#learn to distinct it from it's author.

[little-noko]

hey i saw your last post, and i understand that you like hp despite it's flaws, and i'm not sure if you knew or not but the fanbase has become quite the terf breeding ground in previous years because of Joanne and her bigotry and has become a symbol for that bigotry making hp content can invite these people to your community and is an immediate red flag for trans people

i don't mean to sound like an ass about this, it's hard to be delicate on this topic, there's just so many people who refuse to listen when we say that there's more to it than just the author

there's people who've explained this better than me i hope you take this into consideration

-a concerned non-binary ☆

I do understand the concern, but I would like to disagree.

The fact that it is considered a delicate topic baffles me. You know what baffles me even more ? People bullying and telling people who like something to kill themselves.

As much as JK Rolling is doing lots of trouble for the trans community, her PAST work still gave wonder to the young generation that read it. The positive fever that overcame people by that time made this franchise loved across the globe enough to make a movie series which was unheard off.

Her accomplishment doesn't make her less of a terrible person, and I despise her for her bigoted ideals.

But people need to make the distinction between liking something and liking the person who made said thing, because lemme you on on something.

Most things you like, use or consume has made by an cut throat asshole. Assassin's creed ? Everyone LOVED IT until they find out about the sexual harassment at EA. Walt Disney? Sorry but he wasn't the best guy either, he just had big ideas.

If me wanting to draw harry potter content despite HATING JK Rolling upsets you that much, you can unfollow.

You can support trans AND love the world of harry potter.

Terfs ? Get the hell out of here you piece of shit.

[mortalityplays]

"how do you just know this" is a question I get asked a lot, because I tend to be someone who can contribute unusual facts or insight on whatever topic a casual conversation turns to, and I never know how to answer because "I pay attention" sounds rude and isn't super actionable. but that is really it, I just take an active interest when I encounter something curious or unusual.

like recently one of my friends linked me a funny paragraph from a very badly written erotic novel. it was so bad that I thought "I wonder if this is real", so we looked up the book it was from and learned it was a vintage horny housewife type story by someone who wrote a lot of shitty cheap porn back in the 80s, all of which now seems to be completely out of print.

in the course of googling the author, I discovered that one of their works had been cited in a 2004 court case over a prisoner's right to keep erotic novels in his personal library after the prison confiscated them. a bit more googling turned up the case details in a legal database. the guy had received the books by mail and kept them, among others, in his cell. the prison seized them, citing a policy against prisoners having pornography. his lawyers argued that 1. erotic novels are distinct from pornography because they have artistic and expressive content beyond the depiction of sex acts, and 2. since he received them by mail they are therefore protected under his constitutional right to freely access non-disruptive information from outside the prison. I don't know if he got his books back, but he won his case.

then we googled the defendant and found out he was in prison for helping a woman to drug and murder his boss (who she lived with), mutilate the body with acid and dump him in a ravine.

anyway my point is, take an interest. that's how you learn weird stuff.

[libidinous-weeb]

same with male writers who write all their female characters as the exact same girl with long hair and pale delicate skin whose sole purpose is to ensure the male characters can live happily ever after while making all of the male characters have diverse and interesting storylines that have major effects to the plot with paragraphs of descriptions about what they look like and how they think. btw.

male artists who draw every woman/slightly femme looking person with the same yassified disney elsa face while having the decency to draw men in different and interesting ways are not seeing the light of heaven. btw

[trans-axolotl]

one of the reasons it's really hard for a lot of intersex people when intersex topics are on the news cycle is because the public's reaction reveals how little anyone knows or cares about intersex people, including people who call themselves our allies. almost every time intersex topics are trending, the discourse surrounding them is filled with misinformation. people who only learned today what the word intersex means jump into conversations and act like an authority. endosex/dyadic/perisex people get tripped up over things that are basically intersex 101, with tons of endosex people incorrectly arguing about the definition of intersex, who "counts," DSD terminology, and so much more. i've seen multiple endosex people say today that they've been "warning intersex people" and that we should have known that transphobia would catch up with us eventually, which is an absolutely absurd thing to say given the fact that consistently over the past ten years, it has often been intersex people sounding the alarm on sex-testing policies and also the fact that many, many intersex people are also trans, and already are facing the impacts of transphobia. there is an absolute failure from the general public to take intersex identity seriously; people seem not even able to fathom that intersex people have a community, history, and our own political resources. instead, endosex people somehow seem to think they're helping by bringing up half-remembered information from their high school biology class which usually isn't even relevant at all.

and this frustrates me so fucking much. not because i want to deny the impacts of transphobic oppression--i'm a trans intersex person, trust me when i say i am intimately aware of transphobia. this frustrates me because there is no way we can achieve collective liberation if our "allies" fail to even engage with basic intersex topics and are seemingly unaware of the many forms of intersex oppression that we are already facing every fucking day. if you are not aware of compulsory dyadism, if you are not aware of interphobia, if you are not aware of the many different ways that intersex people are directly and often violently targeted--how the fuck do you think we're going to dismantle all of these systems of oppression?

if you were truly an intersex ally, you would already KNOW that this is not new, and would not be surprised--interphobia in sports has been going on for decades. you would know that we do have a community, an identity, a history--you would have already read/listened/watched to intersex resources that give you the background information you need for allyship. you would know that although there is a really distinct lack of resources and political education, that intersex people ARE developing a political understanding of ourselves and our oppression--Cripping Intersex by Celeste Orr and their framework of compulsory dyadism is one example of how we're theorizing our oppression. It's absolutely fucking wild to me how few people I've seen actually use words like "interphobia" "intersexism" "compulsory dyadism" or "intersex oppression"--endosex people are seemingly incapable of recognizing that there is already an entrenched system of oppression towards intersex people that violently reshapes our bodies, restricts our autonomy, and attempts to eradicate intersex through a variety of medical and legal means.

you cannot treat intersex people like an afterthought. not just because we're meaningful parts of your community and deserving of solidarity, but also because intersex oppression impacts everyone!!! especially trans community--trans people will not be free until intersex people are free, so much of transphobia is shaped by compulsory dyadism, the mythical sex binary, all these ideas of enforced "biological sex" that are just as fake as the gender binary.

it makes me absolutely fucking livid every time this shit happens because it becomes so abundantly clear to me how little the average endosex person knows about intersex issues and also how little the average endosex person cares about changing that. i don't know what to say to get you to care, to get you to change that, but we fucking need it to happen and i, personally, am tired of constantly being grateful when i meet an endosex person who knows the bare minimum. i think we have a right to expect better and to demand that if you're going to call yourself our ally, you actually fucking listen to us when we tell you what that means.

okay for endosex people to reblog.

[aphrodeiities]

ᴘʟᴀɴᴇᴛꜱ ɪɴ ʀᴇᴛʀᴏɢʀᴀᴅᴇ

thank you for the 10,000+ followers! a game with no exchange will be released:)

now that i've written and understand planets in retrograde thoroughly they will be included in chart readings for free.

THE SUN AND THE MOON CANNOT BE IN RX.

MERCURY IN RX

♇ having mercury in rx makes someone think more often, especially over the most pettiest things they think is big. they're very anxious people, and since it is in retrograde it could be implied that they're "wired differently" they think more out of the box, and even speak different, how they speak and write could be very distinct.

♇ mercury in retrograde could give someone inactive relatives, or cousins and siblings they're not close to. and since they're people who doubt themselves a lot, they could stall themselves from the path they're supposed to take, being their own obstacles. they could also be people who take some time to take in/process information.

♇ as i said they're people who hold themselves back a lot, this could link to their childhood, might've had people speak over them and silence them when they were younger.

VENUS IN RX

♇ people who have venus in retrograde might focus on love too much, and they could be people who have a struggling relationship with women. sisters, women who are their cousins and women who are their friends.

♇ they could also be very secretive people, they have a hard time opening up, which could make them be deemed as cold. they have a hard time giving and receiving affection.

♇ they could be bad at handling money, and might think everyone is out to get them. they could find it hard to love themselves, having venus in rx, is the peak of the "tortured poet".

MARS IN RX

♇ those who have mars in retrograde could have a hard time getting along with men, or even with the opposite sex. to have mars in rx could mean you could be considered as someone who i very intense. can a hard time expressing your sexuality and aiming for your goals.

♇ instead of learning life lessons quick, they are normally stubborn people and barely listen to advice given to them by trusted people. could be people who are too hesitant, say and do things at the wrong time and place.

♇ people with mars in retrograde might've gone through sexual trauma, could be scared to be intimate with other people. they're people who hate authority or people trying to have dominance over them. the type of people to not listen to the rules and break them.

JUPITER IN RX

♇ people who have jupiter in rx are the definition of "thinking out of the box", they're people who do have moments that question their faith and some of these people tend to have a God Complex.

