#tinted green thoughts

[holdinbacksecrets]

i want to be touched and loved and held and seen and desired and fucked and romanced and spoiled and considered and worshipped and known and heard and healed and adored and admired and remembered and craved and kissed and chosen and prioritized and sexy and trustworthy and safe and cherished and someone’s forever

[lycorim]

Only her bones returned.

[inspo & reference]

[smokin-salmon]

Some color headcanons.

[aha-chuu]

Can't decide whether I prefer Neuvillette looking like an old man (white hair + grandpa demeanour + dad vibes for all the melusine) or if I like him looking like a pretty, youthful model (super young by dragon years + in game model baby-face + actually very inexperienced in human conduct = immature?)

All the fanart I see kind of just picks one but idkkkk,,, I sort of enjoy the idea that he's kinda young looking but talks and acts very very old because, you know, in human terms he is very old. And everyone in Fontaine is used to it cos they all know he's not human and appearance �� reality. But people usually see him from pretty far away in the Opera house, so they can only see the white hair and hear his old man voice. So when he rarely does show up in person the public has a jumpscare of "oh not literally a grandpa huh uh oh".

And he definitely doesn't look like teenage or twenties, even youthful Neuvillette has gotta be like late thirties earliest. Mature but not actually as old as anyone would expect.

[onlykiwi]

ooooh dont stop get it get it

[hardbass]

Whatever

[feral-ass-raccoon]

anybody ever look in the mirror like. up close. and see your own eyes and go ??? bc i do sometimes and from far away my eyes are blue but up close they're. not.? like it doesn't show up on camera and i have absolutely NO idea how to describe it but there is a Color and it's very much so Not Blue and i just. babes what are you doing. please. it's not even the entire iris can you PLEASE pick a lane

[sentryisbbygirl]

Is it just me or do the Slytherin and Hufflepuff common rooms (famously located in the dungeons for some fucking reason) just seem like the absolute worst for depression

[holdinbacksecrets]

isn’t it wrong to shame softness?

[luigra]

HhhhhrrrrrrghhghhHHHHHRHRGRGRHGHHHHHHHHH I&'m NOT INTERESTED in another "beginner's guide to colour theory ^_^" type video THAT JUST REPEATS THE SAME INFORMATION AS LITERALLY EVERY SINGLE VIDEO ON THIS TOPIC EVER. I& swear every single art channel out there wants to cash in on that sweet beginner tutorial viewership by making YET ANOTHER COLOUR THEORY VIDEO that tells me& NOTHING!!!! FLYSHIT!!!!!!! It's always:

Colour wheel exists

Colour combinations like complimentary/triad/etc

If they're feeling fancy they'll tell you to use cool shadows and warm lights

If they're feeling REALLY fancy shmancy they'll explain the 60/30/10 principle

And THAT'S IT. AND THERE IS ABSOLUTELY ZERO DIFFERENCE BETWEEN WHAT'S EXPLAINED IN "BEGINNER" COLOUR THEORY AND "ADVANCED" COLOUR THEORY. IT'S ALL THE SAME FUCKING YOUTUBE SLOP!!!!!!!! I&'M SICK OF IT!!!!!!!! I&'LL KILL YOU!!!!!!!

[hannibalised]

Simon would really be the type to get real flustered and all blushy blushy when you address or introduce him as your boyfriend/husband.

It was only later one evening at your favourite cafe which you gushed about all week, from pastry to scones and other sweet dessert, until you finally got him up to wear a plain black hood and only a lower face mask. He was raking over your figure while you stiffled your blush and scanned down the menu for the perfect thing that Simon absolutely would love to eat out, something apart from you. His joke, not yours.

“...yes, and tarte tatin for my boyfriend.”

You smiled and turned back to see a marvelous sight. Nothing. And nothing at all, the dirtiest and the softest and the most unhinged words you'd ever said to him could ever tinge up those cheeks so much flushed in colour. Astonished — you blinked. “What is it, si ?”

“Nuthin' love.” He shrugged, bringing his large hand over his face before you leaned forward and snatched his wrist with both hands. “What is it ? Are you...hey am i seeing you blushing ? Oh gawd you are —”

Simon shaked head, like he could shake away the high rise of rosy glow which tinted across the crinkle of his eye. His eyes so soft and bright in its flourish gleam.

“naw, nah...” He was. The nerves were grailed out in fine blue and green. Blood just under the pale skin, hot and needy.

You chuckled out softly, and it clicked like cuckoo clock at midnight. One sharp moment of it's glory. “My boyfriend..is my boyfriend blushing ? Huh.”

“oh fuck.” And if Simon thought he couldn't turn any more red, well there was always room for surprises.

Masterlist

[claire-starsword]

good grief. either there's something about japanese color descriptions i'm not aware of (and i have been researching), or this author is some fascinating kind of colorblind

Karna's hair has been described as "silver with a rosy tint", which also "looks orange at night", and like, what. Screw "not matching the art", that's some sort of shrimp description. At most i can bring up that yeah, her hair is pink on the overworld but, that doesn't explain half of that, also he's not writing based on map sprites is he???? (he isn't the description of her clothes and hair is very accurate)

and now Tyrin's beard is being described as green which made me not realize it was him for a good time

[rottingghosty]

The Realms PR | DC X DP

Prompt/Summary: DC X DP SOCMED AU. Imagine Danny being so fucking tired of the GIW and is like Tucker, I’m making a twitter account, verify me IMMEDIATELY. So here’s Danny as Phantom on Twitter, verified with 0 followers and starts tweeting about how GIW is shit and how they claim ghosts are non sapient or sentient and just counterattacks by uploading videos of various ghosts to show that they in fact ARE previous humans and very much sentient.

