#How Do Cats Spray

[jester-jargon]

listen man. i know almost nothing about warrior cats. i've only ever read, like,,, one (1) singular book and i didnt even finish it.

but ever since i realized that everyone in that series are literally just,, cats, i couldnt take it seriously anymore. they're cats. they're literally kitties. scourge very well could have been taken home by Some Guy and only knew shredding toilet paper and getting stuck on the tops of shelves.

i could literally pick any of them up in my arms and kiss them between the ears. i could name the guy that was supposed to be Crowfeather "Cornelius Von Tango III" and nickname him "Plinky". I could prevent disembowelment and dismembering and drowning and mass murder by giving them catnip and a heated blanket.

"but Grassleaf was a horrible person and---" maybe he would have chilled the blue blazes out if i gave him treats and brushed him.

"but Darkness was an emo murderer and ripped the limbs off of anyone who looked at him weird and---" i could trap him in a towel.

"but Tailpaw ate that guy's ear---" what if i gave him canned food, huh? what if i introduced him to a soft, warm couch? what if i gave him his own spot on my bed and loved him so so so much because he is a cat. these are literal kibby cars.

"but---" shut. i dont care. i literally do not care. a cat is a cat which also just so happens to be a cat. i could trap any of them in the sleeve of a jacket. thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

[sunlightfeeling]

party hearty

We are SMAP: MC (2010)

[aimfor-theheart]

enemies to lovers with wyll who thinks he can save you

[mvnces]

travis ha/ckett: werewolves shun water decker, in the distance: who told you that? who gave you that piece of information??

[drbtinglecannon]

So we had to do a big cleaning task yesterday and the vacuum bag was on the floor in a corner because we had to vacuum up water, and the boy decided to roll around on the bag this morning before we had a chance to put it away.

We tried dry paper towels, wet paper towels, and dry cat shampoo, but he was still distinctly gray on half his body.

So we had to bathe him.

Folks, he did not enjoy being bathed. He's also still huge even when wet, no "fluff contributes to size" for this boy (he's over 12lb)

After drying him off he ran to hide under a side table and groom forever, so I put a pile of freeze dried chicken (his absolute favorite treat) next to him. Eventually he stopped grooming to eat his treats then went right back to it.

And thus concludes the Second Worst Day of his Chester life (so far)

[silly-bus]

I don't think I can keep boy cat 💔

[gelarshiesprofruitboarder]

yayyy

[today-i-am-thinking-about]

liquid bandages

[faetealights]

im gonna say something (admit) and no one can Say a Fucking Word Alright.

[crumbwinner]

are you cat pretty, fox pretty, deer pretty, bunny pretty, jellyfish pretty. are you gonna get rid of your hip dips or your strawberry legs or your baby cheeks. what’s your seasonal color, have you had a personal color analysis. what’s your kibbe body type. what’s your aesthetic, what kind of vibe are you tryna give. have you tried the butt pencil test. have you tried the charcoal face mask. what about the charcoal toothpaste. are you following the glass skin routine. have you tried sleeping with mouth tape on to get a better jawline. are you saving up for veneers or a BBL or a boob job. are you beer tanning this summer. have you optimized your shower routine. did you know that not making facial expressions keeps you from getting wrinkles. do you wanna learn how to be “That Girl.” do you wanna get the fox eye surgery or buccal fat removal. are you a girl boss or a bimbo. have you tried the hair identifier spray. are you gonna hide your double lip line. are you gonna get that liquid nose job. is your face card serving. does your pinky overlap your thumb when you wrap them around your wrist. how big is your nose gap. what’s your canthal tilt. did you know you can treat smile lines.

[rin-eko]

Sylus, who doesn't just call you kitten from the start, but also treats you like one. He can't help it. Not when you remind him exactly of a fierce, scraggly stray kitten, hissing and arching its back at him whenever he comes close.

After coming to understand how uncomfortable you felt around him, he decided to adopt a different approach to getting close with you. A less forceful approach- a plan you didn't realise was implemented even when you were finally pliant and comfortable around him like a relaxed fat cat.

He had to coax you, silently and gently encourage you to put away your claws and start trusting him.