♇ sometimes they feel like they're the unluckiest person in the world, might feel like they wont be able to travel the world like they want to. could also have long cycles of depression.

♇ having jupiter in retrograde can mean they're someone who marches to the beat of their own drum, they can be very detail-oriented people, which sometimes mean they feel like they can judge anyone and think of themselves to be flawless. jupiter in rx people are the type of people who want everything in their future to be perfect also, without life's trials and tribulations. can be unrealistic.

SATURN IN RX

♇ as it is told, saturn in retrograde brings a father that wasnt in the person's life, the person who has the saturn in rx can make someone feel like they're being punished by life all the time.

♇ this could also mean they might find it hard to express themselves emotionally, could be due to their childhood. they go through many trials and tribulations, makes them depressive, but in the end they become really wise.

♇ they doubt themselves a lot, could have trouble balancing themselves, and their masculinity, could be too domineering.

URANUS IN RX

♇ people with uranus in rx do not like change, they're likely insecure, [not all are going to be due to different commodities in a chart], but these are usually people who think they are not going to succeed in life.

♇ they sometimes feel like they're in control of nothing which pushes them into their need of controlling everything. they're quick-thinkers but still over-thinkers. they feel like they can never feel nice in a platonic or romantic connection.

♇ it leads them into being paranoid and chaotic. they might also put themselves in a box to make things easier, don't know they're limiting their potential when doing that, they're so much more and need to understand it.

NEPTUNE IN RX

♇ to have neptune in rx could make the kin be very delusional, might find it hard to separate idealistic views with reality. definitely reminds me of alice in wonderland. they're very spiritual people but can over-whelm people by adding their faith into everything.

♇ could be really good at manifesting; trust issues but sometimes are stubborn from learning their mistakes. can be deemed as very dreamy and compassionate.

♇ they could have this feeling of needing to save everyone. their trials and tribulations are a creative outlet for them, another indicator of being the tortured poet. [but the tiring and damaging things they go through are usually expressed through their art, which includes writing, story-telling, writing music, painting etc].

PLUTO IN RX

♇ i do get surprised when i come across these in a natal chart reading, but, pluto in rx folks definitely do hate constraint, they dislike authority and feeling like they're being controlled, which could push them into trying to control other people.

♇ could be escapists through drug and sex, they could also find it hard to accept their dark-self. easily infatuated people, people can get easily obsessed with them as they can get with other people.

♇ good money makers, could manipulate others with materialism, though, they might not be confrontational, could feel easily intimidated. sometimes could never see the potential in themselves can be their own obstacle.

masterlist

pluto

[schizosupport]

One of the curiosities about how psychosis is defined, is the fact that clinically, delusions are defined as strongly held "wrongful" beliefs that don't respond to counter-proof, and that aren't shared with others in a subculture.

In other words, believing even very bizarre conspiracy theories such as "the earth is flat" isn't a delusion, though in a broader linguistic sense it is sometimes referred to as such.

In this post I wanna talk a bit about why that is, and why I do think that it's important to have a distinction between clinical delusions that happen in psychotic illnesses, and strange beliefs that arise in other ways.

So why is it not a delusion if it's shared with a subculture?

I think the reason for this distinction is that delusions experienced by people with psychotic disorders are something that comes from within, rather than something we've been taught to believe. Per definition. Psychotic people aren't particularly "gullible", we don't lack critical thinking skills, we have an illness that make us believe random untrue crap in a way that makes us unable to think critically about it. So while a psychotic belief could be inspired by something we've come across (like a conspiracy theory) our brain is generally gonna take it as a seed and run with it. Therefore we usually quickly get out of bounds from the 'community' that might have inspired our belief anyways.

Overall, we are less prone to having gotten our beliefs from others and are more prone to being the originator of a belief. In something like folie a deux, a non-psychotic person is taught reality from a psychotic delusional person, f.ex. a child growing up with a delusional parent. The child might appear at first glance to be psychotic, but actually they only believe those things because that's what they were taught by someone they consider an authority. If you remove the child from that environment, you will usually be able to help them regain a better understanding. Similarly someone might grow up in a cult. And they are believing what they are being taught, and their parents are believing what they have been taught. And there will be most likely an originator to the cultish beliefs. That person might be maliciously making things up, or they might even be psychotic and delusional. But the people who are being taught these things as facts are behaving like most humans, as social creatures who's reality is defined by their context.

Most people's context is defined along the lines of consensus reality, but if your social context is not aligned with the majority consensus reality, you are still aligned with the beliefs of your social context if you share your weird beliefs with a subculture. Your brain didn't independently come up with a wild belief that is out of touch with everything you know/have been taught.

Consensus reality is a consensus. And even if the consensus you follow is shared by only 2% of the population, if that 2% is all the people you relate to and consider to be the people "in the know", then you are in a way not going against your contextual consensus reality. You've just picked a less popular one.

So what defines a clinical (psychotic) delusion is that it does not align with any consensus about reality that you have access to. It's your own, and it's unlikely that you have allies who are supporting your beliefs. Though in rare cases a clinically delusional person may be contributing new material to a subculture, that others then start believing, and as a result they do share their beliefs with a subculture. But they didn't just learn the belief from the subculture, the belief is growing and morphing independent of the group.

But yeah that's all clinically speaking. In a broader linguistic sense, I think people use "delusional" to refer to anyone who has beliefs that aren't aligned with the majority-consensus-reality, or even more simplistically, that aren't aligned with the speaker's understanding of consensus reality (usually as an insult). So an atheist might refer to the religious as delusional, and vice versa.

It may be a losing battle to get wider society to stop using 'delusional' in this way, but I think it is at least helpful to talk about how such "delusions" differ fundamentally from the psychotic experience.

[notmorbid]

these violent delights.

dialogue prompts from these violent delights by micah nemerever.

i never told you my name.

who puts those awful ideas in your head?

you're forever assuming the worst.

what's that face? you look like you're going to cry.

you're one of those people who worry all the time, aren't you?

i don't worry, i ruminate. they're distinct actions.

nothing made you. you just are.

beautiful things are supposed to hurt.

people tell you you're shy all the time, don't they?

i don't know how i ever got on without you.

a little trouble is a good thing for a young person.

i wasn't born yesterday. i know what kids get up to.

it's good to have guns to stick to.

you could do anything to me and i'd let you.

i'm not ready to be seen. not yet.

i don't need you to treat me respectfully. i'm not made of glass.

tell me you love me, at least. please. i need to know somebody does.

do i look normal? i can't tell if i look normal.

you can get away with anything, as long as you act like an authority on the truth.

don't tell me what i want.

you know you're just about the worst liar i've ever met.

i don't think you've ever felt anything that didn't hurt you.

you're so square, you're a cube.

i just want you to believe me when i tell you you're worth something.

there are limits to what you can expect people to understand, without living it.

you can't fight everybody all the time. you still have to live with them.

i forget how blue the sky can be outside the city.

i'm going to push you off a cliff, you fucking boy scout.

thank you for trusting me with this.

be a kid while you still can.

please believe in the things i try to tell you, instead of the things you think you deserve to be told.

if the sun touched you for even a moment, you'd go up in flames. like a vampire.

your voice changes when you're angry.

what a lonely, dreary thing it is to know the truth.

you never look away, even when your eyes are closed, but i'm never certain you can see what's really there.

tell me you need me. in those words.

can i tell you something? that i'm all but certain you won't believe?

i never lie to you. but sometimes, i wish i could.

you never let me pretend the truth is alright when it isn't.

you have a profound, elusive sadness about you.

you didn't. please tell me you didn't.

you and your awful little games.

why would i bother to grow my own conscience when you're always around to pester me?

you're going to help me escape.

this house is a shadowbox, never meant for human things.

you have no right to stop me, and you're not going to try.

you're sweet, when you want to be.

do you want me to kill ____? i mean it.

it might do you good to be an orphan.

you're just so sincerely creepy.

wealthy people pay handsomely for the privilege of ignoring cries for help.

i've never seen you like that before. not once.

i've decided to learn to be impulsive.

the worst damage humans do isn't rooted in malice, but in thoughtlessness.

there's such a thing as right and wrong. anyone can figure out the difference if they're willing to think for themselves.

there's no part of you i can't see.

i don't want to hurt you. please don't let me.

you're ridiculous, sometimes. but that's alright.

i don't want you right now. go home.

i'm not like you. i don't even have a shape of my own to hold anything else in place.

i'll never matter the way you do, and you know it.

say what you need to say.

if you say the word 'deserve' one more time, i'm driving us off a bridge.

i've been meaning to talk to you about ____.

i'm worried about what you're getting into.

you don't see me. you can't. you never could.

it's your life. you're entitled to make your own mistakes.

i want you to know you deserve better. you don't have to put up with ____.

you scare the hell out of me. you really do.

you look the same way you always have.

i was worried i'd lost you.

i'll take care of you. i don't need you to be brave.

all i want to do is make you happy, and you're the unhappiest person i've ever met.

i would rather be cruel than weak.

i want you to let me be nice to you today. i don't care if you think you deserve it.

this place looks like somewhere in a jigsaw puzzle.

it's always been real for me. every second.

please don't say anything to my mother.

we can't fix it if you don't tell me what happened.

i'll call you when i can stand the sight of you. don't hold your breath.

hiding the truth is still lying.

i thought you'd finally trust me if you knew i'd kill for you.

i'm just as much of a monster as you are.

i was missing part of myself my whole life, until i met you.

righteous fury leaves no space for fear.

you can always talk to me. about anything, okay? i love you no matter what.

you played [game] in school, didn't you?

no one tolerates boredom worse than the idle rich.

someone needs to be looking after you.

you know you can't actually stop me, right?

i want to be able to look at you.

when you need to, you will understand.

i'm only ever early when i'm afraid.

people talk themselves into the strangest things when they want to look impressive.

in the end, there's no difference between trusting someone and underestimating them.