Phantom ✔️

@OGPhantom

AP’s Local Hero | He/him | Ghost

📍 Infinite Realms   🗓️ Joined March 20XX

0 Following   ||   0 Followers

Phantom ✔️— @OGPhantom

“Ghosts aren’t sentient!” Yeah, what’s THIS then????

[Video: It shows a place with a sickening amount of the color green before it pans over to where a figure with a purple cloak with the hood down sat on a bench. The figure is softly singing to various blobs of green ghosts who chirp and trill along. The figure had long curly blue hair as they turned to the recorder Phantom— as a sweet smile formed on lips with purple lipstick. The figure had blue skin that showed as the cloak moved and showed blue tinted fingers.

The singing sounded echoed, staticky at times but otherwise soothing. The figure said something that the was untranslated but it was enough for the figure to later brighten up at what was said back. Red eyes instantly became starry.]

> Phantom ✔️— @OGPhantom

Ghosts are very much sentient. We rely on emotions. 🖕🏼You guys study a field you don’t even know about.

After a series of tweets where Danny showed more videos of ghosts (with their permission of course) on Twitter. He got off the app and decided to go to bed after ranting about the GIW. He was heavily unaware of how his tweets would blow up when Tucker had the best idea to have the tweets land on various FYP of influencers and maybe a few billionaires such as the Waynes.

“What.” Danny croaked out as he stared at the sudden fame he got overnight. He hadn’t expected his tweets to blow up, he simply thought only a few ghost fans would stumble upon his tweets and claim it was fake or edited, even call it CGI. He had not taken into the account of the fact that Amity Park residents would vouch (all while refraining from saying that they reside in Amity Park since they’re essentially a dead zone due to the ectoplasm affecting the town) and even provide their own information about Ghosts.

So now Danny suddenly is a thousand followers bigger, he has news teams wanting to interview him and he has people commenting on his tweets. He feels dizzy as hands gripped his biceps and gently tugged him into sitting on the chair that was basically his at the Foley home. His ears are ringing and his throat feels dry.

“Congrats on being famous, don’t forget us too soon.” Sam dryly says as she shoves water into Danny’s hands and helped him take a sip.

“Don’t be like that Sam, this is a good thing especially since the GIW are blocked from seeing Phantom’s account or anything Phantom related things even despite people reposting and tweeting on other social medias. Technus helped me with that.”

“Oh my god Phantom’s famous. I’m famous.”

The biggest video that blew up was his pinned video, it was of one of the older ghosts who had been around for a long time— the same Hope that had been placed in Pandora’s Box and why she is the Ancient of it after escaping.

He recorded her on a whim after a run in with the GIW and then constantly telling him that he’s a monster and how he isn’t sentient. He also privately kept the thought of himself using Hope’s singing as a lullaby whenever he couldn’t sleep after a rough day.

“Ancients.”

TLDR: Danny recorded the Ancient of Hope (an OC) on a whim after a bad day and decided to counteract the idea of GIW telling Amity Parkers that ghosts are evil. He genuinely thought only the Parkers would realize and not that. Tucker would have this bright idea to broaden his influence. So Danny is VERY much newly famous, has the attention of a lot of people now. Including one Jason Todd because he stumbled upon the video of Hope singing and it calmed the Pit so he’s like what the fuck.

Could be a Dead on Main, Dead Tired kinda thing idk, i thought of this at like 2am at work. But I think Danny as Phantom being internet famous about explaining the Infinite Realms (all while he tries to hide the fact that he’s royalty of it) and exclusively shitting on the GIW. Sam and Tucker obviously make accounts also cause they’re the ambassadors of Phantom and basically his PR team.

Meanwhile John Constantine is having a crisis in a meeting with the Justice League and JL Dark because what do you mean someone is experimenting on ghosts and declaring them as not human???

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fanfic idea: Rent-a-Scandal

Bruce's identity as Batman is outed on live TV. It was after Joker unmasked him, but thankfully, Clark was fast enough to throw on a spare Batsuit.

They managed to convince most of the public that Bruce had been working as a decoy to distract Joker so that "Batman" could find the rest of the hostages. Most.

There were those pecky few that saw right through their ruse. He needed to do another stunt that would install doubt that Ditzy Party Boy Bruce Wayne could never be Batman.

The thing was his usual antics weren't working. No amount of parties. No alcoholic induced stupidity. And not even multiple women hanging off his arm was making them move away from their observations. They were even catching on that all of those incidents were done on purpose.

He needed to do something fresh, something new, something that would completely overshadow the skeptics who were casting doubt on his facade.

But what?

"How about hiring someone to write up a scandal?" Jason recommended it over dinner. In front of him, he had a manuscript. For the first time, he was going to audition for the lead role in his school plan. Bruce just knows his Jaylad will blow the rest of the computation away. "You can have a writer who thinks you're trying to make some weird mystery party or something."

"It would never work. They would notice I used things I asked them to write as personal scandals. But thank you for the idea, Jaylad." Bruce beams at his son.

"Well...what if you hired someone trustworthy? Like Clark?" Jason counters, but Bruce is already shaking his head.

"Clark specializes in journalism, not public relationships. Besides, his full-time job doesn't give him time to type me up some scandal-"

"I have a guy," Alfred offers as he places an extra plate in front of Jason. At their bafflement, he gives them a secretive smile, much like the kind that would curve on a snake if it had the ability to do so. "He is trustworthy. I have his soul tied in a contact. He wouldn't be able to blab once I command it."

