cries out as you fall backwards, pinning him down and he immediately pushes you aside, looking at you.

"Fallen asleep? He must have enjoyed it too much," Meguru chuckles quietly, looking at your sleeping face, and then covers you with the blanket, kissing your forehead. "Now, shower! Just don't leave marks... Or [Your Name] will scold you, Meguru."

[xxgoldie]

Hyewwo, if you don't mind.. 👉👈

I, U, and X for Lighter? 🥺 Thank you so much for what you do!

main event page - event masterlist

I: Injury - how do they act when you get hurt? No matter the severity of the injury, Lighter worries about you. Something bad happenning to you is like his worst nightmare, so his eyes instinctively fly to you in a panic every time you make any sound of pain, even if it's just a papercut or stubbed toe. If you get seriously injured, though, he's an absolute wreck. He wants so badly to protect you and make sure you're okay, but seeing you in so much pain and covered in your own blood has him losing it, the closest he's getting to helping is half-begging half-threatening anyone with medical training to Do Something. He hates hospitals, but he won't leave your side until you're okay, even if you end up in one. Won't even let himself sleep until your condition is stable. And as your recovering and sent home, you'll have a 24/7 assistant and guard until you're back to tiptop shape, that brief taste of losing you has him extra protective, even permanently.

U: Upset - how would they comfort you if you're upset? Lighter is a practical man - he's great if you're frustrated about something and need to vent since he'll analyse all the details with you, picking apart the situation and helping you to decide the next course of action. But that's not the most helpful response when the feelings are more fresh, and he understands that. He doesn't really know what to do with himself if you cry in front of him - he hates to see you so upset and he rarely knows what to say to make you feel better. Instead, he'll opt to just hold you, pressing soft kisses into your hair and mutter soft reassurances, little "I'm here"s and "you're okay"s. As you start recovering, his mission becomes to make you laugh, whether it takes a corny joke or a tickle attack with kisses pressed all over your face, distracting you until you're ready to talk through whatever upset you.

X: X-Ray - how easily can they read their partner? how easy are they to read? Lighter is really perceptive - he's really good at reading people in general, so he sees through you so easily with how much time you spend together. He can always tell if there's something bothering you, or if you're particularly attracted to something he does. The first he uses for good, coaxing you to talk about it or getting you a treat to cheer you up before you even tell him something's wrong. He'll find solutions you didn't know existed to problems you barely have, and all you have to do is make one slightly frustrated sigh. The latter he uses for pure evil, he's an absolute menace, showing off the things he knows you like. No matter how cool you try to play it, he can Tell he's affecting you, its lowkey infuriating how proud of himself he looks. When it comes to reading him, its a bit tougher. He's pretty good at hiding and repressing his thoughts when he wants to, not letting them show on his face. Besides, his sunglasses make it a bit harder to read his expressions. But with you, he doesn't hide his thoughts that often, especially in private, and you can pretty easily tell exactly what he's feeling just from his face. Between that and how easily he reads you, you can probably have whole conversations with him just using facial expressions

[thatbitchery]

Of all the damage pseudo- spirituality has done to the human society, manifesting and femininity are constantly fighting for a top spot in my brain. Manifesting at LEAST has a truth to it and was going fine until all the online course gurus did their thing- femininity is just. What even. & if this only damaged the dating world which it was created to cater to I wouldn't mind so much but well.

The idea of 'dark' and 'light' femininity especially- what even. The human species is so interesting to me bc we will do everything but be natural. No other animal or plant does this, mind you. Not even orcas.

By "Light Feminine" do you mean blonde, blue eyes, pink make up and etiquette? By 'dark feminine' do you mean also white but black hair and darker (tanned) skin, dark eyeliner and manipulative? Basically Sabrina Carpenter X Megan Fox AU? ? I've read so much on both and literally NONE of that is femininity. Look at the world around you? Look at the feminine around you. The females of animals. The earth. The sea. Our mothers. Which of them acts like that? I want you to point to lioness or hamsterette (whatever female hamsters are called) and say okay so that is in it's light feminine and that's in it's dark. No no seriously. I'll even sponsor the whole expedition. I'm so curious. What feminine is the earth? Biege?

Femininity, is indifference. THAT IS IT. It is self centeredness. It is reciprocity. Everything else is masculine.

As a species I think sometimes we forget the maternal instinct is so strong in human females because we used to kill our kids? And not even millions of years ago I'm talking couple thousand? Hera? HERA. Sorry do you not watch Nat Geo? Have you never had a female pet? Maternal instinct is stronger that paternal because women are more likely to kill our children and end the species because femininity is serve me or die, and the only thing a child can serve is your maternal needs- , you know this right? You know lionesses kill their cubs when their daddy loses a fight? That hamsters eat their kids when they cant raise them to get back their nutrients? Spiders, have you heard of that? Natural selection, do you understand how that works? Female bees, you know hat they do to their males right? The earth, the epitome of femininity, Gaia- how long have you been alive? Your mom and your dad- and I mean the most loving mom vs the shittiest dads- who scares you more? Your sister or your brother?

Femininity, at its very core, is self-serving and indifferent what is that nurturing shit who came up with that and how blind are they? They had to invent entire complex religions and social norms to force women into giving birth what do you mean when you say you're naturally submissive? Admit you were watching corn on tumblr at 15 and it's conditioning what do you mean naturally? What nature where. Show me. Tell me yes it's natural for me to sleep around and get nothing in return its empowered look how this female does it too in nature. If you don't want to call it conditioning ok but nature? It's natural? Gaslighting your own self is crazy work but okay. Indifference is the only natural way to be feminine. Self serving. Nature watching her children fight for existence and only keeping the strongest, do you know how ruthless natural selection is? That's feminine because if you don't serve me why are you here? The most feminine women are the most self-serving. Shera7 entire aura is feminine because we all know she's selfish. The women that are self serving and centered win. And not just self-serving, self-centered to total indifference. I don't know why you want me to care about that but on the grounds it does not concern me, I will not be giving AF any time today and I'm offended you expect me to- indifference. I will be fine anyway mentality (WHEN IF WE TALK ABOUT JOURNALLING REMIND ME TO TALK AB THIS). This, also, is the baseline to manifesting by the way. I won't go there, ever, but if you want to manifest understand this- I will be okay regardless so why would I care? Not all that stuff you keep doing with the sage and numbers and maladaptive daydreaming x delusion in the name of acting as if.

Femininity is indifference. Self-centeredness. My way or no way. Everything else is masculinity (which, just so we are clear, is not a bad thing. Coming from a masculina).

[silentreigns]

So now that Japanese media is reporting what we have been speculating, I need people to stop blowing smoke up Yuki fans' asses. Yuki never had a shot at RedBull and he knew this the whole time. The second Liam stepped into that car in COTA, he knew he was getting that RedBull seat in 2025.

The media were trying to sell that his aggressive and reckless driving during COTA and Mexico's weekend was a good thing. "Oh he can race against the best that's why he should be in RedBull next year". Well his racecraft is still shit regardless. Alonso and Checo have both went on interview to say that Liam was going about his driving the wrong way. I know some people have their opinions on drivers, but when they openly call someone out you should take their words seriously, because they don't really do that as often. They know a lot more about what's going on in interviews but don't go into details because it's really none of our business.

During the early phase of the season, who was the midfielder after Alonso with the most points? Yuki. And he had the most points during the time where all the teams were negotiating their lineups for next year. So yeah teams were interested in signing him. Yuki probably got very far in contract negotiations too. But there was just one problem: RedBull didn't want to release him. I've been seeing a lot of people question why didn't RedBull release Yuki if they didn't have plans to the promote him. My hypothesis on why this is very simple: RedBull wanted money. That's usually the answer to why things go the way that they do. RedBull wanted a midfield team with less resources and money to pay them generously for Yuki. Because cash is king. Now we do not know how much money RedBull was asking for to release Yuki, but we can guess that it was a lot. And there's about to be a new set or regulations implemented in 2026. Teams cannot afford to spend an excessive amount of money because they have invest that towards developing the cars for the upcoming year. If a team had bought Yuki out, they may not have enough money leftover for a competitive car. It's not a risk worth taking if they have drivers in their academies who could take the seat for a cheaper price.

So if you see me tweaking out about this potentially being Yuki's last full year on the grid, please understand my thought process. If teams didn't want to spend a lot to buy his contract out this year, I doubt they would do it next year. I need to make another post why I think the "Yuki to Aston Martin" thing has little to no chance of happening. Because I think people haven't really thought this situation through and are just parroting what they've read online.

