#and he knows that's not true but what if?
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legalandnotease · 2 days ago
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"Tony Stark is a hero because he sacrifices his freedom for the greater good?" What is this insane headcanon?
Tony Stark is the only person who leaves Civil War a free man and unscatched *despite* having broken the Accords- twice- before the end of the movie.
He is the one person who *does not* sacrifice his freedom and hypocritically gets away with not only breaking the very laws he claimed to be upholding for selfish reasons- but also getting away with murder.
Also under the terms of the Accords he should have handed over all his suits to the government. He never did that.
...and that's without even considering the horrific impact the Accords had on people lower down the pecking order. Hank Pym and his daugher were being hounded by the government to give up their suits as because of the Accords. Which they were never consulted about and never signed for that precise reason.
In Agents of SHIELD, Inhumans are hunted down and killed by Neo-Nazis because of the Accords.
The Accords caused more death pain and destruction then anything else.
I challenge Tony fans to point to even one life that was saved because of them.
Its no wonder they were canoncially repealed within 10 years of being passed.
Tony Stark literally sold out mllions of people to an authoritarian government for the sake of his own convenience, and caused God knows how many deaths in the process.
Then his fans have the audacity to justify his actions with the usual HYDRA rhetoric about "safety and security". Its no wonder they idolize the MCU Elon Musk
And before they bring up Charlie Spencer isn't it *interesting* that an American legal adult was the person who was used to guilt trip Tony?
What about the thousands of Sokovian women and children who died? This is meant to be able stopping innocents dying after all. So.... those innocents don't count? Only the American one?
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Tony Stark in CA:CW + the values of Captain America
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lilhawkeye3 · 24 hours ago
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A Crash Course to Kendrick's Super Bowl Performance, from a Black Woman
Note: this does NOT go in depth into all of the song's lyrics. I don't have time to recount two decades of his discography. This is just a summary of the performance itself.
Let's start with the first visual we get:
UNCLE SAM - most notably recognized from WWII American wartime propaganda, Uncle Sam is the personification of American patriotism and freedom. The term "uncle" is also evocative of Uncle Tom from Uncle Tom's Cabin, an abolitionist book that aided in inciting the Civil War. Uncle is also a very common term (both endearment and derogatory) towards Black men (eg. "unc"). Samuel L Jackson was fantastic.
Uncle Sam also resembles a circus ringleader, notable for my next point:
THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME - no, not Super Bowl. The GAG is us the people being pitted against each other: through late-stage capitalism, through the culture war, through class warfare, through being built of the backs of slaves. We are all players in the GAG because none of us on this site were the oligarchs seated at the inauguration.
This is also seen as Kendrick's stage was a Play Station controller. Not only did it remind of circus rings visually, but it was a game battle stage. The Great American Game is a battle royale of the commoners for the amusement of the rich whites.
Remember the foods / Them color was tin and brown / But now they 100 and blue - For this I'll just say, look what the last election said about lowering the price of eggs... and look at the prices now.
The revolution about to be televised / You picked the right time / But the wrong guy - Election 2024 once more. *Edit to add, the first part of this lyric is in reference to the Black Liberation Song "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" by Gil Scott-Heron. Thanks to everyone who mentioned that.
THE FLAG DANCERS - yes, the dancers formed the US flag... off of the backs of Black people. Not a single white person in sight, and that's true of the cotton pickers in the fields. Plantations are part of how the US came to economic prominence after being a "backwater" colony. Remember tobacco? Cotton? Our bloodlines do. *Edit to add: they also all piled out of a clown car. The US flag in a clown car? Brilliant.
The red and blue dancers are also notable for representing the Crips and Bloods, two infamous street gangs. The dance in Not Like Us is the Crip Walk. I recommend researching more on your own time about them, but just know they are a large part of the stereotype of Black people being "ghetto."
TOO LOUD, TOO RECKLESS, TOO GHETTO. Do you really know how to play the game? - This is exactly what Black people, especially Black men, get told all the time. It's why we change our names on resumes if they sound "too Black." It's why we codeswitch in non-Black company. This is especially rich considering how non-Black people love our culture and love to make money off of us, as the latter part of the quote points to. And it's even more profound during the Super Bowl-- the NFL is majority Black players.
STREET LIGHT A CAPELLA -- "thug" stereotype dancers to counteract the a capella connotations, with Uncle Sam then saying that Kendrick figured out "bringing other street guys around being a culture cheat code." Yes, this is a direct hit at Drake (listen to "Not Like Us") but also politically. Look up "model minority". Notably I would point to Candace Owens, or the Miami Venezuelan political group that's been in the news recently, especially as this directly led to Kendrick being surrounded by...
DANCERS IN WHITE -- it's white America. That's... that's the allegory.
NOT LIKE US TEASER -- Kendrick says "Not Like Us" is "their favorite song." -> he means white people specifically here. It comes after he's surrounded by all white dancers, the women around him who are his call and response are also in white (my opinion, they represent the industry). He's saying "Not Like Us" is the favorite of yts because it is about BLACK MEN FIGHTING. This again is reflected in the video game stage and ringleader Uncle Sam.
SZA -- instead of giving what they want, we see SZA. She's one of Drake's exes and Kendrick has always supported her.
ALL THE STARS -- This was in the first Black Panther movie, which I recommend you watch. Rest in Power Chadwick. Notably, this movie was incredibly mainstream as a major Marvel movie, and then we have Uncle Sam say...
"THAT'S WHAT AMERICA WANTS: NICE AND CALM. DON'T MESS THIS UP" -- translation: Marvel (the industry, America, etc.) wanted a safe, semi-pop song because white American likes safe pop songs, not Kendrick's usual heavy rap style about his life as a Black man! Don't mess up what you've got going mainstream for having this "Black rap feud" with Drake, who is an R&B model minority to white people because he's safe.
So what does Kendrick say?
IT'S A CULTURAL DIVIDE / IMMA GET IT ON THE FLOOR -- He was warned not to be political or apologetically Black for this Super Bowl performance, but he is using this big stage opportunity to speak out.
40 ACRES AND A MULE / THIS IS BIGGER THAN THE MUSIC -- 40 acres and a mule are what the freed slaves were promised. Instead, this land went to white sharecroppers. Research Jim Crow laws.
THEY TRIED TO RIG THE GAME / BUT YOU CAN'T FAKE INFLUENCE -- rig the election, rig the industry like with model minority Drake, rig the Great American Game with culture war to distract from active class warfare.
NOT LIKE US -- the only thing I'll mention because it made me holler is Serena Williams crip walking on Drake's metaphorical grave. She's another one of his exes.
TURN THE TV OFF -- exactly like he said! The TV is a distraction, the Super Bowl is a distraction, the mainstream news is often a distraction. Turn it off and get with your people!
GAME OVER — could not see this on my stream but at the end of the performance, the lights in the stadium spelled this out. The world is watching, America…
In conclusion, Kendrick Lamar is a visionary and thank you for coming to my TED Talk.
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markrosewater · 1 day ago
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I want to speak out against the whole push towards DEI. I feel that ever since you made the push to make identity the forefront of a character it has hurt the stories you tell. Captain Sisay's race was never the focus of her character and she was a complete badass! And I fear if you did it over again Gerrard would be trans, black and disabled just because. It also cheapens the stories of world devastation when characters worry more about their gender than Bolas destroying everything.
The reason I started this blog is so we can have frank conversations about things, so please let’s talk about this.
Imagine if every time you turned on the TV or watched a movie, no one looked like you. For some of us, that’s never happened. We see ourselves constantly, so it’s hard to truly understand what not seeing yourself represented in media is like.
I do have a personal window to this experience. While I am white and male, there’s an area where I am the minority - my religion. Jews are just under two and a half percent of the US population. I have had many experiences where I’ve been in situations where everything is geared towards a group I do not belong to, and zero consideration is given that not everyone at that event is part of the majority.
You just feel invisible and like an outsider. It’s not a great feeling. And I just experience it a tiny portion of time, only things that are geared specifically towards something religious. Most minorities have this feeling all the time, whenever they’re outside their personal community.
Now imagine, after years of not seeing yourself ever, you finally see someone that looks like you, but nothing about the character rings remotely true. They don’t sound like you, they don’t act like you, the facts about their day-to-day life are just wrong. It’s clear whoever wrote the character didn’t truly understand the lived experience of the character, so the character feels fake.
You bring up Sisay. Michael Ryan and I didn’t technically create Sisay (she played a small role in the Mirage story), but we did do a lot to flesh out her character as the creators of the Weatherlight Saga. We turned her from a minor character into a major one.
And while I’m proud, in general, of our work on the Weatherlight Saga, I don’t think we did justice to Sisay as a character. Neither Michael nor I have any knowledge of what it’s like to be a black woman. Nor did we ever talk to someone who did.
And if you’re someone like us that has no knowledge of that experience, you probably didn’t notice. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.
Imagine if we made a movie about your life, and we just made everything up. We invented people you never knew, we gave you a job you never had, and we had you say things you’d never say. The movie might even be a good movie, but your response would be, but that’s not my life - that’s not me.
Now imagine we put the movie out, and people that never met you assumed that was what you were like. When people met you for the first time, they assumed things, because, you know, they’d seen the movie.
That’s what misrepresenting people does. It not only makes them feel not seen, it falsely represents them, spreading lies, often stereotypes, making people believe things about them that aren’t true.
Our move towards diversity is just us trying to better reflect the world and the people in it. We’re trying to do to everyone else what a certain portion of people get every day without ever having to think about it.
But why are we “making it the forefront of their character”? We’re not. We’re making it a part of their character. But in a world where you’re not used to ever seeing it, it feels louder than it is. Things that are a natural part of the world that you’re used to feel like the background of the story because you understand the context to it.
If a man kisses his wife before going off to a battle, that’s not a big deal. It’s just a thing a husband might do to his wife when he leaves. It’s not the forefront of his character. It’s just part of his life. But you’ve seen it hundreds of times, so it feels normal.
When someone does something that isn’t your lived experience it pulls focus. It seems like a big deal, but only because it’s new to you. It’s just as mundane a thing to that character as the man kissing his wife is to him.
Even the turn “pushing” implies that it’s unnaturally here, that we’re forcing something that naturally shouldn’t be. But why? That thing exists naturally in the real world, and it doesn’t make the real world any less. Maybe you’re less aware of it, but is making you aware of how others live their life “pushing” something on you?
How you live your life is represented constantly, everywhere. Why isn’t over-representing your experience at the expense of everyone else’s “pushing” it? Why is media only being the experience of those in power the “proper way”?
Having more depth and variety doesn’t lessen stories. It makes them deeper, more rich, more nuanced. In short, it makes them better stories. In my former life, I was a professional writer. I took a lot of writing classes. One of the truism of writing is “speaking truth leads to better stories”.
There’s another famous quote: “When you’re accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.” You’re used to being over-represented, so being a little less over-represented feels like something has been taken from you. But really it hasn’t. Having a better sense of the rest of the world comes with a lot of benefits.
I’ll use food as an example. Let’s say all you were ever exposed to was the food of your heritage. Yeah, that food is really good, but sometimes isn’t it nice to eat foods of other nationalities? Isn’t your life better that you have a choice? Isn’t your exposure and access to the food of other nationalities a positive in your life?
Exposure to variety is a positive. It allows you to learn about things you didn’t know, experience things things you’ve never experienced, and get a better sense of understanding of your friends and neighbors.
Our actions are not to harm anyone, and if you think that’s what we’re doing, please take a minute to actually absorb what I’m saying. You’ve spent your whole life metaphorically eating one type of food, and we’re just trying to show you how much you’ve missed out on.
And while this might not impact you directly, we’re making a whole bunch of people felt seen. We’re bringing joy. Think of it this way. We make a lot of cards. Not every card is for you. But if it makes someone else happy, if they get to include it in a deck, and it makes Magic better for them, how is it harming you that we include it? You have so many cards that you can play.
To this poster or people that share their viewpoint, the narrative that a gain for someone else is an attack on you is just not true. As I just pointed out above, you play a game all about personal choice, about players getting to choose how they play and enjoy the game. Why should life be any different than Magic?
Thanks for reading.
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unintentionalseductress · 2 days ago
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How To Court A Dragon
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Warnings: MDNI, sex, monster fucking, DVP, explicit genitalia descriptions, double pp, size kink, mentions of breeding Summary: You unintentionally became his mate. Of course, you have some questions. A/n: Hey ya'll! I used to be called nanamiscocksleeve! Here it is! Now...I hope this isn't something people will shy away from because it took me a lot of effort to write this, not to mention all the weird questions I asked Google about reptilian mating parts (there's a sentence I never thought I'd write!). Also, the things about the pp...I was imagining this scene from The Shape of Water 🤭🤭🤭. Enjoy my fellow monster lovers!
“Sylus?” You glance over at the large, intimidating dragon occupying about half the space on the large fur rug you’re both lying on. The dragon, idly fiddling with a gilded coin, glances at you with a bored look in his ruby eyes.
“Yes, kitten?” he asks in his usual growl as he flicks the coin away onto a pile of gold. 
“We’ve known each other for quite some time.”
Sylus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose we have.”
“I was wondering…if I could ask some questions.”
“Questions?” Sylus looks at you with mild curiosity. “Hmm, let me consult my schedule... ah yes, I have a free moment between ‘hoarding treasure’ and ‘menacing villagers.’ Make it quick." He flashes you a sarcastic grin and you roll your eyes.
