#I still think I have to get better at drawing his features!

[leighsartworks216]

Sleepy Kitty

Sylus x gn!Reader

What if you became the cat and also got that sleepy cat feature with the service?? Think about it

Warnings: fluff, silly, cat ears and tail, cuddling, panic, some sort of a relationship going on, Xavier cameo

Word Count: 1,672

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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Your heart can’t sit still, torn between aching and frantically racing in a frenzied panic. Every time you look into the mirror, you start freaking out. You had to call in sick this morning with a poor excuse, cancel all your plans for today and tomorrow, and try to figure out a solution to your problem:

You are a cat.

Well, you have the ears and tail, at least. At first, you can’t believe it. But sure enough, they’re real. Real and not disappearing.

You tug desperately at the fluffy ears, yanking on them, praying they’ll just disappear in a poof of smoke like it never happened. Instead, all you get is pain that has you scrunching up your face as you keep pulling on them, begging for this nightmare to end.

“Oh, sweetie.”

You yelp, diving into the blankets of your bed. “Go away! Don’t look at me!” You hide in the warm darkness, keeping the blankets held down tight over your head so they can’t be pulled off.

Sylus’s sigh is muffled as he crosses from your bedroom’s doorway to your bed. The mattress sinks down with his weight. “This is why you cancelled our plans today?”

You stubbornly don’t answer.

“Sweetie, ignoring me isn’t going to make me leave faster. Talk to me.”

“I’m fine, just go away,” you insist.

“You really need to get better at lying.”

He grabs your tail as it flicks out from under the blanket. You have to release the blankets to grab it back from him, and he uses that opportunity to uncover you entirely. The jig is up, but you refuse to turn and face him. Your new cat ears lay flat on your head. Even in your hold, your tail is flicking with irritation.

He reaches out to touch the cute ears you despise so much, but you swat his hand away at the first brush. He can’t help his amusement - you really are a kitten.

“Stop laughing! It’s not funny!”

“Of course not,” he agrees, but the sincerity is obscured by his chuckle petering out. “Now, are you going to tell me what happened?”

You heave a long sigh. It hitches at the end as reality starts to crash down on you once more. “I don’t know. I mean, I just woke up this morning and,” you release your tail in favor of grabbing the fluffy tips of the cat ears, drawing them down on your head painfully, “these were here. And now they won’t go away!”

“Stop that,” he chastises you. He takes your hands, freeing the ears from your cruelty. His long fingers intertwine with yours as he wraps his arms around you, making you hug yourself at the same time, and drawing you into his lap. “We’ll figure it out.”

You give in, slowly relaxing back into his broad chest and the warmth he radiates. Your tail taps rhythmically against his leg as it swishes back and forth over your bedsheets.“What if we don’t? What if I’m stuck like this forever?”

He kisses your head. Your ears stand up and brush his cheeks. He tries not to chuckle at how plainly your emotions have been laid bare. “We can worry about that later, after we’ve exhausted all possibilities. Deal?”

“... Deal.”

-

It is now mid-day. The sun is shining bright, the rest of the day is still to come, and you are sleepy. The kind of sleepy that makes you feel heavy and sluggish; that makes a big blanket sound like utter heaven.

Sylus is tired, too. His exhaustion, however, comes from staying up far past his usual bedtime. He’s much better at hiding it. Meanwhile, you’re yawning every other minute, rubbing your eyes, leaning against him whenever you’re at a standstill. For those last several minutes, he’s been leading you back to his car. You don’t realize what’s going on until he’s already driving.

“Mm, where are we going?” You frown out of the passenger side window. It doesn’t take long before your head is resting against the glass, cushioned by the beanie from your closet meant to hide the cat ears.

“Back to your place.”

“What for?”

He shoots you an amused grin. “It’s bedtime, kitten. We both need a nap.”

“Huh? No, wait, I’m fine!” You sit up straighter, crossing your arms and staring determinedly out the windshield. “I’m up, see? We can keep going.”

“Fine. I’ll take a nap and you can watch.”

The drive is quiet. The expensive car blocks out most of the noise outside. The radio is off, but the AC hums as it blows warm air. Sylus glances over frequently, watching as you slowly, slowly sink deeper into the heated leather seat. Your head rests awkwardly on your shoulder as you blearily glare at the passing buildings. The next time he looks over, your eyes are closed.

He pulls into the parking lot with ease. You don’t show any signs of waking up as he kills the ignition. Honestly, he’s glad for it. The entire time you’ve been trying to piece together the mystery, you kept working yourself up into a panic. Any more of that, you would make yourself sick from stress.

He rounds the car and carefully opens your door. In between unbuckling you and lifting you into his arms, he can’t help admiring you. The beanie is crooked, there’s bags under your eyes, and he’s never seen anything more beautiful than you right now.

The apartment building is very nice, especially with your finances. He nudges the elevator call button with his elbow and waits for it to come down. The silver doors open to reveal a blonde man in a white hoodie. Instead of getting out, the man keeps the doors from closing, watching him with sharp blue eyes as he steps in.

“What happened to them?”

Sylus puts on an easygoing grin. “They aren’t feeling well today. Don’t worry, they’re in good hands.” He nudges the button for your floor and quirks a brow at the man. “This not your stop?”

The man lets go of the doors, standing opposite from Sylus with his arms crossed and staring him down. “I’m just making sure they get home okay.”

With the slightest of shrugs, Sylus looks straight ahead, seemingly ignoring the man as the doors close and the elevator starts to move. The tension in the small space is heavy; it extends to every corner and between the little numbered buttons. Neither of them do anything to dissipate it.

When the door opens again, it’s like the pressure it released. The air in the hall completely overwhelms the distrust in the tiny elevator. It doesn’t disappear entirely, but it’s easier to breathe out here than in there.

The blonde man follows behind as Sylus carries you to your apartment door. He thinks you’ve told him about this coworker of yours before; you go out on missions together often. Funny - of all the times you’ve mentioned him, you never said anything about him behaving like this.

Sylus slides your legs further up his arm to free his hand. The man stares at the knob as he places his thumb on the lock. When it beeps and lights up green, he seems to relax a little, so slight that it’s only due to Sylus’s lifestyle that he was able to pick it out.

He pushes open the door and turns back to the man. “Will that be all?”

Blue eyes stare down appraisingly. Sylus can’t shake the way it unsettles him deeply, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up and his body preparing to fight if the need arises. Some background checks into this guy are now a necessity with how close he works and lives to you.

But the man nods. “Tell them I hope they feel better soon.”

“Of course.”

And just like that, the man is heading back to the elevator with a lazy yawn. Sylus shuts the door. He sighs heavily, looking down at your peaceful face. “You’re lucky I had the liberty of putting my print in your system,” he says. “I don’t think he’d have reacted well if I teleported in here.”

Your apartment is exactly how you both left it this morning. He follows the familiar path to your bedroom, bedsheets rumpled and covered in clothes from when you tried finding an outfit that could hide your tail. He gestures vaguely with his hand. Red and black tendrils of energy gather the clothes and stack them elsewhere to deal with later. Another tendril pulls down the blankets for him.

Being careful not to disturb you, he lays you down on your bed. You look soft, delicate. Completely vulnerable, and yet sleeping undisturbed even as he looms over you. He pulls the blankets up over your body and slides the hat off your head. Your fluffy cat ears shift and twitch slightly from being exposed to the open air once more, before they relax.

He stands up to go to the couch, but something holds onto his arm. When he looks, your tail has slipped from under the covers and the clothing you used to hide it, just to hold onto him. It was soft. It really would only take the slightest effort to slip free from its grasp, but when he started to step away, you started to frown. With an amused chuckle, he opens the blankets again and nudges you aside, before climbing into the bed.

You reposition yourself to use his chest as your pillow, arms wrapped around him and legs tangling with his. Your tail slips from his arm to curl around his waist.

And then you start purring. He smiles. Tentatively, he pets your ear. It twitches at first, before relaxing into his touch. You nuzzle your face over his heart.

“Sleep tight, kitten,” he whispers. His hand continues to lazily pet you as he closes his eyes. Your purrs act like a soothing balm to his soul as sleep slowly takes hold.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc

[the-main-daine]

Life Series Character Renders:

Featuring Martyn, Mumbo and Pearl

(I actually have quite a lot to say about two of these this time.)

Martyn:

Human.... ish. Hear me out on this one:

So Martyn has this fascinating background lore to the Life Series called Watcher/Eyes and Ears Lore. I'm quietly obsessed with this.

I love watching his lore streams after every series, and have come up with a few theories on my own: His thumbnails are always fully illustrated, so his character has a canon 'look' for every season, which I think is just, deeply cool.

But in his lore, there's also this space between SMPs, where the Watchers kind of... hold people until they can be used again. And since Martyn is the protagonist of the very cool story he's writing, I got it in my head that in this space between, Martyn isn't QUITE human. Maybe he was at one point.

Maybe he never was, I don't know.

But alongside all the cracks and stuff that have started to show up on his body; there's seams along the joints, and light shining within, as he starts to become more befitting as a vessel.

A vessel for what? No idea. I probably won't be drawing all those seams in any fanart comics of the series themselves - I imagine they get covered up when he's sent out into the world to interact with others in various SMPs - but I thought the idea was too cool not to draw at least once.

As a past winner, he gets his crown, and the burning eye of Mars by his name.

Mumbo:

Vampire Mumbo!

I know he doesn't have the grey streak in his life series skin but I love it too much I'm keeping it forever.

It makes him look so much more threatening and serious than he is.

Poor Mumbo. I was really rooting for you buddy. Better luck next series!

At least he still does damage with those End Crystals.

Pearl:

A lunar moth

As a winner, she gets her crown, and she gets her moon.

I'm not going to lie I want that lunar moth hoodie more than anything.

I had a lot of fun with Pearl: Her skin design is so simple (Well, maybe not this season, but usually) that it leaves so much room to interpret it. She's always going around with dogs, making her wolfish would've been really easy, but I think Moth suits her more.