[joelmillergirl]

Don’t Hate You- Joel Miller

An enemies to lovers story.

Word count: 3,298

Warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, one spank, rougher sex, slight degrading, oral (m receiving) hate sex, but they actually don’t hate each other!

Author’s Note: Love a good enemies to lovers. I did not proofread because I was ashamed!! :D

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

He was your neighbour; an interesting concept after 20 odd years of being alone with no sense of community. The apocalypse had torn through the world, separating friends from foe and dividing humanity into crushed pieces.

And then there was Jackson.

Jackson was small when you first showed up, bloody and beaten, tired of fighting. There were about 20 people at that time, all working hard to fix up the old town they had taken residence in. Maria had taken you in without any thought, allowing you to be someone after years of just living as another being, untrusting and rough, a shell of who you once were.

Five years later, you, along with the town, had blossomed. Buildings were now as new as they could be, with the resources the townspeople could find. Jackson had a bar, a laundrette, a clothes and a grocery store; things that had been hard to adjust to because your brain had been hardwired to live a certain way, were now able to just relax.

Slowly but surely, you were able to build yourself up into the personality you had before everything fell apart. A nicer, happier version of yourself. You knew everyone in town, always being greeted when you stepped out your door, they called you Honey.

“Sweet as honey, you are.” Eugene had said to you, an older man who had fought alongside Tommy in the fireflies.

The latter man scoffed, “Not to me, always teasin’ me, makin’ fun of me.”

You smile at him, “Chin up, Tommy. Someone has to keep that ego of yours in check.”

Every face in that town you could put a name to, until one day you couldn’t. Two new faces, one gruff with a frown, and the other smiley with her mouth constantly moving. You learned of their names; Joel, and Ellie. Before you could get the chance to introduce yourself, they had left.

“Where’s your brother? And the girl?” You hesitantly asked Tommy one day, raising the glass of whisky to your lips.

He shook his head once, downing his drink in one go, “Just needs to get something done. He’ll be back.”

Tommy's short reply had irked you more than it should have. Everyone in town was talking about the mystery man with his mystery kid; who were they? How long would they be away? You wish you knew the answer.

A few months later, you awoke to a distinctive voice; Tommy, yelling orders right outside your bedroom window. You tried to endure it for a while, a pillow placed over your head in an attempt to muffle the echo of his voice, but that proved to be a fail.

Thin cardigan around your body, fluffiest socks you could find, and a frown on your face, you move down the stairs in your house, muttering to yourself angrily. "Tommy!" You call out, gently closing your front door.

Tommy looked up with a guilty expression, "I'm sorry, I know-"

"It is the crack of dawn, you better have a good reason why I'm hearing your voice so early!" You finish, standing by the edge of your fence, arms crossed against your chest.

A third voice. A man stepping out of your neighbouring house. "Sorry, Ma'am, Tommy was just helpin' us settle in."

He was unapologetically handsome. Simply wearing jeans and a short sleeved shirt, with one expression plastered across his face at all times. Joel. You hated how at the sight of him, your arms unfolded from your body, hated how you couldn't really find yourself to be angry anymore.

You shift on your feet, cheeks flushing pink, "You're back."

Tommy raised his eyebrow, eyes moving between the two of you, "Honey, this is Joel, my brother, and your new neighbour."

Joel nodded in your direction, looking at you curiously. You shake your head softly, "Keep it down, Tommy." Your eyes move over to his brother, "Welcome to Jackson."

Then you were moving, back into the comfort of your own house where you slapped yourself in the face, embarrassment bubbling its way inside of you.

Two days later, you felt bad. Your bad impression with Joel replayed in your head endlessly, so bad that you had avoided going outside whenever you could hear voices next door. It was later when you knocked on their door, now in more appropriate clothes and with a clearer mind.

If he was shocked you were standing outside his door, he didn't show it, you spoke straight away. "I just wanted to properly introduce myself, I know you mustn't think too fondly of me." You give him your name along with a small smile.

Joel watched silently as you rambled an apology, only offering a small grunt and a nod of his head before closing the door in your face. You stood there for a moment, taking in what had just occurred. The rejection stung slightly, your inability to make amends with him weighing down on your shoulders. You hated how small that made you feel, hated how much you yearned for him to say something, just so you could hear his voice in that low, Southern drawl.

Tommy couldn't understand why your face soured whenever Joel's name was brought up, or why your fists clenched after watching his brother talk with other people. Why Joel seemed to talk to everyone except for you. Tommy sat in front of you in the booth at the bar, waiting for an opportunity to finally figure out what he had been suspecting. His eyes locked onto someone behind you and before you could ask, he was already calling out. “Joel! C'mere."

Your eyes widened slightly as you sat up straighter, kicking Tommy's leg under the table. You heard his boots stop next to you, his presence looming over the table you were leaning on. Tommy nodded his head slightly at you, "How're you guys gettin' along as neighbours? Haven't gotten any complaints yet, so must be goin' well."

Joel stayed quiet for a moment, eyes glancing over to you for a split second, "'S fine. Nice house you put me in."

Tommy scoffed, shaking his head with a smile, "Wasn't asking about the house, brother. You guys good?"

Joel looked down at you, eyes flickering down your face and to your hands that rest on the wooden table. “We’re good. She’s uh…” He paused, seemingly uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “She’s a good neighbour.” He confirmed, suddenly looking everywhere but you and his brother.

Tommy smiled triumphantly, looking at you again. “Honey? He a good neighbour?”

You look at him unimpressed, feeling uncomfortable to be put in such a position, and furthermore the sight of Joel tapping his fingers against the table impatiently from the corner of your eye, made you feel angry. Unnecessarily so.

“Actually, Tommy, no. He’s not a good neighbour. He’s a dick. Always… slamming his gate when he gets back from night patrols.” You breathe out deeply, feeling the brothers’ gazes on you as you looked away. “I needa head back, I’ll see you Tommy.”

You hastily make your way out, “Oh god, why did I say that?” You whisper to yourself, embarrassment coursing through your body.

Three days after that incident , you had managed to avoid Joel like he was the plague; more than how you used to ignore him. His little girl, Ellie had approached you a few times, mocking your silence and asking why you didn't get along with the oldest Miller. You couldn't say that it was because how unnecessarily hot his accent was, or how he liked to wear tighter shirts that made your skin crawl with need, so you shrugged.

On the fourth day of ignoring Joel Miller, you had lost your streak.

It was later in the evening, everyone was either crowded in the dining hall, or in the comfort of their own homes, everyone but you. The winter coat you had on was not doing you justice, the freezing wind managing to slip through the small cracks, touching your skin. Although, you could barely call it a coat, material so worn and thin you would've been better in a long-sleeve shirt. You had been walking for a few minutes, nose pink, when you heard your name being called behind you.

"What the hell are you doin, wearing this in the middle of winter?" None other than Joel Miller scolded, grabbing you by the arm when he was close enough to. "You suicidal, woman?"

"Charming." You responded, trying so hard to ignore the warmth he provided by holding your arm. "Just walking, don't see the problem."

Joel scoffed, looking genuinely annoyed, "Don't see the pro-..." He trailed off for a moment, "You're going to freeze. And given our unpleasant history, I'll probably be blamed for your death."

Not waiting for a response, he started to pull you behind him, making a beeline for his house. You stuttered out, trying to object, "Joel, I'm perfectly capable of walking back to my house."