Jason slowly put down his fork. "I-

But Alfred was already moving away, waving a hand over his shoulder. "I'll ring the gent right now. He's your age, Master Bruce, which will mean you can make a new friend."

"Does he really have a soul?" Jason gasps as Alfred vanishes into the manor. Alfred's tiny face is white, which would have been hilarious if it was a white lie. The trouble is, Bruce isn't entirely sure Alfred is lying.

Not that he could tell Jay that. The poor thing was barely getting comfortable in the manor lately. If the boy thought the butler could steal souls, it was back to square one of earning his trust.

"No, no, no, Alfred was joking. He's likely calling someone he trusts-"

A boom bursts across the dining hall as a glowing green portal rips open and out steps a man close to Alfred's age in a purple coat. He's carrying a suitcase and has a typewriter tucked under his arm. A scarf is wrapped around his neck, where Bruce's eyes finally notice the odd grey tint to the man's skin.

He's obviously not human.

"Hello," the stranger sighs after running his green eyes around the room. My name is Ghostwriter, and Alfred Pennyworth commanded me to be your scandal writer. I brought along an assistant who will be playing the second part of all of the situations. This is Danny Phantom; he'll play your secret gay lover."

"Hi!" says a man around Bruce's age to the Ghostwriter's side, a little too cheerfully. He's not human either, as he's glowing like a lightbulb was placed under his skin. His hair was pure white, which also seemed to be glowing in a different shade, and his eyes were a color that was not humanly possible.

He also flouted while the writer stood in place. "Alfred owns my soul as well, but unlike Ghostwriter here, I didn't lose it to him in stripper poker."

"That man counts cards!" Ghostwriter snaps

Jason stood up from his seat, hands held up. "This a lot. I have a play to practice for. Figure it out, B."

His son grabs his manuscript, bows his head a little toward the guests, and scurries right out of the dining hall, leaving Bruce to his fate. Alfred pats Jason's head lovingly as he smiles and passes him through the door. "Oh good, you meet your ghostly pr and secret gay lover. We have a real show stopper with these two, Master Bruce."

You know, Bruce had a good run with the whole Batman thing. Maybe it was time to retire.

"Let's get down to business. What have you written so far, Ghostwriter.?" Inquires Alfred. He makes that satisfied snake smile when the writer glares at him with utter loathing before the man rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers.

In front of Bruce, a pile of papers appears covered in writing. He grabs them out of the air only because it floating dangerously close to his nose.

"I think the best course of action is to play up the fact that Bruce has a secret, then leak some photos of Danny in suggestive poses. You drop on in Wayne Tower's lobby after we allow the rumors to fester with paparazzi." The writer explains, waving his hand to his assistant, who seems too amused by what is being suggested.

"As Phantom or Fenton?" Danny asks to Bruce's confusion.

"Fenton. We want a scandal, not a diplomatic emergency." Ghostwriter scoffs.

Bruce's face screwed up. "What do you mean diplomatic emergency? How so?"

"Oh, I'm the Ghost King," Danny reveals casually as if those words meant anything to Bruce. "If word got back to the ghosts that I was fooling around with a human without the intent to make him my consort, well, things would get dicey."

Alfred's smile turned a tad bit darker. "We wouldn't want that."

Danny's face froze for a few seconds. He stared at Alfred with what could be considered terror and...attraction? He then smiled as softly as a flower. "No, we would not."

Ghostwriter flings himself into the chair next to Bruce. He grabs the meatloaf off of his plate with his bare hands, taking a bite with a sigh. "Don't worry, I've seen this story a thousand times. He may think Alfred is a silver fox, but by the end of it, Danny will be yours."

"What?"

[petalbcrnes]

ㅤ۟ㅤㅤ──ㅤ𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓ㅤ۫ㅤ ͏ㅤ𑜞᭄ ㅤ۪ㅤ⊹ㅤ𓈒

🧷 𑁯 𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐘 ── 𝓙𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃 w/ an 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ! reader ഒ

♡ · REQUEST ── ❝ Could I pretty please request a fic thats Jason Todd X reader!!! But like... Reader is THAT girl . . . She has and always will be the shit of Gotham . . . Jason and reader have been friends since his robin dayz, and after he dies they still get back together and resume their bad bitch couple shit . . . it melts ppls hearts. ❞

⊹ 💬 · these reqs are so fun i love writing jaybeans and reader totally in love and being the hottest people in the room <3

ഒ DIRECTORY⠀;⠀RULES⠀;⠀TALK HERE⠀;⠀HEADCANONS

Jason thinks he knows what sanctuary feels like—heaven built brick by brick by the hands of an angel he once knew before the waves of the Lazarus Pit covered him completely. It changed his young skin into something marred.

He did come back. He clawed his way out of his grave. But he came back wrong. He left something of the boy he used to be under that dirt. The name ‘Jason Todd’ etched upon that gravestone was long forgotten by most.

By most. Not all.

There had been white lilies upon his grave. It was like clockwork. Every month She came to him—or where She thought he rested. He watched from afar. His eyes never left the angel he used to know—his sanctuary.

She had grown up into something otherworldly. She wasn’t the girl he used to see during the Galas Bruce dragged him to, clinging to her parents as if everyone else around her scared her. Her glossy eyed stare had found him then. It had been so easy to attach himself to Her.

She was his friend. Is still now by the look of it. She never stopped visiting with those White Lilies, grieving losing something as if he was something She held dear.