There's a lot of mythology with moths being a little off kilter, mad, or leading people to madness that I think fits with Pearl's tendency to be a little bit of a loose canon, wild and unpredictable. Like a moth's flight patterns.

Red Hood Pearl had to put in an appearance here, especially with how it's sort of creeping to overtake her in Wild Life this season, and she just gets so earnestly threatening when she's on a red life despite still being all smiles and all laughs.

Unlike Gem or Cleo, I think there's an edge to Pearlie Pop on red that just reminds me of a horror monster, in the best, best, best way.

I haven't figured out heights but she's also the tallest.

[gravehags]

dreadful need in the devotee - natalie edit

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x OC (Curator!OC)

Rating: Mature

Tags: drunkenness, soft copia, general aching sweetness, slight horniness

Words: 1,676

Summary: Taking shots from Terzo is probably a bad idea, right? The cardinal helps take care of her in the aftermath.

a/n: this is the first installment in what i'm calling the natalie edit - essentially all the fics under my curator reader series category reworked with the OC that developed in my head midway through writing this series - natalie sinclair. lmk what yall think.

~~~

He’s never seen her like this before.

Granted, she’s only been working at the abbey for almost five months so it’s not saying much, but he likes to think he knows her better than anyone else here. Over those five months she and him have become close, particularly after Imperator directed him to assist her in her quest to curate the abbey’s art collection. It’s a daunting task, but her enthusiasm for the subject was infectious, as was the bright grin that always graced her features whenever she made some new, exciting discovery. Before her, he barely interacted with anyone else apart from his fratelli and Sister Imperator, and her presence has felt like a refreshing rain storm after a long stretch of sweltering, oppressive loneliness. He’s invigorated by her and her anxious energy, as if she emanates some sort of force field that draws him in.

Perhaps drawing him in in more ways than one.

Copia shakes off the thought and sets down his glass of chianti, returning his attention to what she is currently occupied with. Terzo has just passed her a shot of something dangerous Copia suspects comes from the Ministry’s own stills and she, having completely shaken off her mantle of shyness, accepts with aplomb. Copia winces as she downs the concoction, mirroring the slight gagging motion she makes. He knows the stuff all too well, thanks to Terzo in their youth. Secondo roars with laughter behind him, two siblings clinging to his sides, while Primo sits in the corner smiling and shaking his head. She performs a deep, if wobbly, curtsy, an electric grin twisting her flushed cheeks. When Terzo pulls her in for an intimate side hug to murmur something in her ear as siblings around her laugh and cheer, a bubble of jealousy surfaces in Copia’s belly. Whatever Terzo says to her makes her blush deeper and roll her eyes, shoving him away as he laughs jovially.

What he wouldn’t give to make her blush like that for him.

Copia, mood slightly soured, turns to leave the area when in an instant, she is by his side.

“Cardinale,” she says, swaying slightly towards him with bright eyes. “Are you leaving?”

He reaches backwards to a bookshelf where he had placed his biretta and favors her with a soft, apologetic smile.

“Eh, sì. I think it’s time.”

For a moment she looks devastated, then in a moment of panicked clarity, she places a hand on his arm.

“Me too,” she whispers conspiratorially. “Please get me out of here before Terzo gives me another one of those shots, that shit almost killed me.”

Her hushed confession makes him chuckle and before he can respond, she’s ushering him out of the room with her hand on the small of his back, making the tips of his ears turn pink. Once the both of them finally escape out the door and down the hall, she lets out a dramatic heaving sigh and collapses against the cool stone wall.

“Cardinal,” she says, eyes focused on something over his shoulder.

“Sì, cara mia?” He chances the endearment he’s been dying to gift upon her from the moment they met.

She refocuses back on him at his words and oh, the way her cheeks flush all the way across her chest. Take that, Terzo, Copia thinks triumphantly.

“Take me back to my rooms? I…don’t think I can find my way.”

He grins slightly and nods as she links her arm with his and he guides her further down the hall. The journey up several flights of stairs and down several more hallways is quiet, punctuated by the occasional loud hiccup from the brunette on his arm. He knows that silence from her all too well now - she’s contemplating something. She absentmindedly rubs at the red wool of his sleeve with her thumb and more than once, she leans into him as if she’s about to say something.

But she remains silent.

When they arrive at her rooms, she lets out a dramatic sigh and turns to him with a pout.

“Help me,” she whines, gripping his sleeves and dragging him towards the door.

“Sì, sì, I will help you. Ah…keys?”

She fumbles around with the small jeweled crossbody bag she brought to the party, doing a concerning amount of rummaging for such a small capacity item. Finally she emerges triumphant, presenting her room keys to him with a flourish. Delicately, he removes them from the tangle of her fingers and opens the door. She pushes past him only slightly in her eagerness to be inside the comfort of her own rooms, and the first thing she does is remove the heels she’s worn for the evening, violently flinging them across the room. He winces as he hears something crash and fall.

“I was not built for that shit,” she grouses, now stomping barefoot into the center of the room, where she stands and sways for several minutes.

“Eh, bed?” Copia provides helpfully, gesturing to the closed door on his right.

“Damn straight,” she announces, stumbling slightly over to the door and opening it.

Copia’s been in her quarters before. After checking in on her one night and finding her crying and homesick, she had let him in and the two of them bonded on her couch about the inherent loneliness of the abbey. That was the first time she had hugged him, a deep crushing thing filled with so much emotion it nearly made him faint. He didn’t wash that cassock for a week after that, too content to smell her perfume on it til it faded to nothingness. He has not, however, been in her bedroom.

He follows her in and takes in the surroundings - it’s a decent size, with a queen bed in the center and a dark wooden dresser. The first thing he notices is the walls are covered in art - no surprise there - and he smiles at the subject matter. Devils, witches, and temptresses decorate ornate frames she had likely found in various storage rooms in the abbey. He may make a sister of sin out of her yet. He’s so lost in his thoughts that for a moment he doesn’t notice how she moves to strip down in front of him. When he sees her begin to slide the straps of her dress down he starts with an exclamatory noise.

“Cara!” he shouts hoarsely, causing her to jump. “Not here!”

She looks confused for a moment before he looks around behind him and spots a black sleep chemise crumpled on the duvet. He grabs it and thrusts it into her hands before ushering her into the adjacent bathroom. She doesn’t protest, but Copia does spot the mischievous curl of her lips as she shuts the door behind her. When she has been safely secured away from his gaze he returns his attention to the room. Shuffling over to her dresser he begins to pick up and study the tchotchkes she has collected - various pointed crystal towers, a little ceramic pig, some kind of small animal skull, and – oh. Her perfume sits innocently amidst the clutter, the decorative bottle calling to him. Copia looks over his shoulder before picking it up and inhaling deep. He bolsters himself so he doesn’t collapse against the foot of her bed, but he feels almost as intoxicated as she is upon smelling its contents. He’s ashamed to admit how much it affects him, once again glancing over his shoulder as he adjusts himself through the abundant material of his cassock. Copia does not wear deviancy as easily as Terzo. He’s about to chastise himself for being a pervert when her bathroom door flies open. When he turns to see her, he exhales shakily.

Maybe he should have grabbed different pajamas.

She struts out towards him, the silk of her nightgown shining in the low light of the room, and gives him what can only be described as a sultry look before flinging herself on the duvet. His throat is dry as he regards her reclining on the material, writhing slightly in an attempt to get cozy, causing his thoughts to wander and darken. When she finally gets comfortable, she looks up at him from under her dark lashes and he turns slightly to hide the hardening of his cock. Her movements have caused the hem of her chemise to ride up her body, exposing the meat of her thigh and the large shape of a tattoo there to his gaze.

He didn’t even know she had a tattoo there.

“Eh, goodnight.” He moves to make a rapid exit from her bedroom but she grabs his sleeve with impressive speed, pulling him back to sit next to her on the bed. Copia knows his cheeks are violently red as she takes his gloved hand in hers and squeezes it. He looks at her askance and practically melts at the soft way she regards him.

“Il mio cardinale,” she murmurs, and before he can say anything she’s brought his hand to her mouth, kissing the gloved knuckles in an echo of the way he introduced himself to her all those months ago. All he can bring himself to do is nod and she smiles warmly at him, looking more sober now than she has all evening. 

“You’re always so good to me,” she says simply, making his heart swell.

“You’re easy to be good to,” Copia manages to whisper in response. The gleam in her eyes makes him feel exhilarated. Brave. The boldness she has inspired causes him to lean down and softly kiss her forehead, lips lingering on her skin.

“Buona notte, Natalia.”

He moves to pull away but she’s got her hand on his cheek in a breath, brushing her lips to the point of his neatly trimmed sideburns.

“Buona notte, Copia.”

When he finally brings himself to leave her bedroom, and then her quarters, he is bursting with radiant light. He wants to sing, to scream, to cry all at once. 

Take that, Terzo, indeed.

[uniame]

The way you draw Alex makes me to sick and ill like my hands get so shaky I love him so much and you draw him so good and and and and and and and

Alex and I love you anon

[sesamenom]

more from the reverse gondolin au

[sysig]

Dr. “Has to get a good grade in therapy” Doran (Patreon)

[mako-island-moon-pool]

Personally of the belief that live action fans who go onto animanga posts uninvited like 'I DESPERATELY NEED YOU TO KNOW THAT I THINK THE ART STYLE IS UGLY EVEN THO THIS OPINION IS IRRELEVANT TO THE POST' should be hit with a big rock. We already moved past this ten years ago, get with it or get lost. Swallow the hunger inside of you that demands everything be palatable to you. Maybe you could stand to be a little uncomfortable for a while

[whumpster-fire]

Broke: Chilchuck Tims is child coded.

Woke: Chilchuck Tims isn't child coded, he's a middle-aged, divorced man with grown up children.

Bespoke: Chilchuck Tims cannot be accurately described as either "child coded" or "not child coded" because he is a deliberate commentary on the idea of "child coding" itself.