"Don't want you going back to your house. Need to talk with you." He shortly responded, ignoring your tugging. Once he had opened his door and you could feel the heat emitting from his house, you had settled slightly, but still shot Joel a glance as you entered.

"Go sit by the fire." He ordered, walking off into his kitchen, "Fuckin' hell." He mumbled.

You scowl at his back, debating with yourself for a second before deciding to follow his orders, sitting yourself down on the floor in front of the hot embers. You moan out in relief, shuffling a bit closer before turning your head to the side, watching Joel frown as he poured something in two mugs.

"Coffee." He grunted, walking over and placing the mug in your hands before sitting down on the chair next to you, sported with his own cup. "Drink it."

The mug helped you warm up faster, the heat reaching your fingertips and moving up your hands. "Prefer tea." You shortly respond, taking the drink up to your lips.

A moment of silence commenced before either of you talked again. Joel sighed deeply, and you saw from the corner of your eye his hand resting over his face, "Why're you so difficult?"

His words sunk into your brain. You scoffed, "I'm difficult?"

"Yes. You are."

You place the mug down beside you, looking into the flames for a moment. "I tried making amends with you, Joel. Tried being nice."

His silence fuelled your frustration. "Talking and smiling to everyone but me... Because I, what? I scolded your brother for being loud?" You continue, shaking your head.

Joel didn't talk, he didn't move. Only when he was sure you were finished talking did he speak. "You did try bein' nice... And uh... God, I hate this." He paused, taking a deep breath, "Didn't think it was a good idea for us to be nice. To talk."

"What?" You asked, turning to look at him, "You didn't think it was a good idea? That makes no sense, Joel. If you just don't like me, say that, don't try making up all these excuses!"

His eyebrows furrowed, he too had abandoned his mug onto the side table next to him. "Not makin' any excuses."

You laugh shortly, "Okay, Joel. I'll leave you then, get outta your hair... Seeming as this,' You gesture to the both of you, "Is not a good idea."

As you stood, Joel quickly followed, grabbing onto your shoulder to stop you from running. "I knew it would be a bad idea because the second I laid my eyes on you, you had me wrapped around your finger. Fuckin'," He took a breath, looking away from you for a moment, "Can't get you out of my head, you're everywhere."

"I don't..." You frown, looking up at him, your uneven breathing matching his, "I don't understand."

"I can't stay away from you, I can't do it anymore." He confessed, letting go of your shoulder, instead running his hands through his hair. "You don't even know what you do to me."

You watch him for a moment, trying to rationalise your feelings, "So, you... You act like a dick, and ignore me, shut doors in my face, and now I'm finding out it's because you can't stay away from me? That's so stupid!"

His neck was flushed, the pink hue travelling down to his chest, you forced yourself to keep your eyes on his face. He looked borderline desperate now as he stepped closer, "Tell me to stop, I will. If... If you let me have you, I don't think I'll be able to stop."

"How did we go from hating each other to this?" You ask, eyes flickering over his face.

Joel shook his head gently, his hands moving up to touch your neck, fingers ghosting your skin. "Didn't really hate each other. Did we?"

"Hated you. You're arrogant." You whisper, taking off your thin jacket, a shirt on underneath.

"Keep goin'." He nodded, frowning at your choice in clothing.

His fingers moved on his own accord, moving down to the bottom of your shirt, tugging on it. "You slammed your door shut in my face." You continue, pulling the shirt off your body and throwing it on the floor.

"Like an ass." He agreed, his eyes taking in your upper half, hungrily staring at the bra you were wearing.

As if in a trance, you pulled your pants off yourself, "Just wanted to apologise to you for my bad impression." You tell him, now standing in your underwear in front oh his clothed self.

Joel nodded, his breath intaking as he looked at you, "Didn't care what you were sayin' that morning, baby. Comin'. out in that singlet of yours, tiny shorts. You thought that cardigan was gonna help ya? Was hopin' you'd yell at Tommy all day."

Your pussy clenched at his words, a gush of heat travelling upwards. "I was rude to you in the bar the other day... In front of Tommy." You confess, kneeling down in front of him, your face now in line with his growing bulge still restrained in his jeans.

"Yeah, baby." Joel agreed, "Had to listen to him lecture me for an hour." He reached down and moved your hair out of your face, looking deeply into your eyes.

His zipper was down before he could blink, quickly helping you pull down his pants, his boxers following soon after. His cock was big, bigger than you had expected it to be. Its red head was dripping with pre come, falling down the sides of him. Your hand experimentally wrapped around him, seeing how much you'd be able to take, only to find that your hand was not able to close properly.

"It's big, I know." Joel hummed, his cock twitching in your hands, "You can take it."

Your hands began moving after he spoke to you, making sure to squeeze down on him. His head fell back in pleasure, a groan releasing from his throat. After a few minutes of slowly jerking him off, you brought your head closer to his tip, carefully wrapping your lips around him. At the added pleasure, Joel looked down, letting out a whimper.

"Fuck, feel so good." He told you, scrunching his eyebrows together, "Look so good." He added, his hand coming down to hold your cheek.

With new profound confidence, you moved your head faster, making sure to match the speed with your hand. His moans grew louder, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your head, fisting some of your hair. "Alright, alright." Joel quickly said, pulling your head off his cock, now topped with the glisten of your saliva.

"Need it." You whisper, using his hand to help yourself up, tugging down your underwear before helping Joel out of his shirt. You look up at him expectedly, legs clenching together.

Joel looked down at the sight, mockingly sighing, "You wet, baby? Need me to take care of ya, huh?" He gently grabbed your hand pulling you behind him as he approached his couch. You watched as he sat down, spreading his legs widely, a sight that was truly sinful.

He gestured to his lap, and you took the hint. Climbing onto him, you didn't break eye contact, your chest pressed against his as you looked into his eyes. "Here." He whispered, reaching behind your back and unclasping your bra, peeling it away from your body. "God, you're..." He sighed, leaning back against the couch as he stared at your breasts, "You're gorgeous."

"Still hate you." You mumble, leaning up with your hands on his shoulders. He gripped his cock from under you, dragging the tip across your clit and down your pussy.

"Yeah?" He asked, looking up at your face as he placed himself up near your entrance, your legs already shaking with need. Your arousal dripped down the side of his dick, fluids mixing together. "Doesn't feel like you hate me."

You shook your head, moving downwards gently, just far enough that the tip of him slipped inside you. You both groan. "I do hate you." You try and convince him, taking him further inside you with every second that passed. When your ass met his thighs, you moaned out loudly, tilting your head backwards. "Feel so deep."

Joel smiled lazily, pressing his hand against your abdomen, "Right up here. Go on, show me how much ya hate me. Fuck it all outta ya." He slurred, his accent becoming more pronounced the further he lost himself inside you. You started with small grinds, getting your body used to the intrusion first, shaky breaths and pants falling from your mouth as your clit rubbed against his pubic hair.

He helped you bounce after, his large hands on your ass, pulling you up and down on his dick, roughly meeting those movements with his own thrusts below. Once he was confident you had found your rhythm, he leant back, watching. "Still hate me?" He shakily asked, his hands moving from your breasts down to your clit, rubbing slow circles there.

"No." You cry out, moving your body forwards so you were laying on him, your face resting in the crook of his neck. "Please." You beg, although you weren't sure of what.

Joel wraps his arms around you, holding you tight as his hips drive faster up into you. The sounds of your skin colliding echoing through his house, aiding in the pleasure you were feeling. Joel grunted in your ear, one of his hands coming down onto your ass, slapping it. "Gonna cum, baby. Come on, need to feel it."

You lean up slightly, chest heaving against his. "So close." You whisper, leaning your forehead against his. The sensation of his hands roaming your body, the feeling of his cock pistoning up into you, and your own need for him fuelled your orgasm. Just as you started clenching around him, Joel moved his head up, catching your lips in a kiss before his own orgasm escaped him. You came together, legs shaking and breaths coming out hot as you kissed.

Somehow, the kiss felt more intense than the mind-blowing sex you had just had, the intimacy of it had your heart clenching. "Don't hate you." You sighed, pulling away from his lips. "Hated how you made me feel. Wanted you so bad."

He nodded. "I know, baby. Me too."

As they dressed themselves and sat with each other by the fire, discovering new emotions and sensations with one another the rest of Jackson had continued moving around them, acting like another day; though your life would now be irrevocably changed.

[hashtagloveloses]

The headline is pretty awful but this is one of those things that gets worse as you read it:

The 14-page petition, filed in Shelby County, Tennessee, probate court, alleges that Sean and Leigh Anne Tuohy, who took Oher into their home as a high school student, never adopted him. Instead, less than three months after Oher turned 18 in 2004, the petition says, the couple tricked him into signing a document making them his conservators, which gave them legal authority to make business deals in his name.