“Can you ever just speak normally? Wait that’s not my question!” You add hastily as Sylus’s eyes flash in amusement, clearly about to reply and further annoy you by not answering what you really had in mind. 
A deep, rumbling chuckle emanates from Sylus’s throat. “Go ahead, sweetie.”
You fiddle with the rug, wondering how to phrase your question. You had been living with, if it could be called that, a dragon for a reasonable amount of time now. Between the cave and Tarus City, there wasn’t a glimpse of another human for miles, and now, he was the closest thing to companionship that you had. 
Initially, you were worried he wasn’t interested in you beyond consuming you as a meal but as time progressed, the two of you had struck a balanced relationship. Now whenever you and Sylus ventured out into Tarus City, the inhabitants had begun to refer to you as the dragon’s mate. The thought had initially made you blush because ‘mate’ referred to something more carnal and intimate than whatever you two were. However, Sylus had made no effort to correct them, and now you had unwittingly accepted the title, and it had become part of your identity. 
There was a cavern within the long and winding cave filled with books from faraway lands and one day when you had nothing else to do, you’d come across a book entitled “The Courtship of Dragons”. It was obviously written from a human point of view but you’d read things that had left you with many questions; most of it seemed to be a work of fantasy like the author had made up some parts just to keep the reader’s attention. You’d turned these thoughts over and over in your head until you decided enough was enough and that you needed to get the answers straight from the dragon’s mouth. 
“I read something about…dragon mating. And I’m a little confused by it.” You venture out the topic hesitantly, looking at him for a reaction. Sylus’s face remains impassive as he regards you.  
“Dragon mating?” he chuckles as you avert your eyes back onto the rug, plucking at the fur as you do so. “Whatever did you read? Tell me. I’m quite curious to know.”
You clear your throat before continuing. “Well, the author said dragons have an innate sense about recognizing their mates and that they don’t…nest with other dragons. Is that true?”
Sylus rolls over onto his side contemplating. “Yes, that’s true. Dragons do mate for life. Once they find the one, they become their own unit. They make their own lair, and no other dragon is allowed to enter it. We get highly territorial if this is violated.” 
“I see.” You twiddle your thumbs together. “And…what if…your real mate is out there somewhere? Wouldn’t my presence be a downside?”
“My real mate?” Sylus asks in a vexing tone. “I’m not sure I follow.”
You look at him in disbelief before hedging on. “You know, your real mate. The dragon you’re supposed to be with.”
“You keep forgetting I’m only half dragon. Chances of my mate being completely dragon aren’t high.”
You click your tongue impatiently. “Fine, the other half-dragon or whatever. Isn’t she still out there? If she turns up in your life one day, then doesn’t that mean…” Your voice trails as you consider the implications. 
“Yes?” Sylus prompts you. 
“Well we’d have to shake hands and part ways right?” You rest your cheek on your palm, bearing your weight on your elbow as you turn to look at him. “I wouldn’t be allowed here anymore since you have a mate.”
“What makes you think my mate would be a dragon hybrid?”
The question exasperates you. “Aren’t you the one who said your mate wouldn’t be completely dragon?”
“I did. But you seem to be forgetting another possibility.”
“What? Is there a percentage of dragon she has to be for this to work?” 
Sylus lets out a booming laugh, the noise echoing richly off the walls of his cave. You look at him confoundedly, unable to fathom what made him laugh like this. 
“There’s no need to mock me.” You huff irritably as you watch his abdomen quiver from his mirth. “I’m just trying to familiarize myself with dragon etiquette.”
Sylus quiets down at your tone before he reaches out a clawed hand and flicks your forehead. “Can you really not think of another possibility?”
“No.” You curtly bite out the word. “And I don't appreciate being teased.”
The dragon shakes his head, a wide grin forming on his chiseled face. 
“You seem oblivious to the possibility that she could also be human.” The tone with which he says the words render you momentarily speechless. You hadn’t in fact, considered that as a possibility at all. How could a normal human become a mate to a dragon?
Almost as if Sylus had sensed your curiosity, he explains. “I didn’t make the rules, sweetie. Dragon hybrids are known to find human mates more often than not. Perhaps with the hope that their offspring have a chance to become completely human.” 
Fascinated with this bit of information, you turn it over in your head. “Aren’t you interested in finding her?”
“Finding her?” Sylus chuckles. “Why would I put in that effort when she’s been with me this whole time?” He raises an eyebrow at you as you process his words, then falter as the meaning finally washes over you. 
“Me?!” You sputter as Sylus watches amusedly, his tail swishing across the rug. “Just because the villagers of Tarus City think I’m your mate doesn’t make it true!”
“Indeed, it doesn’t,” Sylus agrees almost maddeningly. “What makes it true is the mark I left on your neck.” 
Your breath hitches and the moment seems to stand still, stuck in time like a black-and-white photograph. Instinctively, your fingers reach for the bite mark Sylus had left on the crook of your neck when he’d first met you. “What about it?” you ask defensively. 
Enjoying the flustered look on your face, the dragon calmly explains. “The mark would have faded by now if you weren’t fated for me. Mate marks last forever, no matter when they’re given.” He smirks, revealing his sharp teeth. 
“Why didn’t you say anything?!” You burst out, overwhelmed by this reveal. “ I’ve been sitting here day after day thinking at some point you’ll find your true mate and I’d have to think about how to fend for myself!”
“I’m sorry, but I’m confused about which of these is more distressing to you. The idea of moving out, or realizing you’re my mate?” Sylus asks the question with a lilt and you resist the urge to punch him, knowing you’d injure yourself against those scales.
“Both,” you say swiftly, then turn away from him. You’re taken aback as his tail suddenly wraps around your waist and pulls you against him. His chest is warm against your back and his breath tickles your neck as you squirm in his grasp. 
“Where do you think you’re going my little one?” Sylus purrs in your ears. Determined not to let him get a rise out of you, you sulk, ceasing all movements even as your heart pounds in your chest. His chin brushes against the top of your head like a territorial cat. “What? All bark and no bite?” A soft laugh emanates from him as he continues to hold your body against his and you realize…
“Are you snuggling me?” You resist the urge to look over your shoulder and Sylus presses a kiss to it in response.
“Yes. Snuggling between a dragon and their mate isn’t uncommon. Was that not in your readings?” He teases as he continues nuzzling into your warm skin which was steadily heating up under his attention. 
“But when did we become mates?” You rack your brains, trying to think amidst the fluffy fog now filling your brain as Sylus continues to show his affection. 
“It’s not something you become. It’s something you are. Do you ask the water why it flows, or why the sun is bright?” Sylus’s tail wraps further around you, the smooth scales feeling comfortably warm against your skin. “You just are. I knew it. The inhabitants of Tarus City knew it.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me.” You quip sarcastically as his nose buries itself into your hair, smelling the sweet scent of the soap you’d used earlier in the day. 
“Would you have believed me?” His inhalations were sending tingles across your scalp and you tried not to melt into his embrace which was surprisingly warm and secure. 
“I-I suppose not,” you admit begrudgingly before your eyes flutter closed. Sylus continues his tender handling, and with a sigh, you finally give in, rolling to face him and letting him embrace you against his chest. He doesn’t say anything but cups the back of your head, claws gently scratching through your scalp and you drowsily let him caress the silky locks. 
Noticing your unwillingness starting to fade, Sylus murmurs, “Does the prospect of being my mate seem less daunting now?” 
His tail wraps around the backs of your thighs and you glance up at him, blushing when you see him gazing back at you intently. Those brilliant ruby eyes, akin to those in his treasury, had an intensity you couldn’t place. It was almost like they could pierce into your very soul and see all of you bare. The thought made you feel exposed and you blink, trying to gather your thoughts. The sharp, dagger-like tip of his tail now rested on your hip, and you hesitantly began to finger it, unsure what to say.
“Not less daunting,” you start, observing how his tail flicks gently in response to your touch, the sharp, hooked scales at the very end softening and flattening against your palm. “Not in the least. You are ancient, powerful, eternal. People fear you even as they look at you in awe. A dragon is timeless, and as a human, I’m like a fleeting ember, a mere second in your life. I might have a thirst for revenge on those who wronged me, but I am an ordinary human. I don’t understand why you believe I would be a suitable mate.” 
 You steal another look at him and see that his pupils are starting to dilate, the dark center of them consuming the red. Sylus lets out a noise of frustration, seemingly ready to give up trying to convince you, but to your surprise, he takes a deep breath of fortifying patience, then grasps your chin with his fingers, ensuring you can see his face. 
“I’m going to give you one, final, absolute, piece of proof. And if you still don’t believe it, then I will eat you so that I don’t have to listen to your maddening doubts anymore.” His tone implies he’s being humorous, but you cautiously watch him, fully aware that you have no defenses against those teeth and claws. You nod, his fingers dipping with the movement. 
“You and I share half of each other’s soul. A typical human vessel wouldn’t be capable of such a thing. Not unless you are fated.” He lets go of your face and brings your ear to his chest. His heartbeat was a steady thud-thud-thud, and yet…it felt like a call. Like something was there inviting you to come home, even though you didn’t know where it was, and suddenly, you feel your own heartbeat start to resonate with his, automatically following his rhythm, inexplicable, deep, primal. He waits and you realize what he’s been trying to say all along. There was no reasoning behind mates. You just knew.
You swallow, feeling like you’d been doused with a bucket of cold water, then place your hand over his heart, feeling a little thrill as he covers it with his. A shaky breath forces its way out of you as you lean your forehead against him, a sense of enlightenment washing over you. 
“Understand now?” Sylus asks almost imploringly and your heart clenches at the tone. 
“Yes.” You gather courage and look him in the eyes. “I do.” Then in a much softer tone, you add, “I’m sorry.”
At your apology, Sylus gathers you in his arms, his embrace almost suffocating as he holds you. Your hands wrap around his back, feeling the points in his skin where the wings sprouted from his body. It felt strangely intimate to touch something like this, and you couldn’t help but run your fingers along the ridges, fascinated by the texture. Sylus’s breath catches in his throat and he loosens his grip, easing you back onto the rug. 
With confidence, you raise a hand to cup his face, your chest swelling with joy as he turns into your touch, his lips grazing your palm. You’d never seen him so vulnerable and defenseless, the fact that he was baring a secretive part of himself to you humbling. You don’t stop him as he lays over you, nuzzling your neck and letting out a series of low growls that sound strangely affectionate. 
You giggle, and he pauses, looking at you with keen interest. “Something amusing you, my love?”
“You’re like a cat,” you tease, then pet the hair between his horns. Even as his expression changes to being miffed, his eyelids become half closed. 
“I am most certainly not a cat.” He sounds affronted but makes no move to stop your petting, and more low growls escape his throat. You can’t control your mirth and the giggles now bubble out of you uncontrollably. 
“Then how come you’re purring?” You stop petting his hair and cup his face with both hands, a wide smile forming on your face as Sylus opens his eyes, which are hazy and languid. 
"That... that isn't purring," The dragon hybrid says with a slight huff. "That was a growl, and you know it."
“Or is that just how dragons purr?” You playfully run your fingers behind his ears, massaging the lobes and then back into his scalp at the base of both horns. 
Sylus tries to keep up his facade of stubbornness, but the gentle massages make him shiver with pleasure. "No, that's a growl. Purring sounds like..." He attempts to imitate a cat's purring, but it came out more like a deep rumbling that vibrated throughout his chest.
You snicker, and then an uncontrollable fit of laughter seizes you, the kind that makes your shoulders and chest shake. Here was this mythical creature, feared and worshipped, yet somehow, trying to imitate a cat despite insisting he was not behaving like one. You brush away a tear from your eye, then look at Sylus who’s sulking, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of crimson. Was this the same dragon that you had worried about being a mate to?
"You-you're insufferable, you know that?" He grumbled, even as he nuzzled his face against your neck; he couldn’t seem to help himself. You reassuringly pat his back. 
“If this is how dragons treat their mate, then I’m no longer worried.” 
“Is that so?” Sylus retreats so that he can gaze down at you. You can see how his expression is softening, betraying the depth of his fondness for you. 
“Yeah. I’m starting to come around.”
“Good. I’m glad I was able to change your mind.” Sylus takes your hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing your knuckles and causing your heart to flip-flop inside your chest. Your free hand idly strokes his back, still engrossed with the different textures of his skin where the wings began. 
“You seem to have a lot of thoughts about my wings,” Sylus observes as you fondle the leathery base.
“How big are they?” You ask curiously, then gasp as Sylus suddenly pins you under him, then with a rustling noise, his wings fully extend for your viewing pleasure. You look at them, enthralled by the contrasting marbled red and black membranes, little spikes lining the upper ridges. 
“About ten feet each,” Sylus says gruffly with a hint of pride. “Pure dragons are much bigger though.”
You reach out a finger, watching for signs of resistance and when he doesn’t show any, gently trace the membranes, observing how the sunlight illuminated through them like a backdrop. 
Sylus hums at your exploration, his wings twitching slightly before he lies flush against you, putting them in easier reach of your wandering fingers. He resumes that low growling as you do so, and as you watch him close his eyes, another question forms in your head.
“Sylus…are your wings sensitive when touched?”
He cracks his eyes open, and there’s a quality to them that wasn’t present before. A hint of…nervousness? 
“Yes.” He admits after a gap in a slightly breathless tone. “But only when you touch them.” 