Chilchuck, and half-foots in Dungeon Meshi in general, are given significantly more neotenous proportions and appearances (e.g. larger heads and eyes, rounder faces) than the other races. This is not universal for depictions of hobbits / halflings in Tolkien / D&D inspired fantasy fiction. Compare Chilchuck relative to the "tallmen" (humans) in Dunmeshi to how small races are drawn in something like Legend of Vox Machina (many of those characters are gnomes but whatever) or in basically any official D&D art. It was an intentional artistic decision to make him look like that. This is reinforced when he's temporarily transformed into a tallman (human) and in addition to becoming much taller he gains features that make him look more visibly middle-aged (stubble, eye bags / wrinkles, a more oval face) that he doesn't have as a half-foot. See also Marcille's transformed form and supplemental drawings of what all of the main party would look like as other races. However they do NOT look indistinguishable from actual children as portrayed by Dunmeshi's artstyle and have distinguishing features e.g. larger ears.

Chilchuck is frequently mistaken for a child in-universe, or treated / perceived as one even by members of other races who know he's a half-foot, and he hates this. His infantilization and that of half-foots in general isn't just a running gag, it's a significant plot point and source of discrimination. Like when the party gets impersonated by shapeshifters copying everyone based on the others' memories of them, and most of the Chilchuck clones look and behave more childish than the real one, and they almost get away with it, even though his party should know better than to think of him as a kid.

The narrative consistently takes the position that the people infantilizing Chilchuck are wrong, and are being ignorant/racist.

Conclusion: Chilchuck is definitely not "child-coded" in the way that a 700 year old shapeshifter that looks and behaves indistinguishably from a little kid for contrived reasons. However, he is intentionally designed to make it seem plausible for people who know he's an adult to still not fully believe it and this can make the viewers fall for it too. Which I guess is "child-coding" in a sense. But the message the work is trying to send is very clearly "Don't decide that grown-ass adults are equivalent to children and treat them like children because they have physical characteristics that remind you of a child you dipshit."

While hobbits aren't real and Chilchuck's traits that get him mistaken for a child are exaggerated compared to the vast, vast majority of real people, infantilization of grown-ass adults due to ableism, racism, or just people being dumbasses who forget short people exist is a real issue, and if you start shit with people for shipping Divorced Dad Chilchuck Tims with other characters or whatever you are displaying the exact attitude that's being criticized.

[dead-boys-club]

†  a seat : the fatui.

❥ scenario: their s/o decides to take up residence on their lap --- during a meeting. ❥ no triggers ❥ i don't have any beta readers - you get what you get. ❥ requested.

❥ la signora.

she wouldn't give much of a reaction, her eyebrow raising and a barely noticeable hint of amusement to her gaze. open affection isn't something she's keen to show, especially in a professional setting but she wouldn't make you move. if anything, she would just shift in her spot and adjust her posture to make sure you were comfortable, though her movements wouldn't be big enough to draw attention. she would enjoy your closeness but would remain as cold and composed as always. after the meeting is a different story. while she may not show too much emotion, she wouldn't try to hide the smirk as she approached you. 'you certainly know how to make a statement, don't you, darling?' she asked, reaching out to gently tip your chin up with her pointer finger, 'don't think you can distract me so easily.. you'll have to do better than that.' there was a clear affection and appreciation in her gaze, despite the words, honestly enjoying your boldness.

❥ scaramouche.

at first, he genuinely wouldn't even know how to respond, frozen for a split second before brushing it off, not wanting anyone to notice. he'd look at you, eyes flickering as if looking for an answer to your sudden actions. scara isn't one for such open displays of affection, or any at all, especially in such a formal setting - he would fight between irritation and silent, frustrated acceptance; he didn't want to cause a scene. 'what do you think you're doing?' he would hiss under his breath, leaning close to your ear, enough though he wasn't actually trying to remove you. he would be annoyed for the duration of the meeting, though just accepting your bold statement that he, quite honestly, didn't understand. oh boy, he'd be so fast to corner you, arms crossed and staring you down. 'what was that all about?' he demanded, though something was off - his tone didn't hold the same hate soaked bite it usually did; even his s/o had to deal with that. you could see the ghost of a blush on his features but you knew he'd never admit to being embarrassed. 'you're lucky no one said anything,' he muttered, the tiniest hint of softness forming in his gaze. he wasn't as upset as he wanted to seem.

❥ childe.

it shouldn't come as a surprise that he would be the most openly and unashamedly amused, of course, having no complaints. as soon as you took your place, a grin would form and he'd offer your head a soft nudge with his nose. 'comfortable?' he'd ask in a whisper, teasing as always but still loving. his arms found their own place around you, keeping you close. to childe, holding onto you came easy, automatically knowing how to shift so you were comfortable. he wouldn't be concerned a single bit about the others, the glances only making him grin further. he enjoyed showing off the relationship you had. he'd be pretty excited once the meeting ended, the grin never leaving his features, though softening into a smile once he approached you. 'you made it pretty hard for me to concentrate in there.. that was an important meeting,' he teased, arms wrapping around you once more to pull you closer; if you were honest, neither of you had heard a single word that was said. 'i'm not complaining, though,' he'd chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. he was just happy to have someone who was so open to show him affection.

❥ dottore.

as annoyed as he'd be, he'd also be curious. were you testing him? were you crazy? had you.. taken something? he'd really be at a loss, especially as someone who wasn't exactly one for public displays of affection - meeting or otherwise. he would view your actions as a distraction and wonder just what kind of statement you were trying to make. 'this better be worth the interruption,' he muttered, adjusting his posture to accommodate you, shifting his focus back to the meeting. he would occasionally glance to you, jaw clenching as he tried figuring you out. once the meeting was over and you dismissed yourself, only to be closely followed by him. 'what exactly were you trying to achieve?' he asked, hand taking hold of your jaw to lift your head, though his touch wasn't as rough as you expected it to be. you only blinked and shook your head. there was a shift to his usual demeanor, something a little softer, letting you know he wasn't as displeased as you thought. 'you should know better than to disrupt my focus,' he added, leaning closer to you, eyes searching your own, 'you truly are a strange little creature..'

❥ arlecchino.

she would spare you a glance, expression unreadable as it always was. you taking a place on her lap wouldn't cause even the slightest of budge to her composed nature - you would have to do a lot more for that to happen. she does, however, rest a possessive hand on your hip, making sure to keep you close. there would be no open acknowledgement of your actions but she would make sure you were comfortable, attention never leaving the meeting. all you really needed though were her actions; the quiet protectiveness, even in such a formal place. once the meeting ended, you wouldn't be leaving your spot, held steady by her. she would wait for everyone to leave before speaking, 'that was quite bold,' she spoke quietly, a hint of approval to her tone, 'but you should know others may not be so understanding.' as she spoke, she got closer to your ear, offering your hip a gentle squeeze. arle knew very well how to stake her claim and the last thing she needed was for someone to misunderstand your easy show of affection.

❥ columbina.

like childe, she would have no issues with your gesture, even allowed a soft smile to grace her features. the two of you were known to play your little games and would see this as a simple, easy thing on your part. there would be no words but a soft hum of acknowledgement in the back of her throat. columbina would have no concerns when it came to the others, her attention easily balanced between the meeting and your presence. as she listened, she may let her arms loosely rest around you, head resting on your shoulder. once the meeting ended, she'd just tilt her head to nose gently at your shoulder. 'could you not have waited until after the meeting?' she mused, tone light. she wasn't one to make a big deal of anything, being considerably nonchalant about most things, brushing them off. 'next time, let's save the affection for when we're alone, yes?' she wasn't upset or bothered at all, she enjoyed the question affection, but she preferred keeping gentle, intimate moments to be in the privacy of your rooms.

❥ pantalone.

being the master of maintaining appearances, it came as no surprise that panta would remain composed, his expression calm and pleasant. not many things managed to crack his image, even you and your risky gestures. he continued to participate in the meeting with ease, a hand sliding to settle at your lower back, pulling you closer. 'how reckless of you,' he whispered, the brief show of a smirk evident against the shell of your ear, tone amused. he would enjoy the moment, all while keeping up his perfect little facade. there would be an amused glint to his eyes as he approached you after saying his farewell to the others. 'you realize the kind of attention such actions might draw, don't you?' he questioned, his tone giving no indication of being upset or annoyed with you. 'not that i mind, of course.. it certainly keeps things interesting.' panta was aways aware of appearances and his surroundings, as well as those around him. he would never openly express displeasure with your affection to him, but he'd make sure you understood. 'just be careful, my love.. not everyone will be as forgiving.'

❥ il capitano.

words are not something capitano needs to use often, his imposing presence often speaking for him. even with a mask on, his expression wouldn't change as you silently settled onto his lap - he also knew no one else would make the mistake of saying something to him about it. he wouldn't push you away or show signs of disapproval, he would actually rest a hand on your side, adjusting to accommodate you. he isn't one for grand gestures or openly displaying affection and his hold on you simply sat as a protective claim, however, him allowing you to keep your place during such a time would speak volumes of the trust he shares with you. he would continue as if you'd always been there, his grip on you tightening and loosening upon the subject shifts of the meeting. you didn't bother to move when the meeting ended, knowing he wouldn't let you slip away so easily. once everyone was gone, he spoke, tone low and calm. 'what was all this for?' he asked, though no annoyance or accusation to his words. he was genuinely asking. you knew a head shake wasn't exactly an answer but he accepted it, watching you closely. 'just be mindful of the setting next time,' he commented, this time soft yet firm, letting you knew the actions weren't unwanted but the timing wasn't proper. he was considerably reserved in nature but he appreciated your little moments of affection.

[transgaysex]

will keep it 100% here. i dont really care for miguel o'hara

