#— someone who knows you deeply and the like —

[mosabsdr]

🌍✨ A Voice from Gaza: Fighting for Hope ❤️‍🩹

Hi, my name is Mosab , and I’m from Gaza. Life here has been harder than I could ever imagine, but today I’m sharing my story with hope in my heart, because your kindness has already given us so much strength.

This journey hasn’t been easy. The war has taken 25 family members from us—25 beautiful souls we loved deeply. Their laughter, their presence, their love… all of it is gone, leaving behind memories that are both precious and painful. Every day, I carry the weight of their loss, but I also carry their spirit, which gives me the strength to keep going.

Our Journey So Far

When I first reached out, I couldn’t have imagined we’d make it this far. Thanks to your incredible kindness, we’ve reached 20,020 out of 30,000. Your support has been a light in these difficult times, and we are so deeply grateful for every single contribution.

But the road ahead is still challenging. Every day, we’re reminded of how much we’ve lost and how much we still need to rebuild.

Here’s what life in Gaza looks like for my family right now:

🏠 Safety: The uncertainty of tomorrow weighs heavily on us.

😢 Loss: The absence of the 25 family members we’ve lost is a pain we carry every moment.

💔 Dreams on Hold: The future feels so far away when survival takes all our strength.

How You Can Help Us Cross the Finish Line

Even the smallest act of kindness can make a difference:

$5 might not seem like much, but it could mean a meal, clean water, or a tiny bit of hope for my family.

Can’t donate? Reblog this post to help us reach someone who can. Every share matters more than you know.

Why Your Support Matters

Your kindness isn’t just about helping us meet our goal—it’s about reminding us that we’re not alone in this fight. It’s about hope. It’s about survival. And it’s about giving my family a chance to rebuild our lives, even in the face of unimaginable loss.

Thank you for helping us get this far. Your generosity and compassion have already brought us closer to a better tomorrow, and for that, I’m endlessly grateful.

With all my love and gratitude,

Mosab and Family ❤️

[hwkei]

pro-hero!bakugo whom you’ve been dating for the past year, managing to keep your relationship out of the prying gaze of the public eye

pro-hero!bakugo who walked you home through a dark alley one night in his civilian clothes, awkwardly asking you out for coffee the next day

pro-hero!bakugo who loves to stay at your place on days he’s not on patrol, he claims that it’s easier to make sure you’re safe if he’s closer to you

pro-hero!bakugo who has an entire back up costume at your apartment, you’ve lied on multiple occasions to your friends saying that it was just a cosplay outfit

pro-hero!bakugo who always dodges questions about if he’s seeing anyone—and when “shipped” with another hero, he’s the first one to shut the rumor down

pro-hero!bakugo who loves a night in, there’s nothing more he’d enjoy than cooking a nice meal for the both of you and watching some sappy romcom you had picked out

pro-hero!bakugo who falls asleep within the first half of the movie, causing the two of you to have the most uncomfortable night of sleep on his couch

pro-hero!bakugo who has mastered the art of sneaking in through your fire escape window, making sure that he slips in through the shadows—“okay batman”

pro-hero!bakugo who’s so deeply in love with you but is scared that if the world knew about you, you’d be in much more danger

pro-hero!bakugo who accidentally lets it slip to his friends that he’s seeing someone; though, he doesn’t let them know how long the two of you have been together

pro-hero!bakugo who is usually very good at keeping secrets, but a small smile at his phone was the reason why 5 other pro-heroes now know about your relationship

pro-hero!bakugo who threatens to blow denki up into smithereens if he runs his loose mouth about your relationship, effectively shutting everyone else up

pro-hero!bakugo who you’ve been dating for nearly two years now, who knows in his soul that you’re the one for him and there’s no one else he’d rather spend his life with

pro-hero!bakugo who proposes to you shortly after your two year anniversary, a very intimate and secret proposal in your own home that you had moved into together just a month prior

pro-hero!bakugo who lets the world know that he’s taken by the gold band on his ring finger, just shy of three years since the first time he took you on a date

@rueclfer @saturnzlv @poemeater @standcom @chlosology & special thanks to @fushiguruuzzzz for being on call with me while i typed and spoke this stuff out loud like a weirdo

hwkei, 2025

[majikkulu]

✮ ˖° ⸜ masterlist ꕤ ･

╭₊˚๑ in  this  pick-a-card  reading,  we'll  explore  the  qualities  that  make  you  irresistible,  magnetic,  and  charming.

choose  the  picture  or  pile  that  calls  to  you,  and  let  the  magic  unfold! xoxo

if  you  have  any  ideas  for  future  tarot  pacs,  feel  free  to  drop them  in  my  ask  box,  and  i’ll  bring  them  to  life! ☁️₊˚੭

﹒ ﹢ ♡. PILE ONE ﹑ ﹒ you  have  this  nurturing  energy  about  you.  something  soft,  warm,  and  grounding.  it’s  the  kind  of  presence  that  makes  people  feel  safe,  like  they  can  exhale  when  they’re  around  you.  there’s  a  quiet  strength  in  the  way  you  move,  slow  and  intentional,  like  you’re  never  in  a  rush  because  you  don’t  need  to  be.  you  take  your  time,  savoring  each  moment,  moving  with  a  grace  that  feels  natural.  there’s  an  effortless  sensuality  in  you,  something  magnetic  without  trying  to  be.  people  find  comfort  in  you,  a  sense  of  stability,  like  they  can  lean  on  you  without  fear  of  being  judged.  your  presence  is  captivating,  not  because  you  demand  attention,  but  because  you  have  a  way  of  making  people  feel  truly  seen.  you  listen.  not  just  to  respond,  but  to  understand.  that’s  unique,  and  it’s  why  people  trust  you.  you  have  this  emotional  intelligence  that  makes  others  feel  deeply  connected  to  you,  even  if  they  can’t  quite  put  their  finger  on  why.  there’s  a  depth  to  you,  an  unspoken  wisdom,  and  people  sense  it.  they’re  drawn  to  you  because  you  make  them  feel  understood  in  a  way  that’s  rare  and  genuine.  but  you’re  not  just  someone  who  holds  space  for  others—you  also  know  how  to  hold  space  for  yourself.  you  know  your  worth,  and  it  shows.  there’s  a  quiet  confidence  in  you,  the  kind  that  doesn’t  need  validation  because  you  already  know  what  you  bring  to  the  table.  you’re  independent,  self-assured,  and  while  you  may  have  your  moments  of  doubt  (as  everyone  does),  you  never  let  them  define  you.  your  strength  isn’t  just  in  your  resilience,  but  in  your  ability  to  remain  soft  despite  everything.  you  have  strong  boundaries,  but  that  doesn’t  make  you  closed  off.  it  makes  you  real.  you  don’t  pretend  to  be  anything  you’re  not,  and  that’s  what  makes  people  feel  comfortable  around  you.  they  don’t  have  to  hide  the  messy,  unfiltered  parts  of  themselves  because  they  know  you  won’t  judge  them.  they  can  just  be.  and  that’s  because  you  do  the  same.  you  embrace  all  parts  of  yourself,  even  the  ones  that  aren’t  perfect.  your  energy  is  calm,  steady,  unwavering.  you  don’t  force  yourself  into  spaces  where  you  don’t  belong,  and  you  don’t  chase  things  that  aren’t  meant  for  you.  you  move  through  life  with  grace,  knowing  that  what’s  meant  for  you  will  always  find  its  way.  and  that?  that’s  powerful.

﹒ ﹢ ♡. PILE TWO ﹑ ﹒ there’s  something  mesmerizing  about  you,  a  quiet  magnetism  that  leaves  people  in  awe.  they  sense  that  you  have  many  layers,  and  that  mystery  only  draws  them  in  further.  you  have  an  almost  dreamlike  presence,  like  a  reflection  of  their  deepest  desires,  fantasies,  and  unspoken  thoughts.  people  project  onto  you  without  even  realizing  it,  caught  up  in  the  enigma  that  is  you.  they  can’t  quite  figure  you  out,  and  that  only  makes  you  more  captivating.  you  know  how  to  heal,  to  move  forward,  to  let  go  of  what  no  longer  serves  you.  attachment  doesn’t  come  easily  for  you.  not  to  people,  not  to  things.  it’s  not  that  you  don’t  care,  but  rather  that  you  understand  the  ebb  and  flow  of  life.  there’s  a  wisdom  in  you,  something  timeless,  something  that  people  naturally  seek  out.  even  without  trying,  you  bring  comfort  to  others.  your  words,  your  presence.  it  all  carries  a  kind  of  healing  energy.  people  feel  safe  around  you,  like  they  can  breathe  a  little  easier  in  your  presence.  your  energy  is  calm,  yet  commanding.  you  give,  but  never  to  the  point  of  depletion.  you  know  how  to  receive,  how  to  hold  space  for  yourself  just  as  much  as  you  do  for  others.  because  of  this,  your  attention  feels  rare,  valuable.  you  don’t  overextend,  and  that  makes  people  cherish  the  moments  they  get  to  share  with  you.  your  generosity  isn’t  about  material  things.  it’s  about  time,  care,  emotional  depth.  you  show  up  when  it  matters,  and  that  means  more  than  anything  superficial  ever  could.  there’s  something  powerful  about  the  way  you  carry  yourself.  poised,  calm,  composed.  you  move  with  intention.  you  don’t  share  too  much,  don’t  reveal  all  your  cards,  and  that  makes  people  even  more  curious.  they  want  to  know  you,  to  understand  you,  but  you’re  not  easily  swayed  by  outside  forces.  there’s  a  strength  in  your  presence,  a  quiet  intensity  that  lingers  in  your  eyes.  people  can  feel  that  you’ve  been  through  things,  that  you’ve  faced  hardships  and  emerged  even  more  compelling  because  of  them. 

﹒ ﹢ ♡. PILE THREE ﹑ ﹒ some  of  you  might  be  foreigners  or  speak  multiple  languages,  and  that  in  itself  makes  you  irresistible.  you  know  those  people  who  are  drawn  to  the  allure  of  someone  different,  someone  with  a  unique  background?  you  give  off  that  energy  effortlessly.  i’m  getting  *confident*  by  justin  bieber.  you  oooze  with  this  self-assurance  that  people  can’t  help  but  admire.  they  notice  everything  about  you,  from  the  way  you  carry  yourself  to  the  smallest  details  of  your  presence.  you  radiate  completion,  like  you’ve  already  won  at  life,  and  that  confidence  is  magnetic.  you  don’t  need  anyone,  yet  you  have  this  rare  ability  to  complement  and  elevate  those  around  you.  people  look  up  to  you,  even  if  they  never  say  it  out  loud,  and  even  if  you  don’t  feel  like  someone  who  should  be  idolized.  there’s  something  so  whole  about  you,  as  if  you’ve  mastered  the  art  of  being  yourself.  maybe  it’s  the  way  you  move.  graceful,  grounded,  sensual  or  the  way  you  speak  with  intention.  for  some,  your  financial  status  or  stability  might  add  to  your  appeal.  you  give  off  the  energy  of  security,  of  being  a  safe  place  to  land,  while  still  keeping  an  air  of  excitement  and  unpredictability.  you’re  fresh  and  intriguing,  yet  down-to-earth  and  relatable.  there’s  a  warmth  to  you,  a  sense  of  calm  that  reassures  people.  maybe  you  have  naturally  glowing  skin  or  a  way  of  taking  care  of  yourself  that  makes  heads  turn.  there’s  something  effortlessly  beautiful  about  you.  not  just  in  appearance,  but  in  the  way  you  are.  you  have  this  dreamy,  youthful  charm  that  makes  people  want  to  experience  you.  they’re  curious  about  you,  obsessively  so.  and  then,  there’s  your  unpredictability.  people  can  never  quite  figure  you  out.  you  might  be  a  little  flirtatious  without  realizing  it,  giving  off  just  enough  intrigue  before  slipping  out  of  reach  again.  you  don’t  attach  easily,  and  you  know  exactly  when  to  leave,  when  to  let  go.  you  cannot  be  owned  or  controlled,  and  that  makes  you  even  more  desirable.  but  beyond  the  mystery,  you  are  wise.  people  learn  from  you,  drawn  to  the  depth  of  your  thoughts.  when  you  speak,  others  listen.  you  don’t  waste  words  or  energy  on  meaningless  interactions.  you  are  selective  about  who  you  let  in,  and  that  exclusivity  makes  people  crave  your  attention  even  more.  you  might  even  attract  people  who  want  to  invest  in  you  financially,  emotionally,  spiritually.

﹒ ﹢ ♡. PILE FOUR ﹑ ﹒ this  pile  radiates  strong masculine  energy.  now,  mind  you,  that  doesn’t  mean  you  have  to  be  a  man.  it  means  you  possess  logic,  ambition,  and  a  commanding  presence.  you’re  assertive,  confident,  and  not  ruled  by  emotions.  there’s  something calm  yet  penetrating  about  you  like  you  don’t  have  to  say  much  to  be  noticed,  but  when  you  do,  people listen.  you  naturally  attract  attention  just  by being. you’re  seen  as  someone  who  has  it all  together.  you  carry  yourself  with  refinement,  always  presenting  yourself  as  polished  and  composed.  people  want  to  impress  you,  but  honestly?  you’re really  hard  to  impress.  you  have  that  commanding,  dominant  energy.  people  don’t  just  look  up  to  you,  they fear  you  a  little.  you  stand  out  effortlessly,  not  because  you  try  to,  but  because  your  energy  is  just that  powerful.  you  are  not  easily  swayed  by  emotions;  instead,  you  move  with  purpose,  with  control.  you  have standards,  boundaries,  and  self-respect.  people  naturally  submit  to  your  presence  not  because  you  demand  it,  but  because  they want  to.  you  might  have  piercing  eyes,  a  voice  that  commands  attention,  or  an  aura  that  feels  strict  but  magnetic.  you never  come  across  as  weak  or  overly  available.  you  act  fast.  you  take  opportunities,  move  forward  effortlessly,  and  don’t  dwell  on  the  past.  you’re  likely  fit,  attractive,  and  exude  vitality.  people  never  feel  stagnant  around  you  there’s  a “catch  me  if  you  can”  energy  that  keeps  them  on  their  toes.  they  never  know  what  to  expect  because  you’re always  in  motion. you  don’t  cling.  you  know  when  to  detach  and  move  on.  people  sense  that  if  they  don’t  keep  up,  they’ll lose  you.  you  tend  to  outgrow  others,  leaving  them  stuck  thinking  about  you  long  after  you’re  gone.  you’re not  easy  to  pin  down,  and  that’s  exactly  why  you’re  so  wanted.  you  walk  into  a  room  and  own  it  without  even trying.  you  know  your  worth.  you’re  bold,  playful,  and  unapologetically yourself.  people  don’t  just see  you,  they feel  you.

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

Here are some contradictions I’ve noticed in the moon signs:

Aries Moon: Quick to react, blow up, and blow things out of proportion. But let someone else react just as fast—perhaps because they don’t like being disrespected or mistreated by the Aries moon—and suddenly, the Aries moon doesn’t understand why that person is reacting as strongly as they do.

Taurus Moon: Calm and chill on the surface, but the contradiction lies in their desire for others to be highly emotional. Yes, Taurus moons want to maintain their own calm and composure, but they enjoy when others express their feelings, strike up thrilling conversations, and bring emotional energy. As much as they crave peace, they want to be the calm one while everyone else brings the excitement.

Gemini Moon: They love to talk and constantly intellectualize their feelings, but they get irritated when someone else wants to share the spotlight or talk just as much as they do.

Cancer Moon: Deeply emotional and strongly connected to their feelings, but they often get annoyed when others are highly emotional themselves—especially if they feel those emotions are redundant or unproductive.

Leo Moon: Constantly seeking attention and validation, needing compliments and recognition to thrive. But let someone else take the spotlight or shine, and they become irritated and snobby about it. They love being the star of the show but struggle to support others who take center stage.

Virgo Moon: Desiring everything to be perfectly structured and in order, yet often surrounded by chaotic people. They want their life to feel orderly and controlled, but others tend to pull them in different directions. Even their routines can become entangled in other people’s chaos, leaving them feeling overwhelmed.

Libra Moon: They love partnerships, relationships, and connecting with others, but they can be jealous and possessive. It’s as if they can’t exist without their partner’s attention. They want to talk to their partner constantly but get upset when their partner talks to someone else—even if it’s just a friend.

Scorpio Moon: They hold their feelings tightly, keeping them deeply guarded. Yet, they have an intense curiosity about other people’s emotions and constantly probe others to reveal how they feel. They want to know everything about you while sharing nothing about themselves—the ultimate contradiction.

Sagittarius Moon: They crave freedom, avoid being tied down, and want to live life with the carefree spirit of a child. Yet, they often impose rigid rules and expectations on how others should live their lives. It’s a puzzling contradiction.

Capricorn Moon: Composed and often cold, to the point where they can come across as harsh or even mean. But guess what? They don’t like mean people. They get irritated when others act as pretentious or emotionally detached as they do. They may put on a “I don’t care” facade, but deep down, they want others to care while they sit there with a resting “I don’t care” face.