His words only make you more captivated, and you continue to delicately stroke down the leathery expanses, the surfaces almost silky to your touch. As you do so, Sylus suddenly squeezes his eyes closed and lets out a rough moan, like he is doing his best to not lose his restraint. 
Your hands freeze as you feel his claws scrape against your clothes, digging into your soft skin as his wings swiftly drop from their extended positions, cocooning you in a swaddle of red and black.
Unsure what just happened, you gently try stroking his hair again. There had been no mention of dragons behaving like this in the books you’d read, and you were burning to ask him, but not if he wasn’t in the right state of mind.
“Sylus?” You call his name softly and hear him hum in response. “Are you ok?”
He lets out a few uneven breaths before resting his head on your chest just underneath your chin. “Yes…I’m fine. No need to worry.” 
“Is it all right if I ask something else?”
“Does it have to do with those ridiculous readings of yours again?” 
You’re about to protest but decide against it. He was behaving in a completely unprecedented manner and you weren’t about to kill the adorable mood. 
“Why are your wings wrapped around me like this?” Your hands rest on his flanks, feeling his tail swishing as it lightly hits your feet. 
It seems to take him a great deal of willpower to bring himself into a state where he can answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, mesmerizing, rumble, and you feel yourself tremble in response.
"When a dragon has a mate, it's not uncommon to wrap our wings around them. It's like a protective shield, a barrier that symbolizes possession. You might say it’s our way of claiming our beloved as ours." Sylus’s mouth ghosts your ear, and his next words cause gooseflesh to erupt on your skin. 
“Sometimes, the urge to mate becomes too strong and dragons don’t particularly enjoy being watched. The size of our wings is significant because they must be able to completely wrap around their mate as our primal instincts take over. Hides them from unwanted eyes. After all, there can be no treasure more precious to a dragon than our mate.”
A claw gently pushes away a stray lock of hair from your face and Sylus gazes longly at your face. Swallowing, you press on with your questions, despite feeling a steady rise of tingling heat beginning in your belly and slowly flooding into your chest and sex. 
“And when dragons mate…is it similar to other animals going into a rut?” 
Sylus chuckles, and his tail slides up your body, slithering between your breasts, the feel of each scale brushing against you sparking little flames of desire under your skin. His forehead rests against yours and his wings seem to tighten around you even more. 
“Rut would be the wrong word. A rut would imply something quick and with little intention other than impregnation. Dragons do not rut like most basic animals…we have a long and sensual ritual, lasting for a significant period, and the end goal is to ensure our mate’s satisfaction. Also, dragons do not have a set season like most animals. Rituals can occur anytime provided both mates are willing.”
Your mouth goes dry at the explanation, and you can see the edges of his scarlet irises beginning to darken even more, like bits of smoke mixing with magma. “A-A r-ritual?” Your tongue feels like it’s too big for your mouth and you stumble over the words. 
“Yes my little one,” Sylus purrs, and this time when his lips touch your ear, he follows it with a wet lick of his tongue, awakening a heady, primal, storm inside your gut. “The dragon breeding ritual. A crucial part of dragon courtship. During this time, the male will go into a rather intense state of need. Nothing matters beyond being close to and satisfying his mate. And the female must be prepared for a rather… passionate experience."
Your next words fall out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. 
“Are a dragon’s organs compatible with a human’s?” You cover your mouth as soon as you ask, face flushing with embarrassment. You hadn’t meant to ask it so crudely, but too little too late. 
Sylus gives you an appraising look, his lips curling. “Well…simply put, yes. They’re compatible with human mating organs but they’re certainly not visually similar.” His reply astounds you and you blink, unprepared for his answer, rendered speechless. Questions buzz in your head as you mull over what you’ve been told.
“I’m guessing there’s more?” Sylus’s eyes glitter with mischief. 
“Ah…well….” You recall one last thing you had read and it was so outlandish that you weren’t sure how to put it into words. Sylus watches you patiently as you try to get your words together. “The book…the book said…that dragons are…that they have…” 
You swallow and bite the bullet. “That dragons have two.” 
Silence follows your words and Sylus’s eyes widen, before he composes himself.
“Heh. Were you purposely saving the interesting questions for last sweetie?” A cheeky grin quirks his lips and you turn your face to hide in his wings. 
“Now now. Don’t get all embarrassed with it out in the open.” Sylus grasps your chin and turns you to face him. “It looks like at least one thing in that book was right.”
Your eyes become as wide as dinner plates. “Really?”
“Yes. That bit of information is true. Male dragons do in fact have two mating organs.” 
The casual way Sylus says these words, like he’s giving a biology lecture contrasts your shell-shocked expression. Your mind could now only attempt to imagine what it looked like and it was going haywire at the discovery. 
Observing the stunned look on your face, Sylus gently nudges you. “Perhaps you shouldn’t ask questions that you’re not ready to hear the answers to, kitten.” 
Your eyes rove down over his body, taking in the wide view of his chest, leading down to narrower hips and legs that seemed to stretch for days. Then his tail, an appendage adding another 6 feet to his whole length. And somewhere in between all this, tucked away under his leather trousers were not one, but two, dragon penises. 
You try to recall your last encounter with a man, a knight, who had been keen on showing his abilities. It was fine, for lack of a better word, and you remembered how the man’s decently sized single organ shrunk once everything was over. Were Sylus’s similarly shrunken and stacked one above the other at this very moment?
At your lack of response, Sylus chuckles, then in an unexpected gesture of tenderness, strokes your hair. “I can tell this isn’t the end of it. Go on. Get it all out.”
Your mind seems to have lost its ability to think. Wetting your lips, you try to think of something reasonable to say but words have lost all meaning. After a few more minutes of silence, during which Sylus has wrapped you up again in his arms and tail, enjoying your closeness, do you finally venture forward with an inquiry.  
“Why two?”
Sylus makes an odd noise like he was choking down a laugh. He lets out a puff of air, chortling. “Ah, kitten. If only I knew. There are two theories, both of which don’t have much evidence to support them.” Sylus turns onto his side and you yip as you’re sandwiched between his wings, the upper one covering you like a blanket as Sylus moves into a more comfortable position, moving your body closer to his.
“The first theory is that because dragon pairings are rare, two organs help increase the chances of a successful pregnancy. The other…” he trails off and his smile becomes positively wicked before he continues. “The other suggests that having two serves no other purpose than to heighten the woman’s pleasure.”
An uncontrollable shiver runs down your spine and you feel your entire body become hot. Your voice is hushed as you ask, “And they…both…go into the same…?”
Catching on to what you were implying, Sylus chuckles at your reaction, your embarrassment only fueling his enjoyment. It was so tempting to tease you into a flustered mess.
"Ah, you're catching on, aren't you? Yes, both of them go... in the same place. And together, no less." He leans in, his mouth close to your ear again. "Can't you picture it, my dear? The sensation of both of them, inside you at the same time..."
You squeak at the graphic description and bury your face into his chest. “Ok, I’ve heard enough! Stop!” You try to calm your racing heart but Sylus’s low purr as he’d explained dragon anatomy was still ringing in your ears. There was a burning curiosity to ask him how it worked, how it fit but you were positive you would drop dead from the embarrassment. 
You twitch when Sylus puts his calloused hands on your back, soothingly stroking your skin. “It’s all right my jewel. I know it’s a lot of information to process. Take your time. I’m yours after all.” 
At his last few words, you lean away and glance at his face. “You’re mine?”
“Yes,” Sylus murmurs, the tenderness in his eyes becoming more evident. “As you are mine. I’m equally your mate as well.” There’s a tinge of possessiveness in his voice that you hadn’t heard before and it was making you feel weak; the thought of belonging to Sylus, of him belonging to you. There was an ancient concept of souls being bound at play and suddenly you find that you’re highly attuned to his mood; the atmosphere has changed, and part of you can feel the intense want that’s filling Sylus’s bloodstream, can sense the depth of his emotional bond as it echoes in his chest. Your body seems to synergize with his, each rush of blood, each dilation of the pupils, and every sigh that’s being shoved back all come into clarity. You reach out to touch his neck and the mating mark on yours seems to hum with life, drawing you closer to Sylus’s physical state. 
Sylus looks intoxicated as he drinks in the sight of you, soft and pliant in his arms despite having done nothing but talk to you about courtship. You were still shy, but he can sense there’s now a primal instinct that’s beginning to take over. His restraint was at a limit but he waits for you to make the first move, knowing he’d regret it if his first act of intimacy with you was for his own selfishness. His voice dropped even lower,  a rough, possessive growl.
“Be mine, my precious treasure. Be with me. Be Mine to claim, mine to protect, and mine to possess."
His words resonate deep within you and the overwhelming feelings you’d been holding back break like a dam. With trembling fingers, you stroke his cheek, dragging a fingertip across his lips, your breath catching as Sylus nibbles the digit. 
Gathering courage, you ask him softly, “Can I see?”
A thrum seems to vibrate through the air and Sylus nods. “You wish to see all of me? I’m yours.”
Sensing you were too timid at the moment, Sylus undoes his trousers, and they rustle as he slips them down his legs. Still in his embrace, covered with his wings, you wait, then trail your hands down his heated abdomen. His heart pounds in his chest as you do so, feeling the unfamiliar terrain of skin and scales before your hand finally reaches its destination. Sylus’s harsh breathing can be heard as he waits for you to touch him but when you do so, you’re slightly puzzled. 
Your fingers brush against smooth scales where a normal man’s genitals would be. You venture further, wondering. 
“Sylus? They are here right?” 
You hear a choked laugh, then he nuzzles the top of your head. 
“Yes, my love. Like I said, visually, I’m not like a man.” His voice is gruff as he tries to explain. His hands roam across your body, squeezing the soft flesh and purring at the feeling. 
“Then where…?”
“They're hidden beneath my scales, darling.” There’s a breathless quality as he speaks. “Just keep…petting me there.” 
Sylus closes his eyes for a moment, his body trembling as you continue to touch him. The sensation of your fingers tracing the scales on his skin was both soothing and arousing, making it difficult to hold back the possessive roar that threatened to escape his throat. Watching your reaction as you explored the area where his scales ended and something more intimate began was threatening to snap his will in two like a twig. 
“Oh!” Your eyes widen as you suddenly feel a bump starting to make itself evident. 
“There…” Sylus’s voice is gravelly. “Go ahead, my dear... Lift my scales gently. Just a little...”
You feel like little electric currents are running nonstop under your skin as you follow his orders. Your sex pulses between your closed legs, all the courtship explanations still fresh in your mind. You carefully start to lift the scales over the bump, curiosity piqued as they give way to a sort of shallow slit, then before you can go any deeper, you feel something hard and moist rise out of the patch. 
Whatever you had been imagining didn’t even come close to the real thing. You watch, transfixed, as Sylus’s twin cocks spring free, standing proudly in your palm. One was higher up on his body, and the other sat lower, and the lower one was slightly longer than the upper. Both of them were hot to the touch, beads of precum weeping from their slits. Colossal compared to a human, their surfaces were smooth but ridged in parts, in a way that resembled scales, yet softer. They were both coated in a sort of viscous, translucent, liquid, exuding from the cocks. 
Sylus groans as he feels the heat of your palm against his cocks. In a constricted voice he asks, “Well? What do you think?”
Fascinated, you gently grip the lower one, silently noting the size of it compared to your forearm, and wrap your fingers around it, barely managing to make them meet around the engorged column. A low growl leaves Sylus as you start to pump the smooth, velvety, column, observing how the shorter top one also responds, pulsing in time with its pair. A slick, wet noise fills the air as you stroke him and Sylus’s hips begin to rock against your movements. His mouth is open and he’s panting, sweat gathering on his brow as you experimentally continue to touch him. 
The scales that lined his cock were incredibly squishy and malleable, not at all having resemblance to the hard and sharp ridges on the rest of his body. As more of the lubricating fluid began to gather on his lengths, you wonder at the texture of those scales against the palm of your hand, and suddenly, start imagining how they would feel inside your cunt. Rubbing, stroking, providing extra stimulation as they nestled deep inside you. You bite your lip and steal a look at Sylus, heart jolting when you find him gazing right at you, and judging by his expression, he can feel the longing building deep inside your body. 
“I can smell it, kitten.” He inhales deeply, your scent filling his senses like an aphrodisiac. “Your arousal. It’s as potent as the daturas on the mountainside.” His cheek brushes against yours and you freeze as he kisses the corner of your lips. It was so unexpected and sweet and you turn towards him. 
“Bloom for me,” Sylus whispers before his lips lay over yours, capturing them in a deep and passionate kiss. Your breath catches in your throat and it’s like the kiss had opened a gate, all your raw desires coming loose. Like a ball of unwinding yarn, your arms draw around Sylus’s neck, pressing as possibly close as you can to him, your mouth opening sweetly to offer him your tongue.
The unbridled ardor of your reaction has Sylus groaning like a drowning man, his tongue slipping deeper into your wet cavern, sipping, sampling, and savoring the flavors that were unique to you. The rushing thrill of your surrender was a dizzying upward spiral as his hands roamed over your body, cupping your clothed breasts as his wings quivered from the tingling delight of being wrapped so snugly around your form. 
Sylus breaks the kiss and his long, dexterous, tongue licks a line down the side of your neck, sucking over the point where your pulse beat hotly, and into the crook of your shoulder. You gasp as his teeth sink into the flesh, a nip of pain flaring through you before Sylus soothes the sting with his tongue. 
“You taste as delicious as you smell my jewel,” he murmurs sensually, and continues his journey across your body, biting and sucking at your collarbone before resting between your breasts, nuzzling his face into the warmth. 