She’s something different now. The girl She was still lingered behind those sharp eyes—hypnotizing to a fault—eyes that used to trap him in their hold and still continue to do so to this day.

She walks with a purpose now. Every step is calculated. People in Gotham City worship or curse the ground She walks on. It doesn’t change the fact everyone knows Her. Everyone notices Her.

She shines the brightest in this whole damned city.

He had wished She could shine upon him as well. He took his chance. Like a dog scratching at its owner’s door, begging to be let in—he caved and ran to the only sanctuary he’d known—Her.

She opened the door.

It was a dark night when he visited Her. The alabaster moon’s light was akin to a halo around Her. Her hair was perfectly imperfect—styled but slightly messy from sleeping. Her skin just as alive as he remembered it.

Her eyes still looked at him as if She loved his own sea-green eyes. Her hands now slender and soft—different from the calloused hands of his—still tender as they grazed his face, testing if he was real. As if this was a dream for Her, as if She dreamed of him.

The way She brought him into Her hold felt like a dream. The way She let him wrap his arms around her felt like a dream.

He’d entered the sanctuary again after that night alongside Her. Or maybe, the sanctuary was always just Her.

Next to Her he felt alive. The boy Jason Todd came alive under Her touch. It felt akin to lightning under his fingertips. It felt like a drug he was getting addicted to.

She was his. He was Hers.

The wide-eyed stares the two of them got was ever so worth it. Gotham City’s angel had brought heaven to the devil. Her hands played the entire Gotham elite like an instrument. She was Gotham City’s crowned princess, and him—the prince.

The media was alive with rumors about the two of them.

‘Is Love Real? Jason Todd's Soft Eyes™ Only for Gotham's It Girl: Gotham gasps. Media combusts. Hearts melt.’

Jason wasn’t used to this kind of light.

Not from the moon, not from Her living room dimmed by candlelight, not from the soft flash of paparazzi bulbs trying to catch a glimpse of their joined silhouettes through the tinted windows of a passing car.

He wasn’t used to being seen like this.

Not as a weapon. Not as a story of resurrection gone wrong.

But as Hers.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

There's something about the way She walks beside him. Like Gotham belongs to Her and She’s just letting everyone else borrow the sidewalk.

Jason doesn’t flinch under the eyes anymore. He used to. Used to brace himself for whispers or stares, expecting judgment or recognition or worse.

But now—now the stares are different.

They’re envious.

Jason said, “You wanna ditch this place?” His voice carried the weight of a man who’d learned the value of simple pleasures after tasting both death and resurrection.

She turned to him, eyes gleaming like She knew every life he'd lived—and said, “Yeah. But I'm driving.” The words simple but carrying universes between them.

He’d never loved a voice more in his life.

The next morning, tabloids were in flames.

‘Gotham's Golden Girl and the Reformed Robin.’

A grainy photo of them in a booth at some dive on the east end—Her in his leather jacket, him smiling like he forgot how to scowl, like happiness wasn’t just something that happened to other people.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Tim said, “So, this is a thing now?” His voice cutting through the manor’s morning quiet like a curious bird.

Jason shrugged, sipping coffee in the manor kitchen like he didn’t just spend the night wrapped in silk sheets and Her perfume, like dawn hadn’t broken over his skin with Her breath against his neck. “Guess it is.”

“Since when?”

“Since she opened the damn door.” And with those words, heaven had let him back in.

Dick walked in, caught sight of the look on Jason's face and went, “Oh my god, he's in love.” The words hanging in the air like a revelation.

That’s when Roy burst in through the back entrance, wild-haired and sleep-deprived, clearly running off three hours of rest and one Red Bull, a whirlwind of motion and disbelief.

“I just saw the photo, and I swear to God, tell me it's Photoshop.”

Jason blinked. “Morning to you too, Harper.”

Roy stormed into the kitchen, phone in hand, showing the now-viral tabloid shot of Her sitting on Jason’s motorcycle in a black leather mini-dress and his jacket like she was the poster girl for ‘my boyfriend’s a reformed vigilante and I run this city.’

“This. This is real?! You and her?!”

Jason didn't even look. “Yeah. Real.” In those two words, the certainty of a man who’d touched divinity and lived to tell about it.

Tim sipped his drink like this was better than reality television.

Dick leaned against the fridge, smirking. “He’s been soft for her since we were kids.”

Roy stared at all of them, processing, then slowly sat down at the kitchen island like his legs gave out. “No, I need a minute. I’m dizzy. Jason Todd has a goddess who voluntarily chooses to hang out with him?”

Jason raised a brow. “You good?”

“No! I am not good!” Roy pointed dramatically. “You’re hot in a feral, ‘I fought my way out of hell’ kinda way. She’s hot in a ‘Vogue cover and private yacht in Monaco’ kinda way. That math doesn't math.”

“Sounds like jealousy to me.” Jason just grinned like the devil himself got a second chance at heaven.

© petalbcrnes | all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are not allowed to be reposted, translated, or modified. viewer discretion is advised.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: In The Serpent's Den.

Pairing: Yandere!Suguru x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 4.7k.

TW: Non/Con, Hybrid AU, AFAB!Reader, Cobra!Suguru, Rabbit!Reader, Biting, Aphrodisiacs, Heat Cycles, Oviposition, Manipulation, Biting, Breeding Kinks, and Predator/Prey Dynamics.

“It’s time to come out, little rabbit.”