Aquarius Moon: Highly individualistic, independent, and innovative, always striving for change. But they hate when others impose their beliefs or ideas on them. How dare someone else be innovative or push their agenda—it’s only acceptable if it aligns with the Aquarius moon’s interests.

Pisces Moon: Sensitive and dreamy, lost in their own world, often oblivious to what’s happening around them. Yet, they expect others to tune into their emotions and understand how they’re feeling. They want people to enter their world while also wanting the freedom to drift through life on their own terms. A contradiction, indeed.

[pasukiyo]

EXTRA MOTIVATION

college baseball player!leon kennedy x f!reader word count: 2.4k warnings: smut!, fingering, sex in a public setting synopsis: when teaching her how to swing, leon has to come up with a more effective plan to get her motivated...

 “How am I supposed to learn how to swing when you’re kissing my neck?”

 Leon’s lips shape into a grin against the crook of her neck and she shudders when he pulls away, his breath warm against the saliva cooling on her skin. 

 “It’s for encouragement,” he says with a shrug, so casual for someone who’s driving her absolutely insane. A baseball whisks by and she flinches, nearly jumping straight out of her back into him. His hands find her hips to steady her and she can feel his laugh as it buzzes through his chest against her back. 

 “Jesus, can you turn the speed down, please?” She glares over her shoulder as Leon touches his lips against her shoulder. “Not everybody’s a goddamn Derek Jeter like you.”

 With a roll of the eyes and a featherlight kiss to the peak of her shoulder, Leon pulls away, tossing the net of the cage over his head. “Can’t believe you’d compare me to Jeter,” he clicks his tongue as he presses his thumb against the down button on the pitching machine’s control panel. “I easily hit circles around him.”

 She rolls her eyes as she leans on the bat. Cocky bastard. 

 “He’s the only player I know, because of you, mind you,” she remarks as he enters the cage again, a corner of his mouth tugged in a half-grin. “Anyways, fine. Not everyone can ‘hit circles around Jeter’ like you can.”

 Leon titters and touches his lips to her temple, sliding behind her once again. “That’s more like it,” he whispers beside her ear, slapping his palm against the right side of her ass. Her entire body jolts and she hisses, narrowing her eyes at him from over her shoulder as another ball passes by, at a slower, more manageable pace this time. “Is that better?” He asks, gesturing with his head towards the plate where the ball had passed over just moments ago. 

 She turns and pauses, waiting for the next pitch to fly. She watches it as it passes, a small arch to it as it goes by, smacking the rubber backstop. She deeply inhales, feeling every single drop of air that gathers in her lungs before she releases it. 

 Why did she agree to this again?

 “I guess,” she finally replies, picking the bat up off the ground, trying to figure out where to grip the handle. “Now, how do I hold this thing?”

 She’s sure a dirty joke can be written there, and she wouldn’t be surprised if Leon was itching to tell one. If he was, he doesn’t act on the urge— fortunately— and he instead pulls away, muttering an “almost forgot.” 

 She watches as he steps out of the cage again, rifling through his ball bag until he holds up his helmet. Her face falls as he steps under the net again, grinning. “Gotta protect that pretty head of yours,” he says, kissing the crown of her head before sliding the helmet on. It feels heavy and a little awkward because it fits a little big, so she has to tilt her head up to even see him. 

 “This thing smells like shit,” she complains. 

 Leon wrinkles his nose, “are you saying I smell like shit?”

 “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she deadpans. “I’d also like to add that your head is enormous.”

 His lips fall in a scowl and he spins her around by her shoulders, wrapping his hands around hers on the handle of the bat. “Careful, or that mouth of yours is gonna get you into trouble,” he says, adjusting her grip on the bat. “Dominant hand over the other. Leave a little room between your bottom hand and the knob.”

 She watches as his hands guide hers to where they need to be, another ball whisking by. “Maybe you should’ve turned the machine on after you taught me how to stand,” she says, feeling him shrug behind her. 

 “Too late. Now,” he begins, torquing her hips with his palms. “The key is to use your hips as your guide. The power’s all in the hips, baby.”

 She rolls her eyes and lolls her head back, gently knocking the top of the helmet against his chin. He snickers, bringing one of his hands to wrap around either of hers again. “When you see the ball release, take a step with your front foot. It’s your windup.”

 She goes through the motion as another ball passes. She waits in her position for his next instruction, his hands still on hers and holding her arms back. Her back begins to ache and she shifts uncomfortably as he pats her back thigh. 

 “You’ll twist this leg before your arms go into motion, using your hips just like I showed you,” he instructs, placing his hand back on her hip to guide her. “Your hips will guide you through your swing,” he says, finally grabbing a hold of her hands, slowly going through the swinging motion. “Like this.”

 They go through the motion a couple more times until she thinks she’s ready for the real thing. Leon walks her to the plate and gets her into position, pressing a kiss to one of her shoulder blades. “My little baby’s first hitting lesson,” he murmurs against the fabric of her t-shirt. “Time moves too fast.”

 Her eyes roll and she nudges him out of the way with her butt. “You’re insufferable.”

 She can only envision Leon’s grin behind her. “You love it.”

 With a pat to her ass, he backs away and she gets into the stance Leon showed her, willing herself to breathe as she watches a baseball roll down to the machine. It ejects— and she blinks. She swings the bat just like he’s taught her— and misses. 

 The ball hits the rubber mat serving as the backstop with a loud thud and she deflates, arms falling to her sides, leaning against the bat. 

 “I missed,” she says, a little dejectedly and Leon chuckles behind her, his hands rubbing either of her shoulders, his lips touching the side of her neck. 

 “Can’t all be naturals like me,” he jokes, nipping her skin. Her eyes roll, her elbow jabbing into his stomach. “Kidding,” he saves himself. “It just takes practice.”

 His palms soothe up and down from her hips to her waist, his breath hot as it looms over her neck. Her breath catches in her throat as another ball goes by and she blinks when it hits the backstop, Leon’s hands snaking around her waist to the line of her shorts. 

 “And maybe some extra motivation?” He murmurs against her shoulder, pressing kisses into her skin all the way up until he reaches the edge of the helmet. Gooseflesh erects on her arms and quivers trail down her spine while his fingers toy with the hem of her shorts, his forefinger slipping beneath to draw a line above her pantyline. 

 “Leon,” she near-whimpers, feeling that familiar ache blossom between her legs as his fingers sink beneath her underwear. He hums against her neck, the pad of his middle finger finding her clit, his touch like the jolt of lightning that brings her to life, electricity flowing through her veins. 

 “Every time you hit the ball, I’ll make you feel good,” he whispers, breath curling around her neck, twisting all the way up to her ears in a warm embrace. It makes her shudder as Leon’s finger brushes against her clit, back and forth. “Easy enough, yeah?”

 She thinks she’ll hit him with her bat. 

 “You drive me crazy, Leon Kennedy,” she mutters through gritted teeth as his middle finger flicks her clit, trailing down to her entrance, gathering the slick there. Her breath hitches as another ball passes, Leon’s lips curving into a grin between her collar and jaw. 

 “I’m counting on it, pretty girl,” he whispers, sliding his hand away from her shorts, pulling away from her altogether. She peers over her shoulder at him as he backs away, lips wrapped around his middle finger, a smirk on his face. 

 Her brow dips— one of these days, she’ll get him back. 

 She turns back to face the machine, getting back into position. She waits with bated breath as the next ball rolls through the machine, soaring through the air towards her. She swings with full confidence that she’ll make contact this time but that hope dies almost as soon as it comes once her bat swipes through the air above the ball, hitting air. 

 Blood bites her cheeks as she glances back towards Leon who simply stands with his arms crossed over his chest, the dark ocean in his eyes rippling with a playful luster she’s seen far too many times to count. She huffs and turns back to the plate, readying herself into position. 

 She misses again. 

 And she misses the next. 

 But the time after that, she gathers a lungful of air into her chest, heart pounding and core aching with determination. She’d have to hand it to Leon— he strikes a good bargain. Her pussy surely thinks so too. 

 Her vision zeroes in on the ball as it rolls through the machine, ejecting from the emitter and soaring towards her. She thinks back to the motions she and Leon went through, piecing them all together in her mind like it’s one giant puzzle. She holds her breath in her throat as she puts all the steps together— and finally makes contact. 

 It’s not a Division 1, college scholarship worthy hit by any means. In fact, it practically hits the ground as soon as the barrel of the bat makes contact— a daddy hack, she’s heard Leon refer to it as— but it’s contact nonetheless. Elation surges through her veins and she pumps her fist in the air, face splitting in a smile as she hops, turning to face Leon. 

 “Who’s Derek Jeter now?” She exclaims as his lips crack to reveal the pearly whites behind them, his chest stuttering with his laughs. “Deal’s a deal, Kennedy. Now get your ass over here and touch me.”

 Leon’s chest rumbles with his laughter as he throws his hands up in admittance, sauntering his way towards her. “Deal’s a deal, can’t argue with that,” he says as she drops the bat, peeling off the helmet and sending it pummeling towards the ground. Leon’s arm snakes around her waist to pull her closer, his other sliding between their bodies, cupping her mound from over her shorts. Her lips fall agape in utter shock as he nears, their noses just barely touching when he whispers, “you’re lucky I’m a man of my word.”

 His fingers are like shots of ecstasy injecting straight through to her veins as he slides them back down her shorts, finding the aching bud at her center. She tosses her head back but he cups it with his palm, bringing her back in to press his lips against hers. Their tongues tumble around each other in a sloppy, languid kiss, humming into one another’s mouths as his middle and pointer fingers sink their way through her entrance, rubbing against her warm, velvety walls. 

 Her lips part around his and he takes it as his opportunity to gain control over their kiss, teeth clashing against hers with a fervor only Leon can match. 

 “Shit, you always get so wet for me,” he practically groans into her mouth, sliding his fingers in all the way until their knuckles deep. It’s already enough to liquify her insides and jellify her knees. “You’re such a good girl, you know that?”

 The endearment has more of an effect on her than she expected. She mewls against his mouth, clutching his bicep and sinking her nails into his flesh. She cants her hips into his hand, the heel of his palm rubbing friction against her clit when she does. It has her mind reeling, her head spinning. 

 Leon snickers at her reaction, pulling away from her mouth just to stare into her eyes, to watch as she falls further into submission in the palms of his hands. It makes his chest swell with pride, makes his cock twitch and strain against his boxers more than he’s willing to admit. 

 “You like that, huh?” He chuckles, moving the heel of his palm side to side against her clit, just to fuck with her. “Being called a good girl, hm? Being called my good girl.”

 It’s unfair how a voice can have so much of an effect on her. It’s embarrassing even, but she leaves no room to protest, for he’s adding a third finger and all she can think to do is moan, “Leon!”

 He brings their lips together again, grabbing a fistful of hair from the back of her head to keep her in place. She feels like she’s in a trance, her hazy mind turned to dark, murky slime with each pump of his fingers. 

 “You do like it,” he titters when he pulls away from their kiss for breath, shaking his head. She pinches her lip between her teeth as he digs her closer to her end, one of her arms locking around his neck to brace for impact, her opposite hand clinging tighter to his bicep. “Don’t think coming was a part of the deal, but I’ll make an exception, just for my good, good gi—“

 The sound of the entrance to the cages permeates the building and it snaps either of them out of their lust-drunken hazes. With some reluctance, they push away from each other and she works to straighten out her shorts as Leon licks his fingers clean, turning just as two of his teammates make their way towards their cage. 

 “Carlos, Luis,” Leon says in greeting, a hint of an annoyed edge to his voice. She turns, scrambling to gather Leon’s bat and helmet she dropped to the ground, core throbbing, begging for attention. 

 “Kennedy,” Luis greets, dipping his chin as he says her name in acknowledgement too. She simply dips her chin as she turns, pressing Leon’s equipment into his chest. He turns to face her, a line between his brow. She huffs— perhaps sex in the batting cage just wasn’t in the cards for them. 

 She’s about to push past him when Carlos says her name, lifting a small, gray object in the air.

 “This camera yours?” He asks and she freezes where she stands, nodding. “It’s still on, in case you didn’t know.”

 Her molars sink into the flesh of the inside of her cheek as she pivots slowly around on her heel towards Leon who only lifts his lips in a tight, impish grin. 

 Crazy, she mouths. You drive me crazy. 

a/n; i wrote this like 4 months ago and only just now got around to posting it i’m so sorry 😭 i hope it isn’t too late to reheat my college baseball player leon nachos 🤞

⚾️ if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply! your feedback is always appreciated 🫶

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[gangstalkerbarbie]

People have got to learn the difference between levels of headcanon, I think, all over again. It will make fandom so much more fun for everybody.

You see the thing is that the Jewish acronym PaRDeS works for all kinds of interpretive textual analysis, let me take y'all on a journey.

P is for peshat, the straightforward literal meaning of a text. "There was a red balloon on the table". The balloon was red and it was placed on the table.

R is for remez, a hint, not a hint as in an asmachta (what you would call a hint as in hee hee, think about what we just learned) but a hint as in an allusion — if a text already said something once, it might employ shorthand to say that again. Were there red balloons before? Why?

D is for Drash, interpretation - the scriptural equivalent of widely held fanon, but also the use of cultural and contextual details not stated by the text to make inferences about the text. When there were 99 red balloons in hit song 99 Red Balloons, what did that mean at that time, and does that mean the same thing now, with the balloons on the table? Did your mother put it there to teach you war is bad, or did she mean to leave you a red balloon to play with?

S is for Sod, esoteric or divine insight, or in fandom terms, random shit external to the media like tweets by the creator and secret material found only in the media Discord. This part of the process entails going back through the text and combing it for any random evidence that might make your point: maybe your mother left the red balloon on the table to teach you that war is bad. (Did she? You can only know if you ask, and if there's no answer you probably can't argue factually about it with your siblings, but if that's what taught you that war is bad, yasher koach!) Maybe your mother believes war is bad because in her childhood she was a Young Pioneer, and that's why the balloon is red. Maybe the balloon is red for blood, and she grew up without a father because of a war.

Why do you think that? Why or why not? Should you nudge her old traumas and ask her, and if not, should you proceed as if this is the case?

Applying this to a common Homestuck headcanon, let's say "Dave Strider is Jewish".

P – does he ever say so? (No, thus making this not explicitly canon on the first level, but he makes some evocative references and has only one place where he could have internalised these concepts and traditions from).

R – is there any evidence? (Yes, if I recall correctly there is a menorah in his house in one panel of this comic, and he occasionally talks about some evocative things, and there are some scenes in the epilogues if you regard them as canon but I consider them apocrypha of a kind so linsey-woolsey.)

D — there is a tradition that he is Jewish. If I cared to continue this bit I would go look up who originated it and what her reasoning was. It would also narratively kinda fuck if he was Jewish. You could talk to people who believe this based on elements of this text. The elements are there.

S — why would Huss do that? Because Gnostic webcomic, insert Gnosticism rant here, you get the idea. Do you want this in your fanon? Why or why not?

Taken together: this is widely held fanon with plausible textual roots, and can be safely discussed as such. It is your choice whether you subscribe, but as it is an established tradition, you should probably live and let live regarding it.

Taking another example, completely hypothetical: Thomas the Tank Engine is a trans woman.

P — fuck no? Thomas the Tank Engine is a train.

R — but he is gendered, and gender is an axis of oppression in real life. It is repeatedly shown that Sodor is a profoundly oppressive society, so it's not that odd that someone could project additional non-train related oppression on the trains, if they're already fucking weird enough to think this deeply about Thomas the Tank Engine.

D — there is... sigh... you know what, I'm not looking to see if there is a tradition and what its basis is. I would rather make soup out of toilet tank water. It is bad to assume, but I'm going to pull an overconfident rabbi with no travel opportunities and say there is not a tradition that Thomas the Tank Engine is a trans woman. There is also no textual basis within the original picture book "Thomas the Tank Engine" for such a tradition.

S — on the other hand, the Thomas The Tank Engine / My Neck My Back mashup. While not grounded in tradition it is commonly seen and memed (equivalent to a religious thing being commonly believed, such as the entire metaphysical system of Hasidism, which everyone who's not a hasid is broadly of the opinion probably evolved partly from local spirituality by itself, in the absence of any connection to the rest of development of Jewish thought), and if I asked the creator I'm sure she would say it came to her in a vision.

In conclusion, there is absolutely no evidence for this, but you could believe it for the sake of your addiction to the bit if you wanted to, as long as you did not try to pretend that any evidence existed outside the realm of mystic revelation, and try to fight people who don't agree about it.

People are not being transphobic by pointing out that there is absolutely no evidence for the Thomas the Tank Engine trans headcanon that you are still allowed to cherish, it's just that you received it from the akashic plane of pure knowledge in a bolt of lightning and not a soul else on this planet ever has. It is pure personal headcanon and will not be elevated to the level of fanon unless enough people in the fandom begin to believe it, which they probably won't but you never know.

You should probably not expect people to have your reaction to it, because it is mystically inspired and people who do not live in your material conditions could not necessarily arrive at it. If you are on the other end and you meet someone with this kind of headcanon, though, don't provoke them about it, what's it to you? They live in a world where it's true, and you can't afford a ticket there.

kinda really sick n tired of people making any and everyone in fandoms trans or kinda trans. like what's wrong with being a gnc woman? why is a woman who doesn't shave suddenly trans/an egg? obviously I don't own the character and neither do they but it's disheartening to see every slight deviation of 'being stereotypically female TM' as being trans or whatever. transmasc this, transfem that - please.