[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

[iatrophilosophos]

Hey I'm hearing uh. More, and more, and more buzz about GLP-1 agonists like ozempic from random ppl and healthcare providers alike and there's like a terrifying lack of lucidity abt it so I just wanna say, if you've heard some stuff and are curious:

Ozempic is a chemically-aided crash diet. That's it.

Like metformin, an older diabetes medication used off-label for weight loss, it's functioning as an appetite suppressant in this use-case. It's not magic; it's not changing how your body makes or uses fat; it just makes it less miserable to eat less. It is contraindicated by histories of disordered eating and should absolutely not be prescribed without a full screening for above-adequate food intake and nutrition *and* ongoing screening for adequate nourishment/malnutrition: this is broadly not happening.

I've also seen no indication that ozempic/GLP-1 agonists are any less likely to lead to weight cycling (w/o constant use) than a straight crash diet, or do anything meaningful to limit the known, significant health risks of weight cycling.

Nothing has changed:

The main things we know from a western scientific perspective about weight and weight loss are that 1) almost all people who lose significant weight gain it back and 2) weight cycling causes cardiovascular and metabolic health complications. Yall we aint even have strong evidence to suggest that weight loss is beneficial to health conditions associated with higher weights. This *should* point to Dr's never ever reccomending weight loss (we do know it can hurt, don't know it can help) but yknow we live in uhhhh fucking world.

We are possibly ripe for an aggressive intensification of anti-fat medical rhetoric, especially in pediatrics

Among the projections for an RFK FDA that ive gotten from folks i know in these fields is a renewed focus on childhood obseity and general military-style fitness. As the ozempic fad has already been ramping up, I'm kinda! concerned! about this being a major point of focus for the oncoming administration--i figure we're ripe for another mass diet craze associated with a wide variety of deaths anyway and that existing cultural+market inertia added to it being literally on the agenda spells some not great things. I really seriously reccomend paying extra attention to this area.

Clinics love ozempic because it's extremely popular and extremely profitable--i even know someone who's job was threatened for refusing to prescribe it. We already know that we cant trust doctors to be informed around weight or for the system to sound public alarms.

Obviously, people have the right to do whatever they want--but the disclosure just isn't there and people are being sold this stuff based on the idea it'll make them *healthier* and prevent disease. It can't and it won't.

If the claims here about weight in general are new to you, start here: (Don't love the title of the article, second the exasperation)

If you want to understand more about glp-1 agonists specifically, like, start with the Wikipedia article and do some googling it lays out the pharmacology in relatively plain language. Sry i ain't doing a buncha work to find citations ppl won't click; there's not a lot of good critical stuff out there that's actually published but it doesn't actually take a lot of reading up on critical weight science to form a critical take on the sources singing ozempics praises.

Peace, good luck, do whatever you want forever, maybe tell ur mom that this isn't any different from the disastrous weight loss fads of the 90s.

[artist-issues]

So if you believe every biblical word is 100% the word of your god, not to be questioned, only obeyed, regardless of how far humanity develops, how do you manage Ephesians 6:5-9?

Should human trafficking victims simply obey their captors “with a sincere heart” given that they are “servants of Christ” and the Bible urges bond servants to be “faithful and obedient?”

Hell, it promises obedient slaves will be rewarded in Heaven.

To anyone reading, seriously, check the whole verse, the context doesn’t make it better.

If your argument is that all in the Bible is above question, how do you account for that?

Nobody said "not to he questioned, only to he obeyed"—if what you MEAN by "not to be questioned," is "not to be carefully examined in order to get it right." The Bible straight-up says to carefully examine God's words. So don't be disingenuous.

Every Biblical word is 100% the Word of God, yeah. Ephesians 6:1-9 says:

"Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. Honor your father and mother (which is the first commandment with a promise), so that it may be well with you, and that you may live long in the land. Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord. Slaves, be obedient to those who are your masters according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in the integrity of your heart, as to Christ; not by way of eyeservice, as men-pleasers, but as slaves of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart, serving with good will as to the Lord, and not to men, knowing that whatever good thing each one does, this he will receive back from the Lord, whether slave or free. And masters, do the same things to them, giving up threatening, knowing that both their Master and yours is in heaven, and there is no partiality with Him."

The chapter is talking about Christian-human relationships with other humans. Starts with the most basic human institution—family. Moves on to slaves and masters. Slaves, indentured servants, bond slaves, were all common in the time of the Bible being written. It was not cultural taboo to have people living with and working for you, or even being bought and sold by you—what the Bible is saying here is actually very counter-cultural. Because it means you have to keep treating them as equal humans, not objects or beasts of burden you can beat or mistreat however you want. Which is a low bar in our minds, but was an incredibly high bar back then. It's called "interpretation." You can't just take words written in a specific context and time period, for a specific intent, with a thousands-of-years-older vocabulary and culture, and go "oh, well in my time period and my language that word means this." It's about as dumb as saying the Wizard of Oz is about queer sex purely because of how many times the word "queer" is printed in the book.

Human trafficking victims are not the kind of "slaves" this verse is talking about, and I bet you know it.

In fact, there is too much anti-human-trafficking philosophy in the Bible for even the most ardent atheist to try the same little "discredit the Bible" smear tactic you're trying right now. Anyone who knows anything about history (beyond a mere 185 years ago, that is) and can see concepts beyond the far-West-ideology of "slavery bad" can have a more intelligent discussion than this.

I'm tired of the same old tripe.

Don't you see that God is using the same term, "slaves" to refer to Christians, HIS people, who are also called His "sheep, children, beloved, inheritors, heirs?" In this same verse? So then when the God who invented humanity uses the word "slave" can't you infer that maybe He doesn't mean it with the same baby-level-100 1/2-year-old connotations that you do? If He's using it to refer to the very same people He loves, protects, sacrificed His life for, and goes to unimaginable lengths to bless--then do you really think this verse is talking about people who are categorically worth being treated as less than human?

That doesn't make sense. You can see that it doesn't make sense.

Bottom line: if God said slavery was morally acceptable, guess what? It would be morally acceptable. He invented reality, your brain, and morality. But He didn't say that, so grow up and be serious. Instead, what He said was listed above: no matter your circumstances, be it as a child, father, slave, or master, remember and conduct yourself as if you're all slaves of God, and you're living to please Him, not each other or yourselves.

God condemns "man-stealing" in Exodus 21:16. Deuteronomy 22 condemns rape. The same God wrote 100% of the Bible through several different authors across centuries by the inspiration of the very words with His Spirit. No, this passage of Ephesians does not tell sexually trafficked victims to obey their kidnappers and rapists. And you know it. Got anything else?

[icarusflewsworld]

Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 19 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

I hope you enjoyed reading and had a good time!!!

Since it's Christmas next week, the next chapter or maybe the next chapters will be posted in a week. On Friday, December 27th.

So I wish you an excellent day and a good weekend. But above all I wish you a very very very merry Christmas with lots and beautiful presents under the your Christmas tree. I hope you are happy. With all my love, ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

! Don't forget to read the other chapters ! : Here

Enjoy the read ! ❤️❤️❤️

Chapter 19 

Azriel's leg bounced nervously up and down and his fists were clenched on his thighs. Despite the fact that he was sitting on the living-room sofa, his back was straight, contracted all over. He stared at his lord in awe, "You're not seriously considering this, Rhys?" He'd thought he was hallucinating when his brother had offered to take Luxiana to the Weaver to retrieve her mother's ring. He'd thought he was hallucinating when his brother had proposed taking his little, smiling, sunny, weak and fragile mate to steal from a creature as powerful, crazy, cruel and dangerous as the Weaver. "It's far too dangerous! She's only human!"

Rhysand sighed again. He had crossed his arms. He was trying to stand up straight and look confident as his two brothers stared at him in horror. "Precisely, as she has no magic, the Weaver won't feel her. She'll just have to be as quiet as possible." He'd given it a lot of thought last night. His mother had left his engagement ring with the Weaver for several reasons: so that he wouldn't misuse it, and to make sure that the woman he wanted to marry was strong enough. His mother had explained to him that becoming the wife of a high lord was dangerous, and that the person he wished to marry would have to be at least cunning and courageous enough to steal his ring from the Weaver. Even so, he couldn't quell the huge ball of anguish clenching his stomach violently. He knew Azriel was right. It was so dangerous and he was so afraid for his mate. 

"And if she detects her, what are we going to do, eh, Rhys?" spat Azriel, rising from the sofa abruptly. He could feel that his eyes were wide open and he could well imagine them injecting with blood. He wanted to make his brother eat the floor. How could he contemplate putting their soul mate in such danger over a stupid ring? He held back from staring at his lord with a grimace of disgust. He didn't deserve Luxiana. 