[thewildwaffle]

Friend Shaped

The professor clacked his beak sharply three times in the front of the room. The students, around 40 individuals, and many species from across the galactic arm hushed almost immediately. “Welcome back, class. The day for your first planet-side mission to Nemulon 3 is fast approaching, and we've still got a lot of safety training to cover, so let's get started.” The professor stepped aside to allow a projection to display against the board behind him. A picture of a blue, green, and gray planet shone brightly against the dark tapestry of space. Nemulon 3 had been discovered deca-orbits ago but offered a wide variety of biomes that were the perfect blend of challenging and safe to train new recruits to the Galactic Alliance’s Exploration Fleet. “Today we're covering some alien fauna you may encounter while conducting exploratories. Most are small enough that they won't pose much of an issue, but we do have a few category 5 lifeforms that you need to be aware of.” The display behind the professor changed from an image of Nemulon 3 from orbit to a chart topped by 5 images with their respective labels: karindru, oold, dini-dini, barintuna, and great lavalen. Before the professor could start in on the next part of his lecture, a voice spoke out from the middle of the classroom.“That looks like a dog.” The professor stood with his beak half open. He was certainly not used to being interrupted, let alone this early in the lesson. “A what?” He finally choked out. There was a pause as if the offending student was thinking better about drawing more attention to themselves before slowly putting their hand up in the air. It was a human. Cadet Valentina, if the attendance role had been accurate. “I said it… it looks like a dog.” Human Valentina inhaled as if gathering the courage to say more. “They're a carnivorous canine species on earth that humans domesticated thousands of cycles ago and selectively bred to be pets.” The professor’s beak closed with a snap and some of the features near the base of his neck ruffled slightly. “Nemulon 3 is 47 light years away from Earth. Any similarities between each planet’s fauna is purely coincidental, a product of parallel evolution.” The human bowed her head and said nothing else, so the professor continued. “Now, for many of you of larger stature, a single karindru might not pose much of a threat, but their real danger comes from their numbers. They live, travel, and hunt in packs. Thankfully, their method of communicating with each other in their packs are quite loud, so you will hear them long before you see them, and hopefully, before they see you. Typically you’ll hear anything from yipping, chirping, and howling.” “Kind of like coyotes.” The professor stopped and stared at the human again, feathers ruffling once again. “Another kind of canine species back home,” Valentina offered quietly. If the professor was capable of growling, he might have been tempted to at that moment. Instead, he sighed slowly. “I can assure you, trying to get close to these will likely end with your injury or death.” “Well, that's what ancient humans thought about wolves too, but then we bred them into dogs and now they’re our best friends.” “Karindru are not, nor are any native creatures on this planet, your friend. Not now, not ever.” The professor turned sharply back to the board. The entire class was dead silent. Few even dared to breathe. It was quiet enough, in fact, to hear the human mumble under their breath, “If not friend, then why friend-shaped?”

The human was promptly given detention and assigned extra homework of writing “I will not try to domesticate any native fauna on Nemulon 3” one hundred times by hand.

[starsonablackboard]

managed to finish another decent ish piece so here's narinder's inutial design!! as always probably will change later

we're living by furry laws in this house so "head fur" aka hair is an option and im using it. period. another unpopular(??) choice is giving narinder a fur pattern, and don't get me wrong i love the pure black void nari, but as an artist i enjoy making up details to draw, so i indulged myself here. (but if i ever were to draw comics with him i would simplify it or just make him all-black, because repeating this every frame is a misery. fun for a one-off ref sheet tho)

not a lot of lore stuff for the guy since the idea of the au is still fresh and im figuring it all out, but there're design inspirations under the cut if you're interested!!

sooo lets go

i wanted narinder to have that dramatic sharp featured og cartoon villain look, so i took inspiration from oriental longhairs for the facial structure and from maine coons for fluffy dramatics. also i just love using maine coons as cat references. look at those things. marvellous.

from the very start (pretty much) my brain was consistently giving me images of narinder with hair, specifically dark long-ish straight-ish, so i tried to walk this mental image backwards to find the origins of it, and i think scar and ozai are my best bets. in my first sketches narinder had shoulder length hair with slight waves, but in the end i opted for long and straight. not really a reason to, just was vibing better to me

clothes are pretty standard narinder robes i think. i find it funny that fandom unanimously gave him basically a priest outfit, and i like it too, so i kept it. that red stripe gave me a little bit of a headache though, couldn't get it to look okay and not weird or tacky. i think i managed. i had to contain my urge to design him an intricate outfit with different textiles and embroidery and shit, but i try to keep it at least somewhat tied to logic and the au, and let's say that no-one was willing to do something this elaborate for narinder for quite some time

and some lore crumbs

• narinder is declawed (after his defeat that is).

see the narinder's claw relic and the whole do no evil motive. the most evil narinder directly did was the injures he inflicted on his siblings, and he did it by, quoting shamura, "such sharp claws". so yeah, that tracks. funfact i considered taking only one of his claws, from the left ring finger, because the relic is "narinder's claw" singular, but "callamar's ear" relic is also one ear and not two, so it didn't feel kike a good enough basis to take only one claw yk. so sorry big cat, all your claws are now gone

• lamb did kill narinder after defeating him. there's nothing on the pic that's tied to that fact, just thought it would be interesting to know

[brokenmenswhore]

not sure if you take fic requests BUT:

aegon getting woken up with head 🙏

i think this man would only accept head as his alarm 😭

this man would wake up, see you’re still asleep, and then lay there for HOURS with his eyes closed waiting for you to wake up so you can see his eyes closed and give him head to wake him

morning ritual | aegon ii targaryen

pairing: aegon targaryen x reader

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), oral (male receiving)

────── ☾ ──────

There was only one way Aegon accepted waking up.

The first time you tried it, you were nervous about overstepping. Your eyes fluttered open, a small stream of sunlight illuminating the bed, and better yet, Aegon. He looked ethereal when he was asleep, hair tousled, the top of his chest visible over the sheets.

You rolled over onto your stomach, your eyes tracing every contortion of his features: his hair, his eyes, his lips, his throat, his chest- the sheet was blocking everything else. So as not to wake him, you slowly moved the sheets lower and lower, admiring the flesh of his stomach before finally exposing him to the morning light.

Aegon never slept with any clothes on. After ruthlessly pounding into you every night, he would usually roll over and pass out, never caring about re-covering himself. He was comfortable with you, and he saw no point in covering up.

Lucky for you, it made the idea that popped into your head much easier to make a reality.

You slowly shifted down the bed, careful not to prematurely wake him, curling your body up onto your knees as you moved between his legs, leveling your head with his cock.

You took the muscle in one hand, holding it firm against your tongue as you licked a strip from the base of his cock to the tip, finally sinking your mouth onto as much as you could handle. He was big, but you were getting better and better at deepthroating him.

You began to move your head up and down, tasting every inch of him as you moved your hair to one side of your head, allowing you to continue unobstructed.

Aegon stirred lightly, the feeling slowly hitting him as he tossed and turned ever so slightly. You looked up at him, your need to make him feel good growing stronger and stronger as you watched him in his sleep, reacting genuinely to the feeling of your mouth around him.

You moved your hand up to cup his balls, squeezing gently to help coax him out of sleep.

Aegon whimpered, a feeling of arousal creeping between your legs at the sound. His breathing began to quicken a bit, his mouth falling open to allow for his sighs and whines.

You continued to bob your head, running your tongue over his tip to add to his pleasure as he finally blinked his eyes open, slowly looking down and meeting your gaze, finally aware of exactly what was happening. Once he saw you, he threw his head back, relaxing against the sheets as his hands found their way to the back of your head.

He didn’t have the energy to push your head down or to fuck up into your mouth, having just woken up, so he simply kept his hands on your hair to make it known he didn’t want you to stop as he let you continue to suck him on your own.

In his awakeness, his whining grew louder, not quite a moan but light little whimpers of your name or a string of curses anytime you ran your tongue over the slit at his tip or squeezed his balls particularly tightly.

Despite his closed eyes, you kept your gaze focused on him, watching him come undone from what you were doing to him. You loved to see your effect on him; he had been with countless women before, but he was never truly in love with one. Sex with you was different; you had more control over him, you truly cared enough to learn exactly what he liked and how he liked it. You knew how to make him come undone. He adored you more than anyone in his life, and he loved the feeling of your lips wrapped around him, drawing him closer and closer to his high the way no one else truly could.

Usually he would have to hold a woman’s head down and fuck their mouth, using them as a method to get himself off, but with you, he didn’t have to do a thing. He still sometimes would, of course, but simply knowing you were between his legs, eyes looking up at him, consumed in him, was enough.

His breathing quickened, his high approaching closer and closer. You picked up the pace, a large sigh leaving Aegon’s lips as he started to slowly lift his hips, using all his energy to help you make him come.

His clock twitched as his orgasm approached, a whimper of your name leaving his lips as his seed shot to the back of your throat, the feeling almost making you gag. The salty liquid spilled out, allowing you to suck his cock clean of it all, swallowing the load and sticking your tongue out to him to show you had taken it all, something he always asked you to do.

Aegon turned his head to look down at you, wiping the sweat-slicked hair from your forehead and tucking it behind your ear as he saw your tongue, cleaned of any orgasm remnants.

“Good job, angel,” he breathed, “what did I do to deserve such a wonderful wake-up call?”

Ever since then, Aegon has refused to get out of bed without spilling his seed down your throat.

You woke up first, like you had (at least appeared to) most mornings, to find him asleep, naked, and waiting. He often tried to fall asleep on his back with his legs open, a sure sign of eagerness for his usual good morning.