[delulustateofmind]

Sigh

Thinking about poor, obsessive puppy hybrid Satoru who’s absolutely falling apart every time you leave. He hates it—hates—when you pat his head and give him that bright little smile, chirping, “I’ll be back later, pup!” like it’s nothing. It’s not nothing to him. It’s everything. Because you’re everything. And the thought of you out there, without him, with someone else who’s not him? It makes his chest ache, his claws scratch, and his teeth clench so hard it hurts.

He tries to hold it together, really he does, but it always ends the same: shredded couch pillows, claw marks on the doorframe, and your scent fading from the house until he’s pacing back and forth like a caged animal. He’s not a little puppy anymore, don’t you see that? He’s bigger now—stronger, smarter—and he knows exactly what he wants. You.

When you start getting ready to leave again, he’s already sulking, watching you from the corner of the room with his ears flat and his tail barely twitching. He doesn’t even pretend to hide his frustration anymore. As you grab your keys, he’s on you in an instant, slipping between you and the door like he’s guarding it with his life.

“Do you have to go?” a keen whine leaving his lips, voice soft and needy. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close as he presses his nose to the crook of your neck. Inhaling deeply, your scent calming and tormenting him all at once. “I hate when you leave,” he mutters, his soft lips brushing against your skin. “It’s not fair. Why don’t you just stay? You don’t need to go. You have me.”

You try to pull back, but his grip tightens, his tail curling around your leg as if to keep you anchored to him. His blue eyes are wide and pleading, the faintest sheen of tears threatening to spill. “Please,” he whispers, his voice cracking just enough to make your chest ache. “Stay with me. We can do anything you want. A movie, cuddles, whatever. I’ll even be good. I won’t lick your face so much, I promise. I won’t kiss your neck again—unless you want me to.”

The poor pup is trembling slightly, and you know he’s really trying to be good. He hasn’t ripped up your panties in days—weeks, even. Hasn't been humping your leg as much either. Hasn't been trying to rip your towel off your naked body when you get out of the shower. Hasn't been feasting between ylur thighs in the dead of the night. Really, he’s holding himself together by a thread, but every time you turn that doorknob, it feels like you’re cutting that thread on purpose.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, his voice low and primal. “Don’t you see that? I’m your good boy. You don’t need anyone else. Just stay.”

And it’s hard to ignore the way he’s clinging to you like he’ll break if you leave. He’s so warm, so desperate, so perfectly pitiful that it’s hard not to give in. But when you finally push past him and promise, “I’ll be back later,” he’s left staring at the closed door, trembling with frustration and heartbreak.

By the time you come home, you’re greeted with chaos: the couch cushions are destroyed again, your favorite shirt has been dragged across the house and thoroughly shredded, and there’s Satoru in the middle of it all, panting softly, his tail wagging just enough to betray his nervous excitement.

“You’re back,” he says, voice coming out uneven slightly feral as he pads over to you, his ears flat and his eyes glossy. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, even though he doesn’t sound sorry at all. “I just get so lonely without you. I’ll be good next time. I’ll wait like a good boy. Just… don’t leave me, okay?”

[melrosing]

why did martin made cersei evil from the beginning? tyrion and jaime are very fucked up but they still have some kindness and empathy in them. at age 7 she was torturing baby tyrion by pulling on his genitals and threatening the wet nurse her tongue would be cut out. she killed her friend at age 10. having all these negative traits baked in from the beginning makes her more flat for me. plus martin made her stupid and mockable. she has zero self awareness. she is dishonest with herself. even d&d had more respect for her. do you think cersei is a sociopath? i think martin doesn't like her. do you agree with me?

ok you pose several arguments here but I will try and reply as entirely as I can.

why did martin made cersei evil from the beginning?

I've questioned this choice sometimes but I don't think it was necessarily the wrong one?? the scene with baby Tyrion is to me a deeply disturbing but still very interesting one that says a lot about Cersei, her relationship with Tywin, and the greater part she's played in shaping her relationship with Tyrion.

here, she has obviously very quickly absorbed Tywin's 'the baby killed Joanna' narrative, and is punishing Tyrion in a manner that's like. both childish and horribly violent at once, like she doesn't fully understand how violence is usually applied (pinching is a really childish form of violence in my mind), but she knows how to make it hurt.

then there's also the fact that perhaps Tyrion now represents a rival to second place - her status over him is that she's able-bodied, but his over her is his sex. maybe Cersei has some vague understanding of this at seven, and that's another part of why she hurts Tyrion is this extremely particular way.

and also like. Tywin is ultimately a man of extreme violence, and Cersei has always been listening at the door trying to learn from him. it makes sense that she'd be trying to apply his teachings where she sees fit, and that this would result in disturbed behaviour like what she does to Tyrion. I think it's also interesting that we can distinguish this from what Joffrey does to the cat, for example. there's a kind of obliviousness to that act of violence in Joffrey's early childhood (making more the case for nature over nurture, though nurture plays its part). Cersei's childhood violence is a lot more intentional: it feels like she's trying to exercise power of her own, and that is very much fitting with adult Cersei's story.

however, I think Cersei herself identifies the Melara incident as something of an outlier in her childhood. I don't say this to suggest that Cersei was not a very violent child, but that she didn't do it out of pure evil. I think the key factor driving Cersei to do what she does to Melara is a fear for her own mortality - Melara points out that if noone talks of Maggy's prophecy, it needn't be true, and so Cersei kills the only other person who knows of it (besides Maggy). I do think spite towards Melara for yearning for Jaime factored insofar as this helps Cersei build just enough spite towards Melara that she's able to do what she does, but it is primarily an act of self-preservation, I think. I think many evil acts of Cersei's are self-preservation, though taken way past the line of what's justifiable to that end.

and ofc, Cersei as an adult feels some level of guilt about what she did to Melara. it does fuck with her a bit. I think the main reason is that Melara was a friend and confidante for a time, someone who she could have held close but instead cast out (same as how she briefly reflects on Sansa and how she might have done better by her). so..... again, it does come down to self-preservation in the end, but I don't think Cersei was a two-dimensional evil kid. you can find the sense in her reasoning, which is pretty absent in what Joffrey does to the cat.

tyrion and jaime are very fucked up but they still have some kindness and empathy in them.

i personally find the cersei/her brothers dichotomies kind of frustrating cos like. not every character needs the traits of empathy and kindness. Cersei is not the only character in ASOIAF who lacks these traits. Littlefinger, Euron, Roose, Ramsay, Tywin himself, etc, all lack these traits, and yet are not afforded anything close to complexity Cersei is. she is the only POV character among these villains. and whilst I do think that the whiplash between Cersei's occasionally-played-for-laughs foolishness and her sexual trauma is sometimes verging on ill-judged, fandom should take more accountability for the extent to which they relegate Cersei to dark comic relief. she was not written as this.

and as I've said before, whilst I do think it's notable that Cersei is our primary female villain yet written as often foolish and ridiculed as such, yet male villains comparably tend to be much savvier, it still makes sense that Cersei would lack these smarts: she wasn't taught them. still, sure, to some extent I agree that GRRM should not have played this for laughs so often.

returning again to Cersei lacking empathy etc - well, you have other characters who lack evil. Brienne hasn't really got a gram of darkness in her body, yet is enormously complex in other ways. then you've got characters like Asha, who have more of a balance of the two, and yet aren't even half as complex as Cersei (despite being a POV). GRRM has not refused Cersei complexity, and he has not written her, on his own part, without empathy. we see Cersei grieve, we see Cersei traumatised, we see Cersei frightened, we see Cersei humiliated. again, as I've said before, GRRM makes us hold Cersei's cruelty in the one hand, and Cersei's pain in the other, and reckon with both at once. neither excuses the other, as they might in a lesser story - like Game of Thrones!

and i'm not going to go deep into GOT right now, but I don't agree that d&d had more respect for Cersei as a character. d&d cannot conceive of Cersei as anything besides a mother. they reduce everything about her to motherhood, and when she runs out of children, they stick another one in her. they cannot imagine what might drive a character like Cersei beyond motherhood. it is essentially the final note of her story - 'I don't want our baby to die' etc. i don't think i need to say much more to explain that I think reducing a character like book Cersei to this, is deeply misogynistic. if you want to see that misogyny in action elsewhere, see how the finale ultimately frames a dichotomy between the childless Dany, a freak tyrant, and the pregnant mother Cersei, who the writers think we'll want to escape to Pentos to survive with her baby, and who we're supposed to weep for when she doesn't make it out. and now remember what happened like. one episode before with Missandei, the last black woman on this show. d&d couldn't respect a woman if their lives depended on it

do you think cersei is a sociopath?

GRRM says she has an 'almost sociopathic' view of the world, but obviously shies away from identifying her as such, and I think he's right to - these kinds of labels are far too prescriptive when what you're trying to write is a character in a book, not an article for a medical journal.

do you agree with me?

nah not really. ultimately I think whilst Cersei is written as unabashedly evil, this doesn't mean that that evil is two dimensional. she exists on the darkest end of the spectrum because I think that is the most interesting place for her to occupy - I don't believe Cersei's story would be improved with a redemption arc, or a couple of instances where she sneaks Sansa a sweet or w/e. grey characters are interesting, yeah, but they are not invariably more interesting than those in the darkest shades, and I don't think GRRM has done Cersei an injustice by not painting her lighter.

[kiyo-cant-write]

hello!! good morning, afternoon or night, idk. Could I request Diasomnia (or just Silver and Malleus if it's too much characters) with a Snow White like reader? I recently re-watched Snow White and it kinda got me thinking about how they would interact with a reader that acts similarly to Snow White (very kind, caring, motherly and a tad bit naive). Thank you either way and have a good day!

diasomnia w/ snow white!reader ✧･ﾟ

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I am so sorry this took me so long! I do a lot of writing in addition to this blog and between that and school, things got away from me! Thank you for the request and I hope I did this idea justice ^^

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Summary: The following scenarios and headcanons depict the members of Diasomnia with a Snow White-inspired reader. Each of these is meant to be its own universe, like a visual novel route.

TW/CW: N/A

Notes: pre to in a relationship, the reader is Ramshackle Prefect/Yuu, they/them pronouns for the reader, the reader is explicitly human/non-fae

Guest Stars: N/A

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Malleus Draconia

Malleus and [Name] share a certain innocence about the world.

They both fall victim to Lilia's pranks often.

Malleus is fond of them from the get-go because they seem more worried about him than afraid of him at the joint event.

This is where their friendship began.

Malleus thinks that [Name] is a unique person.

He wants to protect the person who seems so soft and caring.

Malleus doesn't understand how [Name] is so soft to others.

Everyone seems to like them. Can they teach him how to do that?

"How do you do it, [Name]?" Malleus asked them one evening as they walked around the school at twilight.

It was cold and [Name] was wrapped in a blanket from their dorm to keep out the cold. Still, they were walking. These walks were something they looked forward to even if it disrupted their (already questionable) circadian rhythm at times.

"Do what, Malleus?" they returned his question with another question, unsure what the draconic fae meant this time.

They didn't do anything out of the ordinary. Did they? Were they doing something so special without even being aware of it? They looked at him with wide curious eyes, urging him to elaborate.

"You are someone that everyone likes," Malleus told them plainly.

Name paused. Was that true? They thought about their relationship with the other students at Night Raven. Maybe they did have a lot of friends. Was that upsetting Malleus? He was rather... a solo rider.

"I suppose so... But it's not something I'm trying to do, so..."

They trailed off and Malleus placed a hand on their shoulder.

"I am not mad at you, Child of Man," he continued, "It is just something that I have noticed as we have known each other."

They nodded slowly, trying to understand what he was saying,

"Does it make you worry?" they asked, looking at him and taking a small step closer, "I don't want to cause you distress, Malleus..."

His brows furrowed slightly as he stared down at the small human he had become friends with. Was he worried? It seemed more than that.

"It's not just a worry," he continued, "Perhaps it is also... admiration."

They stopped before they could even begin their next sentence. Was Malleus complimenting them in earnest?

"Oh?" they managed to say.

He smiled, eyes gleaming.

"I do admire you deeply, [Name]," he told them, "For... For being all I cannot be."

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia starts off viewing [Name] as a child.

They remind him of Silver and he is much older than the other students, so it's only natural that he's a bit apprehensive.

They seem naive and that worries him, but it's also fun to use.

A few pranks have [Name] scrambling to get Sebek's help.

Still, Lilia cares about them, mostly from afar.

He would not be the one to confess first because he knows he will depart soon enough but he is always sweet to [Name].

The joke about [Name] being a second parent to Silver does not go unused. Silver did not appreciate that one but laughed in the end.

"My dear," Lilia began his statement in earnest, giving an almost evil grin as he came closer, however, to the person he had claimed as his lover only days ago, "May I ask you something~?"

"Lilia?" they asked, startling slightly when he hugged them but relaxing into it all the same, "What is it?"

They were used to him being a bit strange but part of him seemed... very serious and they were not sure what to make of it. [Name] was new to this whole "dating" situation. Sure, they had read about it. But this was different. This was real. Wasn't it?

This was new for them, in more ways than one, he was Lilia-senpai.

"[Name], how do you feel about being a mother?" he asked.

They paused. What was he asking them? Why? Now? Why would they be a mother? Children? They were still in school and, and, and...

Their thoughts raced a bit at the question but calmed as soon as they heard the giggly laugh that suggested he was messing with them somehow.

"You must not fret so," he told them, patting their head affectionately.

"But you asked if I was going to be a mom?" they asked him.

"Not of new life, not yet," he told them, that was a plan for some other day at some other time, "I meant to my son who is almost grown."

Son... who is almost... SILVER?

Their jaw dropped at the realization.

"You want me to help with Silver?"

[Name]'s eyes were wide. Silver wasn't too far from their age.

"Yes!" Lilia chirped an answer.

"Well..."

What were they supposed to say to this? They weren't the type to decline their lover's request and they did care for Silver. They could see how he would need another parent to balance the chaos of Lilia now. But, them? It was a lot to take in.

"I will let you think about it, but as my lover, it does make you a parent to him in some sense of the word, perhaps an unconventional one, though," he explained to them.

They nodded.

"Father, please do not harass [Name]!" Silver spoke up from across the room, looking at [Name] a moment later, "You do not need to be my mother if you do not wish to be."

Ah, [Name] had forgotten. They were in the Diasomnia Commons. Silver and Sebek were here. There was an audience.

"Hmm..." they hummed, trying to think it over.

"But isn't Silver still so cute?" Lilia cooed.

"Father-" Silver attempted to cut in but [Name] spoke too soon.

"I suppose I wouldn't mind helping with your son, Lilia."

"Yay~"

At least Lilia was happy. Silver might need to vent to someone later.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Silver

Silver does not realize he has befriended [Name] until they have been friends for several weeks. He does not have the heart to back out after this and only grows closer to them from this point on.

He grows to like their optimistic attitude.

They share a bit of naivety in the world and others sense this.

Silver confesses first as he believes this is the "correct" way to do it based on the books (manga) that Lilia offered him as advice.

They decide to be a couple fairly easily and it's a first for them both. Silver has never had a relationship outside of his work as a guard and being Lilia's adoptive son.

Silver and [Name] don't realize they are in love until everyone else is already painfully aware of their feelings for each other.

Lilia likes to mess with both Silver and his lover.

Silver and his lover often become victims of these pranks.

[Name] and Silver are too forgiving in these instances.

Sebek sometimes yells at them about it.

"Is this cheese?" [Name] asked Silver, trying to get the substance out of her hair and failing, "Cheese from the ceiling?"

Their expression was one of confusion as they looked between their hair and the white-haired boy who was also trying to get the sticky orange substance off of his dorm uniform's horned hat. He didn't seem pleased but was far less surprised than they were.

"Yes, I think so," he told them.

They paused, thinking about it more deeply.

"....Why?"

"Well..." Silver trailed off for a moment, trying to think of a way to answer her without incriminating someone, "It was a practical joke."

"A joke? Cheese from the ceiling was a joke?" she asked, confused but not angry, trying to find the hilarity in the event, "What does it mean?"

"I don't think it has a meaning, this is just how my- How Lilia-senpai shows his affection for me, for you, for ... us, I suppose?"

"Oh..." they said before their eyes widened, "Oh!"

"Yes..." he managed to respond, hesitant.

He felt a bit bad Lilia had done something that startled them.

"Does that mean Lilia-senpai thinks of us as... a pair?"

"Maybe?" Silver responded.

It seemed likely enough that Silver and [Name] were seen as a pair by his father. He was prone to assigning roles to people in Silver's experience. It didn't warrant cheese but, oh well. They really do sell everything at the School Store, he noted.

That was probably where his father had gotten this... whatever it was.

"We are best friends, right Silver?" [Name] asked, pulling him from his thoughts at what other oddities the store might be selling.

"Yes, but..."

He wanted to say it. He had thought it over for a week, been yelled at by Sebek, been told to "court properly" by Prince Malleus... He had to do it. He was a knight. What scared him so much about this?