When you were at the base and basically sticking to the opposite side of the room as him as if you were glued there, sometimes he'd pretend to be deeply curious about something in front of him, such as a book or artefact, and pretend to pour over it as he clicked his tongue softly.

As expected, and just like a cat, the sound would catch your attention, and when you realised he wasn't making the sound to gain your attention but just casually clicking his tongue because he was interested in something else, you would slowly approach with a little furrow in your brow. He tried not to laugh as you took slow steps around the edge of the room to come closer, you yourself pretending to be interested in other books and things to seem as if you just casually ended up near him, meanwhile you had been eyeing him from the corner of your eye the whole time, little interest in anything else.

Treats. You hadn't though deeply about why Sylus' pantries were stocked with your favourite snacks. After a few visits to his home, you would naturally make your way to the kitchen to grab your favourite treats without a care in the world, happily munching them like a stray cat that had been lured over by temptation.

At the base, you would also be able to find your favourite toys (the cool guns in his armoury) and your favourite games, such as kitty cards. The blankets and pillows in the guest room you stayed in were all made of your favourite soft material, so expensive it felt like sleeping on a cloud. Sylus even tried spraying his cologne in certain areas of the house so you would become accustomed to his scent.

When in his home, Sylus would make sure to give you plenty of alone time while still ensuring you were aware of his presence, so as not to intimidate you but also to make sure you knew he was around if you wanted to approach him.

And you did, sometimes peeping over his shoulder like a curious cat to see what he was doing. Or sitting on the kitchen counter watching him as he cooked. The distance slowly closed before you even realised it. But he knew, and he was torn between smugness and the happy trilling in his heart.

You remained blissfully ignorant as the comforts around you grew. You naturally relaxed into your surroundings and his presence, not even noticing Sylus had planned it this way from the start.

Even now, he watches you- in your own small home this time- lounging on a fluffy, pink bean bag situated in a spot of the living area that catches the sun's soft glows through the window, and can't help but liken you to a cat. Especially when the sun moves through the sky and your eyes crack open, an unhappy frown creasing the top of your nose because you are now in a shady spot and even with a blanket covering you, that will just not do.

He watches you stretch languidly, yawning, before dragging the bean bag to a new patch of sun and once again settling on it, falling into a comfortable nap once more.

He's come from the kitchen, and he approaches you to place a warm cup of tea beside you quietly. One of your eyes peek open to take him in.

"Sylussss," you whine sleepily, rolling onto your back. He squats in front of you and rubs the top of your head.

"Mm?"

You don't say anything else, just falling back into slumber, but he smiles and continues to pat your head. It's something he does often, and he wonders if you even realise that you've come to always expect these head pats, bouncing up to him when you're proud of something you've done and want his praise, waiting for his warm hand to tell you you did well.

Or when the two of you are just relaxing together, sometimes he'll scratch beneath your chin and you'll preen, lips twisting up in contentment and enjoyment, eyes falling shut as you lean toward him for more. You may as well have purred and rubbed against him in silent askance for more.

Of course, if you became aware of the fact he was treating you like a cat, you would start pretending to not like these small affections, so Sylus keeps quiet with his teasing.

Although, he thinks of how cute you'd be, turning away with a pout after discovering he had been treating you like a pet. He could almost see an imaginary tail flicking irritably. Maybe you'd even growl unhappily.

He chuckled quietly. Truly a kitten.

[leyavo]

Simon x Cat x Neighbour!reader

Part two > (previous part)

Simon Riley was a lot like his cat, dropping by your flat whenever he wanted. Thanking you for looking after Cat in small little ways.

Bringing you home little trinkets from his work travels. “Got it from some market, can’t tell you where though. Would have to kill ya and I really don’t want that.” Little things that line every inch of your windowsill, crystals he’s found because he knows you like them.

Thankfully it wasn’t a mouse, Simon hunting one down after Cat delivered one to you. And as you watched him pause, head angled to listen for the squeaks or little scurries. You couldn’t help but think he was a cat too. For a big guy, he was light on his feet and everything he did quiet.

“Dinner?” You asked, trying not to look at the mouse dangling between Simon’s finger and thumb by its tail. “Not a huge fan of rodent.”