You rolled over, taking the familiar place between his thighs, your mouth kissing his tip before settling down on his length. Aegon immediately groaned, almost as if the second your lips touched him, his body ignited and he woke himself up enthusiastically.

“Shit,” he sighed, forcing his eyes open to watch you this time, your gaze meeting his and only making him crazy.

“I-I think I’ve started dreaming ab-bout this,” Aegon breathed, “almost makes me w-anna go to s-sleep.”

You lifted off of him for a moment, stroking him gently with your hand. “Anything for you, my king. I’m glad you like our morning ritual.”

“Like it?” he choked out, “I love it.”

You smiled in response, lowering your mouth down again, causing him to throw his head backwards and arch his back slightly, forcing his cock deeper into your mouth. The feeling of his tip hitting the back of your throat made him feral, and he began to fuck your mouth.

Aegon was usually not very rough during your mornings; he did not have energy in the morning and was happy to feel the slow, sensual intimacy of your gesture. However, he went to sleep last night only so that he could awaken to your mouth on him, and his body was ready the second his head hit the pillow. The mornings were becoming one of the best parts of his days.

Aegon fisted his hands through your hair, holding you in place as he continued to lift his hips, focusing on ensuring that his cock hit your throat with every single thrust.

You started to gag, an involuntary noise leaving your mouth with each hit, only egging him on more and more. He loved to hear you; it only added to his arousal when he knew the noises you made were all for him, a pure reaction from your body to his.

His roughness was unusual for the mornings, and it drove you crazy. You couldn’t help yourself, you moved a hand between your legs and began to touch yourself, the feeling of Aegon fucking your throat combined with his pretty moans was too much for you to simply sit there and do nothing.

Aegon noticed your actions, a “fuck,” “you’re so fucking perfect, shit,” and “so fucking hot,” leaving his lips as he viciously thrusted up into your mouth, your eyes fighting to stay open and trained on him.

“I’m gonna- fuck,” he moaned, his back arching again as he came. You continued sucking, ensuring you pulled every last drop before swallowing and presenting him with your tongue.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered.

“Good morning to you, too,” you smiled.

Aegon gestured for you to hug him, your body pressed against his as your cheek rested on his chest. He kissed your temple, looking toward the window to see how much sunlight was out. “Can we just stay in bed forever?”

[seresinhangmanjake]

The Harkonnen's Loves

Dad!Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Mom!Atreides!reader

Summary in bullet points:

Your and Feyd’s four-year-old son is sweet like you but has a little love for violence like his father

Feyd gives your son his first blade

Feyd is soft for his family (I just think being in love and having a family would alter this psycho man’s brain chemistry a bit)

Notes: same Feyd x reader from The Harkonnen’s Sweet Thing and The Harkonnen’s Claim. 

Warnings: a half-psycho half-sweet little boy, mention of blood and injury, mention of pregnancy.

Words: 1500

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

Your son contains a sweetness. ‘Caladan Sweetness’ you call it, because your home planet was where your sweetness was born into you. Your father, the beauty of your home, the oceans and the fields bloomed you into the soft, sweet thing that your husband loves. And though your son has never seen the world you come from, that sweetness runs through his veins. His smile, his laugh, his power to draw those around him out of their Harkonnen-built shells—that all comes from you. 

But at the same time, he is no less like his father. He adapts rather quickly to his surroundings. He has a natural curiosity for weaponry and blood and how one brings about the other. He does not hate the feel of a heart beating its final beat in his little hand—a feeling his father expressed would be better experienced young, and was done so after the slaughtering of a prisoner in front of the boy's eyes. Feyd had cracked open the prisoner's chest, taken his son by the hand, and guided his fingers into the open wound with the instruction to keep them wrapped around the organ until it no longer moved. You remember his eyes that day—round as saucers and sprinkled with excitement as he looked up at his father who ruffled his hair with a grin on his face. 

He truly is a combination of you both; such beautiful balance has already taken shape in a tiny body. He will be a warrior built and molded by his desire to understand everything his father has to teach him. And yet, he will be gentle where necessary; you hope, one day, with a wife and children of his own. But it’ll be long before that day comes. 

Then again, in some ways, he is growing so fast. For you, it could have been yesterday that you were pushing him out of your womb as your husband held your hand and kissed your forehead. At four years old, you still see him as your baby, but you acknowledge that Harkonnen blood ripens faster than the average child, and he has already begun to show signs of the man your brother prophesized him to be: one of the strongest alive; stronger even than his father. 

That is why you’ve allowed Feyd to pace your son’s training—it’s his area of expertise. It is their bond, and you don’t interfere in those moments, opting to stay just out of sight. 

“You're old enough now to have your own blade,” you hear your husband tell your son from your hidden spot around the corner. 

You can’t hold back your smile at your son's uncontained curiosity as Feyd pulls the knife out from behind his back and presents it to the boy. It balances perfectly on Feyd’s palm as tiny hands reach up. Your son pauses, but when Feyd gives an encouraging nod, he plucks it from his father’s hand. 

It couldn’t be a better fit. Not too long or heavy for his hand, but not too short or light. It’s a good starting blade to prepare him for the weapons that will grow in size as he does. 

“You will be training with me every day from now on,” Feyd tells him.

The boy looks up from the knife to meet his father’s eyes. “So I can get strong like you, Daddy?”

“Stronger than me.”

Your son giggles, a wide grin breaking open his face. “No one's stronger than you!”

Feyd's features soften as he pats his boy's cheek. “You will be.”

“Will I be strong enough to kill Uncle Paul for stealing me and Mommy from you?”

You almost snort as you roll your eyes. Of course, Feyd told him the story. It was only a matter of time before he sat him down and explained the tale of your half-brother killing—or almost killing—Feyd in front of you, then holding you hostage upon finding out Feyd was still alive and demanding you be returned to him. In exchange for you and the baby he discovered you were pregnant with, Feyd swore loyalty to your brother. But your husband will not allow his bloodline to continue for generations under the thumb of Paul Atreides. And that starts with your son. 

Feyd chuckles. “You will be strong enough to destroy your uncle and everything he loves.”

Finally making your presence known, you edge around the corner and lean against the wall. When Feyd sees you, so too does your son, and knowing the boy’s next move, Feyd takes the small blade from the even smaller hand.

“Mommy, I'm going to kill Uncle Paul!” he says joyfully as he rushes over and slams into your legs. “And everything he loves!”

“I heard!” you reply, grinning as you crouch down to his level and take hold of his hands. “But you know what? Little na-Barons who wish to take revenge on their uncles must first get a good night's sleep.”  

“Ok!”

“I'll come check on you in a minute,” you promise him before kissing his cheek and sending him on his way. Your eyes follow him running down the hall until he’s safely behind the door of his bedroom. 

Turning back to your husband and walking to his side, you say, “You told him.”

The tip of the blade pushes into his pointer finger as he lazily twirls the small weapon. “At his age, he should know who his enemies are.”

You slip between his muscled body and the table in the center of the common room where he sets down your son’s knife. With a closed-mouth smile, you hum. “And how did you start that conversation? ‘Uncle Paul made Mommy sad and Daddy mad’?”

“Something like that,” he confirms, leaning into you. His hands brace on the table, one arm at either side of your hips as he seals his lips to yours. 

Feyd’s mouth moves at a slow, hypnotic rhythm but with an intense pressure that’s glazed in possessiveness. You can taste it. That ownership. That authority. He may not always fuck you like you belong to him—sometimes it’s your turn to remind him that he’s yours—but his kisses have never been anything short of claiming. Gentle or rough, slow or frenzied, short or long enough to make you forget what world you’re in, a kiss from your husband ends with the reassurance that he wants you, he loves you, and he won’t ever let you go. 

His hands move to your neck, thumbs pressing into the curve of your jaw to hold your head still and you moan from his cool fingers soothing flushed skin. Your lips part and his tongue licks into your mouth. It plays with yours and then retreats. Teeth sink into your bottom lip, lightly tugging before he pulls back to rest his forehead against yours. 

“How's our other one?” he asks as a knuckle draws a line from your jaw to your neck to your cleavage. His eyes follow as it continues past the neckline of your dress and down your sternum, stopping at your stomach where his fingers splay wide. His eyes flick up to yours.

“Strong…like you,” you say, placing your hand over his. “...and like him.”

Your husband nods, exhaling a light sigh of relief. “Did they tell you?”

You smile. “They think it's a girl,” you answer. 

A few thumps of your heart pass as you await his reaction, but then Feyd smiles with you.

---

@avidreader73 @alwaysadreamingoptimist @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @workof-a-rr-t @midnight-serendipity @minedofmoria @aoi-targaryen

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

Among Strangers | Bang Chan

•Synopsis: A handsome stranger takes it upon himself to take care of you in a crowded subway as you try to evade a man that had been following you after a night of drinking.

•Pairing: au Bang Chan x Female Reader

•Content Includes: smut, stalking, public unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, crowded area, sex with a stranger, biting, possessive chan, brief mentions of bondage and claustrophobia with a surprise ending. (I think that's everything)

an: This was first posted on my Wattpad but it was pretty ass and didn't do well so I fixed it up a little bit (a lot... Like it was so bad lol) and figured maybe it would be better appreciated here.

Part II

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

After a chill hangout at the bar with some friends from work, you all decide to head home. It's been a chill night with not too much drinking. Since you live close by, walking home seems like a good idea for some fresh air. But as you split from the group, you realize you're not alone. You start to get this eerie feeling like you're being followed. Looking over your shoulder you see a hooded figure and the hair on the back of your neck stands straight up. At every turn there he is, shadowing your every move, sending shivers down your spine.