Cassian was on the other sofa. He had his neck bent back and a thinking gaze on the ceiling. He was thinking. His two brothers were right. He didn't like knowing his mate was in danger, but he knew Rhysand's mother would have wanted Luxiana to be able to get through this. Especially when she was linked to the three of them. He wanted so much to respect the woman who had saved him from cold and starvation, but at the same time, he was terrified that his cute little human would end up hurt. Or worse. But he also knew she was resourceful and could survive. In any case, he wouldn't let anything happen to her, even if he had to die under the power of the weaver, he'd get his future wife to safety first. "Then we'll go get her and protect her," he asserted to Az, straightening his head to stare at the Illyrian with the blue siphons.

Azriel turned towards Cassian to widen his eyes. "Because you're okay with this???" he shouted through clenched teeth. He felt like he'd been plunged into water so cold he couldn't breathe. He was tetanized by the hatred he felt for his brothers.  

"Cass is right, there's no reason for her to get hurt, we'll prevent that from happening," Rhysand added in a calm voice he didn't even know how he managed to have, while inside he was as anxious and trembling as Azriel. 

"What if we don't make it in time??" The spy master gesticulated in all directions. "Need I to remind you who the Weaver is? She's considered a goddess because she's so powerful! Far more powerful than the three of us put together, Rhys. She's protected by laws and a high lord isn't allowed near her. Whatever happens, it will only get us into trouble. And I don't want any of that trouble to be my soul mate being injured!"

Rhysand let all his air go as he dropped onto one of the sofas. He knew he'd break every law to keep his soulmate from getting hurt, and that he'd take the consequences without flinching. But he also knew that Azriel was not wrong and that many things could go wrong. He rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. He stayed like that for a moment, hating himself with every fiber of his being. He hated himself. He'd never get over it if Luxiana was hurt because of him. The Weaver was so powerful that anything could happen to Luxiana before he could reach her and teleport her away. But at the same time, all Luxiana had to do was to go in, steal the ring and come out all silent. The Weaver was blind, she wouldn't even know she was there.

He dropped his forearms to his thighs to stare at Azriel with a worried but sad look on his face. "I believe in fate and I'm convinced that my mother knew what she was doing. I'm convinced that she subconsciously knew that the three of us would share the same soul mate and that's why she adopted you. I'm convinced she suspected that our soul mate would be able to get that ring back. She wouldn't have left it there otherwise."

"Rhys, do you hear yourself?" shouted Azriel, flabbergasted. "Your mother wasn't a prophet! You want to risk our soulmate’s life for a stupid ring!"

Rhysand gritted his teeth and lowered his eyes.

Cassian leapt to his feet, anger pulsing through his veins all at once. "Be careful how you talk. She saved us. We owe her respect. And anyway, I told you, I wouldn't let our mate die."

Azriel glared at him. How dare he think he didn't respect Rhys's mother when he considered her his own. But he could believe whatever he wanted. The important thing now was his Luxiana. "What if she's hurt? Can you imagine her in pain? Can you bear the thought of her suffering, even for a second? I can't. I can't! It would destroy me to know she's in pain, even if it's just a scratch! And you too, for God's sake. Even ignoring the fact that she's our soul mate, we're Illyrians, it's in our fucking genes. It would kill us to see her hurt!" He grunted, trying to calm himself but failing. He turned to his lord to speak more calmly. "Rhys, you know I loved your mother, but there's no way she could have known our soul mate was human and fragile. She certainly wouldn't have left that ring there otherwise."

A heavy silence settled over them, pressing down on their chests. Azriel couldn't breathe, but he didn't even realize it, too absorbed in killing his two brothers with his eyes. Cassian looked doubtfully between Rhysand and Azriel. They were both right, and he was lost. He didn't know what to do or think. Rhysand was staring into space. He felt so bad. So guilty for having suggested this. He'd never get over it if Luxiana was hurt because of him. 

"Maybe we're getting in over our heads," Cassian finally says, forcing his two brothers to turn questioning irises on him. "Let's just tell her the idea and the risks and leave it at that. It's her choice, after all."

Azriel rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Haven't you figured out who she is yet? I mean, she's bound to want to. She doesn't seem to give a damn about putting her life in danger. It's up to us to stop her, but you don't seem to have figured that out yet."

Rhysand cleared his throat so as not to look as bad as he felt. "Maybe, but anyway, if we don't keep her busy, she's going to want us to go and get the book of breathing so she can get back to Feyre as soon as possible. At least this way, we keep her with us a little longer."

Azriel closed his eyes fiercely, his nostrils swelling. He couldn't believe his ears. None of them deserved Luxiana. And worst of all, he didn't stand a chance against them. They were two against him. 

"Let's go wake her up and talk to her about it," Cassian breathed as he rose to his feet. "We'll see what happens and what she says."

Rhysand nodded, stood up and set off. Azriel reluctantly followed his two brothers. They walked in a heavy silence. Azriel gritted his teeth so hard his skull ached. His gait was stiff. Rhysand walked swiftly with an air of determination, but it was mainly to get there as quickly as possible before ducking out. He felt like throwing up. Cassian could feel a mixture of similar emotions running through his veins. He felt everything his brothers felt. He was lost. He moved forward with folded arms.

They arrived in front of Luxiana's room. Rhysand's almost trembling hand rose to knock on the door, and they waited there, restraining themselves from running away. The door opened slowly, revealing their soul mate. And when they discovered her - in a white silk nightie reaching halfway up her thighs, with what seemed to be the remains of a bun around her tangled hair that went in all directions, with a face marked by the folds of the sheets as she looked at them with half-closed eyes - nothing else mattered. Nothing else mattered to the three Illyrians but her. 

"Hum?" she groaned, squinting a little more. She glanced at the morning sunlight seeping through her bay window before shifting her pupils to the three Illyrians. What time was it? What were they doing there? God, they were so sexy. She wasn't used to this kind of vision as soon as she woke up, but she liked the idea. She rubbed both eyelids with her fists. She rested her irises on the three Illyrians in front of her, whom she suddenly found abnormally white. "Is everything all right? What's going on?" She cleared her throat, but her voice was still raspy.

Cassian couldn't help but laugh tenderly, almost mockingly, as he detailed her. Her pupils sparkled so brightly he could feel them. He stared down at her hungrily. She was so sexy like that. The desire awakening inside him heated him up completely. God, he wanted to kiss every inch of her legs.

Fireworks exploded in Azriel's chest, spreading through his whole body to tickle him. His arm muscles burned, he wanted to hug her. His fingers stung, he wanted to touch her. He moistened his dry lips, he wanted to kiss her. How could anyone be so cute? His soul mate was the sweetest woman who'd ever walked this earth. There was no way he was going to let Rhysand put her in danger.

Rhysand's heart missed a long beat. A very long one. So long that he felt like falling, forcing him to take a step back to catch himself. He wanted to see this every morning. He just wanted to spend his life with this woman. His whole life. But she was only human. It would be so short. He had to preserve her to keep her alive as long as possible. Anyway, he couldn't even imagine hurting her. "Nothing," he finally breathed, smiling.

Cassian and Azriel turned a shocked, questioning gaze towards him. Rhysand took another step backwards, paying no attention to his brothers. "Nothing at all," he added in the same way. He took a deep breath, relieved. It was safer this way. "Sorry to have bothered you." Unable to restrain himself, he raised his hand to gently caress the angle of his soulmate's jaw with his fingertips. It had only lasted a second before his arm fell back, but he'd been electrocuted through and through. He took another step backwards.

"But Rhys...," Cassian began in their heads with total incomprehension and glancing at Azriel who was in the same state.

"Az was right, I'm an asshole," he replied telepathically. "How could I even think for a second about putting our soul mate in danger. Look at her. It's out of the question. I don't want to risk it," he turned to start walking away from the room. He cursed himself. How could he have considered taking such a risk?

Azriel took a deep breath as he closed his eyes. His brother had come to his senses. He wasn't so bad after all. He returned his gaze to Luxiana, who detailed them with a curious, tilted head. He smiled tenderly. She was so adorable. "Go back to bed." He reached for the handle to close the door, but Luxiana shook her head at the sight of him. 

She slipped through the room's narrowing opening to chase Rhys, grabbing him by the sleeve of his black jacket. The lord stopped abruptly to turn back to her with wide-open eyelids. "Why are you here?" the blonde insisted.

Rhysand took a breath to speak, but Luxiana interrupted him by crossing her arms with a stern look. "And don't tell me it's nothing. There's got to be a reason." She suspected he hadn't just come to wake her up, he would have told her otherwise. No, something had happened and she was determined to find out what.