He invites you into his flat for the first time, promising that it’s rodent free. “Woah your place is real big,” you say, opening your arms in the space as if you expected to touch wall to wall. Simon’s thinking of all the activities he could do with you, but decides dinners a good start.

Dinner turns into grabbing a morning coffee after a run and even going on evening runs, which angers him because before him you never would have done so alone. Sitting on the bench in the park to stretch or take a rest as you sip your water bottle, stickers decorating the outside.

When the pipe under your sink was dripping water for months, he fixed it and you didn’t find out till you went to check if the bucket was full of water again. No, no bucket under the sink. There was a small tool box in its place, stuff you had no idea what to do with.

Cat was drinking from the bucket under the sink, that’s how Simon discovered it. He’s even got a picture of it on his phone as well as a load of pictures you’d sent him with Cat. Sometimes he looks through them in his room back at the base. A few videos of your soft voice calling Cat.

So you sent him a picture of said toolbox and messaged him. “Did the fairies visit me?” He didn’t respond till the next day, “big bloody fairy.” promising to show you what they were for and sending you a video of basic plumbing if you wanted to learn yourself whilst you waited for his return.

Cue Simon teaching you how to fix the plumbing in your flat. The two of you squeezed into the little box of a bathroom as he listened to you explain about the low pressure of the shower and the tap on the sink you wanted to swap with something pretty.

The eroded shower hose snapping and spraying the both of you with water. Simon’s hoody drenched, sticking to every curve and dip of his muscles. Your back leant against the wall as his arm reached above you to turn the water off.

“I really wanna kiss ya,” he said, head inching closer to yours, gaze flitting to your lips. “Kiss me.”

You use his place for sex and make sure Cat is in your flat, “don’t want the kid to see,” is what Simon says.

Whenever Simon sees you’ve run out of anything, he’ll pick it up when he’s doing his weekly food shop. The coffee sachets refilled when you go to the kettle and when you ask, Simon shrugs “the fairies,” he says, sipping his cup of tea with the morning paper.

Even when you are officially dating you were still going between the two flats. Joking that cat had the studio and you could stay with Simon.

[shinythingsarecool]

okay this time I mean it

I am actually going to close tumblr and go to sleep for real. I really mean it this time.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Cat boy lads things

Rafayel is the type of car boy who’d occupy your lap more often than not and will become pouty when your attention isn’t fully on him, so much so to the point where he’ll act like you’ve been neglecting him. (This is a false statement)

He’s the king of the side eye. He’s judging you but he’s not silent about it either and he will move to the other side of the room, however he’ll think that you’ll come after him and get pouty when you don’t.

He’s sending all kinds of signals and all of them contradict the other and yet he still expects you to know what he was conveying…for someone who hates cats he shares a lot more in common with them then he’d like to admit.

Zayne is the type of cat boy who is secretly obsessed with you and would do just about anything you’d ask of him.

He’s more than willing to wait on hand and foot for you, all the while reminding you of his loyalty and fondness for you when in close proximity of you. It’s extremely intimate with how close your faces were from each other, feeling his breath fan across your face.

He’s the calmest out of all of the cat boys and the most well behaved as he can be found next to you, casually grooming his tail and ears while chaos ensues throughout the room. He’s kinda low maintenance but you give him attention and affection regardless just to see him smile and purr against your lips.

Xavier the little freak is the kind of cat boy who will be calm with the hand dealt with him but thrives off of you touching his ears and tail, regardless of how sensitive both of them were, he just likes the feel of your hands touching him while he becomes a little warm under the collar.

However he’s also the type to be found fast asleep in some weird places and in weird situations. He sleeps like he’s dead and it concerns you greatly as you spend the next ten minutes trying to wake him up, internally freaking out, only for him to wake up completely unbothered.

He kneads your chest…a lot…that is all. The little freak. (Affectionate)

Sylus is a gentlemanly cat boy who always had a pension for mischief either the way it glimmered in his eyes as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

He uses his tail to grasp your wrist or even brush again your waist as he’s walking past, his ears pricking up at the sound of your little hitches of breath, and a knowing smile is stretched across his lips as he raises a brow at you.

You hated him for making you feel like this but you didn’t at the same time.