Nervous about the idea of him following you home, you hop onto the subway thinking you could hide among a sea of people. With the size of the crowd there's no way he could find you. You're confident it'll work as you weave your way through the crowd, tripping over your own feet in a rush to lose him. You aim for the door at the end of the car on the other side just to create some distance between you and him. You steal a glance over your shoulder, heart pounding, checking if the man is still behind you. But in a rush, you accidentally step on someone's foot, sending a jolt of embarrassment through you.

“Oh my god!” You exclaim, cheeks reddening. “I'm so sorry.”

When your eyes meet the stranger in front of you, you're met with kind gentle brown eyes belonging to a beautiful man with dimples and perfectly styled hair buzzed slightly on the sides.

“No worries.” He smiles sweetly showing off his perfect dimples while his velvety Australian accent engulfs you and calms down some of the panic in your chest.

Looking over your shoulder again, you catch sight of the man coming into your view. His gaze meets yours, and a smirk plays on his lips before he casually looks away. Panic surges again, your moment of peace gone, sending your heart into overdrive and your eyes to widen in alarm. The handsome stranger in front of you notices your reaction and follows your line of sight to the man in the black hoodie, mirroring your concern.

"Hey, you okay? That guy giving you trouble?" His voice cuts through the chatter of the people around you. His voice, laced with a hint of concern and tinged with something darker, making you snap your attention back to him.

The dim subway lights overhead cast shadows across his young face, highlighting his handsome features more rather than diluting them. You feel a knot tightening in your stomach realizing just how worried for you he is. He glares at the creep and the muscle in his jaw ticks once.

“He’s been following me since I left the bar. I was too afraid to go home so I tried to make a detour to shake him off but he's fucking relentless.” you explain in a quiet hush.

The creep looks over at you again as if to make sure you're still in his eyesight and looks away quickly to not draw attention to his shady acts.

“Maybe he'll back off if he thinks we're together? He looked away pretty quick when he saw me. I'll stay with you for however long you need. Just to be sure that you're safe.” The stranger beside you says sweetly.

You felt fucking lucky to have run into someone willing to help you, to keep you safe. You could've ended up locked in some damp dark basement if not for this man you thought to yourself. You can already feel the mild tipsiness from the alcohol wearing off and you feel more alert and aware of your surroundings.

“Thank you so so much.” You reply and the man holds his hand out for you.

“I'm Chris.” He gives you an award winning smile that lights up his whole face and yours.

You mirror his smile and take his hand. One shake and you gasp at the sudden static shock that you feel spread throughout your whole body rather than just your fingertips. His hand is soft and warm and your body suddenly feels hot all over as if you drank a lot more than you really did.

“Y/N.” You introduce yourself timidly and he gives a small nod of his head.

The train rattles to a stop and opens the doors behind you and Chris, letting on more people eager to get home after work. It becomes increasingly crowded and you're forced even closer to Chris. So much closer that you have to take a couple of steps back in an attempt to have some space, only for your back to hit the glass window of the other doors. Another stop and more people push in, bringing the creep closer to you and forcing Chris's chest to push into yours. He apologizes, placing gentle hands on my arms.

“If you get uncomfortable let me know. I'll try and make space.” He tells you, placing a hand above your head as the train rumbles along.

“Y-yeah okay.” You mutter, feeling the hard muscles underneath the white button up shirt he's wearing.

With the alcohol completely gone from your system now, you realize that the situation you're in is beyond embarrassing. Your breasts are rubbing against his chest with every rock and shake of the train in an almost lewd way. Granted you are thankful that he's keeping you away from being pressed up against some weirdo or worse the guy following you but still, It's awkward. There's no way he can't feel your heart beating so rapidly. The train makes a sudden bump and your bodies are pushed together even more.

“Sorry.” You whisper when your hands instinctively go around his middle. He chuckles and you feel it vibrate through your chest, causing the butterflies in your stomach to flutter awake.

“It's okay y/n. You give great hugs.” He says, the butterflies go mad and your face grows warm.

He's so sweet and so good looking there's no way he was flirting with me just now. No way, he's just a really sweet guy. Yeah… he's just being nice.

As the train continues to go on you feel eyes on you, burning a hole straight into your skull. Looking around Chris's muscular frame you see the creep, staring, lewdly licking his lips and undressing you with his eyes, no doubt. You squirm to try and get out of eye sight but Chris's strong hand holds you still.

“What's wrong?” He whispers. His voice makes you shiver against him and his fingers tighten on your arms briefly.

“That creep is staring at me.” It makes you feel disgusted. Your skin crawls the way his eyes slide over your face.

Chris curses under his breath and pauses. “I'll push up to give you enough space to turn around so he can't see your face. Maybe once these doors open we can quickly get off and lose him then.”

You nod at his idea and he pushes on the door, putting an inch between you two. It's not a lot of space to move but you try your best, turning around facing away from Chris and the creep. Now, at least like this, your breasts aren't crushed into him. Only now, your ass is pressing against his front. From one awkward situation to another…. This is what I get for going out after work on a Wednesday. You think to yourself. I should've gone straight home or at least changed.

The skirt you decided to wear to the office today is now hitched up just barely covering your ass. If you can just keep still maybe he won't notice and the situation doesn't get any more embarrassing than it is.

“So uh what do you do for work y/n?” Chris asks and clears his throat. You can feel every word against your back.

“Uh, I work at CBO. I'm an editor over there.” You feel him nod behind you slowly.

“I heard they're supposed to get a new CEO. Some big shot is what the news is saying.” He responds but you shrug. You haven't heard much about the new CEO except for that he's the son of the previous CEO as well as the new owner now that his father is retiring.

“I'm sure he'll be a great boss. I actually haven't met him yet. I don't even know what he looks like” You utter softly sounding uncertain. Would he be a great boss? Would he take care of you? Who knows he could change everything with just one hand.

══════════════•✦•✦•══════════════

The train enters a tunnel and you watch the lights outside in the darkness flick and zip past in a blur before noticing Chris's reflection. His eyes are on you, studying your face in the glass of the door. Your eyes meet in the all the air gets sucked out of your lungs like a sudden punch to the gut. His gaze is smoldering, far too hot to be on the receiving end of such intensity. No one says a word although his lips slowly form a sexy coquettish smile.

“Do you need me to stay with you when we get off while you call your boyfriend?.” He whispers.

You shake your head no, eyes still on his reflection. “Don't have one of those but I can call a friend to pick me up.”

As you're about to open your mouth again to thank him for the hundredth time, the train comes to a screeching stop and the lights in the car go out. Men and women grumble and some even scream. The force causes Chris to slam into you and your skirt bunches up further about midway up your ass. In a panic you tell him and he curses under his breath.

“I'll try to fix it but I have to touch you, y/n. Is that okay?” Him asking for consent to touch you makes him that much more attractive.

“Yes, please.” You say, just as a voice is heard over the speaker.

“Passengers, please be patient there seems to be some debris on the tracks that is blocking our route. They're already taking care to remove it. We'll be moving on shortly.” The voice is replaced with calming elevator music playing loudly.

That's a smart way to keep everyone calm so that no one panics. Only one panicking right now however is you. The feel of Chris's fingertips against your bare thighs is driving you insane. His touch is hot but you shiver like his fingers are made of ice. Why is it turning me on so much when he's just trying to fix my skirt?. The move is too slow to be legal that's why. His movements feel so sensual.

“Sorry, I'm trying not to draw attention.” He explains as if he can hear your thoughts.

Shit you want to stop him. To say never mind and to leave it as is and pray that the train will be stopping soon to let some people off… but you don't. Instead you hold your breath and squeeze your legs together. Your arousal grows to an unbearable high. It's just a simple touch. Why is it driving you crazy? You aren't inexperienced at your age by any means. You've had lovers before but this man's fingers, they burn wherever he touches.

“The material of your skirt seems to be stuck on my fly.” He says and the urge to crawl into a hole is strong. “I can fix it but I'll have to lower my zipper. Tell me what you're comfortable with y/n.” He whispers leaning closer to your ear.

Loose tendrils of your ponytail flutter around your ear from his breath and you mentally remind yourself to breathe. Would it be selfish to ask him to lower it? What if he's uncomfortable with that? This isn't just about you now.

“I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.”

He places his palm flat against your thigh comfortingly. “Whatever you decide, I won't be uncomfortable. As long as you're comfortable y/n, then so am I.” The conviction in his voice calms you and you give him a curt nod once.

“Lower it please.” You whisper, your voice sounding small with embarrassment.

His hand moves again from your thigh to your ass and you bite your lip hard. His knuckles graze the bareness and you unexpectedly feel him stir from inside his black slacks. Seems like I'm not the only one turned on by the other. Slowly and agonizingly, he lowers his zipper to not be heard over the piano and violin playing through the speakers.

“There. Are you okay?” You don't feel okay. You feel like you’re on the verge of dying from embarrassment and horniness. You can feel the opening of his pants against you and his growing erection pressing into your ass.

“I'm okay.” You lie. “Thank you Chris.”

Out of habit whenever you're riddled with anxiety, you shift your footing which only makes your ass rub against his erection more. “Shit. I'm sorry, I move around when I'm in an embarrassing situation and this takes the cake for me.”

He chuckles softly. “It's okay. I uh, I can't really control it unfortunately. Not when I've got such a beautiful woman like you in my arms. You make it… difficult to say the least.”

You rest your forehead onto the cold glass feeling the blush take over your whole face and he chuckles again.

“If I knew my evening would be like this I wouldn't have gone to happy hour with my co-workers.” Your sad confession fogs up the glass and you close your eyes.

He places a comforting hand on your hip. You're so packed he can't seem to stand the way he was before. His arms are restricted from raising any further than your hips now.

“It's okay y/n it's not all bad. We got to meet after all.” He says, making you smile.