"Michael Oher discovered this lie to his chagrin and embarrassment in February of 2023, when he learned that the Conservatorship to which he consented on the basis that doing so would make him a member of the Tuohy family, in fact provided him no familial relationship with the Tuohys."

Oher was a rising high school senior when he signed the conservatorship papers, and he has written that the Tuohys told him that there was essentially no difference between adoption and conservatorship. "They explained to me that it means pretty much the exact same thing as 'adoptive parents,' but that the laws were just written in a way that took my age into account," Oher wrote in his 2011 best-selling memoir "I Beat the Odds."

But there are some important legal distinctions. If Oher had been adopted by the Tuohys, he would have been a legal member of their family, and he would have retained power to handle his own financial affairs. Under the conservatorship, Oher surrendered that authority to the Tuohys, even though he was a legal adult with no known physical or psychological disabilities.

While the [movie] deal allowed the Tuohys to profit from the film, the petition alleges, a separate 2007 contract purportedly signed by Oher appears to "give away" to 20th Century Fox Studios the life rights to his story "without any payment whatsoever." The filing says Oher has no recollection of signing that contract, and even if he did, no one explained its implications to him.

The [movie] deal lists all four Tuohy family members as having the same representative at Creative Artists Agency, the petition says. But Oher's agent, who would receive movie contract and payment notices, is listed as Debra Branan, a close family friend of the Tuohys and the same lawyer who filed the 2004 conservatorship petition, the petition alleges. Branan did not return a call to her law office on Monday.

"Mike's relationship with the Tuohy family started to decline when he discovered that he was portrayed in the movie as unintelligent," Stranch said. "Their relationship continued to deteriorate as he learned that he was the only member of the family not receiving royalty checks from the movie, and it was permanently fractured when he realized he wasn't adopted and a part of the family."

For years, Oher has chafed at how "The Blind Side" depicted him, saying it hurt his football career and clouded how people view him. He has said that based on the film, some NFL decision-makers assumed he was mentally slow or lacked leadership skills.

"People look at me, and they take things away from me because of a movie," Oher told ESPN in 2015. "They don't really see the skills and the kind of player I am."

"Beyond the details of the deal, the politics, and the money behind the book and movie, it was the principle of the choices some people made that cut me the deepest."

[mindless-existence1]

Sonic and reader becomes friends!

would shadow get jealous? Like his lover just became friends with his enemy lol

the shock on Sonic’s face learning g shadow has a lover lol

also I don’t know if it went through but I asked you to marry me

Authors note: Put a ring on it @luc1dw0rld

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sonic’s room was its usual chaos: posters plastered on the walls, random gadgets scattered on every surface, and a distinct smell of chili dogs lingering in the air. You were sprawled on his bed, flipping through a comic book while he sat cross-legged on the floor, engrossed in his own.

“Okay, but tell me this,” Sonic said, pointing to a panel in his comic. “How does this dude survive getting thrown into a volcano? Like, plot armor is one thing, but come on.”

You snorted, not even looking up from your page. “He’s the main character, Sonic. Logic doesn’t apply to him.”

“Still dumb,” he muttered, flicking the page with unnecessary force. You glanced at your watch, and your eyes widened. “Oh, shit! I have to leave and get ready for my date.”

Sonic looked up from his comic, raising an eyebrow. “Still can’t believe you’re dating Shadow.” You rolled your eyes with a grin, heading for the door. “You’ve said that every time I’ve mentioned him. I don't see what's so unbelievable."

“I dunno,” Sonic said, shrugging. “He’s just so... serious. And, like, broody and grumpy and you're....not. It’s weird.” You smirked. “Opposites attract, Sonic.”

He rolled his eyes but grinned. “Whatever. Tell him I said hi. And tell him not to glare at me next time we’re in the same room.”

“Will do, see ya later,” you called over your shoulder as you grabbed your things and headed out the door.

-----

By the time you got back to your place, the evening sky was painted in hues of orange and pink. Unlocking the door, you stepped inside, expecting to find Shadow waiting as he usually did. Sure enough, there he was—sitting on your couch with his arms crossed and an unmistakable pout on his face.

“Hey,” you greeted warmly, setting your bag down. “You’re early.” Shadow’s crimson eyes flicked toward you briefly before he looked away. “Hmph.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “What’s with the attitude? Something happen?”

“It’s nothing,” he replied curtly, though the slight furrow of his brow said otherwise. You sighed, sitting down next to him. “Shadow, no offense but you'rea terrible lair. So spill.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the coffee table. Finally, he muttered, “You were with Sonic earlier.” You blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah? We were just hanging out and reading comics. Why?”

Shadow shifted uncomfortably, his arms tightening over his chest. “…You spend a lot of time with him.” Realization dawned on you, and you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Wait. Are you jealous?”

Shadow’s eyes snapped to yours, his expression a mix of indignation and embarrassment. “I am not jealous.”

“You totally are,” you teased, leaning closer. “You’re sulking because I was with Sonic. Admit it.”

“I don’t sulk,” he grumbled, but the faint blush dusting his cheeks betrayed him. You laughed softly, reaching out to rest a hand on his arm.

“Shadow, you have nothing to worry about. Sonic’s my best friend, yeah, but you’re the one I’m dating. You’re the one I want to be with because I love you.”

He glanced at you, his expression softening just slightly. You don't miss the way his shoulders loose their tension, what you don't know is how his heart rate spikes every time you say that “…It’s irrational,” he admitted quietly.

“Very,” you agreed, grinning. The tension in his posture easing as he leaned back against the couch. “I just don’t understand how someone like him can take up so much of your attention.”

“Well, he’s my friend,” you said simply, “but you’re the one I am lucky enough to be dating.” He didn’t respond immediately, but the small hum he gave you was enough to know he understood.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, a warm silence settling between you. After a moment, you added playfull, "It’s kind of cute seeing you like this.”

Shadow rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the faint smirk from appearing on his face. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are,” you teased, earning a quiet chuckle from him as the sun dipped below the horizon.

After a moment of comfortable silence you hear Shadow mumble something under his breath that makes your heart swell, "I love you to."

[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.

[armysantiny]

Straight from where? – Sylus

P: Sylus x female reader | G: fluff, oneshot | Inc: mc!reader, those dreadful dark romance booktok books, office work, Mephisto being a glorified camera, a domestic morning, Sylus being compared to those shitty booktok male reads, mentioned Tara, mentioned Luka and Keiran, small mention of blood on Sylus| Wc: 1.9k | W: mentions of blood | R: G

Summary: After work, y/n’s gifted a few…interesting romance novels from a colleague at work, under the premise that Skye is just like the male love interests. The white hair, red eyes and slick motorbike? A perfect match, if Sylus actually was like the men in those dark romance books. Except he’s not, and the man in question is just as mortified to learn what y/n’s colleagues think he would do to her.

Min's notes: Remember when Sylus was intially released and people started wrongfully comparing him to those really shit male leads?? Yeah so do I which is why I wrote this out of spite. I started writing this a while ago, but it got sidetracked for my Wooyoung fic. Anyway~ enjoy almost 2k words of Sylus not being a shitty dark romance stereotype

It’s the sound of several books hitting her desk at the end of a gruelling workday that brings y/n out of her focus, fingers coming to a pause on the desktop’s keyboard. There are still the mission reports on her screen that need to be filled out, yet the new additions to her desk and her coworker’s eager expression spark curiosity. Taking a quick break to indulge in said sparked curiosities, as per a certain crow’s encouragement, shouldn’t be too bad. She’s been at this for hours anyway, safe to say she’s earned it.

So, she bites.

“What are these?” Y/n chuckles, then takes a proper look at the titles. “Romance…novels?” It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate a good book, but the titles she’s looking at are…fascinating, to say the least.

“Mhm! After Skye accompanied us on our outing last time, and since he’s been here to pick you up a few times, I figured I’d lend these for you to read!” Her fellow hunter answers, al bright-eyed and genuine. They go on a little longer, comparing Sylus—Skye, as far as her coworkers know—to the kind of dark romance male leads that are going viral online. A Zade Meadows kind of man, is the consensus y/n gets once her coworker is done explaining and bids her a good night before getting ready to head home themselves.

And while Sylus is… the way that he is, y/n’s having a hard time believing the very same leader of Onychinus would be capable of doing any of the things she’s heard these male leads do. To other people, sure, y/n’s seen Sylus exert his authority in a myriad of violent ways, but the Sylus Qin she knows is a man weak to her affections, amongst other things.

“Thanks for letting me read them,” she chooses to say after a beat, “I’ll try and get him to read them with me. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the comparison.” Moments after her coworker heads out of the office and is out of earshot, y/n snorts a laugh behind her palm.