Cassian leaned against the wall beside him, quietly watching the scene unfold before him. He smiled, knowing that Luxiana was about to martyr his two brothers.

Rhysand looked at her tenderly, he couldn't help it. She was so stubborn and reckless. He couldn't lie to her and anyway, he had no other explanation coming to him. "We...," he searched for his words as he lowered his eyes, feeling ashamed. "I wanted to take you somewhere but it's too dangerous after all. I've changed my mind." 

Luxiana frowned so hard that it distorted her whole face. She squinted. "Go where?" Then she smirked, "if it's dangerous, I'm in!"

Azriel looked up at the ceiling before casting a reproving look at his soulmate. "Of course," he growled. "That's why we're not going. You're too reckless."

"It doesn't matter anymore, anyway," Rhysand added, shaking his hand toward his brother. "We're not going, that's decided." 

Luxiana made a disappointed, whimsical pout. "If you don't want to go because I'd be in danger, don't you think that's for me to decide?" 

"That's exactly what I said," Cassian smiled proudly.

"Owwwn," moaned the blonde, turning to Cassian with a tender look on her face. "I knew it, you're the cutest of the three."

Cassian smiled with all his teeth as he puffed out his chest, but Azriel and Rhysand glowered at him. 

Luxiana turned back to Rhysand with determination and a little anger. At least, that's what she was trying to let on, because she wasn't really angry. She thought all three of them were cute. "Besides, I don't see why you're worried about me. It can't be that dangerous."

"It is," Azriel articulated, crossing his arms.

"That's for me to decide," she glanced sideways at the master spy before refocusing on the lord. "Where did you want to take me?" 

Rhysand, unsure of what to do, glanced at Cassian, who nodded in encouragement, then set his pupils on Azriel, who shook his head from left to right to dissuade him. The lord huffed. “We wanted to take you to see a creature called the Weaver. She's a fae who.... "

"Oh Stryga!?" she exclaimed, interrupting him with a big smile. "Yes, I know," she nodded, waving her hand in the air to urge Rhysand to abbreviate his explanation and resume.

The three Illyrians frowned, casting confused glances at each other. "What do you mean you know?" asked Azriel, staring at her from the side. Cassian straightened up to walk over to Rhysand and get a good look at his soulmate's face.

Luxiana looked up, opening her mouth several times in search of her words. She held back a grimace. She had spoken too fast again, without even thinking about what she was saying. She needed to collect herself now. "I read a lot of books," she shrugged, throwing the shadowsinger a smile, it wasn't a lie after all. "Stryga is the super-powered fae from another dimension exiled to the forest hundreds of years ago, blah, blah, blah, I know my stuff. So what did you want me to do? You wanted me to kill her?"

The three Illyrians raised their eyebrows in surprise, blinking several times at this unexpected statement. But although they found it strange, they didn't suspect it was a lie. In any case, there was no way she could have known the Weaver otherwise. 

Cassian blew out a laugh at the last words of his soul mate, who had the most serious face possible. "No, no, I doubt it's even possible to kill her, and even less by you."

"Oh well, I'm pretty sure I can," she asserted in all seriousness, nodding several times.

Azriel caught the bridge of his nose and sighed. Damn it, if she really knew who the Weaver was, how could she think she could kill her? She was so naive.

Rhysand looked at her tenderly. He smiled, shaking his head. "No, we wanted you to go steal something from her."

Luxiana darkened her brows, "Steal what? Why me?" Then she widened her eyes after a moment's thought. "This is some kind of test before summer court to make sure I'll be able to steal the book, right???"

Rhysand let out a little laugh with Cassian. He nodded, trying to hide the mocking glint in his pupils. "That's right, but...," resumed the lord before being interrupted by Luxiana.

"Hihi," she said, shaking both her clenched fists in front of her. She turned in one swift motion, gliding gracefully across the floor as she started to make a dash for her room. "I'm going to get ready."

Azriel had the reflex to catch her by the forearm before she entered her room. His soul mate turned to him to find out what he wanted. "We said no, we're not going. It's much too dangerous for you."

Luxiana turned to glare at the master spy. She crossed her arms. "But if I'm the one who'll be in danger, then that's my decision."

"No, precisely, it's not your decision, since you're not capable of making a reasonable one," Azriel spat dryly. Then he closed his eyes for a second, cursing himself for his tone and words, but Luxiana wasn't even a little intimidated or hurt. 

She shrugged with a doubtful grimace. "She's old and blind, certainly no threat to me." 

Azriel thought she was so cute, he could have smiled if he hadn't been so worried.

Luxiana anchored pupils glowing with supplication in those of the three Illyrians in turn. "Listen, I just want to prove to you that I can do it. Because I can. Trust me."

Rhysand's heart slammed against his ribs. He couldn't resist his mate’s adorable face. And he didn't want to hurt her when he trusted her. He took a deep breath. "Are you sure about this?" he asked her, because he wasn't sure at all.

"Yes," she assured serenely. "It's my decision, not yours."

"No," Azriel screamed in horror, turning to his brother. "The Weaver could disintegrate her just thinking about it." 

Cassian huffed, rolling his eyes. He was worried too, but his brother was abusing them. They were going to protect her and their mate was smart. She wasn't a child. "Stryga won't do it, she has a habit of slowly killing people who infiltrate her home." 

"Is that supposed to reassure me?" gasped Azriel with wide eyes. He was almost trembling with fear. He felt like he was going mad. Was he the only reasonable one here?

"She won't be hurt. We'll intervene first," Cassian assured, taking a threatening step towards Azriel, who was beginning to irritate him.

Rhysand breathed imperceptibly before stepping between his two brothers and breaking the distance between himself and his soul mate. He placed his hands on Luxiana's cheeks to cling to her face. He slowly drew his head closer to hers, while she merely looked at him with affectionate eyes and a reassuring smile. He swallowed hard. How could anyone look at someone who approached them like that? She was so sweet. 

Luxiana's heart pounded violently in her chest. The high lord approaching her was having quite an effect on her, and when he'd placed his hands on her cheeks, her whole body had begun to tickle. She did everything she could to keep smiling and not look as upset as she was.

Rhysand stopped only inches from his soulmate's lips, zoning in on them for a moment before plunging an intense gaze into the blonde's. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He lowered his eyes for a second. "To tell you the truth, it's an important object for me that you'll have to get back, but if you don't want it, we won't go. You're much more important. If you're feeling even the slightest bit of stress, or any other disturbing emotion, we'll stay here. You don't have to prove anything to us anyway."

"Rhys, I'm not afraid," she assured comfortingly. 

But Rhysand's heart had trembled. She'd called him by his nickname. Could he really risk putting her in such danger? What if something unexpected happened? What if something went wrong? It wasn't worth the risk.

Luxiana, almost able to read Rhysand's hesitation in his eyes, let out a small cry of frustration. "There's no point thinking about it any more. Now that I know all this, I'll go to the Weaver with or without you, even if it's years away. So either you stay here, or you come with me."

Rhysand laughed softly as he glanced at Cassian, who nodded to confirm that he suspected Luxiana would. Rhysand lowered his eyes to detail the blonde in his hands for another second. He was worried, but he suspected she'd try. She might even hurt herself trying. Or worse, she might succeed and they wouldn't even be there to defend her. He took a deep breath, then nodded in silent thanks. "She won't be able to see or smell you," he explained, suddenly regaining his seriousness.

"Fuck, Rhys," Azriel tried to interrupt, realizing that his brother was giving in. He put his hand on his lord's shoulder to get his attention, but Rhysand took no notice.

"If you're as quiet as possible, you can go in, steal the object and come out without her even knowing. She won't be able to hurt you."

"Rhys, I said no," Azriel shouted authoritatively, pushing Rhysand, who had to release Luxiana.

Cassian growled as he lashed out at his brother with his pupils. "It's her decision, Az, respect it. And if it's not then go, we'll go without you."

Azriel gave him a look so black that his irises were that color too. The three of them were against him. There was nothing he could do, and it was driving him mad. But there was no way they could go without him. He had to be able to protect his soul mate. He gritted his teeth but said nothing.

Cassian, having realized that his brother was giving up in spite of himself, turned to Luxiana with a confident, serious expression. "We'll be there in case of trouble. She won't hurt you, I'll make sure of that."

"If there's the slightest problem, we'll intervene," continued Rhysand with a reassuring face, but a ball of anguish emerged in his stomach. 

Luxiana simply nodded with a broad smile. Then she happily ran to her room to get ready. 