“That's true. I don't know what would've happened if I didn't run into you.” His hands linger and you get so used to the heat that when he finally does move them away you feel cold and shiver under him. He groans softly, sending something like an electric current to the space between your thighs. That sound… you want to hear it more. Biting your lip you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“Y/n…” Chris quietly says, sounding amused. “What are you doing?”

You shake your head feigning innocence. “My feet. It's these heels, I'm sorry.”

Why did I do that? I've seriously lost my mind but why do I want to do it again? The feel of him hard against your ass must be making you certifiably insane. This isn't right. Your better judgment screams at you. It's just your hormones getting out of hand.

When he places both hands on your hips and leans in, you expect for him to call you out on that blatant lie but instead he whispers, “Do it again.” All while slowly playing with the hem of your skirt.

You stifle a silent gasp, jaw dropping in disbelief, yet you obediently follow his instructions moving your hips just slightly. When you do, his left hand grips onto your hip tight and he sighs. His erection, that's fighting itself to stay inside the confines of his briefs, jerks forward against the fabric. Before you can shift again, his right arm wraps around you and his fingers find the wetness of your panties.

“So I'm not the only one fighting temptation I see.” His warm sweet breath fans across your cheek and your body sags a little in his arms when his fingers begin to dance.

Focusing on your breathing is all you can do so you don't faint from his touch. And trying to stay quiet now becomes a struggle the more his fingers move.

“Is this okay y/n?” You can only nod, too afraid of accidentally moaning and embarrassing yourself anymore today. He just chuckles and stops the torturous tango that his fingers were doing. “Use your words baby girl. Tell me if it's okay or not.” he instructs.

“Yes. It's okay, more please.” You hoarsely whisper, voice thick with lust.

Chris doesn't move, doesn't make a sound for what feels like minutes rather than seconds. Afraid that he might not have heard you, you open your mouth to repeat yourself when his fingers slip under the satin of your thong and into your slick folds.

“Good girl.” He says, his voice dripping with sex.

You lay your head back onto his shoulder as he works you just barely over the edge. Long fingers slipping in and out, massaging your thoroughly drenched cunt with ease. He grinds the heel of his palm against your clit and everything around you begins to blur. Lust, that primal urge, it ignites like a flame inside you, pulsating with an insatiable hunger that courses through every fiber of your being. You're so close to cumming around Chris's fingers, soaking his hand with your desire. You want to tell him just how close you are but if you let up on the hold your teeth have on your bottom lip you won't be able to control the sounds you'll make.

The lights come on just as you're about to come undone and he quickly removes his fingers just as quickly as he inserted them. The train begins to move again and you squint at the sudden light overhead that blinds you, breathing heavily. Before your eyes can adjust to the light and before your core begins to crave Chris's touch, you feel him fumbling behind you freeing his cock and distracting you from the frustration of your denied orgasm.

“Is there anything I should know?” He inquires, sounding like he's in a business meeting.

You don't need to ask what he's referring to. The real question though is do you really want to do this here, with someone you just met? What if you get caught? You both could get arrested. You could get fired. But there's no room in your mind for logic right now with the thrill and your need to cum clouding you. Fuck it.

“No nothing, I'm good. This is what I want.” You see his reflection smile.

“Good. Now, keep your eyes on me y/n.”

You feel the tip of him, covered in precum pressed firmly on your ass and his hands slide under your navy skirt pushing it up further. He hooks his thumb under the string of your thong and pulls it to the side. Your eyes never leave his face.

“No noise.” He warns, situating himself behind you, lining his cock up just right.

His cock feels thick and hot slipping between your thighs. You're so wet that there's little to no resistance as he pushes further and further until he's fully inside you. You let out a shuddering breath and your eyelids flutter close, feeling his warmth.

“No noise, remember? Look at me y/n. I want to see you when you cum on dick.” He tells you quietly, his voice more quiet than a whisper.

Your eyes fly open and stare at his reflection in awe of how gorgeous and composed he looks. He looks calm, like he's doing nothing other than waiting for his stop but his hands tell you otherwise. You feel it in the way he's gripping you to steal himself and to keep from bucking his hips into you at full force like he wants to. Like you want him to.

Instead he has to go at such an aching delicious slow pace so that the people behind him or next to you both aren't aware of what's going on. Your fingers long to hold onto him, to anything really. You're stuck standing still with your palms flat against the glass in front of you. Your breathing begins to fog the glass but you keep your focus on Chris and notice how his eyes go half lidded.

The brown seems to have gotten darker than the warm milk chocolate from earlier. One of his arms snakes around you and he presses his hand flat on your belly giving him more leverage. When he starts to move just a tad faster your heart rate skyrockets. The fear, adrenaline and lust mixing together creates an intoxicating concoction. Every glance, every touch, becomes charged with an energy that enthralls you. Your pulse echoes in your ears, drowning out all rational thought.

Chris's thrusts are covered up by the rocking of the train as it speeds down the rails. Your orgasm isn't far at this rate. Like a slow burn you feel it building up. A simmering that starts deep within your core, radiating up and outward. You're struggling to stay standing, to stay quiet now.

Your breathing comes out in ragged pants and your knees threaten to buckle the closer he brings you to ecstasy. You aren't the only one struggling, Chris's breathing is just as shaky and primal as yours and you hear him whisper something in another language before he murmurs “Fuck.” Into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. When your walls tighten around him he curses again and his gaze looks wild.

“Why do you feel so good around my cock y/n?” He asks but you don't dare respond. He smirks, grinding himself into you. “You take directions s-so well. So… obedient.” He whispers.

You can hear how he's losing his control. His composure has melted away and he no longer looks calm and collected. He looks like a man high on sex and chasing the release that's within reach.

“Y/n… fuck. Tell me, can I cum inside you? Will you let me fill you? Use your words beautiful.” He nips your neck just below your ear and you tremble.

“Yes. You can,” You bite your lip again to hold back what would've been a loud gasp when the train jerks Chris forward causing his cock to slam into your sensitive cunt. “You can cum inside. I'm so close Chris.”

“Then cum baby. Fucking cream on it y/n. Shit, so good.

Hearing him lose himself like that is your undoing and you're falling apart around him. The air becomes heavy with the heady scent of arousal, thick and intoxicating, swirling around you and Chris like a seductive veil. Each breath is laced with the taste of pleasure. Time seems to stand still as you stare at him. Eyes wide as you breathe through your nose squeezing your lips shut tight desperate to make no sound at all. Your cunt convulses around his cock begging to milk it of every drop.

The aftershocks of your orgasm shoot through you as he continues to thrust deeper and deeper. His own orgasm right at the edge. His arm tightens around you, hugging you closer to him. his breath becomes shallow and erratic as he reaches his climax.

“Fuck, fuck.” He whispers and he bites down hard on your neck over your fast pulsating pulse, sucking your flesh to keep himself from telling you how you belong to him now.

He bites you to keep the grunts and praises from tumbling out of his mouth uncontrollably. Because something about you makes him lose control. He doesn't do shit like this. He's careful, always planning and thinking things out. He just doesn't do spontaneity. He didn't plan this, it just happened. You just bulldozed into his life and he can’t get enough. What is it about you that makes him desire this cunt he's currently filling to the brim that he craves to make sore and swollen with his cock until the sun rises? Whatever it is, he's already addicted. He needs you in his own space, tied up nice and pretty like a gift only for him to unwrap. Fuck. He's already thinking of all the positions he'd have you in if you were at his place.

You watch in awe at how intense and irresistible he looks while he spills himself inside of you. His eyes hold so much power over you. You feel the weight of his possessiveness in his unwavering stare and it excites you immensely. You find yourself thinking of asking him to come back to your place where you'd be free to move around, cry his name out without anyone around. You're curious how sex with Chris would be in a more relaxed setting. If this orgasm was intense you can't imagine how it would feel when he isn't holding back.

He slowly pulls out of you, fixing himself as best as he can and then fixes your skirt back in place. He places a sweet kiss to the back of your head, chest still rapidly rising and falling. When you blush he chuckles.

“You're a cutie y/n. After all that, you blush from a kiss. So adorable.” He murmurs and you shift your feet. “If we don't get off soon I'll end up going for another round if you keep that up.”

You giggle and look back at him, “Sorry, I'll behave.” You sweetly say.

“What if I don't want you to?” He says instantly.

You blink at him, your face reflecting shock in the glass, and he chuckles. “To be honest with you y/n, I'd love to see you again if you'd let me.”

“Me? Seriously?” You whisper in disbelief.

“Of course. Preferably somewhere less crowded. I think after today I'll be just a little claustrophobic.”

You laugh and even after what just happened you can't believe how incredible of a guy he is. He wraps his arms around you, hugging you while you laugh.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful laugh y/n?” He whispers and you shake your head. “Why does something as simple as hearing you laugh make me so hard? What have you done to me?”

A shiver of pleasure runs through your body and he exhales quietly.

“I'd fuck you again right now if we weren't about to stop.” He tells you followed by the robotic female voice informing everyone to wait until the train comes to a complete stop and the doors open.

As the subway doors slide open, Chris grabs your hand and pulls you through them, dodging the rush of commuters that are eager to go home. With ease he leads you away from the hooded creep that's desperate to find you, vanishing into the shadows behind a massive pillar. You peek out from behind Chris who scans the area cautiously. When the man doesn't see you he hops back on the train, disappointment evident on his face but relief floods over you. Glad that's over.

"Thank you Chris." you say, sending a quick text to your best friend for a ride. “For saving me I mean.”

"It was my pleasure, y/n." he replies smoothly, grinning at you, his gaze lingering on your lips. His thumb brushes your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. "Anytime you need saving, or anything really just give me a shout, yeah?" He hands you a sleek black business card with fancy gold letters.

Maybe you will call him, because you really can't imagine that you'll get the memory of how he felt inside of you out of your mind. Besides, he made it very clear he wanted to see you again and how could you turn a man like Chris down?