As if he’d appreciate it. Which is exactly why y/n plans on taking these books with her to Sylus’ house—castle—tonight.

Driving into the N109 Zone after a long day, a long week in fact, is comforting, the never-ending darkness surrounding y/n as she rides her bike to her destination. The broach is fastened to her coat, a silent badge of protection in the place where shadows exist even in the dark. But it’s not long until she arrives outside the front door of her home away from home, and the home of her favourite crow.

“Pretty bird..?” Y/n calls out, helmet tucked under arm as she wanders around the oddly quiet walls of Sylus’ home. Sure, her bike is parked out front, and the hunter very clearly recalls hearing distinct caws as she left work, but the sprawling expanse of a home is pin-drop silent. Even by N109 standards, it’s quiet. Slipping her shoes off in favour of comfortable slippers, y/n continues her search, her helmet discarded on a side-cabinet.

An endless swath of doors, that’s what y/n decides Sylus’ home is after she opens the nth door to no success. Just where is this man?

Familiar hands wrap around her waist.

“Hello, sweetie.” Sylus smiles, cradling his hunter close against his chest. There are traces of blood on his clothes, a smear or two across his cheek, but that doesn’t matter. Not when his y/n has come all this way to see him. What an honour he’s been bestowed. “A pretty kitten decided to come all this way just to see me. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Do you enjoy scaring the hell out of me?” Y/n complains, trailing her words off with warm laughter that he could drown himself in. “Anyway, where have you been? The house was dead silent, it was weird. Thought you weren’t doing anything today.”

“I had to take care of some… last-minute business with the twins, it kept me longer than I’d have liked.” He admits, unfurling his arms from around y/n’s delectable waist when she wriggles around to go do something. There’s a pep in her step, an excitement that Sylus knows very well means she’s up to something. Or she has something to show him. Either is good.

But there’s still the pressing matter of blood on him and his clothes.

“I’ll head into the shower, sweetie.”

Heading out of the shower a full thirty minutes later and noticeably blood-free, Sylus is met with a stack of books on his dresser as he reaches for his robe, y/n watching him from her spot on the edge of his bed. It doesn’t take long, just a couple of glances between the literature and y/n, for him to come to his conclusion.

“I didn’t know we were expanding our library,” he purrs, sneaking in a forehead kiss and bringing some of the books with his Evol. “Did you buy these? Pardon the assumption, kitten, but I know your taste and… this isn’t exactly it.”

She snickers and oh, he’s not wrong. He’s being set up, lovingly, of course.

“Well, if these aren’t your taste,” he says, “enlighten me with your plans, since we’re evidently going to be reading these for the next few days.”

And, well. The next few days are interesting, to say the least.

He peruses the novels in between meetings, digesting chapter after somewhat delusional chapter, disbelief nearly a permanent expression on his face each time one of these novels are in his hands. How anyone finds any of this… literature, something of actual substance is a mystery and the sooner he can give these sorry excuses for published books back to y/n to return to her colleague, the better. Everything about the ‘romance’ stories he’s been reading leaves a rotten taste in his mouth, worsened further by the fact that this is how y/n’s colleagues think Sylus treats his beloved.

All accusations that couldn’t be further from the truth. Frankly, he’s a little insulted.

He should go and correct this mistake.

“Boss! We’ve got a lead on the group peddling fraudulent weapons out of the old warehouse!” Kieran announces, Luke already heading off to the armoury to gear up. “Shall we get the jump on them?”

So much for seeing his pretty hunter tonight. He’ll just have Mephisto watch her instead.

Just what is so good about these anyway? It’s the only thing that’s been on y/n’s mind all night, tucked in bed with one of the dark romance novels out of the set she’d given to Sylus. A flask of jasmine tea sits on her bedside drawer, the drink and her several plushies around her bed much more interesting than the book in her hand.

If she’s having such a hard time right now, sure her favourite crow isn’t faring any better. She can almost see it now; the displeased hum, his lips curled into a frown and the distinct furrow of his brows.

And of course, the only thing better than thinking about a grumbling Sylus, is to see it in person. Obviously.

Humming along to her playlist early on in the morning as she goes about preparing breakfast, y/n startles at the knock on her door. It’s god-awfully early today, ruling out anyone she could think of off the top of her head. Her hunting partner doesn’t get up for a few more hours at the very least, and there’s no delivery to pick up…

“Morning to you too, sweetie. Off to work?” Sylus grins as she opens the front door, bending down to greet her and with a familiar looking stack of books tucked away under his arm. “Why don’t I drop you off? You can take these back with you as well.”

“How did you know I had to get to work early today?” Y/n certainly doesn’t remember texting Sylus anything other than good morning and a series of happy crow emojis, so she watches him step inside and look towards her balcony. Locking the door behind her before following his line of sight, y/n deadpans.

The crow is there. What a surprise.

“So, would you like that lift to work, kitten?”

Sylus’ motorcycle comes to a stop outside the doors of the Hunter’s Association, the hum of the engine replaced by a fresh dawn breeze as y/n removes her helmet. Her bag is several times heavier, courtesy of Sylus’ effective persuasion during breakfast. Persuasion she couldn’t exactly say no to.

“Sweetie, you can’t possibly believe any of this is good reading material,” Sylus groans, leaning against y/n’s kitchen counter while she eats breakfast. It’s probably the most offended she’s seen him in a while, and out of everything that could annoy Sylus this much, it’s the borrowed book in his hand. “This is frankly a waste of paper and the publisher’s expertise, who allowed this to be released to the public?”

Trying not to laugh through a mouthful of food is proving quite the challenge.

“Some really stubborn people, I imagine. Safe to say you don’t agree with the author’s version, then?” Y/n replies, finishing the rest of her breakfast, pure satisfaction on her face at Sylus’ indignant grumblings. It certainly makes up for Mephisto watching her from the balcony like a glorified spy camera. “Here I was think you didn’t care much for romance. Silly me~”

“The only silly thing here, sweetheart,” his voice echoes out, in time with large, warm hands wrapping around y/n’s waist. “Is the ridiculous notion your colleagues have that I’d be anything like the bastards in those books. Where did that idea come from, hm?”

Surely he’s just messing with her.

“You know exactly why, c’mon.”

“No, enlighten me.”

Her desk is just as tidy as it was when she left it, except for a croissant and her favourite morning coffee from Tara. Setting herself up doesn’t take too long, and all y/n’s left with are the books she needs to return. Books she’d rather never have to look at or read again, thanks very much. Though, there’s nothing she can do about it just yet, when the book’s owner has yet to show up.

With remarkably little callouts, there’s nothing much else for y/n to do but catch up on her remaining reports. Her hands fly across the keyboard, filling out line after line with practically no interruption.

“Y/n!” The same voice from last time calls out, breaking her out of her concentration as her colleague bounds over with enthusiasm. “How were those books I lent you? Any good?”

…is there a polite way to say absolutely horrifying and utterly dreadful?

“Definitely pretty interesting,” Y/n nods, pushing her chair away from her desk to reach for her bag. Might as well return the affronts to literature to their proper owner while she’s at it. “Skye had a read of a few as well, don’t think he’ll be reading anymore now.”

The books exchange hands, finally out of her possession, and y/n’s phone buzzes. Of course it does. Of course he’s watching.

Pretty Bird: Finally, took you long enough sweetie. Good riddance [12:54]

Pretty Bird: Let’s agree to never punish our eyes with that garbage ever again. Deal? [12:54]

Miss Hunter: As long as you agree to pick me up after work, Sy [12:56]

Pretty Bird: Then I guess we have a deal. See you after work, my love [13:00]

© copyright work of armysantiny 2025-2026

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! Consider reblogging, leaving some feedback or donating to my kofi!

Taglist: @freakywonbin | Taglist Form

[myimaginedcorner]

SCALES OF JUSTICE - GAME AVAILABLE ON HG AND STEAM!!

Hello my dear readers,

WE DID IT! I wrote a book. A full book! It's now available on the Hosted Games app, with 600k words waiting to entertain you on a morning, afternoon, evening, or night when you decide to submerge yourself into a world of fantasy and adventure!

You also can play the game on Steam! Here's the link -> https://store.steampowered.com/app/3089710/Scales_of_Justice/

I am so, so grateful to everyone who has been here for me during these past 3 years. What began as a shy attempt at dreaming has grown into a marvelous project that taught me so much, brought me so many new experiences and skills, and is going to end with my first publication as an author. I cannot be more grateful and excited. I hope this is only the beginning of an amazing journey.

Rather, I know this is one. This is not the end!

DESCRIPTION:

Journey into the magical world of Therania, a place where heroism and villainy are paths of Fate that can be foreseen in one’s destiny. Join forces with four eccentric individuals with puzzling goals and fight, plan, persuade or run, as you attempt to get a grip on your own legacy!