 His tone was sickly sweet, lulled into something saccharine and tempting, only slightly distorted by the uncommon shape of his tongue. Despite his melodic coaxing, you curled further into yourself – pulling your thighs flush to your chest and burying your knees in your face, doing your best not to breathe, not to cry, not to make a sound. The temptation to uncurl yourself entirely and run, run, run until you found somewhere small and dark and safe gnawed on the back of your mind, but it never would’ve worked. You were in Suguru’s enclosure, Suguru’s territory, and there was nowhere to run where he wouldn’t be able to follow.

“I’m losing my patience, little rabbit. If you come out now, I promise I’ll try to hold myself back.”

Why was he even looking for you? It’d been weeks since his eccentric, white-haired owner forced you into the sprawling greenhouse that made up Suguru’s enclosure, and he’d never paid you a second glance. You did your best to avoid him, to make sure you never crossed his path while he was prowling for a meal. You could count the number of times he’d acknowledged you on a single hand, and he’d never so much as lunged at you. You couldn’t imagine why he’d decided you’d make a good meal now, after weeks of relatively peaceful cohabitation. Maybe he’d gotten tired of keeping you around, of having to share his territory with another hybrid – one so far below him on the food chain. Maybe, this was just the first time he’d gotten hungry enough to hunt you down.

You heard branches shift, twigs break, and instantly, all of your thoughts (rational and otherwise) were replaced with a frantic, buzzing static. “You’re only making this worse for yourself,” Suguru went on, and his voice was too loud, too close. You’d tucked yourself into the densest patch of foliage you could find, but your white ears and cottony tail stood out like blood on snow against the vivid greens and blacks of the flora. Suddenly, trying to hide at all felt stupid. Rabbits weren’t supposed to hide. Rabbits were supposed to die and get eaten by the big, mean snakes who preyed on them. “I’m going to find you, and when I do, you’re only going to be sorry you made me wait as long as I have.”

You could hear the dull drag of scales moving over rough stone, the ebbing ‘hiss’ that formed a slight lisp at the end of each sentence. You raised your head just far enough to see a large, black shape move in front of you, and something buried deep inside of you cracked and spilled open.

Running wasn’t a choice – it was the only option. You were on your feet in a second, sprinting deeper into the greenhouse in another. The direction didn’t matter. As long as you got away from him, nothing else mattered.

Blindly, you vaulted over fallen branches and overgrown roots, rotting leaf litter threatening to steal your balance as you veered away from the beaten path and threw yourself into the tangled wilderness. If Suguru was chasing you, you couldn’t hear him – the world little more than a blur of color and your own racing pulse. You just needed to find somewhere better to hide, somewhere he’d forgotten. A tunnel, or a tree hollow, or a cave dark enough to hide your snowy pelt from prying eyes. You just needed to—

 Your trek came to an abrupt end as your collided with a pane of thick, emerald-tinted glass and were sent crashing to the ground. It took you a second to process what you’d run into – the wall of the greenhouse, the edge of Suguru’s enclosure – and another to remember that you weren’t in the wilderness, anymore, that you wouldn’t find a tunnel or a cave or anywhere else to hide that hadn’t been created deliberately to trick animals like you into to think they were safe. You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so desperate. You might’ve gone looking for Suguru yourself, if you hadn’t been too scared to remember what it meant to be caged.

Fighting back tears, you started to scramble onto your feet, but it was already too late. There was no sound, no warning, just a sudden pressure against your back and an agonizing pain burrowed into the side of your throat. His fangs were planted in your neck before you could so much as scream, his strong tail wrapped around your legs and his arms crossed over your midriff, keeping your body locked against his as he pinned you to the ground. You expected his venom to burn, to be able to feel death as it flooded into your veins, but instead, there was only a slight numbing sensation around the point of insertion, a distant fog over your senses that might’ve just been your own fading adrenaline. If anything, you felt…

You felt warm.

Suguru took his time pulling away, his ribbon-like tongue flickering over the skin of your throat before he lifted his head. You weren’t facing him, one of your cheeks pressed into the dirt, but you could just barely see him out of the corner of your eye, make out the dark hair tucked behind his shoulders, the pitch-black scales littered over his face, his chest. You knew he was a snake, but you thought you might’ve heard his owner call him something else, once or twice. A ‘cobra’, maybe, but you’d never met a cobra before. You felt safer thinking of him as a snake.

He opened his mouth, but you were already babbling. Trying not to cry had been useless. Tears poured down your cheeks unabashedly, blurring your vision and making it that much harder to spit something coherent out. “P-please don’t eat me – I’m really small for a rabbit, and I promise I won’t taste very good, and I—”

“Quiet, little rabbit.” You’d been wrong, before. You didn’t feel warm, no, you felt hot – something deep inside of you beginning to smolder at the sound of his voice. Immediately, you shut your mouth, and he rewarded you with a raspy chuckle. “You thought I was going to… to eat you?” You nodded stiltedly, and he went on. “Ah, no wonder you were so afraid. And here I thought my timid little bunny just didn’t like me very much.”

“…’m sorry.” You must’ve run farther than you realized. A few minutes of sprinting shouldn’t have left you this breathless, this dazed. “You… You aren’t going to eat me?”

“No, bunny. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“But, you bit—”

“I gave you a present.” Another dry chuckle, his tongue flitting over the back of your neck. “Just a little something to make sure you wouldn’t be so shy. You should already be feeling better.”

You weren’t sure that you felt better, but you didn’t feel scared, either. A different feeling had taken the place of your fear – the sensation viscous and churning and prone sending pangs of dull, burning pain to the pit of your stomach. You had to make a conscious effort to move your lips, and even then, it was hard to get any sound past your suddenly dry throat. Suguru waited patiently, seemingly more than happy to watch you stumble over your own tongue. “It’s really warm,” you managed, eventually. “I think I might be… tired?”