Silver let out a soft breathy sigh.

"But?" [Name] asked, repeating what he had half-said.

He had to do this. He wanted to do this. Silver was determined.

"I have been meaning to ask you something, [Name]," he told them.

"What is it...?" [Name] asked, surprised for the second time that day.

Copying what he had read in the books Lilia offered him, he took their hands in his and looked at them with a sparkle in his eyes they had not seen until this very moment. He was serious.

"[Name]," he spoke once more.

They blinked at him. What was he trying to say?

"Yes....?" they replied.

"Would you do me the... honor of..." Silver paused for a second or two before he continued, "Being mine? I am in love with you so ardently I might... You're lovely."

The line was a jumble of the things he had read. Would that suffice? Would it be a proper request to them? He knew it had to be done respectfully or else he would bring shame to his father and master alike. Silver would never want to do that, he was loyal to the fae despite his very humanity.

His eyes gazed into theirs, not wanting to look away and miss their answer. Silver watched as they processed his words, face flushing slightly as soon as they understood what he meant with that flowery question. They struggled for words.

"You. Me..." they paused, "Yes!"

He expected a bit more hesitation but they seemed enthusiastic about it as they jumped into his arms and wrapped theirs around his neck, hugging him tightly. They both ignored the strings of sprayable cheese that was still covering them both and the laundry that would need to be done shortly after.

"I am glad you accept my feelings," he managed to say.

[Name] nodded into his shoulder.

"This is all like a dream.." they said softly to him.

If this was a dream, Silver noted, it was a sweet one.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is annoyed by [Name] for the first while they know each other but it is mostly because their "kind" personality causes them to approach him and they are a HUMAN.

They grow on him only because he just keeps running into them?

Is the universe trying to get them together? (yes)

Through repeated exposure, they begin a kind of friendship

[Name] listens intently when Sebek speaks about Malleus.

This aids in the development of their friendship.

Sebek does not know how to confess.

There is some internal conflict for this guard about his feelings.

[Name] remains blissfully unaware of his struggles.

Sebek means well he was just raised by a very human-phobic grandpa who he idolizes. We're all aware it's a problem.

"Sebek!" [Name] finally said a bit louder than the original attempt at getting his attention, "Are you okay?"

The knight was startled to attention and instantly straightened his posture before taking a fighting stance as though they were in danger. To that, [Name] was not sure what to say.

"Ah, it's you," he said, albeit quieter than usual, "I'm fine."

They narrowed their eyes at him briefly but didn't say anything. [Name] trusted him at their core, so they believed his words.

"If you say so," they shrugged, "So, are we going into town?"

Sebek turned to see [Name] sparkling at him with the sweetest smile on their lips. They were excited about this trip, weren't they? How could he have let himself get distracted from a task that Lilia gave him? Lilia told him to accompany this human, his friend, into town as a guard. Something about magic-less people not being safe alone.

He was in no position to question Lilia.

"We are!" he said, volume returning with force, "OFF WE GO!"

[Name] just giggled as they followed after him, blissfully unaware of the reason for his awkward posture and strange fluctuation in volume (even more than usual). They simply assumed it was Sebek being himself. He always was a bit strange and they adored him for it, seeing the passion in his eyes even when he was being a bit... much.

As kind and caring as they were, there was a certain naivety about [Name]. Falling in love was foreign to them. Perhaps that was why they did not notice the tell-tale signs that Lilia would have pointed out to them if he didn't like seeing Sebek squirm so much.

Sebek was in love with [Name].

But how did he tell someone that he cared for them? That he appreciated their mothering side and the fact that they listened to him. He thought about them! He wanted to please them! And... He dreamed of what their life could be like after they graduated. That one was embarrassing.

He glanced over toward them for a moment.

There they were, blissfully unaware of the anxiety within him at the thought that his feelings could change the friendship they had.

"This will be a fun day," Sebek told [Name], "You have my word."

"As a knight?"

"Yes... As a knight."

"Yay!!"

Their smile was all that mattered to him. He could wait just a bit longer to tell them the truth. All in good time... He could do it.

Lilia might have other plans though...

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[lirabuswavi]

"Before we start the meeting," Superman said, "Is there anything anyone would like to address first?"

Phantom stood up, chair rolling softly against the carpet as it was pushed back. "Yes, actually," He reached into his utility belt and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "This is my resignation from the Justice League,"

A beat of silence.

"Oh," Wonder Woman said. "Has something occurred in your personal life?"

"Yeah, I guess you could call it that," Phantom snorted, sounding remarkably bitter, a stark difference from the cheerful young man they knew.

"Is there nothing we could do to help you?"

"No. There isn't. Because it happened ten years ago,"

"Is there something wrong with your powers?" Flash, who was very quick at mental math and quickly aligned it to a fourteen year old metahuman gene activation, said.

"Yes. There is something wrong with me," Was the meeting room getting colder? "Because I'm not a metahuman. I'm a ghost,"

Incomprehension flitted across many Justice Leaguers' faces, while a dawning horror alighted on others.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Green Lantern, freshly back from a trip to Oa and in no way up to date on recent politics, asked.

"Why. Didn't I. Tell anyone?" Phantom said softly, and yes, the room was definitely getting colder. "I don't know. Why didn't I, fourteen and freshly dead, tell anyone about what killed me? Why didn't I, the son of ghost hunters, tell my parents I was what they hated most? Why didn't I, the hero of my hometown, tell people I was the same kind of 'thing' that attacked the town on the regular. Why didn't I, in an increasingly hostile environment, tell people I was the same kind of being they made effigies of to burn and laugh at. Why didn't I, the person whose existence was just made illegal, tell anyone?"

Silence. Their breaths wafted in front of their faces. There was frost spiralling up the wall behind Phantom like an aura of dread.

"Because. I. Was. Scared. I was scared of exactly what's happening now with the Anti-Ecto acts. I was scared of being hated. Of being treated like a monster. Of being held down by my parents, my town, the government, and ripped apart molecule by molecule just like they said I should be,"

Phantom breathed in deeply and exhaled, temperature slowly rising and icy crystals dissolving.

"I became a hero to defend humans from invading ghosts. And now the roles are switched. Humans are the ones invading ghost towns, their homes, kidnapping and enslaving them, sneering and laughing all the while. I am half human. And I am half ghost. I am a hero to the people that need me. Not just in name or words or membership cards," Phantom waved a hand to the paper he had put on the table, "But in deeds. I am not a metahuman. I am not a human hero. I am not human. And I would not be a hero at all if I didn't do what was right,"

Phantom planted his feet on the carpet, shoulders rolled back and head held high. His bearing was regal. They had never seen Phantom like this before. "The Justice League is beholden to the governments of this mortal world. But as someone who has known you, fought beside you, and prevented you from becoming part of my Realms too soon, I hope you are first and foremost beholden to your conciouncess,"

And without another word, Phantom turned, clawed a hand through the air, a portal ripping into existence at his fingertips, and stepped through. The swirling green portal closed behind him, like he was never there.

A beat of silence.

"First on the agenda-," Batman began.

"What the fuck?!" Green Arrow snapped. "Bats, you are not telling me we are just going to ignore-,"

"-we will discuss the Anti-Ecto acts and how we will best prevent the egregious sentient rights violation the United States Government has passed into law," Batman continued.

"We were planning to bring this up even before Phantom revealed himself," Superman interceded peaceably.

"You knew, didn't you," Wonder Woman said accusingly, gaze fixed on Batman.

"Yes," Batman said. "It was obvious if you were looking,"

"Well then why didn't you tell any of us?!" Green Lantern demanded.

Batman fixed a flat stare on Green Lantern. "It has been made expressly clear to me," He said slowly, "On multiple occasions, that sharing my knowledge of others' secret identities, up to and including the sources of other people's powers and/or training, was expressly forbidden as an invasion of privacy. Including revealing my knowledge to the individual in question as it was 'creepy' and 'honestly better off not knowing you knew',"

Silence.

"Any other objections?"

Silence.

"Good. Let's get started,"

Dark Secret

So! Danny was discovered pretty quickly after his first battle against the Lunch Lady. His hair turned white, and his body shape was a little different, but he largely looked very similar to his Human Form, so it was only a matter of time really.

Thankfully he was assumed to be a Metahuman.

He didn't look like any other Ghost, the closest resemblance was his hair and eye color, but even that could be explained away. Also his parents were adamant that he couldn't be a Ghost because he was still Sentient and not Evil, so he must just have powers that just looked similar to Ghost Powers esthetically. Probably as a result of the Portal Accident, which he used as an explanation for how his powers awakened.

Danny also avoided using the more obvious Ghost Powers like Intangiblity and Invisiblity, sticking mostly to the most basic Flight and Energy based Powers he got to be as generic as possible. If anybody saw otherwise, it was a trick of the light or a trick of the Ghosts.

Danny became the Hero of Amity Park, always pretending to be something else. It was his darkest secret.

Unfortunately because the public never saw a Ghost like Phantom on a positive light, their perception of Ghosts never changed. Nobody believed that Ghosts could be anything aside from Evil, and as the knowledge of Ghosts and the Ghost Zone began to spread around the world that perception became more and more commonplace.

If Danny had been revealed in the early days, it could have been salvageable, but nowadays if his secret was revealed he would have to convince the entire world that everything they knew about Ghosts was wrong. It would practically be impossible.

Even when he joined the Justice League when he became an Adult, he still had to hide his secret. Years of hiding made sure he could conceal his true Nature from the magic users on the team, but he still had to be distant from the team just to be sure.

While all this was going on in the Living Realm, his adventures in the Ghost Zone still happened as normal. He saved Pandora and the Acropolis, dethroned the Tyrant King Aragon, managed to defeat Pariah Dark in Single combat, and even became recognized as a Great Warrior by the Far Frozen.

After years of hiding, he actually felt more at home in the Ghost Zone than in the Human Realm. There he could be his true self without having to hide a huge part of his identity, and people accepted him for who he was. Sure he had enemies there, but he also had more real friends outside of Tucker and Sam.

He was content with his double life, acting as a Hero to the Public while hiding his true self, and secretly going to the Ghost Zone to be himself among his friends and even his enemies.

Of course it all came crashing down when he Anti Ecto Acts finally passed.

Now there was a Legal Path for Humans to enter and profit off of the Ghost Zone. Beyond just being able to legally kill and experiment on Ghosts, the Acts also allowed Humans to claim parts of the Ghost Zone as their own Property, enslaving the Ghosts residing there, and destroying the Ecosystem of the Zone because there were no laws preventing it.

And now Danny had a choice.

He could either side with the Humans to which he was a Hero, allowing them to destroy the Ghost Zone and Enslave the denizens living there with the full support of the Government, or he could side with the Ghost Zone, betraying Humanity and the people he had been protecting for years, but trying to save those who had accepted him for his true self years ago.

To him the answer was obvious.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I understand that times are very stressful right now and everyone is jumpy and on a hair-trigger, but I've noticed a very, very worrying trend in policing others' lived experiences in online trans spaces in the past week.

Being used as a political punching bag is fucking awful and stressful and I'm not gonna blame anyone for being jumpy. But we have got to collectively accept that other trans people are going to have lived experiences you don't relate to (and in fact that you can even find fundamentally opposed to your own), and that people with these different lived experiences are not your enemy, or it's going to be so much harder to stand as a community through this.

I have seen so much talk lately about how some trans people are just OBVIOUSLY tailoring their language to make cis people more comfortable, firmly medicalize being trans, etc., and I know that's not true because you're talking about my lived experiences here. I'm one of those trans people who knew I was trans at a very young age (like, telling my mom "I'm a boy" at five or six, getting sent home from school for refusing to play on the girls' team, etc.), and I relate more strongly to the "being trans is not a choice" argument against transphobes because for me it never was. Gender may be a social construct but I still feel a firm and deeply-personal internal sense that I am a man and always have been - for me, being trans was never just a matter of "I'd be happier as a man," it's always been "I am a man." I am not wrong for feeling this way.

And other trans people are not wrong for feeling that being trans, for them, was a choice! Other trans people who describe their experience, for example, as "I used to be a girl but now I'm a man" don't share my experience, but that doesn't make it bad. These people are not hurting me even though my experience is in many ways the exact opposite, and I'm not hurting them. We're both just as trans.

The problem here comes when someone tries to tell other trans people how they should talk about and understand their lived experiences. That's not on. Other trans people are not your enemy and we're all allowed to have our own nuanced and deeply personal understandings of gender and identity.

[deesseshesca]

PAC : What can of relationships match my vibes ?

Girlboss desire love 2 !

Besties, let’s talk ✨Tarot & Tea✨I accept all forms of payment: PayPal, debit, credit, even Google Pay. So, Chérie d'Amour, don’t waste your time secure that bag 💰 and let’s get into ALL the juicy details your future is serving. 🃏💖 Your next adventure is waiting!

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PILE 1

SONG : I Got U - Ronisia ft Niska

The kind of relationship that matches your soul feels like a sacred dance between two spirits, neither overshadowing the other but instead amplifying their brilliance. You need someone who sees you not just for your beauty but for the fire and dreams that flicker in your eyes. This person doesn’t seek to mold or control you but stands beside you with reverence, knowing you shine brightest when you’re free to be your authentic self.

Their love is steady, unwavering—a safe harbor in the chaos of the world. They choose you, not just in fleeting moments of admiration but in every room, even one filled with dazzling lights and extraordinary people. To them, you are the light. You are the reason their eyes wander no further, their heart stays still, and their ambition grows stronger.

This love is one where they honor your independence, never trying to dim your spark but fanning it gently, wanting you to rise higher, dream bigger, and be your boldest, most beautiful self. They look at you and see eternity—not as something they own but as something they are privileged to walk alongside. Their soul whispers to yours, always, “You are my choice. You are my always.”

PREVIOUS READING

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PILE 2

SONG : Mélodie - Ronisia

The kind of relationship that aligns with your essence is one where love feels like a sanctuary—a space where you are not pursued for the thrill of the chase but cherished for the light you bring to the world. You need someone whose devotion is unwavering, who sees you not as a prize to be won but as a muse to be adored, a queen to be honored, and a soul to be nurtured.

This person will look past the beauty that leaves others speechless and see the depths of your heart, the quiet strength within, and the dreams you carry. They won’t be intimidated by your standards or the radiance that sets you apart; instead, they’ll rise to meet you, making it their life’s purpose to show you how deeply you are loved. Their love is tender yet enduring, expressed in thoughtful gestures, kind words, and the quiet reassurance that you are their greatest treasure.

With them, you will never have to ask for affection, because they will pour their heart into worshiping and pleasing you, not out of obligation but from the pure joy of seeing you happy. Their soul will speak to yours in every touch, every glance, and every whispered promise, reminding you always: “You are my everything, and I am here to love you endlessly.”

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

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PILE 3

SONG : Tourner la page - Emma'a

The kind of relationship that matches your essence is one that feels like a living masterpiece a grand symphony of devotion where every note is played with intention and passion. You need a love that doesn’t hide in the shadows but announces itself boldly to the world, as if saying, “This is the person I cherish, and I will show them in every way imaginable.”

This person will love you in ways that feel like poetry come to life, where every gesture is larger than life, yet filled with genuine meaning. Their affection isn’t quiet or understated it’s vivid, rich, and unapologetically extravagant. They’ll take pride in celebrating you, making sure the world knows just how much you mean to them, not for the sake of appearances but because their heart cannot contain the magnitude of their feelings.

It’s a love that builds something solid and enduring, where their actions match their words, and their dreams always include you. They see you not only as their partner but as their greatest treasure, someone worth every effort, every moment, and every grand gesture. Their love whispers, “You are the reason I reach higher, dream bigger, and live more beautifully.”

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

[naomihatake]

I love you just as much as I hate you

⠀⠀⠀⠀➺ pairing: caleb x fem reader / love and deepspace

⠀⠀⠀⠀➺ tags: angst, hurt (with too little comfort), slight smut at the end, are they enemies or are they lovers? (I don't know)

⠀⠀⠀⠀➺ summary: She took revenge on his behalf; however, that doesn't mean she hates him any less.

⠀⠀⠀⠀➺ content warnings: it contains spoilers (even in the author's note), tension, toxic relationship, manipulation, descriptions of torture and violence, they match each other's freak

⠀⠀⠀⠀➺ word count: 2.4k

⠀⠀⠀⠀➺ theme song: "See You Bleed" by Ramsey

⠀⠀⠀⠀➺ A/N: I don't know how I ended up writing for Caleb out of pure spite and the burning need to get this toxic idea out of my head. Imagine that this isn't the first time they kiss or have sex. At the end, I'll explain a few details that mean a lot to me because they were intentional. Their relationship is toxic and if there's softness portrayed, that's just a glimpse of their complex feelings. I wanted her to mirror his behavior, and no, she doesn't have a chip. I fully believe she has the potential to turn twisted because of the events she went through. What she does isn't moral and I give zero fucks — I like it only when they're both twisted for each other. If you've watched the main story and Caleb's myth, the fact that she killed several people will make more sense to you. If you didn't read them, however, there are only small hints as to why she's done it.

There was a faint scent of something in the apartment. Familiar and metallic, it had Caleb scrunch his nose as he frowned deeply. 