After saying goodbye when your bestie arrives, you watch Chris walk away in the side mirror as the car eases into traffic. Glancing at the card in your hand, you see it reads "Chris Bang, CEO and Co-owner of CBO," and you feel a wave of shock and mortification wash over you.

“Who was that hottie?” Your friend asks bobbing her head along to the radio when she stops at a red light.

“My new boss…” You say, still feeling his warm cum still inside of you.

“Also... what the hell happened to your neck?”

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes (to go on a date with a dead guy)

Chapter 1

The expectant smiles froze on his siblings’ faces.

Jason blinked, still shaking off the disorientation of the green twisting blur that always came when he took his turn with tHe RitUaL. “What?” he said. It came out defensive. Usually they were all laughing by this point.

Dick reached out and took the post-it off his forehead. “We may have misunderstood this sacrificial thing.” He frowned at the note.

Jason tore it away and flipped it around to read it.

“...Please stop the bridal sacrifices,” he read, voice instantly trembling with the need to laugh. Holy shit. “Proposal is kinda forward. But if you really want, I’d totally go on a date with you. Check yes or no. Danny.” There were two smiley faces after the name and a scribbled drawing of a human looking guy with tall hair.

The batcave was in total, mortified silence. The ritual that had become their pre-patrol goof-off activity of choice had maybe… maybe been a mistake?

“I’m kinda hurt,” Dick broke the silence. “I’m marriageable. I’m a catch, even.” He was joking, but Jason was pretty sure that it wasn’t totally baseless. Who would look at Dick and then choose Jason, of all the people?

Stephanie snorted. “It’s probably your reputation as Ritchie Rich,” she soothed. “I’m sure if this… is it the same guy every time?” She blinked, clearly distracted from her original thought. “Have we all been proposing to Danny day after day?” She wondered. She started counting on her fingers.

“Twice last week,” Tim said thoughtfully. “I proposed to him twice last week.” A line formed between his brows. “I should probably tell Bernard, huh?”

“We must communicate with whoever this Danny is,” Damian said immediately. “If this realm possesses both animal life that resembles our fauna and sentient beings capable of the bad judgment necessary to select Todd as a suitor over Richard, we must know more.”

Jason made a face at Damian and flipped him off, but didn’t disagree. “How is this supposed to work?” He waved the post-it. That did imply some modernity, at least. They were communicating with someone who had stationary. “If I was going to check it, would he know what I picked? Or would I have to– should be bride sacrifice a notebook back and forth?”

“A notebook,” Tim said scathingly. “We can do better than that. A communicator, a phone.”

“Who says Danny has signal, dingbat,” Jason shot back. “He’s probably out of the service area.”

Cass took the paper out of his hand and peered at it. “Yes or no,” she asked, cutting off the disagreement before it could get heated.

He didn’t have to think about it. “Yes,” Jason said, mischief in every line of his body. “I gotta see where this is going. We should at least meet the guy.”

“He said you were tempting!” Dick gasped. He grabbed Jason by the arm and clung on. “Remember? The first time? You’re his type!”

Damian made a ‘gross’ face, features scrunched up like an unhappy cat. Stephanie ‘ooooed’ like she was watching a wrestling match. Cass merely looked thoughtful.

Jason shook his annoying brother off and kept him at a distance with a palm on Dick’s forehead.

“Oooh, the void boy has a crush on you,” Stephanie teased. “You’d be such a beautiful bride, Jason.” She didn’t react to Cass reaching into her hip pouch and withdrawing a sparkly purple pen. Jason loftily ignored Stephanie and watched Cass carefully check YES.

The note disappeared. Cass looked at her empty hand. She flicked the pen between her fingers. Her brow scrunched up.

“Shit!” Jason cursed. “Did-”

The group broke out into an explosion of excited sound.

A throat cleared from the stairs. “Kids?”

Batman stood there, wearing wary suspicion and most of his patrol outfit. He was under the impression that they had agreed to stop sacrificing each other to the green void.

“She took my pen,” Stephanie wailed, instantly switching tracks. Cass backflipped away three times and then leapt directly upwards into the rafters, waiving the purple pen tauntingly. Stephanie chased after her.

“What-”

“Jason won’t let me hug him,” Dick tattletailed. He lunged to grab at Jason. Jason dodged on reflex and threw himself into the scuffle.

“I need to call Bernard.” Tim turned and outright left the Batcave. “I’ll be about five minutes late for patrol, B.”

Bruce watched this chaos with bewildered eyes. “...We leave in ten,” he said, and visibly gave up.

…

The date, when it came, was a fuckin surprise to Jason. He was minding his own business compiling a report on everything the Two-Facers had done last week. (There was a surprising amount of bureaucratic process involved in making yourself the judge, jury, and executioner of people who sucked.)

And then there was a violently green hole in his wall. “Huh,” Jason said, leaning back in his chair. He pulled the handgun out of his desk drawer and cocked it at the portal. “Not sure I care for that.”

“Thanks, wolf,” came a warbled and nonsensical reply. Jason turned off the safety.

His brow furrowed. “What?”

The portal flashed white and it closed. He was lifting his gun to point at the man now standing in his apartment before he’d actually processed that someone had come through. This guy moved fast.

“This is where you live?” The other man was peering around Jason’s apartment. He seemed politely interested at best, and, Jason felt, much less concerned by the gun than he should have been. “I heard bats before. I thought there would be more bats.” His tone was disappointed. He looked at Jason and then flinched his palms out and up, as if he thought he might have come off rude. “Not that you need bats! Or that I’m disappointed by the lack of bats in your decor. In fact you have wonderful, uh, curtains.” He very obviously named the first thing that he saw. He pretended to be fascinated by them. “The red sure is a choice.”

Jason snorted.

“A great choice! I’m not criticizing your home. It’s great.”

Jason realized that if he didn’t say anything to save him, Danny was going to ramble himself into a verbal corner and slink out of the dimension to escape his obvious embarrassment.

“...You hair looks just like in the picture you drew,” Jason said. He put the safety back on. “Hello, Danny.” The name tasted odd in his mouth. It twas just a little pedestrian for the other man– no, teenager, the other teenager.

Danny looked young. No wonder he’d thrown Dic back like the wrong fish.

Jason felt a little less smug about having been the one chosen. Maybe he was just the most age appropriate candidate, not Danny’s type. Timmers was only two years younger, sure, but he was petite enough that it was a little ambiguous.

Danny turned away from Jason’s window and beamed up at him like that was the greated compliment he could have ever received. “I don’t actually have your name! Which is funny, since you kept manifesting in my house.”

God help him, Danny was cute. Jason reached out a hand. “Jason.”

Danny looked at his outstretched hand and then back to his eyes. He blinked. “Are- oh!” He flushed green and his hand shot out to meet Jason’s in what was very clearly the first handshake of his life.

It was a struggle not to laugh. He didn’t wanna make Danny feel bad so he held it in. There was a helpful distraction in that Danny was fascinating to the touch. It didn’t feel like he was touching a human hand. First off, the hand was about the temperature of butter straight from the fridge. Secondly, somehow the physical contact made Jason taste mint in his mouth.

But really, it just… it didn’t feel like human skin. It was too smooth. There was a raised line from a scar, but the texture was as if all the wrinkles and pores of human skin had been polished off. Like if you held the hand of a marble statue and it was somehow also soft.

Jason pulled his hand away before he could wonder too much if that supernatural smoothness extended elsewhere. Ah. Too late. He flushed a little red, even though the only exposed skin was Danny’s hands and face. “So you’re here to uh, set up a date?” he offered.

Danny blinked at him. “Are you busy now? I was thinking now.”

…He was sort of busy. Jason closed his notebooks, only now concerned that Danny might have seen extremely sensitive information. “Nope,” he lied, attention catching on Danny’s freckles. Something about them was pinging as relevant. Was there a pattern? They weren’t symmetrical or anything. Were they fake?

Danny beamed and - he floated up a few inches in his excitement. Holy hell that was cute. “Great!” he enthused. “Should we go to your place or to mine?”

Uh.

Jason turned violently red. “We are already in my place.” His voice came out tight. He- he hadn’t meant that. That was not a first date activity for him.

It took a few seconds for the penny to drop. “Go out in your city or go to the Ghost Zone!” Danny waved his hands frantically. “I’m not being a creep I swear! I mean, we are kind of spiritually engaged but I’m also engaged to– are those people your friends and family?” He was outright horrified. “Oh my GOD, I’m-”

“I would love to take you out around town, but you’ll stand out,” Jason interrupted. He couldn’t hold back the smile. “We can make it work, though. Thoughts on hats and glowing less?”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Danny twitched his hands outward in a motion he probably didn’t even know he was doing. There was another flash of white light that crawled up and down his body.

And Danny one was gone. Danny two stood in Jason’s apartment with dark hair, patched jeans, and a loose t-shirt that hid the musculature his jumpsuit had displayed. He had a full palette switch of his eyes and skin tone as well.

He was obviously the same guy. He just felt more down to earth now.

“Useful,” Jason said, and tugged at his snow-white forelock. “Think you could teach me to change my hair like that?” He was only half joking. It was the bane of his existence when he needed to go undercover. It was too distinctive.

“No, but Doctor Frostbite might be able to sort that out for you,” Danny replied absently.

Jason grimaced instinctively. He knew way too many gimmicky villains to want to do to someone called Doctor Frostbite. “That sounds like the name of a B-tier villain with blue hair.”

Danny paused and clearly contemplated it. “That’s Ember, actually,” which made no branding sense because the word ember evoked warm colors. “Lead the way!” He bounced on his heels, which Jason guessed was his human form equivalent to floating up.

Jason cleared his throat. “I, uh, am gonna want to change.”

For the first time, Danny really looked him up and down and realized that he was wearing a white sleeveless undershirt and black boxers. Jason waited patiently as Danny went through all the stages of grief and social mortification. That didn’t stop Danny’s eyes from followed Jason’s bare arms when he casually lifted one and flexed a little, rubbing at the back of his head. Ha. Eat that, Dick.

“I’m going to go drown myself,” Danny said, now violently pink. Huh, even blushing for a color change. “Can I use your restroom?”

“Stay alive enough to pick between Korean or Mexican,” Jason advised. “I’ll be right back. Should I find you a coat?” He didn’t wait for an answer, frowning at Danny’s bare arms. “I’m gonna find you a coat.” He was already on the way to his bedroom. “It’s freezing out.”

…