“Oh, of course. I forgot how easy it is for prey animals to wear themselves out. I’ll take you back to my nest, where you’ll be able to rest safely.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded eagerly. Safe. You wanted to be safe. You couldn’t remember what you needed to be safe from anymore, though.

He uncurled, but didn’t pull away from you. Rather, your smaller body was pulled against his broad chest as he took you in his arms and carried you through the greenhouse. His destination was a raised loft – set above the wild foliage of his enclosure, accessible only by a sparsely wrung ladder you never would’ve had a hope of climbing on your own. His nest wasn’t at all like a rabbit’s nest, either. Rather than a deep, dark tunnel padded with fur and leaves, he’d taken you to a mess of tangled roots and woven blankets, all piled onto one another to form a box-like bed. Your form, limper than you would’ve liked it to be, was laid on a relatively soft patch, and Suguru positioned himself above you; upper body supported by his forearms, his never-ending tail taking up whatever space you left unoccupied. You wanted to sleep, to do what he said you should, but he was still touching you – dragging a single, clawed finger down your chest and over your midriff, only pausing at your waist to draw slow, swirling patterns into your hip. “My venom has a unique side-effect, you know,” he muttered, his voice low and soothing, the tapered tip of his tail lashing from side to side as he spoke. “A full dose would be fatal. It’d be fast, too – a few seconds of screaming, a few seconds of twitching, and then—” He paused, clicked his tongue. “—dead, just like that. It’s a little anti-climactic, to be honest.”

Something deep inside of you began to throb. You shrunk into yourself, trying to relieve the pulsing ache, but Suguru mistook your agony for fear. “In controlled portions,” he continued, splaying his open palm over your hip. “The symptoms are much more pronounced. Humans tend to get all feverish and clumsy, but hybrids—”

Again, he paused. His hand drifted lower – first to your thigh, then your cunt. You didn’t realize you were dripping until his cold fingertips skirted over your slit, gathering up the slick already staining the inside of your thighs.

“Hybrids go into heat.”

A cold wave of dread washed over you, and Suguru’s smile widened.

“…heat?”

“Heat, little rabbit.”

His hand lingered on your pussy, two of his massive fingers splitting apart your lips and making room for his tongue to lap gingerly over your entrance. The sensation was strange – not good and not bad, a little ticklish – but your hips bucked as it flickered over your clit. You knew better than to get so close to a snake’s mouth, but you couldn’t seem to move, to think about anything but getting closer, closer to anything that could touch and poke and lick you. “Is heat—” You started, only to be cut off by a cracked whimper as the throbbing in your core intensified. “Is it supposed to hurt?”

“Only for a while.” His deep voice reverberated against your cunt, and you couldn’t stop yourself; attempting to rock your hips against his mouth with a high-pitched whine. It was embarrassing to be so needy, so desperate, but Suguru didn’t seem to mind, only ghosting his lips over the inside of your thigh as he pushed you back down. “But, you’ll need a mate to help you through it. Do you want a mate?”

“Y-Yes! Mate!” You’d never felt this empty, before. It was a little like hunger, but not as jagged, not as desolate. It was more of an absence than anything more tangible; a total and complete vacancy that had to be filled. You tried to roll onto your stomach, to scramble onto your hands and knees and present yourself, but Suguru held you in place with minimal effort. Your protest came in the form of a drawn-out whine, a waving sound Suguru mocked with a low coo and an airy laugh. “Please, please, it hurts, Suguru, I can’t— I need—”

“You need cock,” he finished, his tone one of pure, undeniable satisfaction. With a sigh, he picked himself up, straightening his back and towering above you. You felt saliva pool at the bottom of your mouth as the junction between his upper body and his tail came into view – pale skin slowly giving way to ebony scales, the sculpted muscle of his chest meeting the plated armor below his hips. His hand fell away from you, but you couldn’t mourn the loss of contact, not when your attention was so fixated on the thin, almost invisible slit just below his pubic bone. His fingertips slipped shallowly inside of it, and his gaze shifted back to you. “Come, little bunny. I think you’ve earned another treat.”

The encouragement was appreciated, but unnecessary. You were already crawling towards him, your limbs uncooperative and your movements jolting but your resolve absolute. There was still a throbbing emptiness inside of you, getting worse and more demanding with each neglectful second, but all you could think about was settling onto your knees in front of Suguru and drooling at the sight of his fluttering slit. You weren’t sure what to do, whether to use your hands or your mouth, but Suguru didn’t leave much time for indecision. His free hand found its way to the back of your head, nudging you forward until your mouth was pressed against his slit, just starting to leak thick trails of translucent slick over his dark scales. Your tongue darted past your lips hesitantly, at first, but your trepidation didn’t last very long. It couldn’t, not when you had a hollow pit inside of you still begging to be filled.

Suguru’s fingers carded through your hair as you lapped and sucked at his slit. The taste was mildly acidic, but surprisingly sweet – your eyes quickly falling shut as you sank into a pattern of wet sounds and strange textures and point claws grazing over your scalp, scratching at your ears. Throaty moans (the loudest noise you would ever hear Suguru make, in hindsight) and mumbled praise trickled past his lips as you worked, letting you know that he liked the way you were curling your tongue, that the spongy spot you could just barely reach inside of him was particularly sensitive. It wasn’t long before a mix of your saliva and his arousal dripped past the corners of your mouth, before the end of his tail was lashing violently within the confines of his nest. Maybe Suguru was in heat, too. You hoped he was. You didn’t want to be the only one in so much pain.