His tail has managed to slip between your legs and the jagged ridges have all smoothed into a streamlined piece of muscle, teasingly moving between your thighs, just high enough for the upper side to rub against your underwear, playing into the wetness that was already starting to gather. You moan at the stimulation, barely enough to even scratch the surface of your raging flames, and hook your leg over Sylus’s hip to give you more access. The thick tail presses into your slit, rhythmically dragging the fabric against your engorged clit as his hands busy themselves undoing the laces at the back of your dress. 
You shiver despite the rising heat as the dress falls apart at the back and Sylus drags the garment off over your head, his breath catching as he finally gets his first, unobscured look at you. His eyes rove appreciatively over your body, his blood humming in his veins as he watches your skin become ruddy, the light filtering over it through his wing casting a soft, shadowy glow. Your nipples were perked and hard, your skin smooth and creamy, with little curls of hair poking out from underneath the sides of your panties. 
You whimper as the very tip of his tail wedges into the apex of your folds, rubbing the soaked fabric directly onto your clit, sending skitters of electricity through your system. The air seems to become balmy as you breathe, harsh pants leaving you as want grows in your core, the overwhelming need to bite down and mark him back as he’d done for you becoming palpable with each passing second. 
Sylus raises a clawed finger and brings it to your mouth, which you obligingly suck, followed by a sharp bite that makes his eyes dilate and brings a grin to his lips. He slowly pulls the digit back, letting it slide between your lips and stroking the wetness onto a nipple, enjoying the way your breath becomes ragged and how your core clenches against his sinful ministrations. 
“Sylus…” you whimper, feeling tension curling in the pit of your stomach like a bow that’s been drawn too tight. His only response was a hum, his head dipping down leisurely to capture your other nipple, licking circles on it with the tip of his tongue, not unlike the motions his tail was currently drawing onto your puffy clit. His thumb and forefinger tweak your other hardened peak, pulling and pinching methodically as the moans of your pleasure fill the chamber. Now and then you feel the scrape of his monstrous teeth against the delicate skin of your nipple, just intense enough to bring a small lick of fear into you before you feel the reassuring slip of his tongue. 
Your sighs fill your head, body yielding to him, melting against the silken leathery embrace of his wings, eyes closing as the sweetening ache inside you builds. You stir as you feel his tail shift, and your panties are dragged down your legs, exposing your swollen sex. The unexpected feeling of his scales is suddenly made present as his tail lays flat between your folds, wetting itself with your slick and gliding smoothly against your aroused pussy. Your mouth opens to let out a high-pitched whine as the smoothened scales add extra stimuli to your bud, your hips moving with him and seeking out more friction. Sylus finally releases your nipple as he feels your desperate humps, and maneuvers you so that you’re straddling him, body balanced on his tail as it continues to pleasure you.
Your voice keens as your hands splay on his hard chest, the slippery appendage rocking against your clit, feeling the differences in the size of the scales while sliding closer to the base as the dagger-shaped tip tickles your chin. Your mouth instinctively moves to take it, sucking on it pacifyingly to ground yourself as your hips undulate over the rest of the sinew. You boldly glance at Sylus and his eyes are sanguineous, uninhibitedly gazing at the sight of you hot and bothered, seeking carnal satisfaction that he knows only his body can provide. 
The end of his tail withdraws from your mouth and teasingly draws back down to your breast, curling around a nipple and squeezing while he maintains the steady movement he knows you crave between your legs. With nothing to muffle your noises, your voice grows steadily louder, echoing off the high walls of the cave as Sylus guides you toward the abyss of gratification. 
“My body is yours little one,” Sylus says in a harsh whisper that has your senses on edge. You feel the flutter of his wings as they enfold you again, a little space of privacy where only you and he exist. 
“Use me for your pleasure.” His hand cups your cheek and his movements become frenzied, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches you writhe over him, trying to find release. 
A soft haze seems to settle around you as your body orgasms. You feel the repetitive little spasms of your clit mirrored in your core as they become longer and more intense, flooding your body with sinful delight as you sob out your need. Your eyes are shut tight, the world becoming an incoherent mix of color and light where nothing is solid except for your mate as he pushes you through your heady climax. Even as your heartbeat turns erratic, you can sense the changes in him too as he scents the salty tang of your relief as your body relaxes. You gasp, steadying yourself as Sylus gently withdraws his tail, letting you collapse on his chest as you try to come back down to earth.
You feel his claws soothingly scratch your back and gratefully nuzzle into his chest before taking a steadying breath and peering over your shoulder at his neglected cocks. They were still standing, colossal and proud, with thick pearlescent beads forming on the tip. The slippery viscous fluid was now being exuded copiously, lubricating the entire length.
You crawl over to them, and Sylus lets out a gasp of surprise as your tongue darts out to taste one, running it over the weeping head. You taste salt on his skin and bob your head down a little lower, taking as much as you can, and Sylus fists the rug, his teeth biting his lower lip as he tries to control the raging urge to take you right there. 
Barely able to deepthroat him, you come back up, letting the moistened cock slip out of your lips before you gather both between your hands, squeezing the bases together before sucking both tips back into your mouth. Your jaw stretches wide to accommodate them, only taking him about halfway before coming back up for air. The lubricant covering them was tasteless but aided their path into your mouth and towards the back of your throat. Sylus thrusts into the inviting wetness as he tries not to choke you. You suck playfully, wet noises issuing from your mouth as you do so before Sylus suddenly jerks your head back, strings of spit connecting your lips to both heads.
“Not like this…” His voice is ragged. Swiftly, he flips you onto your back, drawing your ankles to rest on his shoulders as your thighs part for him. Your hole is quivering with anticipation as you feel one of the thick erections probe your entrance. 
“Breathe sweetie,” Sylus reminds you, his eyes growing steadily more animalistic as he pushes into you. You gasp at the feeling, then your eyes widen as Sylus gently splits you apart, your folds giving way to his massive proportions. You sniff, tears in your eyes at his size. There was pain along with the pleasure as your walls adjusted to him. 
Sylus’s wings gather you close to him, cradling you against his body as he strokes your face, whispering encouragement to you as he continues to sheathe himself into the hot moisture of your cunt. You squirm, the stretch foreign and uncomfortable, unsure what to do.
“Relax my little one. It’s ok.” Sylus kisses away your tears. “Remember we were made for each other. We’re meant to fit.” He halts, nearly fully inside, and your sniffs fade as you slowly adjust to him. Sylus thrusts softly, and you whimper, feeling so full impaled helplessly on his generous size. As he continues those deep strokes, your body seems to easen, the tension trickling away and giving rise to a whole new sensation. Your breath catches as you feel the thick mushroom head kiss your cervix with each stroke, the lower cock slapping against your buttocks with each move. The scales you had been touching earlier dragged smoothly along your inner walls with minimal resistance, flattening every time he pushed in, and erotically stimulating them as he withdrew. Every inch of your sex felt like it was being touched all at once and your eyes close dreamily as you lose yourself to the growing flutters of ecstasy. 
The next set of delighted moans are music to his ears and Sylus sensually rolls his hips each time, determined to wring out every tiny noise possible from you. Your face scrunches up in pleasure as he takes you, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you keep thinking about how the second one would feel. Your breasts bounce as he fucks you, and soon you’re breathing his name, hands grasping his forearms as your bodies fuse together.  
Sylus sees your eyes glazing over with need, your mind switching to a state where all that mattered was the hedonistic rush of your bodies working together in harmony. He pauses, interrupting his rhythm as he angles his second cock at your entrance.
You moan as you feel it but when Sylus pushes, there’s no resistance, your cunt already sloppy from his previous thrusts. The action puts his upper cock in contact with your Gspot, and your cunt feels wonderfully pliant as you feel both of them working in tandem to bring you to another peak. The added thickness combined with the scales' stimulation on both surfaces brought you to a realm of delight you hadn’t thought was possible as he starts to fuck into you with purpose, certain that you are no longer in pain.
His teeth are gritted as Sylus ruts into you marveling at the tightness of your cunt, how every clench and spasm felt on his dicks, knowing he was responsible for each one. Your combined juices start to pool at the base of his cocks, leaving a sticky ring of arousal. The wet squelch of your cunt fills the air and Sylus sees your folds, still slick from the interaction with his tail and he’s determined to make you lose control another time. 
You whine in protest when you feel him halt again and Sylus hushes you as he withdraws his upper dick and lets it sit with a moist plop back between your folds. The runny juices slide down and coat your pussy and you can feel the soft ridged scales now nestled at your most sensitive spot and you realize what he intended to do a second before it happened. With a smooth brush, Sylus buries himself back in your cunt and you feel the tingling stimulation of the scaled ridges sliding through your folds and hitting your clit one after the other. You nearly shriek at the feeling, almost on the border of overstimulation as Sylus sets up a brutal pace, his hips slamming into yours. 
Your face screws up and your eyes are squeezed closed as all your pleasure spots are stroked at the same time, your gspot and clit pulsing wetly. Sylus growls, his body pistoning in hot need as he chases his orgasm, seeking release. Your entire being feels like it’s slipping away, your cries of delight the only thing that can be heard. 
“Cum for me my love,” Sylus says brokenly, breathless and enraptured at the way you look, his legs shaking from the effort of controlling his climax before you had yours. Your body arches off the rug to feel the slick push of his cock and scales at a different angle and your toes curl as you finally let go and orgasm for the second time. It robs you of your thoughts, little brushes from the spikes continuing to push through every tremor you feel as the hot waves of gratification flood your system. 
Sylus’s hips stutter as he feels your walls fluttering around him, and lets out a feral roar as his climax hits him, his balls tightening up in urgent release and they spill their load. His abdomen clenches, his breathing rough as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. You hold onto him as you feel each spasm of his cocks both inside and out, one filling your walls with thick jets of his seed, the other dripping his hot, sticky cum onto your clit, mixing with your fluids as it drips messily into your slit, marking you as his in the most primal way possible. 
It takes a while for him to recover, nestling against you, and you’re content to feel his weight on your body as you stroke his hair. After a period of silence Sylus hums and rolls you over so that you’re on top of him. The action dislodges his cock from your channel and you quickly clench your hole closed, determined to keep all of him inside you, even though your folds are dripping from his essence and leaking onto him. 
“Mine…” he purrs as he noses your neck and you smile at him, brushing his cheeks with your thumb. A deep sense of belonging and satisfaction courses through both of you as you lay together in the afterglow of your courtship. 
“Rest for now kitten.” Sylus’s eyes are heavy with sleep as he cradles you on his chest. Your body felt wonderfully achy from your lovemaking. 
“I hope the hatchlings look like you,” he murmurs tiredly, and you blink as your ability to process starts coming back to you. 
“Hatchlings?” 
“That’s what we call our young.” Sylus tenderly cups your cheek and kisses you. “I’ll be certain to fill you a few more times to ensure it happens.” 
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corkinavoid · 21 hours ago
Text
DPxDC Heritance
There's not much left for Tim in his parents' wills. Or, well, not much by his standards - the rest of the family, barring Bruce and Damian, think he is absolutely loaded and too full of himself to care. Which is maybe a little bit true; receiving about a dozen properties across the world, a trust fund and a wide collection of artifacts that his parents have accumulated through years of their archeological escapades is a lot by middle class standards.
But Tim knows how much money Drakes actually had, and a few old houses and an assembly of junk seems like not much in comparison.
In any case, it's all rather useless in Tim's position. He has no interest in traveling aside from when he has to for a mission, and he couldn't give less shits about archeology even if he tried. The trust fund is fine, he guesses, but it's not like he needs it, what with being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and one of the Wayne Wards.
So, as morbid as it is, the best reaction he can muster at his inheritance is a shrug and a mention in his mile-long list of 'things I need to figure out when I have time'. Which basically means he'll maybe get to it when he's old and retired, and not any sooner, because Tim Drake the CEO and Red Robin the vigilante are both very, very busy people who never have time.
Naturally, his life has other plans, and it's only two or three months later that Tim finds himself breaking through the balcony window of his own apartment in Praha.
It's at that moment, when he's lying on top of a soft persian rug, surrounded by glass shards and wondering if this move was enough to lose his tail that he realizes his inheritance might be slightly more than just a few properties and some boxes with old things.
Because, through his own heavy breathing, he hears a thoughtful, slightly sarcastic voice from inside the room, "I guess the door was too hard to figure out for you, wasn't it."
He sits up, turning his head so sharply it almost snaps. His eyes immediately fall on a boy not much older than him, sitting with one leg thrown over the other on the dark red couch near the wall. He looks like he clearly belongs here: white, vintage collar shirt and black, high-waist trousers, a silver ring on his thumb that looks too old to have been bought in this century, dark raven hair and perfect porcelain skin.
And he is reading a newspaper. Like a slightly bleeding costumed guy in a domino mask breaking the window and falling onto the carpet is just another Tuesday.
Hold on, this is Tim's house! He double-checked the address, there's no mistake!
"Who are you?" He demands, frowning, as his hands reach to the birdarangs out of habit.
"Keeper of Doors," the boy answers, not looking up and flipping the page, "And you're the Drakes' heir, I assume."
Tim blinks. The response provides no actual answers, it only creates more questions. "What doors?" He asks because the rest of the points can most likely be addressed later. Like the issue of his busted secret identity, right.
The boy sighs and closes the newspaper, folding it in half and uncrossing his legs to sit a bit straighter. "Doors, capital 'D'. The ones that lead everywhere you want."