A few minutes later, while Azriel was still trying to convince his brothers not to go, and while they weren't even listening to him, Luxiana resurfaced. The three males turned to her and gasped. She was wearing black leather pants, equally dark thigh-high boots, a white shirt under a corset of the same color, and she'd pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "It's great," she raved happily. "All I have to do is ask at the house and she gives me the outfit I want, I love it!"

Cassian rolled his eyes to close them. He raised his head as he turned away from the blonde and ran his hands vigorously over his face. She looked so sexy in that outfit. He wanted to make love to her in this outfit, damn it. He was dying to jump on her, and he didn't know what kind of self-control would stop him, but he was admiring himself.

Rhysand smiled pretentiously as he detailed her with eager pupils. She immediately looked a lot less cute like this. He loved it, but he couldn't help smiling at the irony of the situation. She was so sexy when she was just cute. 

Azriel paced all around them. He was so anxious that he only noticed his sister's outfit for a second before he started walking nervously again. Damn, he'd have to make her a suit of armor. She wouldn't be protected enough with this leather.

Then Rhysand finally held out his hand. "Ready?"

She caught him with a confident smile and a strange gleam of coldness in her pupils. "Ready." 

Without further ado, the lord teleported them a few steps away from the Weaver's house. 

Luxiana spun around, letting go of Rhys, to take in the tall trees and dense vegetation that now surrounded her. She glanced coldly at Stryga's house. The corner of her mouth lifted in a kind of spasm that the Illyrians couldn't see. Then she turned her determined gaze back to the three males in front of her, who were staring at the building with apprehension and even fear for Azriel. "What shall I steal?" 

Rhysand turned his violet irises on her and was surprised for a second. She looked serious, her eyebrows slightly furrowed and her eyes cold with determination. The lord lifted his chin, smiling in a corner to give himself a haughty, confident air he didn't have at all. He didn't want to worry her, it was stress that made you make mistakes. "You will know when you see it," he replied simply.

Luxiana frowned, pulling her head back in surprise. "Probably not, no."

Azriel gritted his teeth and took a sharp breath. He glanced sideways at his brother. "Rhys, at least tell her what the object is that she has to steal, so that she spends as little time as possible in this damned shack." 

Rhysand didn't even turn to him to answer and remained with his eyes planted in the blonde's. "I'm sure she'll find what she has to steal. You'll feel it."

Luxiana scrutinized him for a second with squinted eyes. Then, as she detailed him, she realized that he seemed really sure that she was going to guess what to steal. And she believed him. Anyway, it wasn't as if she was risking anything. So she nodded once and only once. "All right, I'll trust you."

Cassian took a step closer to his soul mate. He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger to turn the blonde's head towards him and plant an authoritative gaze in hers. He was trying to calm the stress and anguish rising inside him and wanting to make him tremble. "You enter, opening the door as quietly as possible. Walk carefully, taking slow steps. Be careful not to breathe too heavily either, and above all, watch where you step. You absolutely mustn't make any noise! Don't rush," he advised with concern.

"Okay," Luxiana breathed, laughing softly with an expectant face. "You're too cute, but I swear everything's going to be fine. It'll be over in a jiffy." Then she turned to walk in the direction of the house. "I'll be right back." 

But fear suddenly exploded in Rhysand, who moved on his own to hold her by the arm. She turned to him. "Are you sure? We can still go away?" he said hastily, dying of worry.

Luxiana huffed and rolled her eyes, a little wearily. If only they knew. But they couldn't suspect anything. So she smiled to comfort him. "It's my decision. I am."

Rhysand let go of her, but before she could get going again, Azriel caught her by the arm and pulled her sharply towards him. "What ag...?" Luxiana couldn't finish her sentence as Azriel turned her around to tighten the strings of her corset and wedge them inside so they wouldn't disturb her or get caught somewhere. 

Azriel was scared to death. A mixture of adrenalin and terror coursed through his body, making his muscles feel like they were being torn apart. "You watch yourself and your surroundings," he warned with a cold voice. He turned her around again to face her, crouching for a second to pull a little more at the top of the blonde's boots and make sure they were secure and held in place. 

Luxiana watched him with wide-open eyes, completely paralyzed. Her heart was dancing in her chest. No one had ever been so kind to her. 

Azriel stood up, "If you're scared or feel something's wrong, you turn back immediately." He grabbed the wide sleeves of his soul mate’s white shirt to fold them a little dryly up to her elbows. "If something happens that we haven't felt or heard, you run. If she attacks you and we're not there, you call us, screaming at the top of your voice to warn us." Then he grabbed the back of the blonde's hand to raise it and present his palm to the sky. He grabbed Truth teller to pull it from its scabbard, twisting it between his fingers to grasp the blade and be able to slide the dagger's handle over his mate’s palm. "If she comes after you and we're not there, you shove this dagger down her throat. It won't kill her, but it'll give you some time, okay?" 

Luxiana shifted her pupils between Azriel and the weapon he had just given her, her mouth half-open in astonishment. Then her cheeks flushed in realization. She blinked in search of her words, but found none. She simply nodded, closing her fingers around the handle.

Azriel grabbed her by the shoulders to shake her once and back to accentuate his words. "You really must be as quiet as possible." Luxiana wanted to speak but Azriel cut her off. "Promise me! Promise me you won't do anything inconsiderate or stupid?"

Luxiana finally pulled herself together and managed an affectionate smile. "I promise."

Azriel slowly released her against his will. He had to fight every muscle in his body not to grab her and drag her away.

The blonde stared at the three of them hesitantly and a little wearily, to make sure none of them were going to interrupt her again. But they didn't seem to have anything left to say, and only looked at her with concern. She nodded, tucked the dagger away in her boot and turned, so that at last she could leap happily towards the Weaver's house.

Azriel could feel himself trembling as his soul mate walked to her death. "I swear, if anything happens to her, even a scratch, I'll kill you," he threatened in a nasty voice.

Rhysand's heart missed beat after beat. "If anything happens to her, we'll let you.”

"Damn the ass she's got," Cassian admired with a big grin and twinkling eyes while avidly detailing his soul mate as she walked. He hadn't heard a word his two brothers had just tell. That said, he snapped out of his trance and lost his smile as he felt Azriel's murderous and Rhysand's jaded gaze. "What? We've never seen her in pants before, I profit."

They gave back their attention to Luxiana. From where they stood, between the thick forest trees and a little diagonally from the house, they could see the front door from the side. Their mate stopped in front of it. 

"Come on, open it, all. slow.ly," Azriel mumbled, articulating each syllable to encourage the blonde, as if she could hear him. 

But... Luxiana raised her foot, gaining momentum with her leg to crush her heel on the wood and smash the door, which opened with a wrenching sound, slamming even louder against the wall that held it. 

The three Illyrians gasped, their eyes widening as the sound continued to spread through the trees. "Fuck!" shouted Cassian. Their hearts missed a beat. They started to run towards her, but halfway there, the blonde turned back to them, grinning with all her teeth. "There's no one there," she assured them with a shrug. 

The three Illyrians froze in their tracks a few steps from the house. They couldn't see inside, but if the Weaver had been there, she would already have pounced on their soulmate. They couldn't believe it. The three males glanced at each other in confusion. 

"She's not here?" exclaimed Cassian in an almost high-pitched voice, bewilderment distorting his features entirely. 

Rhysand shook his head, frowning, but his irises were still fixed on the blonde, and his muscles tense, ready to react if Stryga threw himself at Luxiana by surprise. "It's not possible, she can't leave her house." He couldn't believe it.

Azriel's breathing was rapid and noisy. He couldn't breathe. "No, something's wrong. We're leaving!" He took a step forward.

Luxiana prevented him from advancing any further by raising her palm towards him, and against all odds, he stopped. "No, it's all right. And Rhysand can’t come closer. I'll be right back." She infiltrated the house. 

Azriel hiccupped almost silently as he saw her enter. He was about to chase after her, but Cassian held him back by the arm. "Wait, let's give her some time. If the Weaver isn't there, she's safe." 

"He's right," Rhysand added uncertainly. He shoved his trembling hands into his pockets without taking his eyes off the house. "If she were here, she wouldn't have allowed Luxiana into her house. I don't know how it's possible, but she's certainly not present." 

But the weaver was there. She was there. She was standing in her living room, a few steps away from her door. Facing Luxiana. She was far too far from the light of the entrance to be visible to the Illyrians. 

She was there. The goddess of death was there, facing Luxiana, but she wasn't moving. In fact, from the outside, you'd have thought she was completely paralyzed, but... her muscles were trembling, her precarious, almost non-existent breathing was shaking her chest spasmodically, and her eyes were widening a little more every second with fright. 