Scales of Justice is a 600,000-word interactive novel, the first volume in a planned series by Julia Owl. It's entirely text-based–without graphics or sound effects–and fueled by the vast, unstoppable power of your imagination.

Rumours circulate the streets of Capital. Rumours of an artefact, as dangerous and powerful as one can only fear. Some claim it’s capable of twisting one’s true nature, shaping it much to the owner’s whim; others say that it can identify a soul’s essence, putting the Ritual of Fate in a tight spot for the first time in centuries. The mage who made it is unknown; whispers in shadows only talk about a labyrinth, set somewhere hidden to protect its power. Many want to get it; many others, to destroy it. You? You are none of those–you just want to live.

And yet, your (almost) safe and peaceful life as a humble adventurer is threatened by a letter with today’s date on it, written in your mother’s hand…

Play as male, female or nonbinary; gay, straight, bisexual, or asexual.

Meet four distinct characters, with stories and ideals that highly differ from one another: a runaway heir, a rogue knight, a lost alien, and a foreign leader. Romance, befriend or doom them, and watch their tales shape your own.

Choose one of the three species available and discover your own worldview and the world's view of you. What is it like to be a human, a half-elf, or a half-satyr in this vast realm?

Fight, conjure, heal, plan, or persuade–choose your path and deal with trouble in your own way.

Buy yourself a horse! You want one, don’t you?

Learn, think, doubt, conclude. This world has a pre-written destiny – will you abide by it or challenge it? Who are you, and who will you become?

Who is worthy of holding the scales?

Content Warning: This piece of interactive fiction was not written with children in mind. The story contains mature themes and scenes of violence, including cult ceremonites, kidnapping, and fighting.

USEFUL LINKS:

If you want to know a little more about this project and read chapters 1-5, I'll leave the link to the game here -> https://dashingdon.com/play/myimaginedcorner/scales-of-justice/mygame/

If you want to discuss anything on CoG's forum, I'll leave the link for SoJ here:

- WIP Thread -> https://forum.choiceofgames.com/t/wip-scales-of-justice-new-project-announcement-and-demo-release/101088/16

- Official Release Thread -> https://forum.choiceofgames.com/t/scales-of-justice-will-you-challenge-fate-or-follow-it/163500

If you want to send me a more extensive feedback, here's my email -> feedbackscalesofjustice@gmail.com

[velvetvexations]

With Warless Weekend over, it's time I address Plaidos openly accusing me of secretly being a man! Oh, yeah, she's doing that now. I'm tagging this because I'm annoyed at Very Popular Tumblr Transfeminist misgendering a trans woman because her politics are too transmasc-friendly.

Isn't it great how she cuts this off, implying I think segregation by sex is not a big deal, rather than it being ridiculous she's made Michfest specifically her 9/11? I try so often to word everything I say in a way that can't be snipped like this but I clearly fucked up here.

Let's breakdown the reasoning given in her reply to a reblog concurring that I'm probably a sockpuppet:

Plaidos is assuming as TRFs always do that her clique is fully representative of transfems on Tumblr so if she never sees me positively interacting with them I must specifically be avoiding them. The reality is that I simply don't inspect the genitals of everyone I interact with.

Not only do I often argue with self-identified TMEs, probably even more than trans women, but Plaidos is literally responding to a self-identified TME who's talking about me having argued with them, so framing this as me going after trans women is ridiculous. I can literally pull up screenshots that I'm pretty sure predate me coming back to Tumblr where I talk about how it seems from what I observed on the outside was that the rabidly transandrophobic crowd was mostly non-trans women bloodletting for one or two idols, which is a notion I was unfortunately and despairingly disillusioned of upon getting into the trenches myself.

Also, "dishonorable"? Is she a fucking Klingon?

Annnnnd there's the implication I am in fact a trans man. She's certainly saying I'm not a trans woman and that's also misgendering because I've said repeatedly that my gender rests firmly on being Not A Cis Woman. But why simply "implicate" I'm a man?

Hilarious. Doubly so since I just recently found out that person runs my favorite Y2K blog, which I'm sure will get used as 'proof' at some point.

Do I seriously need to post fucking gock lol? Are we literally down to genital inspections at this point?

My blog has a pre-discourse history where I mostly reblogged images and argued about a Dungeons & Dragons show!* I'm literally a published author! What about all the very specific kinks? Being a scholar of Imperial Japan? The very specific opinions I have on very specific media? My specific fandoms?

What an elaborate character I've constructed to come up with a multiple system where the system members even have surnames and are the distinct sources of specific parts of my personality and interests, including one who's Christian and one who's attempting to learn Hinduism but has only ever briefly mentioned it about twice.

I think TRFs have never moved past the point in development where people don't exist when you stop looking at them.

*much of which was about how much I hated the transmasc player's cis lesbian PC; make of that what you will

I don't block people very often, but I do in fact do that! Thicced-Witch has openly talked about me repeatedly having her blocked and unblocking her when it did no good. I also have prettykittenpaw and fite-club blocked because they got into the annoying habit of coming on to every one of my posts, and my tolerance for prettyeelwithagun ran out when she stuck by Thicced-Witch's misgendering of people for the purposes of "satire."

God, this is all so, so stupid. Transfeminism, everyone.

[amongemeraldclouds]

The Slytherin Boys as Disney Princes

Ft. Theodore Nott, Mattheo Riddle, Blaise Zabini, Tom Riddle, Draco Malfoy, and Lorenzo Berkshire. Also features x f!Reader as their equivalent Disney princesses.

© amongemeraldclouds I do not consent to having my work shared or reproduced elsewhere. Please do not claim as your own, tumblr is the only place I share my written work.

✿ Masterlist | 1.8k words

From the Wizarding World to magical fairytales, let’s crown our beloved Slytherin boys as the following Disney princes:

Theodore Nott as Prince Charming (Cinderella)

Note: Prince Charming doesn’t have much personality in the original 1950s film, but we learn more about him in later films, where I drew information from.

✭ Raised in privilege as a prince, Theodore Nott lived a very charmed life just as the name Prince Charming suggests.

✭ With only royals and commoners to distinguish class, he is less prejudiced and more accepting of others. His father taught him at an early age that they have a responsibility to their people just as their people serve them.

✭ Because of this, he is open and friendly to everyone, including animals. He was once hunting down a deer only for it to be a game in the end, him and the deer are actually friends. (Note: Yes this is canon Prince Charming and is very Theo as well.)

✭ If Disney were less wholesome, Theo as Prince Charming would have regular lovers, but it will only always be physical. He has not yet found a connection with anyone, but it doesn’t matter because he enjoys sex. He certainly never runs out of women to sleep with.

✭ Beneath all the charm, he secretly hopes to find a love match. The kind of relationship that transcends strategy and status. He longs for passion and romance, much like in the books he reads in the castle’s library, though he’ll never let anyone know.

✭ His father in the meantime is keen to see him married to an eligible maiden so he threw a ball. He rolled his eyes and yawned when no one was looking, initially bored because he still couldn’t find the connection he longed for. At this point, he doubted he’d ever find it. 

✭ Then he met you. You in your light blue dress and glass slippers. Everything about you sparkled and it ignited something in his heart. He never knew romantic love before you, but he recognized it right away.

✭ He wouldn’t care that you were a commoner, he’d admire your courage and kindness once he got to know you. Besides, true love was far more valuable than any precious metals and gems.

✭ After you ran off, your glass slipper gave him hope. He was going to stop at nothing to find you, his true love.

Mattheo Riddle as Flynn Rider (Tangled)

⋆☀︎. Left to his own devices, Mattheo Riddle would go on countless adventures across different kingdoms and forests, thieving only as a means to an end so he could survive. 

⋆☀︎. He enjoys the rush, being chased by the authorities and not being held down by rules or responsibilities. (Except they can never get his damn nose right on Wanted signs despite the distinct cut he has on the bridge of his nose iykyk.)

⋆☀︎. With his charming personality and irresistible smolder, he’s an expert in banding together with fellow criminals and often smooth talks his way into ladies’ beds. All temporary partnerships for his on-the-go lifestyle.

⋆☀︎. Until one day he comes across you, the girl with golden hair and big eyes — not to be underestimated with your ferocious pan wielding tendencies. He learns the last part a little too late, the hard way.

⋆☀︎. As he promised to take you to see the floating lights in exchange for the crown, he finds himself having fun swinging his fists and learning about your power to bring out the good in people.

⋆☀︎. You managed to charm tough guys in a bar, getting them to talk about their dreams—of being a florist, of performing on stage, and of falling in love. He realizes it may not be so bad to go on adventures with someone else.