"The what?.." Tim repeats, dumbfounded and lost in this unexpected nonsense. The boy gives him a truly unimpressed look, his eyebrow twitching. Then, he stands up - Tim's fingers close around the birdarang again - and steps towards the nearest door, grabbing the handle. His feet make absolutely no sound.
"Drake manor," the boy announces and pushes the door open. He doesn't step through, however, instead just standing in the doorway and turning back to Tim, gesturing for him to look.
Tim does.
Seeing the familiar hall, the one he's seen so many times, the one he walked through every day before he moved out, makes him realize a few things at once. One, he needs to revise the list of houses he inherited since it looks like they are not just properties but a map of teleportation points, most likely. Two, his parents knew full well he didn't need the trust fund, it wasn't for him, it was probably for this boy, who may or may not be the, well, gatekeeper. Three, if the first part of his inheritance turned out to be this, he is going to need to call in Zatanna to sort through the collection of his parents' artifacts lest something turns out to be actually cursed in there.
Four, he's been staring at the boy and gaping like a fish for longer than its socially acceptable.
"...What's your name?" He asks, suddenly conscious about the fact he was kind of rude before. The boy snorts, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he closes the door back.
"Danny," he introduces and snaps his fingers. The glass shards around Tim move all at once, rising from the ground and going back towards the window, like a reversed video recording. A second later, the balcony window looks as good as new, not a crack in the glass. "And you?"
"Red Ro-" Tim starts, but then pauses. Fuck it, he might as well, "Tim."
Danny waves his hand in the air, like snatching something out of nowhere, and, just like that, there's a box that looks suspiciously like a first-aid kit in his hands.
"Nice to meet you, Tim. Now, get over here and stop ruining my carpet with your blood."
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amoressb · 2 days ago
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───── TWO IDIOTS IN LOVE 西村 力 N. RK
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ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ just two best friends being oblivious to their love for each other 。。 bestfriend!riki x reader . fluff & wc. 1.0k ; kissing, skinship 。。
──── ARCHiVE
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riki and you had been best friends since middle school. the type of best friends who communicated through facial expressions alone, who texted each other memes at three in the morning, and who had an entire language of inside jokes no one else could understand. you two bickered like an old married couple, stole food off each other’s plates without permission, and shared your wildest dreams without hesitation.
too bad you two were completely oblivious to the fact that you were in love with each other. so when riki surprised you with tickets to universal studios, you had tackled him in a hug, nearly knocking him over.
“you are officially my favorite person ever,” you declared, eyes sparkling. “i better be, these tickets were not cheap,” riki joked, though he looked pretty pleased with himself.
the moment you two stepped into the park, the chaos began. both running from ride to ride like little kids, shoving each other playfully as you two argued over what to do next. you screamed the loudest on roller coasters (riki swore you shattered his eardrum on jurassic world), while riki attempted to set a new personal record for how many butterbeer flavored treats a person could consume in one day.
“are you sure you should be eating another one?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as riki took a huge bite of a butterbeer flavored churro.
riki waved you off, “please, my stomach is built for this.”
not even an hour later, he was groaning on a bench, his head in your lap as you laughed mercilessly at his misery.
“laugh it up,” he grumbled. “oh, i will,” you teased, poking his cheek. “this is what you get for underestimating butterbeer.”
by nightfall, you two finally made your way to super nintendo world. the moment you stepped in, both of you were hit with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. the neon lit mushroom kingdom surrounded you and riki, the familiar game music playing softly in the background.
“riki.” you grabbed his arm, shaking him with excitement. “we’re in mario land!”
“i know,” riki grinned. “this is literally my childhood dream come true!”
“okay, we have to go on mario kart : bowsers challenge,” you said, practically vibrating with excitement.
“oh, absolutely,” riki agreed. “and i’m so ready to destroy you.”
“in your dreams, loser.”
as soon as you got into your karts, the competition began. you threw yourselves into the ride, dodging banana peels, throwing shells, and laughing way too hard when one of you got hit. by the time you two stumbled off, breathless and giddy, you and him were still arguing about who had won.
“i definitely won,” you declared.
“you literally lost at the finish line,” riki shot back. “just accept that i’m superior.”
“please yeah right—” you groaned and shoved his shoulder.
it was supposed to be playful, but riki, being the clumsy guy that he was, lost his balance. instinctively, he grabbed onto your wrist, but that just made you stumble too and suddenly—you two crashed into each other.
your faces were way too close.
neither of you moved. you could feel rikis breath against your lips and you were very aware of the fact that your hands were gripping his hoodie while his fingers were curled around your wrist.
everything around you—the neon lights, the distant game music, the sound of other people laughing—blurred into the background. the only thing that existed in that moment was him.
and then riki, looking dazed and definitely not thinking straight, mumbled, “if i kissed you right now, would that be really stupid or only kind of stupid?”
your brain short circuited. “wh—” you opened your mouth, but no words came out. “did you just—”
riki blinked, his own words catching up to him. his face immediately turned bright red. “i—i didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he stammered.
you stared at him, your heart pounding. the worst part? you didn’t hate the idea. in fact, it was like something clicked in your brain—all the teasing, all the lingering touches, all the everything suddenly made sense.
“oh my gosh,” you whispered. “what?” riki asked nervously.
“i’m in love with you.” the words slipped out before you could stop them and as soon as you said them, your eyes went wide. “oh no.”
“oh no?” riki repeated, staring at you. “why oh no?”
“because..” you groaned, covering your face. “because now i can’t pretend i don’t have feelings for you and now our friendship is going to be so weird, and i—”
“y/n.”
you peeked through your fingers. riki was staring at you, wide eyed, looking like you had just revealed the greatest secret in the universe and then…he grinned.
“you love me,” he repeated, and he sounded way too smug about it. you scowled, “shut up.”
“no, this is amazing,” riki said, his grin widening. “because guess what?”
“what.”
“i’m also in love with you.”
you blinked. “wait…what?”
“you heard me,” riki said, rocking back on his heels. “i love you. i have probably always loved you and if we weren’t in the middle of mario land, i would definitely be kissing you right now.” you gaped at him, “we’re in mario land, riki.”
“i know,” he smirked. “which is why i’m gonna kiss you right here and make it the most iconic confession in history.”
you barely had time to react before riki leaned in, his hand cupping your cheek as he kissed you—warm, soft, and so so long overdue. eventually you melted into him, your hands fisting his hoodie.
when you pulled apart, your face was on fire. “that was—”
“amazing?” riki grinned. “i was gonna say stupid, but sure.” riki laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “you totally lost mario kart, by the way.” you groaned, “you’re lucky i love you.”
“yeah you do” he smiled. you rolled your eyes playfully with a smile as you lean into his arms, head sort of resting on his shoulder/chest, his hand that was around your shoulder intertwined with your right hand.
and just like that, two oblivious idiots in love finally got their happy ending…at mario land, of all places.
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⋆。°✩ @miukidoll @liwinly @sugarikiz
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catbolt · 1 day ago
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sylus x "sweetheart"
He rolls over in the middle of the night, his arm reaching across the bed into empty, cool sheets. "Sweetheart?" He mumbles softly into the quiet room, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he half-raises his head off the pillow, searching the darkness for you with bleary focus. He hears the light flick on in the bathroom and his muscles relax as he snuggles back under the covers, trying hard to fight off sleep so he can welcome you back into his arms once you return to bed.
"Sweetheart..." he draws out each syllable playfully as he leans agains the front door with a bemused expression. a smirk playing across his lips as he watches your frantic movements. "We're gonna be late." You're scrambling around the foyer looking for your keys. He thinks to himself for a moment, and then his smirk deepens. "did you leave them in the lock again?" He lets out a soft chuckle as an embarrassed, knowing flush rises to your cheeks, already pulling open the door to check. sure enough— stuck straight in the lock. "You've really got to stop doing that."
You're walking down the busy sidewalk alone, tote bag over your shoulder as Sylus' voice echoes through your earbuds. "Hey, sweetheart. you look nice today." "Huh? I haven't even seen you today." "That's true. but I'm pretty sure I'm seeing you right now." You whirl around, searching the crowd, until you see the the familiar silhouette of a sleek black car slowly creeping down the street, matching your pace. Sylus rolls the window down, just enough for you to see the tops of his fingers as he gives a casual, flirtatious wave. a car honks in irritation behind him. "What does a guy like have to do to give a pretty girl like you a ride to your destination?" He murmurs into the receiver. "You gonna make me hold up traffic like this much longer? This guy behind me's about to start seeing red."
"Sweetheart," he says in that husky low voice that makes you weak in the knees as he's pulling the strap of your nightdress down, inching it lower and lower on your shoulder as the movie plays in the background. His fingers are rough, his hands slightly calloused, but the motion of the touch itself is somehow silk-soft. "You're so warm," he whispers, his breath ghosting over the sharp ledge of your collarbone, fingers momentarily moving to trace its edge. "You sure you don't wanna keep watching?" You almost roll your eyes at the ridiculous question. "Fuck no, not when you're looking at me like that."
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readwritealldayallnight · 9 hours ago
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It’s been months since Simon has been home
All he wants is to see you, his sweet girl, so much so that he loses track of what the actual date on the calendar is, in favour of counting down the days, hours, and minutes until you’re in his arms again
That’s why Simon’s surprise when he walks in to the local shops is genuine, before quickly turning into annoyance, when he notices that almost all the shelves are stocked with things for Valentine’s Day
Bright red, pink, and purple gifts covered in glitter and sparkles, sequins and jewels, all of them screaming out one word, over and over and over again for shoppers to see
Love
It’s a word Simon tries not to think about too often, in spite of it being part of his daily vocabulary
Yes, while your hunk of a man’s favourite pet name for you has always been love, it’s a word he has yet to say to you outside of being anything more than a name, a word he has yet to say he feels for you, even though his heart spells it out with ease each time he is with you
It’s hard for him because he can remember exactly the last time he told someone that three word sentence
Christmas Eve, a lifetime ago, he’d just gotten off the phone with his brother, sister-in-law, and nephew, hearing the young boy shout out into the receiver that he loved his uncle Si, a light hearted chuckle slipping past the Lieutenants lips before he’d replied back without issue that he loved him too, before he hung up and never heard his family’s voices ever again
He wants to say it to you because it’s true
He does love you more than anything, but he just can’t bring himself to say it
Those memories have become so tangled up in trauma, his mind associating darker times with those three goddamn words, the ones he knows would mean so much for you to hear he just can’t bring himself to speak aloud
He has dreams where he forces himself to say it, where he tells you a thousand times over that he loves you, whispers it in your ear, shouts it from the rooftops, writes it down everywhere for you to see and even etches it into his flesh with a needle and ink, until the dreams become nightmares and he’s yelling those words at your bloody corpse, writing it in the snow dusting your tombstone, waking up in a cold sweat, dreading the day you say those three words to him and he can’t explain why he can’t say them back
And while he can’t yet explain to you all of the demons that continue to call his skull their home, he finds himself not needing to, not with you
With you, there is no pressure to say things that cause him more pain than joy, there is no need to explain things that he struggles to fully comprehend himself, there is no need to perform or act in any way that isn’t true to him, not with you, his sweet girl who somehow understands him more than he feels he understands himself most days
Instead, with you, he gets to say things that are his own version of I love you, no matter how grand or small:
“I see you”
“You’re the best thing I’ve ever had”
“I can’t believe I get to call you mine”
“You make me so happy”
“Let me carry that for you”
“Put your seatbelt on”
“I made dinner”
“I’ll do the dishes, you go sit”
When the 14th of February eventually rolls around, you aren’t expecting anything out of the ordinary, never having acknowledged the upcoming gimmick of a holiday with Simon
Which is why you’re so surprised when you wake up to find the spot next to you in bed empty, noises in the kitchen letting you know Simon hasn’t gone far
Bare feet slowly padding towards the sounds of a grand breakfast being prepared with much frustration from a seasoned soldier who struggles to use seasoning, you can’t help the overwhelming grin that takes over you face when you see nothing more than a simple card standing up on the dining table, no bells or whistles, no flower petals thrown all over the flat, no orchestra serenading you awake, just you and Simon, all you need, all you want
Reading the card stretches your smile further than you thought possible, quickly sneaking up on your love to wrap your arms around him from behind, his own matching smile etched upon his face as he scrambles up the eggs, imagining you enjoyed the card, which reads in his scratchy handwriting:
“ I ♥️ you ”
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niwaart · 2 days ago
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FAMILY WITHOUT LIGHT
[#part1 #part2 #part3]
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Dick panicked, he gripped his phone tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip.
《This number is unreachable, please try again later.》
Dick let out a scream of anger and impatience, he had been trying to call Y/N for over 5 hours, just to get an answer. Why did she leave the house?… All this happened when he was in his Nightwing costume doing a normal nighttime mission after tying up criminals, a newspaper with Bruce’s picture caught his attention, Dick wondered what new drama the journalists were talking about this time, as soon as he grabbed the newspaper he felt like the air was being sucked out of him. It took him over a minute to process what was being said…
##Bruce Wayne and Y/N Wayne divorced after more than 15 years.##
No... that's a lie, just another rumor, it can't be true, maybe Bruce doesn't care about Y/N but Y/N wouldn't leave the house... after all he saw her love for Damian and Tim, and how she cared for them... so this is just a rumor... right?....