Luxiana moved slowly towards her, entering the chalet a little further, making her disappear from the Illyrians' view. But even if they saw her from behind, the three males wouldn't suspect a thing. They couldn't imagine that, from the front, Luxiana's face was cold, haughty, and cruel. They wouldn't even be able to imagine that their soul mate was heading straight to one of the most powerful faes, totally terrorizing her. 

The weaver was blind, but when she heard her door being kicked in, she got up from her chair and ran to tear the thief's bones out. Only, she was paralyzed in her step. She had completely frozen in fear. She'd smelled her. She'd smelled that scent she knew so well. The scent she couldn't forget. The scent of cruelty, suffering and death wrapped in a touch of vanilla. 

The fae said nothing. She didn't move. She knew it would only make it worse. She was terrified. Why was she there this time? Was she going to kill her?  Or was she going to do one of those much worse things she knew so well how to do?

Luxaina walked quietly through the house, circling Stryga with a wry smile as she detailed her up and down like an animal around its prey. Then, remembering that the three Illyrians were waiting for her outside and that she had no time to play, she refocused on observing all the objects around her. She even began to touch and move them with her fingertips, hoping to irritate Stryga a little. 

She glanced at her sideways, but her smirk faded. The weaver didn't move. Luxiana was disappointed and made a pout that matched her feelings. She would have liked at least a little challenge, a little action. But apparently, Stryga had learned from her mistakes from last time. Anyway, with the three Illyrians just a few steps away, there wasn't much she could do.

She regained her seriousness and hurried to analyze all the objects. She had to get out of here as quickly as possible before they showed up and wondered why the god of death was terrorized in the middle of her living room. She couldn't see herself explaining. 

After a quick but meticulous search, she grabbed the object that attracted her most, then headed for the exit to join the Illyrians, but as she passed by the Weaver, she stopped. 

The blonde suddenly stood in front of her and smiled mockingly at Stryga who -sensing the presence of cruelty incarnate before her - flinched. Luxiana moved a little closer to the livid face and lifeless eyes of the Weaver - who was forcing herself not to back down but was still trembling a little more - to stare at her with a hungry smile, tilting her head left and right. 

Luxiana held back a laugh. In the end, she preferred it when Stryga greeted her like this. With fear. She deviated her face to reach the Weaver's ear and be able to whisper to her as quietly as possible so that the three Illyrians outside wouldn't hear. "Good girl."

She ignored the brunette's umpteenth startle to turn cheerfully and hop out of the house. She closed the rickety door behind her, smiling a little wider as she heard her host's body fall to its knees in relief at her departure. 

Then, she made her way towards the three Illyrians, who took a step forward when they saw her exit. Cassian leaned forward to put his hands on his knees and try not to fall. Azriel trembled, but took a deep breath. Rhysand's heart stilled and his breathing calmed.

"I don't know why, but no one was there," she assured them again, shrugging her shoulders as she came up in front of them. She threw a look at Azriel. She wasn’t lying, after all, no one else was there. 

"I don't want to know," said Cassian, moving his eyes frantically in all directions, expecting to see the Weaver emerge from the vegetation to attack them. 

Azriel whirled around his mate, looking her up and down to make sure she wasn't hurt. "It's fishy, let's get out of here," he ordered Rhysand.

The lord's eyebrows were furrowed and he looked at Luxiana and the house with confusion. It wasn't normal, but the main thing was that Luxiana wasn't hurt. They had to leave before the Weaver became aware of their presence. Without further ado, he teleported them all into the living room of the Town house. 

"Told you it'd be easy," Luxiana smiled happily, putting her fists on her hips. Then she hiccupped as she remembered she still had Azriel's dagger. She leaned forward to grab it and hold it out to him. "Thank you so much, I didn't need it."

Rhysand was completely paralyzed by shock and although he was staring at Luxiana, he couldn't even really see her, too busy thinking about what had just happened. 

Cassian ran his hands through his hair, sighing for a very long few seconds. "What the hell was that?" he articulated disbelievingly.

Azriel reacted at last, savagely grabbing his dagger from his soulmate's hands. "Damn it, she didn't do anything we told her to do," he shouted, killing the blonde with his eyes. His face was red under the anger provoked by the memory of the fear he'd felt. "You're completely insane!"

Luxiana winced with agreement as she nodded vigorously. "Because you doubted it until now?"

Azriel shrieked as he swung his dagger into the sofa. He turned to clamp his hands violently over his face as his shoulders rose and fell rapidly with his breathing. He couldn't believe it. How could his soul mate be so reckless and unconscious? She was the most fragile person he'd ever met, yet the one who took the most risks. He was scared to death. He wanted to cry. How was he going to protect her?

"He's right about that one," Cassian exclaimed sternly, crossing his arms to glare at Luxiana. They couldn't hide her temples throbbing with anger. "What possessed you to break down the door?"

"If the weaver had been there...," Rhysand rumbled in his cold high lord voice, unable to stop his shiver of anguish at the prospect of what would have happened. "She would have killed you on the spot. It was unconscious, irreflexive and incredibly stupid."

Azriel turned abruptly toward his soulmate, but when he noticed Luxiana's smirk, her laughing air and her innocently tilted head, his anger redoubled as it exploded in his chest.  "This isn't a game, Luxiana! We're talking about your life! We told you to be fucking quiet!"

Luxiana rolled her eyes, sighing exaggeratedly. "At least twenty times, yes." 

The three males could hardly breathe because of the anger oppressing them. Rhysand was doing all he could to keep his cool and his mind of steel, but he sensed that Luxiana was going to wear him down. Cassian had to fight with himself not to go and shake his soul mate to set her straight. Azriel broke the distance between him and the blonde, almost sticking to her with a menacing air. "Don't roll your eyes when we're talking about your life and safety! It's important, dammit!" he spat dryly, his voice vibrating with hatred. But Luxiana didn't flinch, just looked down at him with a curious smile and expression. Azriel breathed to speak more calmly. There was no point in shouting at her anyway, but he felt so bad. "You promised me to be careful, aren't promises worth anything to you?" 

Luxiana chuckled a cute laugh as she flashed her dimples, "well, technically, I promised not to do anything inconsiderate or stupid, but believe it or not, my door-busting was quite considerate and thoughtful." She crossed her hands behind her back and smiled innocently.

The three Illyrians were speechless. Fear and anguish made them want to vomit, shake and fall. Their soul mate was completely mad and suicidal.

Azriel took a step backwards, shaking his head, unsure of what to do. Then he turned back to his two brothers, pointing at her. "I'm going to lock her in a windowless room and tie her to her bed so she doesn't escape and put herself in danger."

Rhysand forced himself to take deep breaths as he closed his eyes to regain his composure." The important thing is that nothing serious happened and she's fine." He nodded. That was what mattered.

Cassian ran his hands through his hair and over his face, cursing. He glanced back at his mate.  "At least tell me it wasn’t all for nothing and that you found the object we wanted."

"Yes, I found it!" she exclaimed happily, jumping up and down as if poised on springs.

The eyes of the three Illyrians, especially Rhysand, began to sparkle.

Then Luxiana put her hand between her breasts, where she had hidden the object, under her corset. She pulled it out to show them with a big smile. "Tada!" 

But the three Illyrians lost their expressions and Rhysand's gaze went fade. She had stolen a necklace. A steel chain with a wire holding some kind of small, sparkling violet stone dangling from it. It wasn't her mother's ring. Rhysand touched the stone with his fingertips, not quite believing it. 

Cassian closed his eyes and huffed, completely disgusted.

Azriel gritted his teeth as he turned his head. "All of that for this, I don't believe it."

Luxiana frowned, playing innocent. "What?" She slowly lowered the necklace with a startled look, "this isn't the object you wanted, is it?"

Rhysand looked at her for a moment before giving her a gentle smile to reassure her. She looked so worried and sorry. "Don't worry, it's nothing." 

Luxiana opened her mouth as she furrowed her brows, adopting a guilty face. "I'm sorry, I had no idea what to look for."

"Of course not, it's not your fault," Cassian tried gently to reassure her.

"It's mine," Rhysand resumed, lowering his eyes. "I should have told you what we were talking about, but... I'd thought..." He had thought that, since she was his soul mate, she would have known it was the ring she was supposed to steal. Anyway, it wasn't as if he needed any more proof that this woman was really meant for him, but he would have liked it. His mother would have wanted her to. "Anyway, it was stupid. Let's forget it."

Luxiana studied them for a moment with half-closed eyelids. They had given her no clues, no answers. 