Then, his eyes widened in pure horror and he sucked in a quick breath. Boots and uniform still on, he rushed to her room, fingers gripping at the knob as he pushed the door open in a hurry. The door hit the wall, getting the attention of the young woman who just took off her shirt, exposing her back and the straps of her bra. 

The pristine, white shirt was stained in red, in blood. Curtains drawn open, the moonlight fell in eerie waves over her figure, accentuating the soft lines of her body. Soft, except for the unusually sharp gaze she shot Caleb. Dangerous, murderous even. A pair of dark eyes, cold and unforgiving. Splatters of blood on her face — on her beautiful face, on the mesmerizing face of his very obsession. 

“Is there an issue?” she arched her eyebrow at him. 

He doesn't even remember a time when she acted like this with him. So unforgiving, just like her gaze, her tone sent a shiver down his spine. It was unsettling. 

“What's with the blood, pip-squeak?” he almost growled. “What happened? Who did this?” 

Coming closer, boots hitting harshly against the floor, he couldn't believe his eyes when he saw a cruel smile curl her lips up. 

“You're so stupid sometimes,” she shook her head, chastising him in a soft tone. 

She threw the bloodstained shirt on the chair at the desk and turned to him. 

His gentle fingers gripped at her shoulders firmly — what a contrast — as he raked his gaze over her body. Dry blood, but no wounds and no bruises except for some old ones. A greenish bruise on her ribs, a fading scar from her side running down under her jeans. After spending so much time training and fighting, he recognized each and every kind of injury and none of the ones on her body was new. 

“Enlighten me, then,” but his tone turned to a whisper as he realized she wasn't, in fact, hurt. 

It was someone else's, then. 

“You're an idiot for thinking of me as naive, gege.”

Oh, the light and almost scary chuckle that left her lips, the way she looked at him with some kind of pity, like he had been wrong about her this entire time. As if the view he had of her was wrong, so inaccurate. 

And she was glad. More than that, even. She was delighted to watch the confused and worried look on his face, to watch her gege recognize nothing of the woman he once knew. 

It's because of you. You did this to me. You ruined me, you turned me like this. 

And I kind of like it. 

The young hunter stepped closer to him, pressing her own hands on his shoulders as she made him step back in sync with her. Until his legs hit the bed and she pushed him harder. He relented and the mattress dipped under his weight. 

She harshly gripped at his jaw with one of her hands, thumb and pointer finger pressing against his face with force. Pulling, she tilted his head towards her. 

Caleb could only see the crazy look on her face as she leaned over, covering his view with the strands of hair falling in a curtain around their faces. He curled his own hand on her wrist, applying the same amount of pressure. Just to test her resolve, to see if he could put a stop to her tantrum. 

“I hate you,” she murmured. 

Crazy eyes locked on each other, harsh grips of their fingers on each other's bodies. Her blunt nails dug into his face and he was left breathless. 

Did it arouse him or did it scare him? Did it worry him? 

A mixture of feelings swirled in his purple eyes, intense as they clouded his judgment. Those words shot like an arrow through his already broken heart and some shards scattered around at their feet. But none of the sharp shards seem to touch her, because she didn't move an inch. 

His hurt gaze didn't move her. 

“But you can't hate me with every fiber of your being,” he whispered softly, like a snake promising her eternal knowledge with a beautiful, red apple caught in his fangs. “Right?” 

“That's one thing you're right about,” she hummed lowly, counting his promises and words, the pros and cons. 

At the end of the day, she was not an ordinary civilian anymore, hasn't been for years. She hadn't become a hunter just to be underestimated, she hadn't become a weapon for others to treat her like a soft little thing. A hunter who's seen blood and death, who had almost died, who had cut her own body while trying to save another's. It all had led to the person she was at that very moment. 

But they all made that mistake lately — of acting like a human couldn't do horrifying things out of rage, out of hatred. Everyone thought there was sanity left within her, but she knew they weren't right, not anymore at least. 

They thought of her as weak, as frail and fragile. The only fragile thing within her was her sanity, and Caleb pulled at the last string in the past days. 

“Because I hate them more, Caleb. And their biggest mistake was choosing you as their lab rat. They thought they did something, he believed he had finally found the perfect person to put to test. But they were so, so wrong, gege.” Such a sweet voice, such a soft and mellow tone, dipped in secrets and crimes. 

She ran her thumb over his jaw, leaning in closer, so close their noses almost touched. 

Tilting her head, she whispered softly at his ear, like a little devil wrapped up in silk. 

“Because they all screamed when I ripped off their limbs. Because they all begged when I cut their fingers, one by one.” 

He gulped, eyes widening slightly at the information. The actions in itself didn't sound scary, no, but the fact that she was the one doing it all, the fact that she was most probably not lying. The scent of blood filled his lungs in a disgusting manner, despite how many times he's felt it. 

“Someone told me at some point,” she started off as a sweet, loving story of a long time ago, “that the best revenge was to keep someone alive, because one can only feel pain when they're alive. And I followed that advice. I kept them alive for as long as I could and they were in pain the entire time. I woke them up every single time and I ruined their bodies, until they died of pain.” 

He felt hot underneath those clothes, like fire was licking at his spine, at every inch of his skin and flesh. 

However, no matter how insane and almost good it felt to hear those words, Caleb didn't believe it. Not fully, no, because she wouldn't do that, she was not the type to—

“Do you want to see their fingers arranged like beads on a necklace? You look at me like you don't believe a thing I've said.”

The next thing that slipped from her mouth was a sweet laughter, filled with joy and amusement. 

“I can't fucking believe you either, gege,” she spoke through chuckled, eyes sparkling. “I can't believe you're so dumb when it comes to me. I can't believe you refuse to see what's in front of your eyes.” 

Just like that, she put one knee on the bed, next to his thigh. Doing the same with her other knee, she straddled him as she caressed his cheeks with the back of her fingers. So gentle, contrasting with her gaze, with her words and behavior. His gloved hands curled into her bare waist, settling on her body. Somewhere in a corner of his mind, he thought he felt her warmth seep through the leather material. 

Leaning in, she pressed her nose against his cheek. All he had to do for her body to soften just slightly was to wrap an arm around her waist. 

“Only I can hurt you, Caleb. I deserve to do that. You've put me through so much pain and yet—” she scoffed darkly. “They dared to touch you. They had it coming. This entire time, they should've known. Their idiocy was their own decision.”

Breathless, wordless, and so confused. That's how he felt at that moment. 

“I told you not to stick your nose into it.” Of course. Her ever-loving, overprotective, gege. 

“Do not order me around,” her fingers slipped to his neck, pressing lightly. “I am not your subordinate. You are not my Colonel. They are the dogs following you around, not me.”

“You've never been a dog—”

“Oh, you are wrong,” and she let out a nervous laugh, gulping. 

Intense feelings crawled up her throat, cutting her breath as they clouded her mind. Wrath bubbled to the surface once again. 

“I was a dog, Caleb. I was a dog every single time I weeped at your grave, I was a dog every single time I thought of you while I thought you were gone for good.”

She pressed her fingers against his neck a little tighter, a little more. 

“I was a dog when I felt my world crumble every time I looked at our photos together. But not anymore.”

The grip on his neck loosened up and she took in quick breaths, eyes a little hazy as the adrenaline washed over her. 

Still, he dared to regard her with that loving and worried look in his eyes. 

“But you don't hate me.” A plea. “Right?” So pitiful. 

“I do,” she shook her head softly. 

Softening in his hold once again, she looped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her face into his neck. The dry blood on her cheeks was uncomfortable against his skin, but she didn't move just yet, especially when he wrapped his other arm around her, pressing her closer to him. 

“But if I tell you that I also care about you, it'll get to your head. You'll ignore the other side of the coin like the idiot man that you are. I love you just as much as I hate you, and my hatred is nothing kind of shallow.” 

Behind her back, he peeled off his gloves and placed his bare hands on her body. With something akin to a whimper, she melted further into his body. Lava licked at her chest, falling like hot droplets into her stomach. 

Caleb whispered her name, but she refused to hear him out any further. With a press of her palm over his lips, she regarded him with her dark gaze. 

“You'll dig yourself a deeper grave if you continue talking. So be a good boy for once, darling.”

He parted his lips against her palm and nibbled at the skin, gaze mirroring hers. With a gulp, he pulled her hand down and pressed their mouths together. Heavy breaths and heated kisses, his warm hands and her cold touch. Languid and hot, deep and hungry for each other. 

A groan escaped him when she bit at his lower lip hard enough to draw blood and she licked at it, pulling him further into that burning ocean of passion. Her kisses didn't soothe the pain in his lip as it only worsened, but he's already grown addicted to the drug that stole her name. 

“Say my name again, Caleb,” she ordered him in a soft tone, pressing her thumb against his pulse. 

The beats of his heart right under her fingertip. And like the idiot that he was, instead of moving away, he let his head fall back and exposed more of his neck to her. 

“I could kill you right now,” a breathless whisper left her lips. 

“But you won't.” Such a defiant man he was. Putting so much trust in her hands it was hard not to give in, not to give him exactly what he wanted. 

She intended to take just as much. To take his kisses, his conscience and his sanity, to occupy his every thought and steal his freedom. Just like he had stolen her soul when he left, when he supposedly died. 

Hips pressed together and clothes thrown onto the floor. Bodies glistening with sweat and wanton moans. Soft curves and harsh bites on their skin. They gripped onto each other and took. 

Drinking up her pleasure, he lifted his hips and she threw her head back. Caleb took the opportunity to leave hickeys on her neck and chest as he pressed her down on him, drawing more sounds from her lips. A sweet melody dipped in sin, a few hushed whispers of ‘I need you’ and ‘you feel so good’.  But she never said anything, simply listening to the endearing pet names, the way he desperately tried to get a word out of her. It was with no avail. 

They took and took from each other until there was nothing left. Until she fell limp on top of him and curled her fingers beneath his shoulders, gripping onto his body. In utter silence, they both looked at the night sky outside the window. 

His fingers curled tighter into her as he pressed her body against his, chests glued together. Caleb found himself in a strange position; almost vulnerable. She gave no signs of love and something within him broke. From the high he's been through a minute ago, he felt himself spiraling into the abyss. 

“This is how my pain felt like,” she whispered softly as she drew circles on his bare shoulder. As if she knew what he was thinking, like she willingly chose not to call his name when their highs reached their peak. 

He couldn't find it within himself to argue. He accepted the pain just like a dog, until she decided it was enough. 

With a lift of her head, she cupped his face in her palms and kissed his forehead. A tender gesture that he gripped onto with his teeth, closing his glossy eyes.

Caleb knew what she was doing and he let her. Just like she's known how she was manipulated and had let him do it. 

rant warning! so. why is he vulnerable at the end? she did just use sex as a way to make him feel bad; that thing where you feel emotionally exposed after orgasms is a thing and I wanted to show that. she uses it, but in the end, she relents - she still cares about him.

they're both very self aware individuals and know what the other is doing, but they just let it happen. when they're stubborn, they're stubborn at the same time. she gives him a taste of his own medicine.

if you wonder who exactly is the man she killed; well, it's Professor Lucius. just because that man is dead, doesn't mean there's a happy ending.

also, I called him a 'dog' at the end because I used the same word in her speech when she talked about how she felt - it was intentional. I showed more of her twisted behavior (instead of adding his own crazy shit) because that was the detail I wanted to portray in this oneshot.

I hate a lot of thoughts about him, ngl. anyways, I'd appreciate opinions and criticism. have a great day! <333

[canadian-us-politics]

The Concerned Bird’s Substack

Elon Musk's and X's Role in 2024 Election Interference

THE CONCERNED BIRD

JAN 10, 2025

To Whom It May Concern,

I'm writing this with a heavy heart and no small amount of fear. As a former X (formerly Twitter) employee on an H1B visa, I can't reveal my identity without risking everything, but I can't stay silent any longer about what I saw and was made to do.

When Elon Musk took over, everything changed. What started as a social media company became something much darker. I was part of a team that was directly ordered to manipulate Twitter's systems to influence the 2024 US presidential election. It wasn't subtle, and it wasn't ethical.

We completely changed how the algorithm worked, pushing pro-Trump and right-wing posts to the top of people's feeds. To make it look balanced, we also boosted some left-wing critics of Democrats, but it was all carefully calculated. These changes didn't just affect Americans - they impacted users worldwide.

One of the most disturbing things we did was create thousands of fake accounts using advanced AI systems called Grok and Eliza. These accounts looked completely real and pushed political messages that spread like wildfire. Havn't you noticed they all disappeared? Like magic.

We also knowingly allowed foreign governments to manipulate the platform. State-backed groups from Israel, Iran, and Russia were running their own influence campaigns, and because their goals aligned with ours, we looked the other way. Even when they clearly broke the rules, we didn't stop them.

Perhaps the most unethical part was how we manufactured news stories. One team would write completely fake articles, while another team would artificially boost their engagement metrics to make them go viral. We specifically targeted certain groups of people, knowing exactly how to manipulate their views and emotions.

The moderation team became a tool for our agenda. We systematically silenced anyone who got in our way, enforcing the rules when it suited us and ignoring them when it didn't. Elon Musk himself was deeply involved in these decisions, often joking about being "Black Hat MAGA."

What started as US election interference has now spread to other countries. We're currently doing the same thing in Germany and other European nations. The damage we've done is immeasurable, and I don't know if it can ever be fixed. People don't know what's real anymore, and that's exactly what we wanted.

The pilot program for the Eliza AI Agent, was election interference. Eliza was release officially in October of 2024, but we had access to it before then thanks to Marc Andreessen.

I'm terrified to be writing this, but I had to speak up. I just hope that someone with the power to do something about this sees this letter. You'll know what i’m saying is the truth by Elon's actions to the news someone spoke out. For more evidence look at the docs of Eliza AI Agent software. We left bread crumbs.

Yours sincerely,

A former employee who can't sleep at night.

Stop using Twitter. The whole site is a psyop.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

revisited your new tier-list and had to ask about your dislike for skully. the rest i either saw you talk about or can deduce, but what did the dead boy do?

[Referencing my personal tier list!]

***Please note: these are just my OWN thoughts and opinions! In sharing them, I do not mean to disparage or to invalidate those who think differently than me; please feel however you wish about Skully!***

Listen, Skully's one of those characters I want to like 😅 but I just can't bring myself to...

I found him charming at first, I really did. I thought his whimsical demeanor and politeness were endearing and a nice way of translating Jack Skellington's character into a twisted version of him. I also thought he was very cute when he fanboyed over meeting his idol. Unfortunately, my opinion of Skully quickly went downhill as soon as we started planning for Halloween with the residents of Halloween Town. That's when he starts to exposit his... own beliefs on how Halloween should be celebrated. His ideas by themselves are fine (I actually prefer his version of Halloween, if I'm being completely honest). However, it's how Skully expresses those ideas that completely turned me off. He's so insistent that he get his way and becomes dismissive or defensive with those who don't see his perspective. I cringed every single time he talked down to others for not agreeing with him or for simply pitching different ideas--and while you could argue that the NRC boys were also turning down Skully's ideas, none of them were as rude about it as he was. Some of the boys (like Vil and Jamil) even entertained his ideas for a little while or went out of their way to attempt to console him. But what did Skully do? Continue to sulk and whine. Whenever he asks Yuu for their opinion too, he tries to MANSPLAIN to them to change their opinion if you ever pick the dialogue option where you disagree with him. I often hear people gushing about how it's so sweet and considerate that Skully involves Yuu by asking for their thoughts on X or Y. But when you gauge his reaction to a dissenting dialogue option, he doesn't actually want to hear your honest opinion, he only wants someone to validate his own views. Again, it's okay if Skully wants to observe his own traditions and what he has grown up with, but he shouldn't be going around forcing others to follow him. It's gatekeepy, it's elitist, it's not cute.

You know what else isn't cute? All the tantrums he threw in the event. Like... to a certain extent, I get being emotional and I understand being upset. But to act in the way Skully does????? To shout and cry like a toddler?????? Multiple times??? Over being "betrayed" by your idol? By someone you projected onto and had no idea what they were actually like? Someone you don't even KNOW??? That reads as really parasocial and emotionally obsessive 💦💦 (and if you know anything about me, I'm deeply disturbed by extreme parasocial behaviors). That, paired with his general emotional immaturity, left such a bad taste in my mouth. Yeah, the other NRC students and especially the OB boys act have emotional outbursts too, but those occur far less frequently (unless you’re talking about an outlier, like Riddle, who is also low on my tier list). I don’t know, maybe it’s because I don’t “get” worshipping someone to that extent??? It just seems so… unserious and unhealthy. Skully’s motivation just feels so much weaker than I’d expect of a Halloweenie. It would have helped to know just how bad the bullying he suffeted was (which would justify his intense emotions) or more about why Skully + his hometown adore Jack so much (so we’d better understand why he feels so betrayed or why he wants to emulate Jack so badly).