You felt the tapered tip of something smooth and stiff against your tongue, and Suguru buckled forward, a ragged gasp tearing past his lips as he took your head in both hands and pressed you flush against his abdomen. Confused and panicked, you tried to pull away, but his grip was iron-clad and it was all you could do to whimper, to sit there helplessly while something filled your mouth – hard and ridged and hot enough to burn. Cock, the pulsing in your core filled in, but it couldn’t be. Suguru had made it sound like something you needed, something you were supposed to want, but you didn’t like the way the blunt head prodded at the back of your throat, the way the ridged underside ground against your tongue. For the first time since he’d caught you, your instincts agreed with your better judgement, both urging you to get away, to run, to put distance between yourself and this newfound threat.

Your pussy, though, couldn’t seem to do anything but chant mate, mate, mate.

You could feel something else, too – not in your mouth, but pressing into your chin, your throat. Reflexively, your hands shot up, wrapping around the thick intruder, and this time, Suguru let go of you entirely, biting back a half-choked groan as he pushed you away, leaving you sprawled out and alone in the center of his nest. The hollowness inside of you was nearly unbearable, and rubbing your thighs together only seemed to make it worse. You tried to look to Suguru, to ask him to do something, but instead, your eyes caught on the long, pale appendage pressed into his lower stomach. His cock. Or, his cocks, you guessed.

You hadn’t expected there to be two of them.

You hadn’t expected them to be so big, either. Even at a distance, it was clear they weren’t meant for a rabbit. Just one would’ve been more than you could handle – as long as your forearm, as thick as your wrist, the end tapered to a steep point but the base absolutely massive before they disappeared into his slit. The color was strange, too – the tip flushed a dull pink while the base was nearly as dark as his scales, creating an ombre that might’ve been pretty, if you weren’t so terrified. You couldn’t see any veins, but both were sculpted with pronounced, perfectly spaced ridges. You couldn’t imagine having something like that inside of you, but you couldn’t imagine not having anything inside of you, either.

You couldn’t be sure how long you spent staring up at him, trying to wrap your head around his size, trying to decide if you’d rather be torn apart by his cock or your own increasingly demanding needs. In the end, it wasn’t really your choice to make. His eyes darted from your clenched thighs to your heaving chest to yours, wide and watery, and a grin found its way back to his lips. For some reason, his smile wasn’t as comforting as it’d been, the first time you saw it. “I’m sorry, little rabbit. Did I startle you?” The tenderness in his voice was almost cloying. You didn’t move, didn’t respond, but he didn’t seem to need you to. “I didn’t mean to. Why don’t you spread your legs nice n’ wide for me, and I’ll make it up to you?”

Your gaze fell back to his cocks. One of his fists had wrapped around both, pumping idly while he stood above you. “Are those supposed to…?” You trailed off, shrinking into yourself. Suguru hummed, and you took it as confirmation. “But you’ll only use one, right? I don’t think I can— I mean, it won’t fit if you—”

“Really? I could’ve sworn you were begging to be fucked properly just a few minutes ago.” You stiffened, but he only laughed. “Fine, fine. If that’s what you think you want, I’ll only use one.”

You didn’t think you could trust him, but you could feel yourself getting hot, again, a haze forming over your mind. You could leave when he was finished, you figured, even if you weren’t entirely sure how to get out of his nest, or where to go once you’d escaped back into the greenhouse. After you got over your— your heat.

Hesitantly, you started to listen to the negging mantra still playing in the back of your mind, to obey the near-deafening voice in the back of your head urging you to get on your hands and knees and make him fuck you, but Suguru must’ve decided you weren’t moving fast enough. His tail shifted underneath you, a thick coil catching your side and leaving you bent over one of the thicker lengths, your stomach pressed into his cool scales and your feet barely able to reach the tangled roots of his nest. You scrambled for purchase, but Suguru was there to steady you – his hands finding your hips, his cocks pressing into your ass. The calloused pads of his fingertips pressed into your waist as he aligned one of his cocks – the upper one, you thought, just a little thicker than its twin – with your entrance. He was kind enough to give you a long, slow second to breathe before his hips rutted forward and he inside of you.

Immediately, it felt wrong.

You’d been right when you decided he was too big for you. He was only half-sheathed, and yet, the tip of his cock pressed into the floor of your cervix, the head of his cock alone enough to stretch your pussy as far as it could go. Thankfully, he didn’t try to force himself deeper, but feeling the smooth ridges of rub against the walls of your pussy as he pulled back wasn’t much better. Still, your cunt clenched around him eagerly, doing its best to suck him in despite your physical limitations. Suguru, of course, seemed more than happy to indulge you. His thrusts were slow and lethargic, as gentle as they could’ve been but still forceful enough to leave you pinned to the curve of his tail. You weren’t in control of your body, anymore. As he rolled his hips against your ass, you ground back against him, your greedy cunt never warm enough, never wet enough, never full enough. You tried to dig your blunt claws into his tail, to ground yourself, but it was a futile effort; a limping dear attempting to evade a wolf who’d already tasted its blood. Suguru’s only response was a stifled groan, a new roughness to the way he fucked into you. You felt his chest against your back as he bent at the waist, draping himself over you, his dark hair falling from his shoulder and replacing chunks of your vision with a curtain of thick, endless black. It didn’t matter. A fresh wave of tears would’ve left you just as helpless, not that Suguru seemed to mind the way you sniffled and sobbed between moans.