⋆☀︎. He was already mesmerized before he learned about your magical hair. He saw the light within you long before that enchanted night when lanterns floated through the air like stars hung low just for you. And of course, they were always meant for you.

⋆☀︎. Before Mother Gothel could plunge the weapon in him, he already knew he was a goner. He knew he could never go back to who he was. He was now and forever going to be a moth to your flame, your soul as radiant as the sun even long after your golden hair turned brown.

Blaise Zabini as Kristoff (Frozen)

•❅*ִ Much like Kristoff, Blaise Zabini exudes a quiet confidence that does not need to declare itself.

•❅*ִ As an ice harvester who works with ice picks, hooks and ropes, he has an athletic build and a tough exterior, but do not be fooled for he has a soft heart within.

•❅*ִ Having grown among trolls and reindeers, he sometimes gets frustrated when interacting with people. He believes reindeers are better than people, but all that changes when he meets you.

•❅*ִ He is very practical and honest, but when he is blunt he often means well. He is quick to call you out on the fact that you’re about to marry a man you hardly know.

•❅*ִ He initially agrees to help you end winter to save his ice business and get a new sled. However, the more challenges you face together, he grows to admire your fearlessness and determination.

•❅*ִ While you initially find him to be annoying, you soon discover his charming and funny side.

•❅*ִ He will however suppress his feelings for you, thinking it’s better to let it go because you’re already engaged anyway. But when truths are revealed and no one is who they appear to be, you’ll melt his frozen heart with a kiss on the cheek.

Draco Malfoy as Li Shang (Mulan)

✿ To Draco Malfoy, loyalty and family legacy is important, just like Li Shang who aims to be just as great as his father, the head of the Imperial Chinese Army.

✿ He is disciplined and has mastered both physical and strategic ways of waging war. He has a lot of traditional beliefs, including making a man out of his troops using elaborate physical training.

✿ He starts questioning those beliefs when he sees your determination as Ping, using both weights to climb up the pole even though it took you countless failures throughout the night. What were these confusing feelings in his chest?

✿ Yet he couldn’t deny it, nor would he try. He was ready to lay his life down for you even before you saved him. It didn’t take him long to return the favor when he found out you were a woman and so he spared your life.

✿ Despite his firm upbringing, he was always loyal to his heart. Even though you betrayed the army, he knew your intentions had been good and that your hard work made you a skilled soldier.

✿ He listened and trusted your last ditch efforts to save the Emperor, even resorting to cross dressing as part of the plan. It all paid off as you saved the Emperor and all of China. 

✿ In the end, you were absolved of your deceit and honored for your heroism, finally letting your reflection show who you are and what you’re made of. Your final crime was stealing his heart.

Tom Riddle as Aladdin (Aladdin)

✶ Tom Riddle grew up as an orphan and resorted to a life of crime to survive in Agrabah. Secretly, he enjoyed it too.

✶ Smitten by your beauty, he saved you from a merchant at the market and he was impressed with your agility when it came to dodging the authorities.

✶ When you reached Aladdin’s home, you revealed you were from the palace and left thinking you’d never see him again. He longed to visit the palace to get another glimpse of your beauty.

✶ Named as a diamond in the rough, Jafar recognized Tom’s talent and recruited him to steal the magic lamp from the Cave of Wonders. Encouraged by the promise of riches (therefore power) and a subconscious need to please Jafar, he takes on the task, saving a magic carpet in the process.

✶ Back at the palace, your father sought to marry you off to find a successor to his throne. You met suitors, including a flashy prince called Ali from Ababwa.

✶ On a magic carpet ride, you trick Ali into admitting he’s the thief you previously met at the market. He manipulates you into thinking he’s the prince and the thief persona was just an act for him to get to know the city better.

✶ When Jafar uncovers Tom’s identity, he steals the magic lamp and wreaks havoc using the genie’s wishes. Understanding Jafar’s ego, he tricks him into wishing to be the most powerful being in the universe, which imprisons Jafar in his own lamp as a genie.

✶ Instead of using his last wish to continue being the rightful prince who can marry you, he used it to free the genie, as he has now learned how power corrupts others. It wasn’t worth it.

✶ Crowned as the next sultana, you recognized how our actions and choices defined us. Despite Tom’s manipulations, he showed up and was willing to learn. He was not afraid to look into the dark and make the right decisions when it mattered, a husband fit for a ruler.

Lorenzo Berkshire as Jack Frost (Rise of The Guardians)

Before you come at me, I know Jack Frost is not a Disney prince, but I’m a Jelsa truther so here we are.

❅ Lorenzo Berkshire mirrors Jack Frost’s love for mischief and games. As the guardian of fun, he enjoys playing harmless tricks on children and hearing them laugh as a result.

❅ Beneath the playful exterior, he deeply cares for those around him, having saved his sister from a frozen lake. His ultimate sacrifice led to his untimely demise, which the Man in The Moon rewarded him by making him immortal and granting him powers. 

❅ He never found much need for romance, opting to spend his days playing with children and visiting his fellow guardians instead. Until one day, he visits the Enchanted Forest and comes across you, its mighty protector.

❅ Despite the initial distrust, he wins you over with his easy smile and sincerity. You never realized it until then, how lonely it was to be an ice queen without her king.

❅ Jack was also amazed to find someone else who could play with the magic of snow. He felt seen and understood like never before. For once, the loneliness in his heart melted away.

❅ So you spent your days together, laughing over silly jokes and exchanging stories. The cold never bothered you, but being with him made you understand why people enjoyed the sweetness of hot cocoa and why they cuddled close to a fire.

❅ Both your friends and family were happy for you. One day, Jack asked you to invite everyone so you can have a contest on who built the best sculptures. Your audience and judges comprised of Jack’s fellow Guardians, Queen Anna and King Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven.

❅ You showed off with iced gardens, towers, and even the shape of Sven, but none was more impressive as when you turned around to find Jack on one knee, a gleaming diamond in his hand. It was a picture perfect moment with ice sculptures in the background, celebrated with loved ones. 

❅ And soon, the ice queen would never be without her king.  

✿ Masterlist <- read more!

[signedkoko]

Hello if you don't mind I'd like to request lucifer and Lilith x a reader that is a half sinner half demon like readers one Parent was a demon and the other was human, type of vibe you know

And maybe since the reader is half demon they are like stronger then the overloards in the pride ring

Lucifer X Reader X Lilith [Romantic]

In which you were born of a sinner and demon, which give you the advantage most overlords lack. Genderneutral reader.

Not many sinners and demons got along, considering the powerful advantage most sinners had over demons and the distinction between the groups

Despite that, your parents were anything but normal, and they lived as they died—in love

Unfortunately, you lost them to an extermination, and while it was a stab in the heart, you knew it was an inevitability

You'd been extremely lucky to that right, since your creation not another had been born or made to exist; you were hell's own miracle

Your appearance made heads turn, journals typed away about your life, and despite not living the life of a celebrity you were treated like one by the press

Your existence was, of course, of interest to Lucifer, who was more than eager to introduce himself the first time you were face-to-face

He was with his wife, who easily towered over the two of you, and embarassingly enough, they cooed at your features—a mix of two worlds

Royalty was royalty, so you did your best to be calm and introduce yourself, which ended in a long string of chatter until the two were pulled off

Lucifer is mostly interested in you since you are the first hell-born human.

Lilith is interested because you are both similar, somehow sinners and demons combined, albeit in much different ways

One day, you receive concert tickets in your mail to see Lilith perform as a VIP

There is a personal note from her mentioning that she would love to see you at her performance and that she hopes you enjoy the show

Of course you go! You even splurge on a nicer outfit

Her show is outstanding, and you had one of the best nights of your life being treated so kindly by so many, as well as not being the centre of all eyes for once

Of course, you were invited backstage, and she invited you to dinner with herself and her husband, to which the rest is history

Now you were part of the family, living with them and learning plenty of hell that you'd never known prior

Their story, their goals, their interests, and their hobbies—what made them tick

They trusted you with everything.

Their favourite aspect of your mixed blood is that they can take you on dates down to the other rings and show you only the finest that hell has to offer

Your favourite is that now you aren't 'the sinner-demon hybrid' and instead 'one third of the Morningstar trio'

It is certainly a shift in lifestyle for you, from rag to riches, and they are very amused but also baffled by your way of doing things

Still, they love to hear about what hell is like from your perspective, someone who wasn't given everything

So into whatever rundown restaurants you bring them to, especially Lucifer, he would love sloppy, fucked up food

Lilith prefers bitter sweets and coffee; she ends up loving your favourite cafe, too, and now you visit at least once a week

 

Author's Note - Of course I don't mind! I love these two so much, still one of my favourite duos to see x readers with because maaaaaaaan!!! I hope this is what you were hoping for, please enjoy 🖤