A lot of what Skully does completely disregards others' autonomy and boundaries. Even the hand-kissing lost its charm after a while because he continued to do it in excess, even when the NRC boys largely expressed disgust + discomfort and TOLD HIM MULTIPLE TIMES to not do it again. Grim even actively dodges an attempted kiss from Skully. Does Skully listen? Absolutely not. Yeah, you could argue this was done for comedy. The thing is, I don't find it funny. I find it invasive and see it as harassment. He wears the title of "gentleman" but cannot be bothered to actually study up on what it means to be one... yet he gets so irritated whenever other characters question his being a "gentleman" 💀

I also didn't find Skully to be that threatening of an antagonist. He just... poisons Jack, pumpkins Grim (without even getting confirmation if Grim even saw anything suspicious in the first place), kidnaps him and Yuu, and... then what? He didn't plan anything out after that and had no solid way of "taking over" Halloween. He's a first-year student who hardly has mastery of his UM and has basic. How was he going to get the residents of Halloween Town to obey him? How was he planning on beating the remaining NRC students? Maybe the point of this event wasn't to have Skully be a major threat--but it's still a massive letdown after the likes of Rollo or even Fellow and the mysterious boss backing him.

The only things that save Skully from being at the very bottom of my tier list are his strong first impression and the fact that he does repent and learn to change his ways later in life. It seems like his attitude improved and he became more open-minded too; I only wish I could have seen that more mature version of Skully… Maybe I would have liked him more then.

[dreamersworldduh]

ALL YOURS 

• DEREK HALE x MALE!READER

SUMMARY — Derek's love for you is fierce, unrelenting, and deeply passionate, even when his heat takes control. While his primal instincts may amplify his need for you, his love and care remain constant. In these moments, you see every side of him—the lover, the protector, the alpha, and the vulnerable man who trusts you completely. His passion burns with intensity, but it's rooted in tenderness and trust, making you his anchor and the one he loves unconditionally. Despite his raw, wild instincts, Derek's love always shines through, grounding both of you in an unbreakable bond.

WARNING! 18+ MDNI. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing.

WORDS! 11.6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE! Hi! Just wanted to say the lack of Derek Hale fics is criminal, the man is so goddamn fineeee and such an fucking alpha…ughhhh. Anywho —happy reading😉✨

Being the boyfriend of Derek Hale is anything but simple—it's a challenge, a test of patience, loyalty, and resilience. Derek isn't just your average guy; he's a brooding, fiercely protective werewolf with a past heavy enough to weigh down even the strongest of hearts. Being with him means you've faced your fair share of danger, heartbreak, and intense moments that have pushed you to your limits, both emotionally and physically. It's not just about enduring the supernatural chaos that seems to follow him like a shadow; it's also about navigating his deeply rooted possessive instincts—a part of him that can be as intimidating as it is endearing.

Derek's possessiveness isn't something to be taken lightly. It's a primal, instinctive part of him, born from years of loss and betrayal, making him hyperaware of anything that threatens his loved ones. You've seen that fiery gleam in his eyes when someone so much as looks at you the wrong way or steps too close for his comfort. His protectiveness borders on territorial at times, as though his wolf senses are constantly on high alert, ensuring you're safe, no matter the cost. He's not afraid to stake his claim—not in a controlling way, but in a way that lets the world know that you are his, and no one else's.

Being with Derek means navigating these intense emotions. You've had to learn how to reassure him, to remind him that you're not going anywhere, even when his insecurities surface. It means being patient when his past haunts him, and understanding when his walls go up, knowing that beneath that tough exterior lies a heart that loves fiercely, but has been hurt too many times to count. His loyalty to you is unwavering, but it's a loyalty that demands the same in return.

And yet, despite the challenges, being Derek Hale's partner comes with its own kind of magic. His love may be intense, but it's also genuine, powerful, and raw. He loves with his entire being, protecting you as if you're the most precious thing in his world. You've endured the trials that come with loving a man like him, but you've also been rewarded with moments of vulnerability and tenderness that only you get to see—the way he softens when he looks at you, or the rare, small smile that lights up his face when he feels at peace.

Yes, being Derek Hale's boyfriend is no easy task, but it's a journey you've embraced wholeheartedly, knowing that the love he offers is as wild, untamed, and enduring as the wolf inside him.

Though there are two distinct sides to Derek's possessiveness, this moment reveals the softer, sweeter version of it—the one that makes your heart flutter and reminds you how deeply he cherishes you. It happens during a pack meeting at the newly restored Hale House, a gathering that feels more like a family dinner than a formal strategy session. The house, once a ruin, now stands tall again, filled with laughter, chatter, and the comforting scent of home. You've taken it upon yourself to help serve food to the pack members, moving gracefully around the room, offering plates and making sure everyone is settled.

Derek is at the head of the long dining table, his usual brooding demeanor softened just slightly by the warmth of the atmosphere. He watches you like a hawk as you move from one person to the next, his gaze unwavering. You can feel the weight of his attention, a mix of pride and something undeniably territorial. No one says a word about it, but the rest of the pack knows better than to comment—this is just Derek being Derek.

Finally, when everything is in place and everyone has been served, you grab a plate for yourself and look for an open seat. Before you can take a single step toward a chair, a strong hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back gently but firmly. You glance down and meet Derek's intense gaze as he tugs you closer without a word. Before you know it, he has you settled in his lap, one arm snaking around your waist to keep you in place, as if daring anyone to suggest you belong anywhere else.

"Derek," you murmur, leaning in close so only he can hear. Your tone is a mix of amusement and exasperation. "This is your meeting. You're supposed to be leading it, not—"

"I don't care," he interrupts, his voice low and gravelly, but there's a softness in his eyes that betrays the intensity of his words. His hold on you tightens slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make it clear he isn't letting go. "Stay here."

The pack continues their discussions, wisely ignoring the alpha's clear claim on you. You can feel his warmth radiating through his shirt, his hand resting protectively on your hip as if it's the most natural thing in the world. Despite the slight flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck, you can't help but relax against him. Derek, for all his gruffness, has a way of making you feel like the center of his world in moments like this.

You sigh, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "You're impossible."

"And you're mine," he replies, his tone quiet but filled with conviction, his lips brushing lightly against the side of your temple.

Though it's a little distracting for the rest of the pack, no one dares to question it. This softer, possessive side of Derek might be less intimidating than his fiercer moments, but it's no less powerful. It's his way of showing the world—and you—that you're not just someone he loves. You're someone he can't bear to let go of, even for a moment.

Then there's the other side of Derek's possessiveness—the version that's intense, commanding, and impossible to miss. It's the side that comes out when someone steps over a line they should've never approached in the first place. Tonight, that line is crossed while you're working your shift at the bar, doing the job you insisted on keeping despite Derek's protests.

"Let me take care of you," he's said countless times, his low, gruff voice almost pleading. But as much as you love him, you're too independent to let him shoulder your financial responsibilities. Bartending may not be glamorous, but it's your job, and you're proud of the work you do. Derek respects that—most of the time. But tonight, his patience is about to be tested.

It's a busy evening. Music hums through the air, mingling with the chatter of customers and the clinking of glasses as you pour drinks and banter with the regulars. Most of the people here know exactly who you're dating. They've seen the mark on your neck—Derek's love bite, dark and unmistakable, a territorial claim he left with purpose. The regulars don't bother you; they know better than to risk Derek Hale's wrath.

But tonight, trouble doesn't come from a regular. It comes from someone new—a man sitting at the bar, nursing a drink and watching you with a cocky smirk that instantly sets you on edge. At first, you try to brush off his attention. You're polite, professional, and quick to redirect the conversation, but he doesn't take the hint.

"Come on," he says, leaning across the bar, his voice dripping with confidence. "You can't tell me you're not single. A guy like you? Working here? Bet you get all kinds of offers."

You force a tight smile. "I'm not available," you say, your tone firm but not aggressive.

He doesn't back down. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you're waiting around for some guy who isn't even here. What kind of boyfriend lets you work a place like this anyway?"

You feel a flicker of irritation, but before you can respond, the air in the room shifts. It's subtle at first—a strange hush that falls over the nearby patrons, followed by a wave of tension that seems to ripple through the bar. You don't have to look to know what's causing it. Derek is here.

You glance toward the entrance just as Derek steps through the door, his presence commanding attention even in the crowded room. He's dressed simply, but there's an edge to his movements, a barely restrained energy that makes everyone instinctively give him space. His sharp green eyes lock onto you immediately, scanning the scene and landing on the man leaning too close to your side of the bar.

Derek doesn't break stride as he approaches, his gaze narrowing. The man notices him too late, straightening up but not yet realizing the mistake he's made.

"Something wrong here?" Derek's voice is calm, low, and steady, but it carries a weight that silences the nearby conversation.

The guy tries to play it off, oblivious to the storm he's just invited. "No problem. Just talking to your... friend here."

Derek's lips twitch into a faint, humorless smirk as he steps closer, resting his hands on the bar. "He's not just my friend," Derek says, his voice dropping into a tone so cold it could freeze the room. "He's mine."

The guy blinks, clearly caught off guard but still trying to save face. "Hey, no offense. I didn't know—"

"You do now." Derek cuts him off, his gaze never leaving the man's. The unspoken threat lingers heavy in the air, and the guy shifts uncomfortably, glancing around as if searching for an escape. Derek doesn't move, doesn't need to. His sheer presence is enough to make the man mumble a quick apology before slinking away, disappearing into the crowd.

Once the intruder is gone, Derek's attention shifts to you. The tension in his jaw softens as he reaches across the bar, his large hand sliding against your wrist, pulling you closer. His eyes flick briefly to the mark on your neck as if to reassure himself it's still there.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, his tone softer now but still laced with that protective edge.

"I had it under control," you say, though the slight smirk on your lips betrays the rush of affection you feel in the moment.

Derek raises an eyebrow, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. "Sure you did."

You shake your head, leaning in just enough so only he can hear you. "You know I can have claws?"

"I know, but you don't have to use them when I'm around," he replies without hesitation, his voice steady and full of conviction. It's not a declaration for the room—it's a reminder for you, a promise that no matter what, Derek will always be there to protect you, to claim you, and to remind anyone foolish enough to cross him exactly where you stand.

For better or worse, this is the other side of Derek's possessiveness—intense, overwhelming, and unapologetically fierce. It's not always easy to handle, but it's part of who he is, and part of the way he loves you with everything he has. And in moments like this, you can't help but love him just as fiercely in return.

Then there are moments of intimacy and passion—moments that remind you of just how deeply Derek Hale loves and needs you. Tonight, one of those moments begins quietly, in the safe haven of your shared bedroom. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm light across the room as you sit comfortably on the bed, your back against the headboard, a book resting in your lap. It's not just any book, though—it's about being Luna to a pack.

You've never officially been given the title, but you've taken on the responsibilities in your own way. You care for Derek's pack—both the older members and the newer ones—like they're your own family. Whether it's listening to their problems, giving advice, training alongside them to sharpen their skills, or cooking meals that bring everyone together, you've seamlessly become their rock, their guiding presence. Even if Derek hasn't formally acknowledged it, the pack already sees you as their Luna, and you want to understand the role better—to be even more for them, and for Derek.

You're deep in thought as you read, turning a page when the sound of the bathroom door opening pulls your attention. You glance up just as Derek steps into the room, and for a moment, the air seems to shift. His hair is damp, water droplets still clinging to the ends and glistening under the soft light. A towel is wrapped low around his waist, leaving his broad chest and sculpted torso fully exposed, muscles flexing with every step he takes. The faint scent of his soap lingers in the air—a clean, woodsy scent that's distinctly his—and it makes your heart skip a beat.

Derek doesn't say anything at first. His piercing green eyes meet yours, and there's a flicker of something in his gaze—something raw and unspoken. It's a look that's equal parts admiration and desire, like he's seeing you for the first time all over again. You feel a blush creep up your neck, but you hold his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away from him.

"What are you reading?" he finally asks, his voice low and slightly rough, still thick from the heat of the shower. He moves closer, his bare feet silent against the floor as he stops at the edge of the bed.

You hold up the book slightly, showing him the cover. "Something about being a Luna," you reply softly, your voice steady but tinged with a hint of shyness. "I just... thought it might help. You know, since I've kind of been acting like one already."

Derek's expression softens, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, almost imperceptible smile. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against your knee through the blanket you have draped over your legs. "You don't need a book to tell you how to be a Luna," he says, his tone warm and laced with pride. "You're already everything they need."

His words send a warmth through your chest, but before you can respond, he moves onto the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He settles beside you, leaning back on one arm as his free hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The closeness of him—the heat of his skin, the faint scent of him still lingering from his shower—makes your pulse quicken.

"You take care of everyone," Derek murmurs, his voice softer now, almost reverent. His fingers trail lightly along your jawline, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. "You've made this pack stronger, more connected. And you've done the same for me."

You swallow hard, feeling the intensity of his gaze as it locks onto yours. "I just want to make things easier for you—for all of you," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want to be someone you can depend on."

"You already are," Derek says firmly, his hand sliding down to rest against your shoulder. He leans in closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. "You're my anchor. My strength. My Luna."

The last word comes out with a weight that makes your breath hitch. He's never said it out loud before, never made it official. But hearing it now, spoken with such conviction, sends a rush of emotions through you. Before you can respond, Derek's lips capture yours in a kiss that's both tender and demanding, pouring every ounce of his love and passion into the moment. His hand cups the back of your neck, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing closer to yours.

The book slips from your lap, forgotten, as you lose yourself in him. His warmth, his touch, the way he whispers your name like it's the only thing that matters—it's all-consuming. In this moment, there's no pack, no responsibilities, no worries. There's only Derek, and the unbreakable bond you share with him.

When you finally pull back, breathless, he rests his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling your neck. "You don't have to prove anything," he says quietly, his voice full of sincerity. "You're already everything I need. Everything we need."

The words settle deep in your chest, filling you with a sense of belonging you didn't realize you were missing. In Derek's arms, with his love surrounding you, you realize that being his Luna isn't about titles or duties—it's about being the person who stands beside him, through everything, just as he stands beside you.

Derek can be such a lover boy when he wants to be—a side of him that's soft, affectionate, and, at times, beautifully vulnerable. It's a part of him he doesn't show to many people, but with you, he lets down his walls, revealing the man behind the strong, stoic alpha exterior. In those moments, he's all tender touches and quiet words, the kind of man who holds you close like you're the most precious thing in his world. He's the Derek who gently brushes your hair out of your face, who kisses you like you're his lifeline, and who lets you see the raw, unguarded emotions that he keeps locked away from everyone else.

But that tenderness can shift in an instant—because when Derek feels his heat coming on, that lover boy softness is quickly replaced by something much more primal and consuming. It starts subtly at first: a faint tension in his muscles, a sharper edge to his movements, and a look in his eyes that burns with an intensity that makes your heart race. You've learned to recognize the signs, the way his breathing grows heavier, his gaze locks onto you, and his usually steady control begins to fray at the edges.

In the beginning, Derek tries to fight it. He does everything in his power to keep that vulnerability intact, to hold onto the tender way he speaks to you and the soft, reverent way he touches you. He doesn't want to lose control, doesn't want the heat to strip away the affection he shows so carefully. But his heat is a force beyond his will—a deep, primal instinct that coils inside him, pushing harder and harder until it demands release. It's not something he can suppress, and as much as he tries to resist it, it takes over, leaving him with only one overwhelming need: you.

The signs are subtle at first—his hands lingering a little longer when he touches you, his gaze trailing after you with a sharp intensity, and the way his breathing changes whenever you're near. But when his heat fully takes over, it's no longer subtle. It's raw, unrelenting, and impossible to ignore. His hands become more insistent, his grip firmer as though he's afraid you might slip through his fingers. His voice, once so soft and measured, grows rough, urgent, every word heavy with a hunger that makes it clear just how deeply he craves you.

For example, there was that one night when the house was quiet, everyone in the pack fast asleep. You were tidying up the living room, moving quietly as you folded a blanket and straightened up the mess left from the day. The only sound was the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath your feet. You didn't notice the way the air had shifted at first, the way the temperature seemed to rise just slightly. But then you felt it—the unmistakable pull of his presence.

You turned, and there he was, standing in the doorway. Derek's chest rose and fell heavily, his hair still damp from the shower he must've taken not long ago. His eyes—those piercing green eyes—were locked on you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. There was something different about him, something primal and wild simmering just beneath the surface. His muscles were tense, his hands curling into fists at his sides as though he was fighting to hold himself back.

"Derek?" you asked softly, your voice breaking the heavy silence. You set the blanket down, instinctively stepping toward him, but as soon as you moved, he was already closing the distance between you.

"I can't—" His voice was rough, almost a growl, and it sent a shiver down your spine. His hands came up, gripping your arms gently but firmly, his touch burning hot against your skin. "I can't wait anymore."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. His breathing was ragged, his body trembling slightly as he fought to maintain even a shred of control. "I've been trying," he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. "I've been trying to hold back, to give you space. But I can't—I need you now."

His words hit you like a wave, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension in his body coiled so tightly it felt like it might snap. Derek's vulnerability was still there, flickering in the way his hands shook slightly as they slid down your arms, but it was swallowed up by the primal need overtaking him. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your neck as he inhaled deeply, his grip tightening as though grounding himself in your presence.

"Tell me you're mine," he rasped, his voice thick with urgency, his lips grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. "Please."