“They say— fuck, you know what they say about rabbits, don’t you, bunny?” His voice was barely audible, but it seemed to echo on and on and on in your overly sensitive ears. His cock ground against something softened and vulnerable inside of you and your back arched, your pussy clenching impossibly tighter around him. “That’s it,” Suguru encouraged, as you tried to pry yourself away from his freezing tail and chase the gentle warmth of his chest. “They say bunnies make the best sluts. Knock them up once, and they’ll never stop begging for it.”

Kits. A strong mate. A safe nest. The thought alone had you crying out for nothing, your convulsions growing that much more erratic, and Suguru chuckled in-turn. “Like that? Want me to make you into my little mate-whore?”

“Want it, please, w-want it so bad.” It was all you could do to force yourself to speak, to spit something out through the daze of lust and exhaustion and total, unrelenting fullness. You’d never been more sure of anything than you were in that moment, never knew something as deeply as you knew that you wanted Suguru’s kits inside of you. “Please, wanna be you mate, wanna—Suguru—!”

One more thrust, one more scape of his sleek scales against your clit, and you were coming undone around his cock in jolting, erratic convulsions. Suguru let out a ragged grunt and straightened his back, but the distance was short-lived. Strong arms snaked under your knees, spreading your legs and hauling you up to his height. Your back remained pressed against his chest as he pulled out of you entirely and slammed back in. Even through the overstimulation, the wrongness hit you immediately. His cock was too big, too thick, and—

And he was inside of you.

Completely inside of you.

You forced yourself to open your eyes, letting your head fall forward limply. The shock was minimal, but still devastating – both of Suguru’s cocks buried inside of you to their pitch-black bases, their outlines just barely visible against the plush flesh of your lower stomach. “You—You promised you wouldn’t—”

His face was buried in the dip of your shoulder, his lips parted as panted against you. You felt his teeth catch on your skin before sinking into you, had time to process the pure heat of his venom seeping into your veins. Instantly, anything you might’ve said died on your tongue, your mind going utterly, entirely blank save for a single thought: mate.

Your mouth fell open, your thighs spreading that much farther. Suguru pressed a lingering, open-mouthed kiss into the injection site, then pulled away, grinning wildly. “A few drops, and you’ll want everything I have to give you,” he muttered. “That’s better, isn’t it, bunny?”

Much better. You could feel something swelling at the base of his cock, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge anything other than the utter bliss as a small, round shape was milked up the length of his cock and emptied into your core. Kits, you thought, and did your best to settle onto his twin cocks, to hold still as another egg was forced through your tight pussy. You stopped trying to count after the fourth – giving in completely to the shuddering, splintering euphoria every new member of your little family brought you. By the time the final egg was safe and snug inside of you, you were limp, twitching, and so full, it was hard to imagine ever feeling empty again.

As the last aftershocks started to fade, Suguru sucked in a stilted gasp and pulled you flush against his chest. You felt his second cock twitch once, then twice inside of you before something warm and thick flooded into your pussy. You whined miserably as he pulled out of you, but he didn’t stay gone for very long. Your pliable body was turned around in his arms, his cocks slid back into your leaking cunt as he carefully lowered himself onto the floor of his nest – your body laid on top of his. You strung your arms around his neck and pressed yourself against his chest, closing your eyes and giving in to your well-earned exhaustion.

You lasted just long enough to hear him mutter something about mates and clutches before your consciousness faded entirely and your mind went mercifully, blissfully silent.

~

Hours later, you woke up to the sound of a low, long whistle. “Really did a number on the poor thing, huh, Suguru?”

It took you a second to blink your eyes open, to raise your head and glance toward the man standing at the top of the ladder that led to Suguru’s nest, and another to recognize him as Suguru’s owner. His white hair was in a state of disarray, his eyes hidden behind circles of tinted glass, and for some reason, he was looking at you. You shrunk further into Suguru, but he only laughed – the noise loud and piercing to your foggy senses.

Suguru’s cocks were no longer inside of you, the flushed tips just barely visible at the base of his slit. You were still on his chest, and his arms were wrapped around your waist, his hold loose but possessive. There was a small bump over your lower stomach, and you weren’t sure whether to grimace or beam at the feeling of Suguru’s eggs shifting inside of you with every little movement. He was already awake – had been for some time, judging by the unimpressed scowl pressed into his lips. Something sharp and icy lodged itself into your chest, but his glare was directed towards his owner, not you, and the very tip of his tail curled around your ankle protectively as his owner stepped into his nest.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to walk into a serpent’s den?”

“I don’t think it counts if I own the den.” He straddled the bulk of Suguru’s tail, then gestured to you. “Turn the pretty baby around. I wanna see the damage.”

You shook your head vehemently, clinging to Suguru’s neck, but his own response was an exasperated sigh, a fleeting hiss to your cheek as he flipped you over; leaving you slayed across his chest and exposed to his owner’s prying gaze. “Five minutes,” he said, as his owner shrugged the waistband of his pants down just far enough to free his cock, already half-hard, already enough to send a bolt of pure dread from your heart to the pit of your stomach. “I don’t want your scent on my mate.”

You opened your mouth, ready to whine that you were sore, that you were tired, that you didn’t want anyone but Suguru and your kits inside of you, but the words withered into nothing on your tongue as his owner eased himself into your dripping pussy, as Suguru caught you by the chin and pulled you into a shallow, lingering kiss – the points of his fangs just barely scraping over your bottom lip. Looking back on it, it had been silly to ever worry that he’d eat you.

You should’ve been worried that he wouldn’t.