Rhysand, disappointed, was about to turn and leave, but Luxiana retrieved the very first object she'd stolen from her corset and held it out under the noses of the three Illyrians. "I suppose this isn't it either, then?"

All three looked up at her before widening their eyes. 

Cassian let out an exclamation of surprise. "So you found it?" 

Luxiana was still staring at them with squinted eyes, searching for information in their expressions. "Looks like it."

Rhysand began to bubble with joy and hope and a host of other emotions that could be seen sparkling in his irises.

Azriel looked at her in amazement before smirking. "So you were playing us with that necklace?"

Luxiana returned his smile. "Looks like it," she repeated, shrugging her shoulders with an air that was half provocative and half innocent.

Azriel's smile widened and his eyes sparkled. Oh, she was his soul mate, for sure. 

Rhysand raised his hands to grab the ring, but Luxiana moved her arm away, placing it behind her, as far away from the lord as possible. 

Rhysand threw her a quizzical expression as he dropped his arms.

Luxiana shook her head sharply. "I'm not giving you this object until you explain how I knew this was what I had to steal." No matter how much Luxiana racked her brain, she couldn't understand why she'd been drawn to that ring and why as soon as she'd seen it she'd known it was the one to retrieve.

"We could take it from you by force," Cassian smirked with a twinkle of amusement in his pupils.

"No you couldn't," Luxiana replied haughtily, wrinkling her nose. "So?" she insisted for answers. 

Rhysand smiled confidently without difficulty. He was just so certain now. She had passed her mother's test. It didn't matter if the Weaver hadn't been there, maybe it had even been fate, that Stryga hadn't been there to stop Luxiana getting the ring back. She was his soul mate. She was his wife. "You just knew, that's all." 

Luxiana glowered at him. "That doesn't answer my question."

"It'll answer it one day, believe me," laughs Cassian with irises shining with mischief.

Luxiana squinted her eyes to stare at them one by one, trying to understand what they were referring to, then huffed in defeat. Well, for now. Because she was determined to get the answer to her question. "May I at least know why this object is so important to you?"

Rhysand's smile turned wistful and his gaze sad. "That was my mother's engagement ring."

"What?!" gasped Luxiana, dropping her arm limply against her and frowning. "But what was she doing at the Weaver's??" 

Rhysand burst out laughing tenderly. "My mother dropped it off by herself to... keep me out of mischief." He searched for words, he had to be vague. "She was afraid I'd rush off and marry someone who... who wouldn't live up to her expectations."

Luxiana first widened her eyes in realization before hiccupping in surprise and then alarm. "And you used me to get it back?!" She clapped Rhysand on the shoulder, making all three of them laugh.

"Yes," he admitted deadpan. "I was convinced you were the right person for the job, and I was right." He leaned forward to catch the ring in Luxiana's hand, but she took a few steps away with an offended expression. 

"Then no, certainly not," she refused, shaking her head curtly from left to right and glowering at Rhysand. "There's no way I'm going to be one of the reasons you marry a woman your mother didn't think was up to the job. I'm not going to let you disappoint your mother, I'm telling you. This ring, I'll keep it and you'll have to introduce me to anyone you want to marry, and I'll..." she searched for words, thinking. 

The Illyrians glanced at each other with laughter. Cassian held back as best he could to keep from laughing even harder at the irony of the situation. Azriel shook his head, looking tenderly at his soul mate. Rhysand raised a provocative eyebrow to encourage Luxiana to continue.

"You know what? I'd put them through tests!" she exclaimed suddenly as she got the idea. "They'd have to be up to it to marry you, believe me, I'd be a lot worse than your mother or the Weaver." She crossed her arms to glare at Rhysand. "Ah, that'll teach you not to use me again to cheat your mother's goals. I wouldn't let you do that, no."

Cassian burst out laughing, unable to hold it in any longer. He laughed so hard that he leaned forward. 

Azriel detailed her in the same way before turning to Rhysand. "Oh I'm sure your mother would have loved her." 

Rhysand nodded without taking his eyes off his soulmate. He leaned forward with a smirk but a seductive gleam in his pupils. "You can keep it, Luxiana, this ring is for you anyway." 

Luxiana's heart leapt into her throat. She swallowed hard, forcing herself not to back down. She bit her tongue to keep her cheeks from heating up, but it didn't work. Her whole face was probably completely red. "You bastard," she muttered through her teeth, making all three of them burst out laughing.

[synamartia]

First of all: Vexi, you're a bigger person than me. I wouldn't have blurred the username/pfp on that last one.

Second, how the fuck is someone gonna spew all this hate, then turn right around and make a request in the same breath? Like seriously??? Make it make sense. Please.

As fanfic writers with lives outside of tumblr and limited perspective on multiple topics for whatever reason, we do our best to make sure what we write is inclusive or at least left vague enough for Reader to fill in the blanks. We do this in our free time, for free, and it is incredibly disheartening to receive or see someone else receive things like this, especially when you know it to not be true.

I understand it's upsetting when you can't find quality fics or something you've been enjoying hits you with a detail that makes it no longer entertaining. But if you don't like the direction a story is going, or a detail like skin color of ANY character in said story, just stop reading it. It's that fucking easy. Or maybe, oh, I don't know - try writing it yourself instead of harassing someone because they're not catering to your criteria for reading material? Maybe then you would understand exactly how much time and effort is put into a fic, and the hours upon days of research to make sure what we write is accurate.

Vexi is not a POC and has outright stated that she doesn't know much about the experiences of the African American community, now or in the 1930s. As a writer that strives to give everyone quality fics that are both compelling and accurate, it is well within her rights to make Reader white because one: it's what she understands; and two: it's her story, not yours. Stop harassing writers just because they don't write something specific like the POV of someone in the Black community - it's incredibly immature and uncouth, and it makes us not want to write at all. I reiterate: if you don't like it, don't read it.

I'm so sorry that you're getting these messages, Vexi, and I hope that it doesn't deter you from writing to any degree. Don't let this anon get to you, dear. You're an amazing person with a heart of gold. Every word you type is magnificent, and I look forward to reading more from you! 💖

And to the anon doing this: I know you're making your rounds of Hazbin Hotel writers, seeing as Vexi is not the first one I've seen being harassed in such a manner. Just know that I'm turning anon off for my blog, and if you or anyone else decides to hop in my inbox, I will put you on blast so that everyone knows the kind of piece of shit you are for harassing others and spewing the same kind of hate we're ALL trying to eliminate. 🖕

PSA: RACISM, BIGOTRY, ENTITLEMENT IN HAZBIN HOTEL FANDOM

CONTENT WARNING: Inflammatory hate speech, White hate, political baiting, gaslighting, racism, death threats

The messages I’ve received and am addressing below contain upsetting and harmful language that has no place in any community. If these topics are distressing to you, please prioritize your well-being and feel free to stop reading here. Thank you for taking care of yourself.

I never imagined I would find myself addressing this, but here we are. This post is regarding my recent story, Stay With Me, which has stirred up unexpected controversy due to my decision to imply the reader’s race as white. I want to clarify that this choice was made purely for plot purposes.

The story is set in 1920s Louisiana, a time and place where racial and class dynamics were deeply significant. This backdrop was essential to the narrative’s themes of tension and forbidden love, as it explores the societal barriers that would have made a relationship between Alastor and the reader virtually impossible. The decision to depict the reader as an upper-class white individual was not arbitrary—it was intentional, aimed at heightening the drama and emotional weight of their story.

I deeply value the Hazbin Hotel fandom and the x-reader community. Writing for this space has brought me immense joy, and I’ve formed wonderful connections with both readers and fellow writers. That’s why receiving such hateful and inflammatory messages has been incredibly disheartening. The accusations of racism, the vitriol, and the twisting of my creative choices into something they were never meant to be—this has shaken me more than I can express.

To the anonymous senders of these messages: I want to make it clear that my work comes from a place of love and passion. My intention has always been to tell compelling stories that explore complex emotions, societal norms, and the human condition—stories that resonate with readers on a deeper level. To reduce my work to a political agenda or an act of prejudice is deeply hurtful and entirely unfounded.

I want to echo sentiments shared by Kit (please check out her explanation here), another writer in the fandom, who also explored the racial and class dynamics between characters. Like them, I am fascinated by the tension and drama that arise from star-crossed love stories, particularly when societal laws and prejudices forbid such relationships. Writing the reader as white in this context wasn’t about excluding or favoring anyone—it was about creating an authentic narrative rooted in the realities of the era.