You could feel his desperation, the way his entire being seemed to hinge on your response. And in that moment, with his heat burning between you and his love for you so evident in every touch, you realized just how much Derek needed you—not just physically, but emotionally, completely. You were his anchor, his safe harbor in the storm of his heat, and you would give him everything he needed.

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands and forcing him to meet your gaze. "I'm yours, Derek," you said firmly, your voice steady even as your heart pounded.

The words seemed to break whatever restraint he had left. With a low growl, he closed the gap between you, capturing your lips in a kiss so fierce and consuming it left you breathless. His hands roamed your body, his touch firm and possessive, as if he couldn't get enough of you. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you and the undeniable connection that bound you together.

In that moment, there was no room for hesitation, no space for doubt. Derek's heat had taken over, but it wasn't just instinct—it was his love for you, raw and unfiltered, driving every touch, every kiss, every whispered word. And you gave yourself to him completely, knowing that this was what he needed, and that you would always be there to hold him through it all.

Without a word, his strong arms wrap securely around your waist, effortlessly lifting you off your feet as though you weigh nothing. The sheer strength in his embrace sends a shiver through you, your hands instinctively finding their place on his broad shoulders for balance. His body radiates warmth, the tension in his muscles palpable as he carries you across the room with purpose.

He reaches the couch in just a few steps and lowers himself into it, pulling you down with him. His firm grip never falters, guiding you to straddle his lap with ease. The position is intimate, your knees bracketing his hips as your bodies align perfectly. You can feel the solid expanse of his chest pressing against yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding you even as your pulse quickens.

Derek's hands settle on your waist at first, his fingers curling slightly as they find their hold. But they don't stay there for long. His touch becomes more deliberate, sliding down to rest on your hips before moving lower, his palms finding their place on the curve of your ass. He grips you firmly, his fingers pressing into the flesh with just enough force to send a jolt of heat through you. There's no hesitation in his actions, only a possessive intensity that makes it clear he's in control of the moment.

His green eyes meet yours, and the look in them takes your breath away. It's a mix of desire, adoration, and something more primal—something that makes it impossible to look away. His hands squeeze again, a low, almost inaudible growl rumbling in his chest as he leans in closer. The movement presses you tighter against him, and the sensation leaves no doubt about how much he wants you.

"You feel perfect like this," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, the words sending a shiver down your spine. His hands don't stop moving, alternating between firm squeezes and slow, deliberate caresses, as though he's memorizing every inch of you. The way his fingers dig into your skin is possessive, grounding, and completely overwhelming all at once.

You can't help but let your hands roam as well, sliding over the strong planes of his shoulders and down his arms. Every inch of him feels solid, unyielding, and the heat between you grows with every passing second. Derek's gaze never wavers, and the intensity of his attention makes you feel like the center of his entire world.

"You're mine," he says, his voice barely more than a growl, but there's an undeniable softness beneath the possessiveness. It's not just a claim—it's a promise, one that makes your chest tighten with emotion. And with the way he's holding you, touching you, you know it's a promise he'll keep.

Derek's lips find the curve of your neck with a hunger that makes your breath hitch. His movements are deliberate yet fevered, the softness of his mouth contrasting with the growing intensity of his desire. The first kiss he presses to your skin is warm and lingering, but it quickly deepens, his lips parting to let his teeth graze against your sensitive flesh. You can feel the heat of his breath as he starts to work his way down, his focus entirely on leaving his mark on you.

The first hickey blooms under his lips as he sucks at the delicate skin just below your jawline, his hand tightening on your waist as if to keep you steady. But you're anything but steady. Your body reacts instinctively to the sensation, a soft sigh escaping your lips as his mouth continues its work. His tongue flicks over the spot he's just claimed, soothing it for a brief moment before he moves on to another area, determined to make sure everyone knows you're his.

As his kisses grow more intense, your body seems to take on a mind of its own. Without realizing it, you begin to shift in his lap, the movement subtle at first—a slight roll of your hips, a faint press of your weight against his hands. Derek notices immediately. His hands, already gripping your ass, tighten their hold, his fingers digging into the flesh as if anchoring you to him.

The friction from your movements sends a spark through both of you, and you hear Derek's breath hitch against your skin. He pulls back for just a moment, his green eyes blazing with a mix of surprise and raw desire as he looks at you. "You don't even know what you're doing to me," he growls, his voice low and rough, every word dripping with need.

But instead of stopping, your body moves again, a subconscious rhythm taking over as you grind against him. The heat between you is undeniable, and every shift of your hips fans the flames of Derek's growing need. His hands guide your movements now, pulling you closer, pressing you tighter against him. His grip is firm, almost possessive, as if he's afraid you might stop.

"You're making this impossible," he murmurs, his lips finding your neck once more. This time, his kisses are rougher, more desperate, each one leaving a deeper mark than the last. The combination of his mouth on your neck and the way his hands control your movements has you utterly overwhelmed, your mind clouded with nothing but the feel of him.

Derek groans softly against your skin, his voice filled with a raw, unrestrained hunger that only spurs you on. Every small movement, every sound you make seems to push him further, his desire for you quickly spiraling out of control. You can feel it in the way his lips move against you, the way his hands grip you like he never wants to let go, and the way his body reacts to every subtle shift of your own.

There's no hesitation, no second-guessing—just the all-consuming pull of desire, the undeniable connection between you both as Derek claims you with every touch, every kiss, every whispered growl.

Derek's hands were everywhere—firm, strong, and utterly insistent. His grip on your waist tightened as his lips found yours again, rough and demanding, leaving no room for hesitation. It wasn't long before his hands slid lower, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants and boxers. With one swift motion, he began pulling them down, exposing the bare skin of your ass to the cool air. The heat radiating off his body only made the contrast sharper, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake as his hands moved over your newly exposed flesh.

The way his palms kneaded the curve of your ass made it clear he was ready to take things further, his movements growing more urgent with every second. Derek's breathing was heavy, his lips hovering just over your jaw as he whispered, "I need you." His voice was gravelly, raw with desire, and it sent a shiver through you. You could feel just how ready he was, the evidence of his arousal pressing firmly against you as he gripped your hips and pulled you even closer.

But as much as the intensity of the moment consumed you, a sliver of reason managed to push through the haze. You glanced around the room, the familiar surroundings of the living room suddenly feeling far too exposed. You placed a hand on Derek's chest, pushing lightly to create a small bit of space between you. "Derek," you said, your voice breathless but firm. "We're in the living room."

Derek paused for the briefest of moments, his green eyes flicking up to meet yours. For a second, you thought he might reconsider, but instead, a crooked smirk tugged at his lips. "I don't care," he replied, his tone low and filled with determination. His hands slid back to your ass, squeezing possessively as he pulled you tighter against him, his lips brushing against your neck as he added, "Let them see. Let them know you're mine."

You let out a soft groan, your resolve wavering under the intensity of his words and the heat of his touch. But still, the logical part of you persisted, refusing to let him completely ignore the reality of your surroundings. "You would care," you countered, your voice steadying, "if someone walked in and interrupted us."

That gave him pause. Derek let out a low growl, his forehead dropping to rest against your shoulder as his grip on you tightened. You could feel the tension in his body, the conflict between his desire and his instinct to protect you—not just from danger, but from the inevitable embarrassment of someone catching you both in such a compromising position.

After a moment, he let out a resigned sigh, his lips grazing your skin as he murmured, "Fine." His hands lingered on you for a moment longer, his thumbs brushing over your skin as if committing the sensation to memory before he finally pulled back, his eyes still dark with unfulfilled need.

Suddenly, he slid his hands to your waist and gently lifted you off his lap, setting you aside on the couch. The loss of his warmth, even for a moment, made you ache with anticipation, but your eyes stayed fixed on him, drawn to the commanding presence that always seemed to radiate from him in moments like this.

Standing tall in front of you, Derek's green eyes burned with desire, his gaze locking onto yours as his hands moved to the hem of his shirt. He tugged it upward in one smooth motion, revealing the toned expanse of his chest and the taut muscles of his abdomen, each movement accentuating the strength you knew so well. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, his skin flushed slightly as the fire between you both built.

Your mouth went dry as he kicked off his shoes and reached for the waistband of his pants. The sound of the zipper echoed faintly in the room, a soft but tantalizing promise of what was to come. Derek's pants slid down his legs, and he stepped out of them with effortless grace, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. The thin fabric did little to hide the evidence of his arousal, and your heart raced at the sight.

Finally, Derek's hands moved to the waistband of his boxers, his movements slow enough to drive you mad with anticipation but fast enough to show he couldn't wait much longer. He hooked his thumbs into the fabric and pushed them down, letting the boxers fall to the floor. As he stood before you, completely bare, your eyes were instantly drawn to him—his swollen dick, thick and hard, standing proudly, a sight that never failed to captivate you.

Your breath caught in your throat as you took him in, your pulse quickening as heat pooled in your stomach. Derek's body was a masterpiece, but it was the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—that truly stole your breath. His dick twitched slightly under your gaze, and a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, as if he could sense just how much you loved seeing him like this.

"You like what you see?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly, the deep timbre sending a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flicking up to meet his as a smile of your own formed. "Every time," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper but filled with sincerity.

Derek stepped closer, his body radiating heat, and the intensity of his gaze made your pulse race even faster. "Good," he murmured, his tone laced with desire. "Because it's all for you."

In a matter of moments, Derek gently pulled you up from the couch to stand in front of him. His green eyes locked onto yours, filled with raw hunger that made your knees weak. Without saying a word, his fingers slid to the hem of your shirt, tugging it upward in one smooth motion and tossing it aside. His touch was electric as his hands roamed over your exposed skin, pausing briefly at your chest before he moved lower, his gaze trailing behind every movement like a predator savoring his prey.

He crouched slightly to tug at your pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them with practiced ease before sliding them down your legs. The cool air of the room kissed your skin as your boxers followed, leaving you completely exposed before him. Derek stood tall again, his eyes raking over your body with a primal intensity that made your breath hitch. When his gaze landed on your hard dick, his lips parted, and a low, guttural growl escaped him—a sound so full of arousal it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Perfect," he muttered, his voice gravelly and thick with desire. His hands didn't hesitate as they found your hips again, his thumbs brushing over the sensitive skin just above your pelvis before sliding lower to cup your ass. He gave it a firm squeeze, a smirk tugging at his lips when you gasped at the contact.

Before you could process what was happening, Derek bent down slightly and wrapped a strong arm around your waist, hoisting you up onto his shoulder with effortless ease. The sudden change in perspective made your heart race, your body pressing against his as his other hand gripped your thigh to keep you steady.

"Derek!" you exclaimed, though your voice came out breathless, a mix of surprise and excitement.

He chuckled darkly, his hand sliding down to your bare ass, giving it a sharp smack that echoed through the room. "I've been patient long enough," he growled, his voice low and dripping with need. The sting of his hand on your skin sent a jolt of heat through you, and you could feel the strength in his hold as he carried you with ease.

Each step he took toward your shared bedroom was purposeful, the sound of his bare feet against the floor muted by the thundering of your heartbeat. His grip on you was firm but possessive, and his other hand didn't stay idle. It slid along your thigh, occasionally squeezing or smacking your ass again, the sensation leaving you breathless and your arousal growing.

"Keep squirming, and I'll have to stop right here," Derek rumbled, his tone teasing but with a dangerous edge that sent a thrill through you. "And I don't think either of us wants that."

The promise in his words made your body still, though the anticipation building between you was almost unbearable. Derek's confidence, the sheer power in the way he carried you as if you were weightless, only made your desire for him burn hotter. By the time he reached the bedroom door, you were already aching for him, your body alive with anticipation for what was to come.

Derek kicked the door open with his foot, stepping inside with purpose. He lowered you just enough to brush his lips against your skin, his hot breath ghosting over your back as he whispered, "You're mine tonight." Then, with one last firm squeeze to your ass, he laid you down on the bed, his body following closely behind as his desire for you became all-consuming.

Derek's lips crashed against yours with a hunger that took your breath away. His kiss was deep, urgent, and all-consuming, as if he couldn't get enough of you. His hands cupped your face, his fingers rough yet gentle as they tilted your head slightly to deepen the connection. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his chest pressed firmly against yours, his breathing growing heavier with every second that passed.

Your hands roamed down his strong, sculpted body, your fingertips tracing the ridges of his muscles. Derek groaned softly into your mouth, his lips parting slightly as his tongue brushed against yours, igniting a fire that made your entire body hum with anticipation. The kiss was messy, desperate, and filled with all the pent-up desire he'd been holding back.

As your hand trailed lower, you felt the tension in his body shift, his muscles tensing slightly under your touch. Your fingers brushed against his length, already hard and hot, and a shudder ran through him. Derek growled low in his throat, the sound reverberating in his chest as your hand wrapped around him. The growl wasn't just a reaction—it was primal, a raw expression of his need for you.

You started to pump him slowly, your grip firm but teasing. Derek's head dropped forward, his forehead resting against yours as he let out a sharp exhale. His lips parted, his breathing growing heavier with each deliberate stroke of your hand. "You're going to drive me crazy," he murmured, his voice rough and strained, a hint of a growl still laced in his tone.

The way his body responded to your touch was intoxicating. His hips jerked slightly, instinctively chasing the friction you were providing. His hands slid down to your waist, his grip tightening as if he needed to ground himself, to keep from losing control entirely. Every time your hand moved, a low, guttural sound escaped him, his arousal clear in the way his body seemed to tremble under your touch.

"You know what you're doing to me," Derek growled, his voice rough and filled with barely restrained desire. His green eyes locked onto yours, darkened with lust, and the intensity in his gaze made your heart race. "You're not playing fair."

You smirked slightly, your strokes becoming just a little slower, more deliberate, as you watched him struggle to keep his composure. "I'm just giving you what you want," you replied, your voice soft but teasing, a playful edge to your tone.

Derek's growl deepened, his hands sliding up your sides before pulling you even closer. His lips found yours again, this time rougher, more demanding, as though trying to pour every ounce of his need for you into the kiss. The way his body responded to your touch, the way he growled and trembled beneath your hand, was utterly intoxicating. You knew he was holding back, but the raw intensity in his kisses and his touch made it clear he wouldn't be able to for much longer. And that thought sent a thrill through you that only made you want to tease him more.

Suddenly, Derek's hand gently closed around your wrist, pulling your hand away from his dick. The intense look in his green eyes made your breath hitch, a silent promise of what was to come. He leaned in, his lips finding yours once more in a kiss that was both deep and commanding, his tongue brushing against yours with a hunger that left you dizzy. Slowly, his kisses began to trail downward, his lips and tongue leaving a fiery path across your jaw, then your neck, and lower still.

Each kiss was deliberate, his mouth pausing to savor the curve of your collarbone, the plane of your chest, and the dip of your stomach. His hands followed the journey, strong and sure as they mapped out your body, leaving no inch untouched. By the time he reached the edge of your hips, your pulse was racing, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Derek smirked against your skin, the heat of his breath a tantalizing tease as his hands gripped your thighs.

He looked up at you then, his gaze dark and filled with unrestrained desire. Without breaking eye contact, he slid his hands beneath your legs, lifting them effortlessly over his broad shoulders. The way he held you—strong, steady, and completely in control—sent a wave of anticipation coursing through you. Before you could say anything, you felt it: the first brush of his tongue, warm and wet, as it trailed along your hole.

A soft moan escaped your lips, unbidden, as the sensation overtook you. Derek growled low in response, the vibration against your skin only adding to the pleasure. His tongue worked with expert precision, circling, teasing, and pressing in ways that left you gripping the sheets beneath you. The heat of his mouth, combined with the pressure of his hands gripping your thighs, was overwhelming in the best way.

Your hands found their way to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you held onto him for dear life. The small, involuntary tug you gave earned another growl from Derek, his lips curling into a smirk against your most sensitive skin. He didn't stop—if anything, he doubled down, his tongue moving more insistently as he sought every sound he could pull from you.

"Derek," you gasped, your voice trembling as your back arched slightly, pressing yourself closer to his mouth. The combination of his tongue and the strength of his hands holding you in place left you completely at his mercy. Each flick, each press of his tongue sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you, your entire body alight with sensation.

He paused just long enough to look up at you, his lips glistening, a smirk playing on his face. "I love the way you sound," he murmured, his voice rough with arousal before he dove back in, his tongue exploring you with even more intensity. The way his stubble brushed against your skin only heightened the sensation, the mix of roughness and warmth sending you spiraling.

Your grip on his hair tightened, a soft gasp escaping you as he found just the right rhythm. Derek's growls vibrated against you, letting you know just how much he enjoyed tasting you, savoring every moment. Time seemed to blur as he continued, his sole focus on your pleasure, making it impossible to think of anything else but the way his mouth felt against you. Every kiss, every stroke of his tongue was a reminder of just how much Derek wanted you, needed you, and was willing to worship every part of you.

When your hole was glistening and wet from Derek's relentless attention, he finally pulled back, his lips and chin slick as he looked up at you with a mix of hunger and satisfaction. His hands gently squeezed your thighs, his touch grounding as he took a moment to drink in the sight of you—flushed, breathless, and completely undone beneath him.

"You're perfect," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, the words dripping with sincerity and raw desire. His hands shifted, one sliding up to caress your hip while the other found his own dick, thick and pulsing with need. Slowly, he stroked himself, his eyes never leaving yours, the sight of you clearly spurring him on.