Dick took the newspaper with him and quickly ran to his apartment... He needed to make sure.. He had to get to his apartment to call Y/N.. She would tell him the truth, reassure him, tell him that everything was okay.... As soon as he got to his apartment window, he opened it and entered after entering the access code. His dog Haley approached him, he gave her a few pats before he reached his phone and called Y/N... But she didn't answer his calls.... He tried and tried and tried... But no answer... Could it be true?... Did Y/N leave the house?... Why?....
He was going to call Bruce but he was mad at him for not stopping Y/N from leaving and that he might be the reason Y/N left. So he decided to call Alfred who immediately answered, "Mr. Dick, how may I help you?" "Hello Alfred... Sorry to bother you now... The thing is... I..." Dick hesitated... He was afraid to hear the answer...
“I just called Y/N and she didn’t answer… so I was wondering if everything was okay…” Dick answered, praying with all his might that there was an excuse other than the divorce… “Oh… Mr. Dick… I don’t know how to tell you this… but… Y/N and Bruce have been divorced for three months now…” Alfred’s answer was like a knife slicing into his chest… well maybe deep down he knew the divorce was real… but… three months ago?… and no one told him?… “How… why?… why the divorce, and why didn’t anyone tell me?” Dick’s voice was muffled, he tried not to cry, he tried to control himself a little… “I’m sorry Mr. Dick… it was such a shock to everyone that I forgot to tell you… as for the divorce, Y/N chose that herself… unfortunately…” Alfred’s voice was filled with pain, making it even harder for Dick to hold back his tears… Y/N had left them… she had left them…
Dick hung up the phone after thanking Alfred and collapsed on the floor crying… His dog Haley was beside him trying to comfort him… But it didn’t work… It took Dick maybe half an hour to calm himself down… He tried to take deep breaths in and out… Then he hugged his dog Haley who had already settled happily in his lap. Dick was sitting on the floor leaning his head on the bed behind him while looking at the ceiling of his apartment. He couldn’t help but remember all the memories with Y/N. Dick may not have said it out loud before, but he considered Y/N as his mother… She always took care of him, he still remembers the first time he came to Wayne Manor after his parents died, he was full of anger and wanted revenge, Bruce was trying to channel his anger in a good way to fight the bad guys, but Y/N allowed him to vent his anger, by crying and getting all his feelings out and not holding them in, he remembers that he was mean to her at first, thinking that she was trying to be his mother, but after a while, it turned out that she was just trying to help him, she helped him decorate his parents' grave, buy new things, and when he fought with Bruce she took his side… and even now she still against Bruce and side with Damian, he loved the stories she told, she helped him and encouraged him to speak his mind and thoughts and not hold them in… even when he had a big fight with Bruce and decided to leave the house to be independent… She called him every night, asking him how he was, and if he tried to lie she would know and ask him to tell the truth, which he actually couldn't resistance, so he was always honest with her, Dick was used to being a leader and a good big brother, everyone depended on him… and Y/N was the one he could count on, she was the light of his life, she was family, until recently she used to call him and check on him, now he knew why she hadn't called in three months… He sighed and looked down to see that Haley was asleep, he picked her up and put her in her bed. Even if Y/N had left the house, she still loved them, he was sure, maybe if he went back to Gotham and talked to her he would understand, yeah, maybe she had left the house, but she wouldn't leave them, she still loved them. He was sure
In Gotham... specifically at Wayne Manor, Tim was suffering from a headache and back pain, he was lying in his bed... well maybe not his bed, but in Y/N's bed and room. His work and the pile of papers were almost competing with the towering mountains... when did paperwork become so stressful and tiring? He didn't remember this ever being a problem for him, he wouldn't lie to himself, he knew that Y/N's departure was the reason for the work to be doubled, the sleep to be less, and the pain to be more, Y/N used to do almost all the work for him, so he could rest, but now he couldn't balance his sleeping time, eating, doing all the work, solving cases, and becoming Red Robin, it was too much, Y/N was managing it so well, she did his work, made sure he ate and drank enough before she literally dragged him from the Batcave to the palace to sleep against his will, she always carried him like a baby, he always wondered how she could carry him so easily, okay he'd admit that when he first came to the palace he was a very skinny baby, but he grew up and became muscular, maybe not like Duck or Jason but he sure wasn't light, anyway that didn't concern him now... The problem here is that he hasn't slept in... two days? He doesn't know, maybe it's been three days... He hates that Y/N used to carry him to his room and stay by his side until he fell asleep, and he hated that she knew that sometimes he pretended to sleep, so she wouldn't leave until Tim was completely asleep... Sometimes Tim couldn't sleep easily, like when there was a mission or a case on his mind but Y/N carried him to his room before he could finish it, so he would complain and sometimes beg Y/N to finish the case, that it wouldn't take long, but Y/N always refused... And he couldn't sleep because of the case that consumed his mind, so Y/N would sometimes tell him stories... And it worked to make him sleep... He wondered if Y/N's stories were real, because they didn't seem imaginary at all, her stories were strangely realistic, to the point that all Tim's attention was only on the story until he fell asleep. And so Tim became forced to sleep because of Y/N, food and water, when he should take a break and when he should finish the case, Y/N was organizing his life, he didn't remember getting tired or exhausted from this organization, on the contrary, he was getting enough sleep and food to renew his energy, and even after he came back from his break he would come back with more energy and his solving of cases was at an amazingly higher rate than before, it was very useful, Y/N was the only one who knew how to organize him amazingly with all the work he had. But Y/N wasn't just organizing his life, she even hid his mistakes. Sometimes he would come back from missions with some wounds. Tim didn't like to say that he was injured, it made him weak, and he didn't want to be weak, but Y/N would discover every wound he had, even if it was hidden. The good thing was that she never told Bruce about the injuries, and if the injuries were serious, she would make an excuse for Tim not to go on the next mission. She would cover up all his failures and mistakes in silence... and he was grateful to her. He still remembered when Damian first came and took the Robin costume from him, she would comfort him and stay by his side and tell him that Robin wasn't the one wearing the costume, Robin was the one who protected the children of this city.
It really helped him… he remembered when he asked her advice about his new costume and name, and she encouraged him… she was proud of him, he saw it in her eyes, and when Batman disappeared and everyone thought he was dead and Dick was about to put him in Arkham, Y/N was the first to protest and the first to hit Dick… well that problem was solved a while ago and Y/N was so mad at Dick, it took Dick over three weeks to try to get her to forgive him… it was funny to Tim. She got mad for him. For him… he missed her… she was his whole life, now he couldn’t sleep or work, even his appetite was gone… he could barely survive on coffee now. That’s why he moved into her room a few weeks after she left, he wouldn’t say he slept well, but at least he did, now her scent, her warmth, even her voice and her look at him were gone. When he moved into her room he had a fight with Damian about it, that was the first and last fight they had since Y/N left. Damian wouldn't like it if Tim was the one taking over Y/N's room, and it was a long, tiring fight, in which Damian gave in for the first time ever, letting Tim sleep in Y/N's room. Tim knew very well why Damian was angry, that he missed Y/N too, Damian had changed dramatically after her departure, he barely spoke inside the house, and even on missions he didn't have the same enthusiasm as usual, and he didn't blame Damian for that, he missed her himself... but he had to thank his position as CEO of WE for that which helped him see Y/N a lot, he had multiple meetings with Y/N's family company under the pretext of resuming relations again, just to see Y/N, and one of the meetings was always cancelled due to circumstances, whether from his side or Y/N's, and the first meeting that finally happened was last night, and after more than three months he saw Y/N again, when she entered the meeting room she automatically patted him on the head and asked him how he was and that his appearance looked bad and he should eat and sleep well... Tim was silent, he felt a lump in his throat, if there weren't other people in the room he would have collapsed and hugged her and asked her to come back, but he remained silent looking down Trying to breathe slowly, after the meeting ended he wanted to catch up with her, and talk to her alone and tell her that he needed her back, he hadn't slept in a long time, but because of some old businessmen that Tim was planning to throw out who blocked his way with some questions, invitations and failed offers that caused Tim to be late to catch up with Y/N, but it's okay, he will have another meeting with her, and he will ask her to go home.
Tim sighed as he tried to sleep for the sixth time and was about to fall asleep this time but the knocking on the door woke him up. He grumbled and cursed under his breath at the person at the door unless that person was Alfred, Tim got up lazily and opened the door to be surprised by Damian standing at the door... "Oh? Damian? What's wrong?" Tim noticed Damian's eyes were puffy from crying, he wasn't surprised, ever since Y/N left Damian had been crying a lot, not that anyone would tell him that was obvious. "I want you to find me two people, they're from my school, and they call Y/N my aunt." Damian said calmly without any arrogance. Tim looked at him in confusion for a while, could it be that Damian was after Y/N now? "And before you say anything I know that you're trying to get Y/N back through the meetings you request from her family's company." Damian continued crossing his arms. Tim tensed for a moment, he didn't know that it was obvious, then sighed in surrender. "Okay, come in."
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@pink-jello-fish @kore-of-the-underworld
@00hellohello00 @superstarbucks
@rue-eru @middevil465 @devils-blackrose @crazycaoticsimp
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tojisun · 2 days ago
Note
I would like to humbly more soup
(The one with detached reader and traumatized Simon that blurb was so tasty and ONLY only if you have the spoons for it ♡)
i have a ladle so have this
they share a cig together; it’s not even from simon. he found it in the drawers in their bedroom, stashed underneath a couple of CD’s that are only encased in paper folders. it’s an old pack with only four sticks left and they’re not even the potent kind, and simon realizes, then, that they have been hidden so carefully.
he purposefully lays them on the kitchen table, after dinner, to watch how she’ll react. it is, after all, still a breach of her privacy; that, sure, she opened her home to him but he knows, all too well, that there are certain corners in every house that are never meant to be prodded — apparitions made from memories live along too, and simon knows to be careful lest he rouses a nightmare from its burrow. he knows. he knows. still, he thinks about what he can coax from her, and chances it with the shadows.
but she just blinks at it, her eyes flicking between simon and the pack, slowly and cat-like, before heaving a sigh and reaching for her lighter in her pockets. simon hums, something low and curling with a quiet wash of disappointment at her impassivity, and moves to take a stick out from the pack, only—
a twitch in her fingers. a slight pause in her movements. a crack in the facade; a blip in her silence.
simon smells the blood in the water and pounces on it with snapping maws. he grins, careful, and utters, “y’don’t like it that i found them.”
he doesn’t need to ask when it is obvious that it is true.
she licks her lips, eyes meeting his, and simon wants to commend the way she was quick to gather her spillage and force it back in her mask, but her hands are still quaking, and her fingertips have turned light with how hard they are pinching the lighter, and simon knows that he’s won this one.
she knows it too. he sees it in the way she takes a ragged breath in; in her continued silence.
“they’re my mom’s.”
her voice doesn’t waver, it doesn’t break. it rings clear, like he just asked her what the weather was and she knows it is raining outside because when does the rain ever stop? but she is no longer looking at him, and simon—
he knows enough about the apparitions made from memories and pulls his hand away.
“i see.”
simon wonders if it’ll look too much like he’s licking the wound of his shame if he offers his pack instead, but in the silence of his words, as his own memories unfurl like miasma, she lights up one.
he devours the image she makes — the quiet ember flickering across her face, now smoothed off any storm — when she takes a puff. he doesn’t look away even when she passes the stick to him; doesn’t look away even when it is his turn to breathe it in, and for his patience, he is rewarded the sweet image of the smoke spilling from her lips as she collapses back to her seat with a soft upturning of her lips.
and, somehow, the night isn’t over even when they’ve finished the pack.
simon knows that this is the true victory.
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yanderedrabbles · 1 day ago
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Nice Guy Yanderes
Beware the nice guys. The sweet boys with sweet smiles who always say exactly what you want to hear.
A man will always be a man - full of lust and all too capable of violence. It doesn't matter if he stands in front of a packed lecture hall and gives a moving speech about feminism. At the end of the day, he wants the exact same thing as the sexist and the misogynist. He wants you on your knees.
It's almost kinder when a man is a bastard. When he's mean and lustful. At least he's showing you his true colours. At least you know to keep your hackles up and never turn your back on him.
It's so much worse when a man pretends to be nice. When he sees your friendship, your trust, as just another way to get you into bed.
And that "niceness" extends to all the depraved things he does to you. All fake concern and even faker sincerity.
Asking "Does it hurt real bad, sweetheart?" when he's balls deep in your virgin ass and you're clawing at the sheets trying to get away from him. Kissing you after he fucks you raw like that will make it all better. He's the kind to spout all manner of high minded ideals - he's protecting you, he loves you, he's doing this for your own good. Maybe it's worse because he really believes all that bullshit. Really believes he's keeping you safe, as though he isn't the monster you need protecting from.
It's easier when your tormentor is honest about his reasons for taking you. It somehow hurts less when all he wants is a warm body to fuck. At least you aren't burdened by his faux guilt, his teary eyed false promise to let you go as soon as he's done with you.
If you were to get stuck with a yandere, you'd better hope and pray that he's a bastard. That he won't wipe away your tears as though that makes up for causing them.
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salemlunaa · 15 hours ago
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𓆉 ˚∘YOU ARE NOT BOUND TO THIS REALITY࿐
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stop acting like this place is your home, it’s not. Same thing with those trying to manifest things. You’re manifesting a new body but You believe that your home is the reality where you hate your body and that you’re doing something grand and groundbreaking by trying shift from that. You want your dream life through the void state. But you believe this reality you’re experiencing right now is your home. Your base point. Your starting ground. And you think that because you are so tied to this reality by scripting and shifting to a new life you’re doing something crazy and out-of-body like.