For those questioning why I made this choice, I ask: if you can suspend disbelief to fall in love with a cannibalistic, asexual deer demon, why is the reader’s race—chosen for specific plot reasons—the line you cannot cross? My goal as a writer is to craft stories that make sense within their own context. The entitlement to demand otherwise, or to impose personal prejudices onto my work, is unfair and unwarranted.

I hate that I’ve had to turn off anonymous asks. Some of the most heartfelt and hilarious messages I’ve received have come from anonymous users, and losing that connection with my readers pains me. But unfortunately, the actions of a loud, hateful minority have left me with no choice. I will not entertain further discourse on this matter after this post.

To those who have supported me, who have read my stories and shared kind words: thank you. Your encouragement is what keeps me going. Writing for this fandom has been a labor of love, and I pour my heart and soul into every piece I create—for free, might I add. It’s devastating to feel that love overshadowed by hostility.

I won’t let this stop me from creating, but I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t made me question my place here. To anyone who feels entitled to tear down what others create out of hatred or spite: I hope you take a moment to reflect on the harm your words can cause.

To my true supporters: I appreciate you more than words can express. Your kindness reminds me why I love writing in the first place. Thank you for standing by me.

[endlessburningdarkness]

**I headcanon their relationship falls apart anyway, even without a reveal, bc there's only so long Shen Yuan can lie to himself and put up with terrible sex and LBHs manchild behaviour. I imagine he logs out at some point and returns to his real life.**

Can you develop more this, please? =)

Through most of the story, Shen Yuan is going from one crisis to another. He doesn't have time to sit down and think and be honest with himself. After the story ends, and he has to think beyond just surviving I imagine he will eventually realize he wants more than a relationship built on a lie, and terrible sex and the life of a cultivator.

I imagine he'll crave modern things more and more, not to mention, finally remembering his family and the life he left behind, the life he could've had, where he doesn't have to get his arse ripped open bc the protagonist will cry and destroy the world if he doesn't feel sufficiently "loved". Isn't it telling that both LBH and SY's idea of love requires sex, which one of them doesn't enjoy?

I also imagine he won't be able to deny how manipulative and coercive LBH is, and LBHs appeal as a character (and he does still consider LBH a character even in the end, its why he insists on bottoming, bc the stallion protagonist couldn't possibly take it up the arse) will dwindle and fade away.

It's like how you like badboys in fiction, but if you really had to deal with one irl day in and day out for years on end, you'd say fuck it and pack your bags. If the story book world is now real, that means real human emotions and realistic reactions to things, and I can't see Shen Yuan, realistically, wanting to stay.

So he would find an out, either by killing himself or just logging out and going back home. I don't think LBH would let him leave, and he knows that. It's why he feels so pressured to keep LBH happy and content and sees it as his responsibility, bc an unhappy LBH = world ending. Eventually though, he'd get over that idea, once he has time to pause and think things through and sort out his feelings and get used to his new, disappointing life.

Maybe Shen Yuan becomes the new protagonist, and lives out his dream of being LBH. bc that's the real reason he was reading th original novel, it was a male power fantasy, and Shen Yuan bought into that. He wants the power fantasy and he'll ultimately have to confront his own unhappiness and disappointment within himself. There's only so long you can lie to yourself. Shen Yuan lies to himself in order to survive, but once survival is secured, he will have ample time to realize he's been lying to himself, and that he doesn't want to continue.

And maybe some things are worse than death. I can't imagine years of lying and being coerced into a relationship with painful and humiliating sex is gonna feel any different from torture via human stick a few years down the line.

Him logging out and continuing with his normal life is probably the funniest outcome. I can see him writing fanfiction of Shen Qingqiu becoming a demon lord and fucking LBH/women as a sort of therapeutic exercise to deal with his trauma in the real world afterwards.

Honestly, I think he'd be relived to escape and probably give up his online hating. Which is ultimately the message mxtx wanted to send by writing a story about a straight online troll ending up getting fucked in the arse so badly he bleeds every time. don't hate in front of the author's face, aka the comment section, which is what Shen Yuan was shamelessly doing, harassing the author so much the author remembers all his comments. It would be a nice ending to say he learned his lesson?

But i also don't think an online hater deserves what Shen Yuan is put through in the story as "punishment" for his bad behaviour. It's not that serious imo. Good thing its a fantasy story and doesn't take itself too seriously. It would be a lot more depressing then, and not nearly as funny.

I may have gone a little offtopic. Oh well.

[butchreg]

cg ! vander headcanons !!

requested by anon. struggling atm but i feel worse not being productive at all so thought i'd try my hand at these. i won't be making a lot of vander content as i'm just not as familiar with him and feel less comfortable writing about men but he's so dad so just this once let me cook ! apologies if he's ooc i did my best.. not proofread ヾ(_ _*) any mistakes are on me. my posts will definitely be slower during this time , please be patient with me i'm doing my best but motivations and energy are both low and i have some personal things going on keeping me busy. arcane masterlist here , upcoming list here

vander's favorite nickname from you is "papa" or "papa bear" but he's not picky. whatever his little one wants to call him is cool with him. he prefers masculine titles but is not opposed to being called "mama" if it would make you happy.

vander is always mixing you up delicious milk concoctions. you never know what flavor you're going to get , he likes to surprise you , but they're always so yummy !

vander always makes you your lunches , leaving you notes like the one in the picture in the brown paper bag. he always makes you a special sandwich and is sure to add both a fruit and a treat in your lunch.

vander loves cooking for you ! he's always making you good hearty meals , whistling as he does so. if you show interest he's happy to include you , letting you stir a sauce or giving you the honors of being the taste tester. "hmm.. whaddaya think it needs , kiddo?" he wears silly aprons which make you giggle but he takes his cooking very seriously.

vander tries to make you handmade little stuffed animals. i imagine him making silly ones with button eyes like the ones in the photo. they tend to be fairly crude but are made with the utmost care and love ! he'll sheepishly scratch the back of his neck , a bit embarrassed when he gives them to you , fingers covered in bandages due to him continuously poking himself with the sewing needles. "they're not much but..." "I LOVE IT PAPA !" you interrupt , thanking him over and over. he chuckles , patting your head. "you're very welcome."

vander always knows how to deal with your big feelings even when you don't. he's really good at getting you calmed down and is a great listener , always knowing when you need to talk. "i'm here, kid." he assures you , wrapping you up in one of his signature bear hugs. "i'm right here." he'll stay with you , patting your back in his typical gentle but firm manner.

papa vander who loves to tell you stories. whether it's about his life or made up he tells amazing ones , you refuse to go to sleep without one. he likes to read to you as well , using an impressive array of voices for each character.

vander being so big and buff can be used to your advantage. he's always carrying you around on his shoulders , making you clap with delight as you survey the world from up high. he can scoop you up with ease - if you're ever to doze off or are feeling too small to walk by yourself he picks you up as though you weigh nothing, cradling you in his big arms.

the kind of papa who is always teaching you new things. he's constantly cheering you on , so proud when you get the hang of something new. clapping you on the shoulder , beaming down at you. "that's my boy/girl/kid."

papa vander who tells EVERYONE at the last drop about you. he's so proud to be your papa , showing everyone the pictures of you he keeps in his wallet , telling them stories about your adventures together.

[viktorrights]

how does it feel to blow up in this way ?! I've been reading your fic since you posted chapter 3.... its so cool seeing you get the recognition you deserve!

surreal like so surreal.

obviously i have an overwhelming amount of gratitude that clouds all else. the amount of kindness has been insane, and the incredible art that I've gotten has moved me to tears like multiple times haha.

i really have no words! it's also nice, (I said this in one of my notes) because I write professionally but haven't been able to put any of my writing out there so immediately, it's really nice to see that my work can get this kind of response, especially since this was something I was writing without taking it too seriously ?? I've learned so much!

it's hard to speak to the occasional overwhelm - because I'm so humbled by all of this the last thing i'd ever want to do is come off cocky/like I'm complaining - but sometimes it's really hard for me to wrap my head around WHY DLFKSJDh.

I wrote Viktor the way i did for a reason LMAO. It's very hard for me to take compliments and its even harder for me to believe them and internalize them. That's definitely been a big hurdle for me.

i also just don't know how to talk about it and respond to things sometimes. i also feel a bit less like I can just actively participate in fandom space - especially on twitter right now. im very afraid of coming off like I think I'm hot shit for writing a fanfiction based off of a show based off league of fucking legends DKJFSHDFlk.

the good news is is i've been met with such an overwhelming amount of kindness that its really helped me regain some faith in people. i rarely get weirdos

so yeah. i'm so happy and grateful :) even though its sometimes overwhelming for someone like me - who struggles with attention and praise haah.