Derek positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his swollen dick brushing against your slick hole. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through you, and your breath hitched as you felt the heat of him press against your sensitive skin. He moved deliberately, sliding his length along your hole, teasing you with the friction. Each slow, deliberate stroke left you gasping, your body instinctively shifting to chase the sensation.

"Derek," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation as your hands reached out to grip his broad shoulders. He smirked slightly at your reaction, the faintest curve of his lips a sign of his confidence, his control.

"Patience," he said, his voice rough yet soothing, his free hand sliding up to intertwine with yours. "I want to feel every second of this."

Finally, he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his dick pressing just slightly inside. His green eyes met yours, searching for any hint of hesitation, but all he saw was your trust, your desire for him. With a steady hand, he began to push forward, his hips moving slowly, giving you time to adjust as he stretched you inch by inch. The sensation was intense, a delicious mix of pressure and pleasure that left you gripping his shoulders tighter.

Derek let out a low groan, his voice deep and guttural, as he sank further into you. "You feel so good," he murmured, his words shaky as his control wavered. His hands returned to your hips, gripping you firmly as he continued his slow, deliberate pace, every movement sending waves of heat coursing through your body.

Your body arched beneath him, your breath hitching as he filled you completely. The stretch was intense, but the way Derek moved—steady, patient, and utterly focused on your comfort—made it impossible to feel anything but pleasure. He paused for a moment when he was fully seated inside you, his chest heaving as he gave you a chance to adjust, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer now, his concern shining through the haze of his desire.

You nodded, your hands sliding up to cup his face, your lips brushing against his. "I'm perfect," you whispered, your voice filled with both reassurance and longing. "Please, Derek. I need you."

Hearing those words seemed to break whatever restraint he had left. Derek's hips began to move again, slow and deliberate at first, each thrust pushing deeper, making you feel every inch of him. His hands held you firmly, guiding your body against his as he set a rhythm that quickly had you melting beneath him. Every movement, every touch, every breath between you was filled with passion, a connection so deep it left you utterly consumed by him.

Then his strong hands moved to guide your legs, lifting them effortlessly and wrapping them around his waist. The new position brought him even closer, allowing him to sink deeper into you with every movement, making your breath hitch with each thrust. His body radiated heat, his skin damp with exertion, and the steady grind of his hips made it clear he was completely consumed by you.

Leaning forward, Derek brought his face closer to yours, his green eyes darkened with lust but softened by the depth of emotion they held. His lips captured yours in a passionate kiss, his mouth moving against yours with a hunger that matched the rhythm of his body. His tongue brushed against your lower lip, and you opened for him, letting him deepen the kiss, your hands tangling in his damp hair as you pulled him closer. The kiss was intense, raw, yet there was a tenderness to it—a reminder that even in this moment of unrelenting desire, Derek was still yours, and you were his.

You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles trembled slightly as he worked to hold back the primal instincts simmering just beneath the surface. Derek's heat was there, smoldering like an untamed wildfire, and every thrust, every growl rumbling in his chest, hinted at how much he was restraining himself. He wanted to lose himself in you, to let his heat take over completely, but he fought to maintain control, to ensure your pleasure and comfort came first.

"God, you feel so good," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and strained, a testament to just how much effort he was putting into holding back. His forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours as his thrusts continued at the same steady pace, each one deliberate and measured. "I'm trying," he added, his voice breaking slightly, a growl slipping out as his hands gripped your hips tighter. "I don't want to hurt you."

You cupped his face, your thumbs brushing against his stubbled jaw as you gazed up at him. "Derek," you said softly, your voice trembling but steady, "I trust you. I'm here. Let go."

His eyes searched yours, his resolve flickering for a moment before he groaned, his lips claiming yours again in a kiss so fierce it made your heart race. His grip on your hips tightened, and his movements became just a fraction deeper, more purposeful, though still careful not to overwhelm you. The simmering heat inside him was building, and you could feel the tension rising with every thrust, every breathless kiss.

Derek held back, but barely. The restraint in his movements was palpable, his body vibrating with the effort it took to stay in control. Yet, through it all, his focus remained on you—your reactions, your pleasure, the soft moans and gasps he pulled from your lips as he pushed you closer to the edge. And in that moment, you knew that even as his heat threatened to consume him, Derek would never let it burn you. Instead, he would use every ounce of his strength to channel it into something passionate, raw, and undeniably yours.

You sat up slowly, the movement making Derek's breath hitch as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His eyes met yours, dark with desire and barely restrained passion, as your lips found his in a kiss that was hungry, deep, and filled with the raw emotion simmering between you. The warmth of his skin pressed against yours, his strong arms wrapping around your waist to steady you as you moved.

Your body pressed against his chest, your heart pounding as you began to lift yourself, only to sink back down onto his length. The sensation drew a low growl from Derek's throat, his hands gripping your hips to guide your movements, his strength supporting you effortlessly. Each time you moved, a wave of pleasure rippled through both of you, the rhythm you created together growing steadily more intense.

Derek's lips moved with yours, his kisses desperate and consuming, as though he couldn't get enough of you. His tongue brushed against yours, his breath hot and ragged as you continued to rock up and down his length, taking him fully with every motion. The feeling of him filling you completely sent shivers down your spine, and the sounds escaping both of you only added to the fire between you.

"Ugh," Derek murmured against your lips, his voice rough and low, a tremor of restraint still present beneath the overwhelming desire in his tone. His hands slid down your back, gripping you more firmly, his fingertips digging into your skin as he fought to maintain his control.

You pulled back slightly, resting your forehead against his, your fingers tangling in his hair as you looked into his eyes. "Derek," you whispered, your voice trembling with the intensity of the moment. "I want you—completely. Don't hold back."

His eyes searched yours for a moment, the conflict in his expression clear. But as you moved again, your body pressing against him and taking him deeper, the last threads of his restraint began to fray. A deep, guttural growl escaped his chest as his grip on you tightened, his hands guiding your movements with more insistence.

The words, "Don't hold back," was all Derek needed to finally let go. His body stilled for just a moment, his chest rising and falling as he processed what you'd said, the last remnants of his restraint hanging by a thread. Then, like a dam breaking, something primal and unstoppable surged forward. His eyes snapped open, glowing a brilliant, fiery red—a vivid sign that his heat had fully taken over. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver through you, but it wasn't fear you felt. It was exhilaration, knowing he trusted you enough to let his instincts take control.

With a low, guttural growl that reverberated through the room, Derek's hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers pressing into your skin with a possessive force that left no doubt: you were his. His thrusts increased, the steady pace giving way to something far more raw, more urgent. Each powerful motion sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, your body arching to meet him as he moved with an almost unstoppable intensity.

"God, you're mine," he growled, his voice rough and deep, a mix of desire and possession. The words sent a thrill through you, and you tightened your hold around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him as his thrusts drove deeper, faster. The heat radiating off his body felt like it might consume you, the primal energy pouring out of him filling the room as his focus remained entirely on you.

His glowing red eyes never left yours, even as his lips found your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. Each kiss felt like a brand, a mark of his uncontrollable need for you. The mix of his rough, animalistic growls and the whispered praises against your skin left you trembling in his arms, completely lost in the storm of his heat.

"You feel so damn good," Derek muttered, his voice breaking slightly as his pace continued to build. His hands moved from your hips, sliding up your back, pulling you flush against his chest as if he couldn't get you close enough. The new angle sent sparks of pleasure through your body, your moans mingling with his growls as he pushed you both closer to the edge.

Every thrust, every motion, every sound Derek made was a testament to how much he'd been holding back, and now that he'd given in, there was no stopping him. His heat had fully taken over, his need for you driving him to claim you in every possible way. And as the overwhelming sensations built to a crescendo, you realized there was nothing else in the world but this—Derek, his love, his heat, and the unshakable bond between you.

Soon Derek's thrusts became relentless, his dick driving into you with a force and precision that sent shockwaves through your entire body. Each motion was deep, powerful, and perfectly aimed, hitting that sensitive spot inside you with the accuracy of someone who knew your body intimately. It was overwhelming, the way he moved—like every thrust was deliberate, designed to claim you completely and leave you trembling in his grasp.

Your hands clung to his shoulders, your fingers digging into the hard muscles as he kept up his intense rhythm. Derek's growls filled the air, low and primal, reverberating through your chest as he poured every ounce of his strength and need into you. His glowing red eyes bore into yours, the fiery gaze a reminder of the heat driving him, the primal instincts that he had finally let loose.

"Derek," you gasped, your voice breaking as another perfectly angled thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through you. The way he moved felt almost otherworldly, each motion deliberate yet raw, leaving you breathless and desperate for more. It was like he was determined in his mission to push you further, to make sure you felt every inch of him.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, "Every part of you belongs to me." His voice was rough, strained, but filled with conviction, his words punctuated by the unyielding rhythm of his hips. The sheer dominance in his tone, paired with the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you, sent shivers racing down your spine.

Your body reacted instinctively, arching into him as your legs tightened around his waist. Derek's hands gripped your thighs, his fingers pressing into your skin with a possessive force as he adjusted his angle slightly, making each thrust even more devastatingly precise. The sensation was almost too much, a perfect mix of intensity and pleasure that left you gasping for air.

Derek was completely lost in you, the heat of his need driving him to claim you fully, completely. And with each thrust, each powerful motion, it felt like he was branding himself into your very soul, making sure you'd never forget exactly who you belonged to.

The pleasure overwhelmed you, building higher and higher until you couldn't hold back any longer. With a strangled gasp, your body tensed, and a rush of ecstasy surged through you. Your release came in powerful waves, your dick pulsing as streams of cum spilled between your bodies, coating your stomach and his. The intensity of it left you trembling, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath.

But Derek didn't stop. If anything, the sight and feel of your climax seemed to fuel him further, a growl rumbling deep in his chest as he maintained his relentless pace. His glowing red eyes locked onto yours, the raw hunger in them making it clear that your pleasure had only pushed him closer to the edge of his control.

"You think we're done?" Derek murmured, his voice rough and dripping with desire. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as his hips thrust deeper, harder, drawing out every ounce of sensitivity from your overstimulated body. "I'm not stopping until I've had all of you."

The overstimulation sent sparks of sensation through your nerves, your body jerking slightly at the relentless friction. Every thrust was a mix of pleasure and intensity that bordered on too much, yet you couldn't bring yourself to tell him to stop. The way he filled you, the way his hands gripped your hips to pull you tighter against him, left you utterly helpless under his control.

"Derek," you moaned, your voice trembling as your hands gripped his shoulders, holding on for dear life. The combination of your own sensitivity and his unwavering pace was overwhelming, leaving you caught in a haze of pleasure that felt like it might consume you entirely.

He growled low, a sound so primal it made your toes curl, and his lips found your neck, biting and sucking at your skin as he thrust into you with a ferocity that left you breathless. "I'm not done with you yet," he rumbled, his tone possessive, his movements a clear reminder that he wasn't holding anything back anymore.

Even as your body trembled from the overstimulation, you couldn't deny the heat building again deep inside you. Derek's intensity was undeniable, his need for you all-consuming, and the way he moved made it clear he wouldn't stop until you were completely undone beneath him—again and again.

Suddenly, Derek's movements grew even more primal, his glowing red eyes blazing with unrestrained heat. With a growl that vibrated deep in his chest, he pulled out of you briefly, he gripped your thighs as he stood up effortlessly, lifting you with him. The next thing you knew, your back was pressed against the cool surface of the nearest wall, the sharp contrast of heat and cold sending a shiver through your already sensitive body.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as Derek held you there, his strength making it seem like you weighed nothing. One of his hands braced against the wall beside your head, while the other gripped your thigh tightly, keeping you secure as he aligned himself once more. Without hesitation, he thrust back into you, the sudden fullness pulling a loud, uncontrollable moan from your lips.

The new angle made every movement more intense, Derek's hips snapping against you with a force that left you gasping for air. Each thrust drove you harder against the wall, your body pinned completely under his control. His growls filled the room, low and guttural, as he poured every ounce of his heat-fueled need into you.

"I can't get enough of you," Derek muttered, his voice rough and breathless. His forehead rested against yours for a moment, his piercing eyes locking onto yours. "I can't stop—I don't want to stop."

The intensity of his words, combined with the unrelenting rhythm of his hips, sent sparks of pleasure racing through your body. Your hands tangled in his hair, your fingers gripping tightly as you pulled him closer, capturing his lips in a desperate, heated kiss. His tongue tangled with yours as his thrusts became harder, faster, each one leaving you trembling in his arms.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, mingling with the labored breaths and groans that escaped both of you. Derek's hand slid from your thigh to grip your ass, pulling you closer to him as his hips drove even deeper, hitting spots that made your vision blur. The wall behind you groaned slightly under the force of his movements, but Derek didn't seem to care—his focus was entirely on you, on the way your body responded to his.

"Fuck," he growled against your lips, his voice dripping with possession as his thrusts became almost brutal in their intensity. His heat burned through him, his need for you all-consuming, and he was determined to claim every part of you, to make sure you felt just how much he wanted you.

Every movement, every growl, every heated kiss pushed you closer to the edge again, your body completely overwhelmed by the force of Derek's passion. Pinned against the wall, utterly at his mercy, you surrendered to him completely, knowing he wouldn't stop until you were both completely undone.

With one final, deep thrust, Derek's body tensed against yours, his growl reverberating through the room as he reached his peak. You felt the warmth of his release flood into you, the heat of it spreading through your body like wildfire. His hands gripped you tightly, almost possessively, his nails pressing into your skin as he held you flush against him, refusing to let even an inch of space separate you.

The tension in his body slowly began to ebb as his growls softened into heavy, ragged breaths. Derek's forehead rested against yours for a moment, his chest heaving against yours as the remnants of his heat coursed through him. His lips found yours instantly, the kiss a mix of passion and tenderness, as if he needed to ground himself in you after the intensity of what you'd shared.

The desperation in his kisses began to fade, replaced by something gentler, more intimate. His hands slid up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as he deepened the kiss, his body still trembling slightly against yours. It was as if he was pouring every ounce of affection and gratitude into that moment, letting you know without words how much he loved and needed you.

Gradually, as the heat left his system, the fiery red glow in his eyes began to fade. You watched as they softened, returning to the familiar, piercing green you loved so much. His gaze met yours, the intensity in his eyes replaced by a look of pure adoration and vulnerability. The primal edge of his heat had given way to the man you knew—the Derek who cherished you with every fiber of his being.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice hoarse from the growls and moans of moments before. His forehead pressed gently to yours, his hands cradling your face as he searched your eyes for any sign of discomfort.

You smiled, your fingers brushing through his damp hair as you leaned into his touch. "I'm more than okay," you replied, your voice steady and filled with warmth. "That was... everything."

A faint, almost sheepish smile tugged at Derek's lips, his eyes flicking between yours. "I didn't hurt you?" he asked again, his tone softer now, the protective side of him surfacing even after everything.

You shook your head, pressing a kiss to his lips, slow and reassuring. "You were perfect, Derek."

Relief washed over his features, and he let out a soft breath, pulling you into a tight embrace. He held you there for a long moment, his heart beating steadily against yours as his body finally relaxed completely. Even as the intensity of his heat faded, his love for you burned just as brightly, evident in the way he held you as if you were his entire world.

Derek's love for you shines through, even in the midst of his heat—a love so deep and unwavering that no primal instinct could ever overshadow it. When his heat takes control, his movements may be raw, his growls guttural, and his need overwhelming, but beneath it all, it's still him. It's still the man who cherishes you with every fiber of his being, who would do anything to protect you, and who trusts you enough to let you see him at his most vulnerable.

It's in those moments that you see Derek completely unguarded, stripped of all the walls he's built to shield himself from the pain of his past. You see the man who loves you fiercely and unapologetically, who worships every inch of you with an intensity that feels like it could consume the air around you. His heat amplifies that love, turning it into a force that's almost too powerful to contain, but even as his instincts drive him, he never loses sight of you—your needs, your comfort, your pleasure.

Each touch, each kiss, each growl is filled with unspoken promises: that you are his, that he will always protect you, and that no matter what, he will never let anything harm you. It's a love that feels almost untamed, wild and primal, yet at the same time, it's rooted in tenderness and trust. Even in his most unrestrained moments, Derek never forgets who you are to him—the one person who sees every side of him and loves him for all of it.

And in those moments, you see all the pieces that make Derek who he is. The lover, whose touch can be both gentle and possessive, worshiping you as if you're the only thing that matters in his world. The protector, whose instincts drive him to keep you safe at all costs, even from his own untamed power. The alpha, strong and commanding, yet willing to yield to you in ways he never would for anyone else. And finally, the man—the one who belongs to you as much as you belong to him, the one who lets himself be vulnerable and open because he trusts you with all that he is.

Derek's passion may burn hot enough to scorch everything in its path, but with you, it's never destructive. It's a love that warms you, strengthens you, and reminds you that no matter what happens, you are his anchor, his solace, and the one person he'll always come back to. And as he holds you close, as his red eyes fade back to green and his heat slowly ebbs away, you know without a doubt that his love for you will always burn brighter than anything else.