Let me tell you something. You aren’t. This is going to sound insane but you are as close to this reality as you are to your dream life. You are as bound to the reality where you have your dream green eyes than you are to the “current” where you have blue eyes that you don’t want.
The only reason that us bloggers use the term “current reality” is because this is the reality where your consciousness lies. I will say this again: there are multiple different versions of you reading this that you aren’t aware of and they’re probably not aware of you. Think of the country you live in right now. There’s a version of you that is from somewhere else and may know nothing about the place you call home and haven’t even stepped foot there. It’s so trippy to think about but what i’m trying to get at is that this isn’t your home. It’s nothing to be scared of, shouldn’t it be empowering and comforting to know you could be anyone you want to be?
like this is literally you:
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(found this from @shiftinglea)
It’s so easy to shift your consciousness it’s not something you need to mentally prep for, there’s nothing to do. As soon as you want and intend the shift, it happens, regardless of what you’re seeing. You aren’t stuck here, and it pains me when you guys speak about circumstances as if they’re permanent. They don’t have to exist at all. There is no journey, it’s just immediate teleportation. Think as if. Think of your “desired reality” and your current. Place your awareness there.
The reason you have so much resistance is because you believe you have to. Deep down, you believe effort is needed to leave, you believe you need some extravagant journey as you’re leaving the place you felt bound to all this time. You don’t, you’ve left. you’ve shifted. You can’t grasp that nothing, absolutely nothing needs to be done to enter the state of pure consciousness, your literal naked self.
You believe it needs to be hard because it’s too good to be true.
Leave that belief behind. You aren’t far from your life. The life you intend to have. In fact, you’re right there. Think of all these realities like your children. All of them are related to you in the same way. You don’t have one child that you’re absolutely bound to, assuming you’re a good parent with no favourites. They’re ALL close to you in the SAME PROXIMITY. They ALL have the same relation to you. It’s YOUR BLOOD aka YOU running through their veins, all of them, the veins of all these realities, even the ones you aren’t conscious of yet. You aren’t just bound to one.
So you don’t need to work super hard for that body, that shift, that face. When we say it’s yours we aren’t just trying to be encouraging it’s just facts. I’m not the most well versed marvel fan, but does Dr. Strange have a hard time shifting or does he just know where he wants to go and opens those portal thingys? Be like him. Know where you want to go and leave.
Wash your hands of what you don’t want and think as if. Thinking as if = placing your consciousness in desired state = you are in desired state = 3d will follow.
This isn’t home base. There isn’t a home base. Take that into consideration when you’re struggling to truly “just be” while trying to induce the void.
THESE REALITIES ARE ALL THE SAME. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS DECIDE WHERE YOU WANT TO BE ࿐
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apricotbuncakes · 3 days ago
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OP is so fucking awesome for including the sexual intrusive thoughts because yeah. People do have them. And they are distressing. But they're one of the types of intrusive thoughts that are hardest to open up about and seek help for, because they're so terrifying to admit you have. Like, even in therapy, I can't admit that I have them because I don't want my therapist to think that I actually want to act on them. I don't!! I really really don't. And having those thoughts are fucking awful.
I have to actively avoid the people I like if the thoughts get too intense, to try and redirect my line of thinking to something else before I can see them again. Because if I don't, the thoughts persist and persist, taking over my regular thoughts until I can't think of anything else but those horrible actions (and this applies to my intrusive thoughts about murder too, not just sexual ones).
People have started saying 'intrusive thoughts' when they mean 'impulsive thoughts' so when someone with genuine intrusive thoughts is honest about what that's like and what their thoughts say, people who have conflated the two assume "oh this person actually wants to act on their intrusive thought". Which yeah, if that were true would be awful in a lot of cases (not all intrusive thoughts are violent acts, such as the mind readers example, but that doesn't mean they aren't distressing or intrusive). But the definition of intrusive is 'unwanted, invasive'. Intrusive thoughts are unwanted and invasive thoughts that people do not want and do not want to act on.
Actually, one of the best videos I've ever seen about this is Thomas Sanders' Sanders Side episode about intrusive thoughts, and how to handle them. It genuinely helped me so much in addressing mine and I always recommend it, because through the acting, Thomas shows what it's like internally to have unwanted and invasive thoughts, and it doesn't shame the people who have intrusive thoughts in the process.
In the episode it's revealed that Thomas' intrusive thoughts are an extension of his creativity, but specifically the creativity he has shunned for being 'wrong'. (This isn't a one to one with my experience, I don't see my intrusive thoughts as part of my creativity, but the rest of this does apply to me). Thomas learns that trying to ignore the thoughts will only make them worse, and that to handle them he has to acknowledge that they exist, but also acknowledge that they don't make him a bad person for having them. Clearly he doesn't want to do the things the thoughts tell him to.
For myself, I've realized the best way to help with my intrusive thoughts is using them for creativity. I use fanfiction and put my intrusive thoughts in them, using my Blorbos to get the thoughts out and associate them with something creative rather than just the actions itself. It's why I have so many fanfics with noncon in them. I absolutely do not condone those actions. I'm just using the fanfics to get the thoughts I don't like out of my head (and I ALWAYS tag them appropriately so people coming across my fics know that there's dark content involved so they can avoid it). I also use them to examine parts of myself with related trauma, assigning aspects of my perspective of the situation to different characters.
It's also why I'm a huge advocate for no censorship in creative works. Because I know that just because someone writes something or someone doing a bad thing, that doesn't mean they condone it. I sure as hell do not condone the actions in my fics spawned from intrusive thoughts, but I still write them because it's a creative outlet, a way to get rid of the nasty buggers. And when I'm done I balance it out with something more positive to take my mind off things.
TLDR; Sexual intrusive thoughts are fucking awful things to have and are very distressing. People who have intrusive thoughts do not want to act on them because by definition the intrusive thoughts are unwanted and invasive.
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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 1 day ago
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CRUSH- D.GRAYSON
pairing: richboy! dick grayson x girly! innocent!fem! reader
part one here!
word count: 2.7k
summary: its the morning after your prince charming had swooped you off your feet, and somehow- dicks secret superpower is diminishing hangovers, by taking care of you.
warnings: sexual thoughts/ implications, kissing/ slight make-out session, pet names, mentions of masturbation, size kink implied, swearing, dick asks reader out on her first date and kinda acts like a sugar daddy lol, he's kinda a soft dom in a way...
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Your head felt like a truck had run over it.
As if you had been tossed on the road, and a Ford F150 had slowly taken its time driving its tires over your head.
You woke up, still in your clothes from the night before, makeup smudged and jewellery tangled. Groaning, you slowly pulled each limb out of bed, feeling like a jello.
The clock hands ticked just past ten thirty, but it felt like you had got an hour of sleep, tops.
You were in definite need of a nap today, you thought to yourself as you slowly rocked up to your feet, tugging off your clothes from the previous night.
The fact you had worn outdoor club clothes in your bed… yeah, you’d need to wash your sheets today too.
You let the morning light that peaked through your thin curtains illuminate the path to your dresser, where you tugged on a new pair of panties and an oversized band tee. Kicking past skirts and thongs, you placed your head in your hands before you managed the courage to go out and brave the bathroom.
And the kitchen. But the thought of greasy bacon and eggs made you excited, just a little.
You creaked open your door, starting to walk to the bathroom before stopping in your tracks.
Oh fuck.
Dick Grayson lay sprawled on the couch, blanket covering practically nothing as he snoozed. His legs were spread, one out on the floor, the other over the arm of the couch.
And his abs… Oh god.
Here was this man- completely sprawled out in your living room- that you had completely forgotten about him staying- mind you. You didn't know why he stayed- the couch clearly was not suited for him- but you were glad he did.
You just needed to get things ready before he woke. And put pants on.
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck…” you mumbled, feet pattering on the hardwood as you scurried to the bathroom.
What you didn't know of course, was the man was already awake- and had been for a while. He had learned to “pretend sleep”, so his roommates would leave him alone when they came home and he was in the living room.
You didn't even let the water warm up before you were scrubbing at your face frantically, like a mad woman before trying to fix your bedhead.
Soon he’d be awake, and you wanted to make him breakfast in bed (on the couch? You didn't know what the hell to call it).
It was the least you could do for him, for taking care of you. He was so sweet. It made your heart flutter, remembering how kind he was to you last night. And here he was on your uncomfortable ass sofa!
A true gentleman indeed.
You frantically rushed to the kitchen, seeing his body still splayed out as you darted to the kitchen, trying your best to be quiet.
“Fuck fuck okay make coffee, make him coffee and find eggs…” you whispered to yourself, making him smirk to himself. He cracked an eye open, shifting so he rested his head over the sofa, watching you silently.
You were in your own little world, trying to reach for a mug on the highest shelf.
“Need any help with that bun?”
You jumped, whipping around to face where he rested his arms and head over the couch back- a smirk on his face.
“You scared me! How long have you been awake for? I’m so sorry if I was loud-”
“A while. You werent loud sweetheart. Dont need to get yourself all worried about me, okay?”
He stood with a stretch, ruminging around on the ground before he found his target- tugging on his pants from last night. You quickly averted your gaze- covering your eyes with a hand as he tugged them on, pulling your fingers apart just a peak to try and get a glance.
You felt guilty but- oh well. You already saw him when he was “sleeping”. 
Heat spread throughout your body as he made his way over to you, trapping you in against the countertop- facing his chest as he reached up with ease to grab the mug you were after. You were frozen in place for what felt like forever, as if you were a statue, just marveling at the sight of him.
“T-thanks.” you managed to mutter out as he handed you the mug, cocky grin plastered across his face- knowing exactly what he was doing to you.
Oh but wait! Things get better! Your inner monologue shouted at you as his hand reached up to brush a stray eyelash of your cheek, rough thumb so gentle across your skin.
“You feeling okay?” he asked gently, knowing last night was… something.
“I’m okay. I have this throbbing in my head- like a drum. S’annoying.”
He snorted, grabbing another mug for himself.
“Yeah that’ll do it. Coffee will fix you up.”
“Do you not have a headache?” you asked, suddenly broken from your trance as he neared the coffee machine, reminding you of your duties before he decided to flip flop your heart around.
“Me? You’re cute.”
You frowned, forehead lines crinkling in a way that made him swoon. You were so adorable when you frowned. Like a little bunny, crinkling its nose.
“Thats not fair.”
“Sweetheart, one of us here is a lightweight, and one of us here is not. Thats the way it goes. Plus, I’m a lot bigger then you.”
You raised your eyebrow, flicking on the machine, the hot liquid beginning to trickle out into his mug.
“Oh yeah?”
“Mm. And stronger too.”
You swallowed, the distance between the two of you becoming smaller, and smaller. You’re apartment wasnt exactly a penthouse suite, but it wasnt super small either. Yet, your kitchen felt like it was crammed with him in it, the room turning hot, your cheeks filled with heat.
“I-I think your coffee is done Dickie.” you murmered, watching as he reached right past you, grabbing the cup and taking a sip.
He drank it black. Of course.
Whistling a little tune as he opened your fridge, craining down to dig around in your fridge, as if he had lived here for years. “Do you want some fruit?” he asked, pulling out a container of berries, and a carton of eggs.
“Please. God I need a strawberry in my system, or I’m gonna crash out.”
“What- you haven't already?”
You lunged at his remark, wacking his bicep lightly, making him laugh. “Make me eggs or I’ll crash out even more.” you smiled, snagging the milk out of the fridge door to pour in your own coffee, adding some sugar.
Popular opposites, it seemed.
He raised his hand to his forehead, giving you a stern salute. “You got it sweetheart.”
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It was the best hangover morning you’d ever had.
You didn't even know those existed, but with Dick Grayson- they did.
He made breakfast in your kitchen, like it was his house. Serving up perfect eggs and toast, with your fruit- it was as if it was gourmet.
Planting a soft kiss on the top of your head, before serving it to you was the cherry on top.
The two of you talked as the sun steadily filtered through the clouds, laughter and utensils clattering. He was just- you couldn't even put your finger on it. It was like he was your boyfriend- honestly.
You just met him the other night, and here he was, making you breakfast and laughing at your stupid jokes after staying the night on the couch- AFTER taking care of you.
There was no sex. No trade offs, no nothing.
It made your head spin, at the complete 180 he seemed to be from most college guys. He was older, yes, but not by much. A few years at most. But he carried himself as if he was matured, older and wise.
Like he could get anything he wanted, if he talked slickly enough- which he always did.
You were captivated under his spell, watching his blue eyes sparkle as he talked, and the ink black strands that would fall in front of them.
He was smart, he was funny and he was oh so sweet.
You wanted him to stay forever, just as company- in all honesty. He was amazing company. The silence was never awkward, when there was some that hung in the air. He’d just admire you from where you sat at the breakfast nook.
“You’re so pretty. You know that? The prettiest girl.”
It made your skin heat, always looking down at your hands fiddling in your lap, when his compliments became overwhelming (they all did).
But when the coffee grew cold, reality had set in, and he had to leave. As much as it pained you to let him go from your safe haven, you knew he had his own life to attend to- and you had yours. But that didn't stop you from trying to convince him, nonetheless.
”I think you should stay.” you teased as you opened the front door, leaving it swung open- as if to coax him back inside.
He groaned. “Bunny, you know I’d love to. But-”
His phone started to buzz, and he rolled his eyes, fishing it out of his pocket. Tim’s name flashed across the screen, a man you presumed was his friend.
“Speak of the devil. I gotta get back to help my roommates with something I promised them sadly, but I promise I’ll be back. Okay?”
You nodded, stepping out from where you were shielded by the door, body coming into full view. His eyes darkened, as he saw your thighs that poked out at him from your t-shirt in the dimmed hallway lighting.
“I’ll text you as soon as I can. Would you like to get dinner sometime this week?” he asked, stepping closer to you, so your breaths were practically intermingling.
You crained your head up to look at him with wide, doe eyes- and he nearly melted into a puddle. “I’d love that Dickie.”
“Yeah I know you would. Now cmere, I wanna kiss you. That okay?”
You licked your lips as he slowly backed you up against the doorframe, caging you in as his hand slipped up to grasp your jaw, holding it gentle- yet firm.
“I’d love that.”
He chuckled. “Yeah? This okay sweetheart?” he breathed, leaning down so his lips were almost touching yours.
Before you could answer, his lips were on yours, the sweet taste of him sending shocks up your spine- nerves coursing on fire at the sensation, as his tongue coaxed your lips to part, begging for entrance.
You moaned, muffled by his lips as he swallowed you whole, consuming you as he gripped your waist, tugging your hips closer to him, so your back was arched against the old wooden frame.
You felt dizzy, when the two of you finally parted, your lips feeling flushed and swollen, a dazed look in your eye as you just stared at him.
Was that the best kiss of your life? Yes.
Were you going to tell him that? Hell no.
You knew his ego did not to be inflated anymore.
He smiled mischievously, like a feline as he planted a kiss on your forehead, and then another, before he turned down the hall. Like he didn't just sweep you off your feet, leaving you dazed like some swooning princess who had just found her prince charming.
“I’ll call you sweetheart.” he called, waving without a second glance, before he disappeared down the stairs, and out the door- leaving no trace of him but your flushed skin and the door swinging on its hinges. 
--------------------------------
Dick was hounded the second his foot stepped in the door.
“So? When do we meet her?” Tim asked from the living room, perched beside the IKEA boxes of parts for the new couch he was supposed to help put up (even though they could easily do it without his help).
He slammed it behind him, hard. “Don't even start.”
Jason let out a little whistle, not even sparing Dick a glance, though he knew the look in his eye would set him off anyways. “He really likes this one Drake. Means he’s gonna get all possessive and not share her with any of us.”
He tossed Dick a wink, making Dick clench his fingers into fists. God they knew how to get under his skin.
“He’s scared she’ll decide she likes us better, don't worry Dickie, I get it.” Tim called, watching as Dick rolled his eyes, making his way over to the mess on the hardwood floor.
“When do we need this done by?” he ignored Tim, starting to pry open one of the boxes.
“Uhh I don't know, when do you want a couch for?”
“I don't know why we need a new couch. Our old one was fuckin fine.” Jason grumbled, flipping a screwdriver between his fingers, even though he was strong enough to probably just press the damn nails in.
“Because it was disgusting and I’m tired of breaking my ass on a spring whenever I watch a game.” Tim mumbled.
Dick was in his own world, tuning out anything that wasn't the thought of you. He already missed your presence. Your soft touch, your sweet smell, the little noises you made when he kissed you, pressing you firmly against the door.
So close he could feel your hardened nipples brush against his chest, skin hot to the touch.
He needed to see you, and soon. Where the hell did he want to take you for dinner?
Up on the East end?
No, not fancy enough.
He needed something spectacular for you. Ideally, he’d want you ending the bed in his bed, in his car- he didn't care where. He just wanted you again, your lips and your pretty little sounds that he would most definitely be imagining tonight when his hand was wrapped around his cock.
He’d take his time with you, unravelling you like a gift. Whether that was on leather seats or memory foam mattresses, he didn't care.
He’d needed this extra special for you.
He’d call in some favours.
---------------------------------- It was nearing the late evening when your phone buzzed, the only name you wanted to see popping up on it.
You were all ready for bed, facemask completed, everything shower done, soft pjs on, nails painted and candle lit. Seeing his name flash on the screen made your heart flutter, and you quickly opened his message, not even bothering to pause your show before responding.
Dick: Hey pretty. Does Tuesday work for dinner?
You: Hi :) Tuesday is perfect!
Even if you had plans that night- you’d push them aside.
Dick: Perfect. Be ready for 8pm, sharp ;)
You: Yes sir:)
You watched his message bubble up, before disappearing again. Then it popped up again, a notification alerting you that he had sent you money.
Your jaw dropped.
This man had just sent you $800 dollars.
Dick: You’re gonna accept this okay? Or I’m going to be very upset and I’ll find a way into your apartment and hand you the money myself. Get yourself something nice for Tuesday.
You were gobsmacked.
How the fuck were you supposed to accept this?
You: Dickie… I don't think I can accept this. And I don't even know what to wear.
Dick: You’ll accept it, and you’ll find something. Anything you pick will be beautiful, I promise bunny.
Your hands were shaking as you held your phone between twitching fingers, in a state of shock. You had known this man for two days, and he was splurging $800 on you? You didn't even know how to respond.
Although to him, you supposed- it probably was next to nothing.
Here he was, making you play dress up to some date planned- that you were unaware of. You had no theme to go off of, no idea of what was happening.
You bit your lip, fighting a little more, even begging for a clue or hint of what to wear- but he gave you nothing. Claiming he wanted you to be authentic, to wear whatever you wanted.
It was too much creative freedom.
Your head swarmed with thoughts of all the possibilities, $800 was a lot of money, and you didn't even know where to start. You let yourself have a mini freakout, and be overwhelmed, before you tucked yourself under the covers, pulling out your laptop to start browsing Pinterest.
You had no time to mess around.
You had a crush to impress.
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eek so dickie is gonna go all romantic and take reader on her first date? hmmm ;)
@gwyneveire <3 if anyone else wants to be tagged i can try and remember to add you in the future!
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thatshadowcomic · 2 days ago
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Shadow, you look a little nervous there, buddy.
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[This is what Amy is referencing]
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[this is what Shadow is referencing]
Continues here:
I support ShadAmy ship, but really, I much prefer them as siblings. She alwasy felt like a reference to maria. Obviously different personalities, but she has such a sweet and open heart. I like Shadow would be one of those guys that thinks cute girly stuff is adorable, like he'd appreciate pretty things, even if he's not that into them. That said, I like to think he's got a better sense of style than people expect...maybe that's partly because he li9ves with rouge and hangs around Amy idk.
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Find more QnA here: https://www.tumblr.com/thatshadowcomic/759247889472143360/lore-qa-and-asks-click-the-link-for-original?source=share
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taro-bae · 2 days ago
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can u do twst 3rd years reacting to you saying "I love you" for the first time? :3
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Twisted Wonderland - Third Years
Summary: reacting to you saying "I love you" for the first time
Characters: Third Years + Che'nya (I love him so much)
CW/Notes: gn!reader, fluff, romantic, preestablished relationship (let's say dating for some time now)
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Trey Clover
It was a long day of classes and Trey's duties with housewarden responsibilities. But one thing he was never tired for was checking up on you, making sure you're hydrated and feeling your best. Trey made his way to you, happy to see you after a being on his feet all day. He was doing some small act of service for you when you hit him with the statement that caught the calm vice-warden off guard.
The words "I love you" repeated in his head. It took him a moment to process what you just said. He gazes at you sheepishly with a soft smirk, "say it again...?". Trey look directly into your eyes trying to catch every micro reaction from you and grasp your true feelings. And after you say it again he steps closer to you meeting you at eye level. He might look composed with a light smirk on his lips, but inside his heart completely melted for you.
"I love you too~" he says dropping an octave lower, keeping his voice calm and cool, specifically to tease you. Trey, being quite the tease loves seeing your cheeks flush with colour, even if it is barely noticeable. He opens his arms pulling you into an embrace as one of his hands pats your head. Still with that smirk he'd pull you right into his chest letting you hear his heartbeat.
Cater Diamond
Cater paused when you confessed to him, telling him those three words. His expression faltering a bit. This wasn't exactly the first time someone confessed their feelings to him. However, this time it felt different. This time it felt genuine ans sincere, like you actually meant it.
"I... Uh..."
He had his share of admirers and crushes, but this confession felt more...real. Cater now felt more flustered and unsure. He's used to hidding his feelings and putting on a happy carefree face, but this time you saw it slip a bit on his face when his expression softened. He seemed more vulnerable but recovered quickly.
"I love you too, cutie~♡"
That night he almost cried himself to sleep feeling actually loved and appreciated by someone. Especially that that someone is you.
Leona Kingscholar
"...what?"
Leona thought he misheard you. He was sitting on his bed, book in his lap when you caught him completely off guard leaving him in disbelief. When you repeat it again, his eyebrows frown slightly, but in his eyes you can see something hidden. He sets the book aside, the gravity of your words setting in leaving a sense of surprise and vulnerability as he tries to process them.
"Why the hell would you love me?"
Leona may act dismissive and find it difficult to accept comfort or love, even from his partner. Though his eyes convey something else. He scoffs and looks away, his tail thumping behind him while his ears lay flat. He doesn't want to be seen as weak, he has a reputation to maintain. "Stupid herbivore..." he thinks, but his dark tan cheek feel warmer. He's not good at expressing his emotions, and will need time until he even tries to say it back.
"You....ughhh, fine...I-...I might love you too..."
Vil Schoenheit
You love Vil, but the question is; who doesn't? He has an enormous share of fans and admires showering him in compliments. Although, they don't matter as much as yours.
Love is a bit of an odd concept in his life, in respect to his career and status. When the words "I love you" leave your lips he's taken aback. Despite his acting abilities and marvellous composure, Vil isn't the best with romance. He looks into your eyes seeing the devotion and pure adoration in your gaze. His own heart is pacing faster than he'd like, but he knows he loves you too.
After taking a controlled breath he speaks trying to keep his voice steady, "I love you too, my dear." Vil takes your hand in his, the look in his eyes turning serious, "this stays private between us, the media can be relentless to say the least...but I'm glad that you love me. And I love you the same"
Rook Hunt
It is certain that he said it to you before many times. Rook is patient whether you were ready to say it or not. He was dying to hear the first time you tell him that you love him, he's a sucker for romance.
When you approached him and finally said those words to him he wasn't actually caught off guard, his hunter mind is always prepared. However, he is over the moon. Instantly picks up both your hands together, kissing your knuckles while maintaining direct eye contact. "Oh~ Mon Amour, finally blessing me with your kind words! je t'aime aussi!"
His affections double after your confession, be prepared to receive lots of affection that point onwards.
Idia Shroud
"This level is for absolute NOOBS, the boss is set u-... HUH! WHA-?!"
Absolute chain reaction. Why do you do this to him. Poor boy was just sitting playing his games, while ranting to you, with his favourite anime in the background when you drop the bomb on him. Idia will spiral, his anxiety getting the better of him. For Idia, romance was a dead zone he wasn't interested in for a long time, until you.
"Did I mishear them? No, no, no...that can't be right? They said they LOVE...ME? maybe they meant the game...right right...the game...Wait no....UGHH WHAT DO I SAY...this so awkward..."
Idias hands begin to sweat, the tips of his hair turning a brighter pink. As well as his face, the red visible in contrast to his pale skin. A mumbled "A-are you sure" leaves his mouth without thinking. His heart and mind are absolutely racing escalating to a small panic attack. A few tears weld up in his eyes, he needs some reassurance that you mean it and will never leave him.
"You're n-not just saying that are you..." after you give him a hug he melts into your comfort hiding his face in your neck. He whispers a quiet "Don't leave me..."
Malleus Draconia
Malleus was lonely practically his whole life, starved of genuine affection and love. That changed when you came into the picture.
It was on a late night walk where you agreed to accompany him while he tells you about the gargoyles around campus. The intimate and quiet atmosphere was a perfect moment for you to tell him how you feel, letting the words slip from your tongue. Malleus stopped, meeting your gaze directly. He needs a moment to think and catch his breath.
One of his hands lifts to softly caress your cheek with the back of his fingers. His gaze is soft and loving when he looks down at you.
"You truly know how to make me happy, my beloved. Please allow me to love you...eternally."
For Malleus it didn't matter who you were or what happens after. All that matters is that you love him and that he's no longer alone.
Che'nya
He was teying to annoy you as he always does, sneaking in and appearing infront of you upsidedown to try steal a kiss. That is when you decide to get hin back for all his teasing and pranks.
"Che'nya, I love you" He freezes, body stiffening and cheeks dusted pink. His eyes would widen, mouth falling open slightly before shutting again as he attempted to form words. He's a sucker for true love, and a hopeless romantic at heart, your words mean a lot to him.
He blinks with wide yellow cateyes, his brain attempting to register just what you said before the words finally processed and a wide cheesy grin would break out across his face. He steps forward, hands catching your waist gently as he pulled you flush against his chest, head tilting as he spoke.
"You love me?"
When you confirm, his grin only grows wider, ears and tail perking up in happiness. "I love mew too, lyubimaya/lyubimiy~" He purrs back littering your face and neck with kisses.
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Che'nya is mine >:(
Russian Che'nya Russian Che'nya Russian Che'nya!!!
I'd kill to call him Тёма (short for artemiy/artema) or Котик (kitty male endearment form) to his face!!!
UGGGHHH IM DOWN BAD FOR HIM
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