He will rub his scent on you if he smells another cat boy on you, not out of possessiveness or overprotectiveness, he just really doesn’t want you smelling like other cat boys. However this isn’t much of a problem when his scent away them away anyway from you anyway.

Bonus cat boys;

Kieran and Luke are the two shits who makes life infinitely harder.

They will think it’s funny to knock shit over, while your watching them do so no less, and or start biting and tugging at your clothes relentlessly until you threaten to spray water on them for being little shits.

Somehow they get their tails knotted together…how you don’t bother to ask as it’s already a headache with them saying that while they’re twins, they rather liked have their own independence separate form the other.

There the type lie their bodies across your body while you sleep, making you wonder what the fuck is that unnecessary weight coming from, only to open your eyes and see these two dummies smiling back at you with matching Cheshire grins. That or use their tails to tickle your nose as a prank or even rest their heads close to you so you could feel the twitching of their ears at every subtle sound.

They have to sleep on either side of you, those are the rules and you have to abide by them if you don’t want them being little shits.

[blackkat15]

You know you and your cat are besties when you both sass each other to the point of annoyance but still cuddle during movies.

[rafesteddy]

Here’s a little teaser of my DILF!Rafe x MILF!reader I'm working on… 💕🤭

it’s a standalone but you can read more dilf/milf au here

+18 -> c/w completely unedited, swearing, 18 year old boys being gross, suggestive, Rafe doing DILFy Rafe activities aka washing a car #fuckingpurr

You lean into the counter, squeezing lemon after lemon into the pitcher, not really thinking—just letting the juice run down your fingers. It’s cold and sticky, soaking into the creases of your palms. The whole kitchen smells like sugar and citrus, with that warm, soft hint of cookies still cooling behind you.

The plate is already half gone, scarfed up by the group of teenagers congregating in the common space. They’re all tall, tan, and way too loud—sprawled out like they own the place.

“Sugar, please?” You ask as you gesture to Kelce’s son, perched on the counter, completely blocking the one cupboard you actually need.

“Yes, ma’am,” he hums, giving you a sweet smile as he hops to the floor and retrieves it for you.

His hand brushes yours when he passes it off. You thank him, sweet as always, and turn back to stir.

“Fuck, she wants me so bad,” he mumbles to your son, just out of your earshot.

Max groans, head thudding back against the cabinet door. “Fuck off, Tripp. Don’t fuckin’ start, alright?”

“Why else would she be in here squeezin’ her lemons?” Tripp groans, somehow making that sound as suggestive as possible.

“Hi, Mom!” Winnie calls, stepping in, her sandals slapping against the marble. Her boyfriend Jackson follows behind, arms already full—carrying the twins, their hair still wet from playing in the sprinkler, freshly dressed like they’re going out.

“Is it cool if we take the twins out for ice cream?” Winnie asks, only half-focused on you as she throws a displeased look at one of the boys who’s giving her an obvious up-and-down.

That same boy yelps when Max throws a punch, nailing him in the arm.

“M’gonna fuckin’ kill you,” he mutters, going after his sister too, which makes the other boys hoop and holler like it’s all one big game.

“Of course, sweetie,” you coo, walking toward the counter to grab your purse. You pull out some cash without hesitation.

“Oh—no, Mrs. Cameron, really, I’ve got it,” Jackson says quickly, but you glance back at him with a warm smile.

“That’s very sweet, but not necessary… Thanks for taking them off my hands for a little bit.”

You kneel in front of the twins, pushing back one of your daughter’s curls, brushing your son’s cheek.

“You two be good for your sister and Jackson, okay?”

You lean forward to kiss their cheeks, and without realizing it, your sundress shifts. The neckline dips—your breasts softly press together, your backside teasing the hemline—and you stay bent a moment longer than usual, whispering something about sprinkles and chocolate.

Behind you, the boys fall completely silent. The one who had been on the counter swallows hard. Another one stares like he forgot how to breathe.

“Max… dude. This is your life?”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?” Your son mutters.

“I’d move in tomorrow. I’ll be your stepdad today.”

“Bet she tastes like sugar—”

“I said shut up,” Max snaps.

Another one of their friends walks in from the hallway, catches you mid-bend, and grins like the damn Cheshire Cat. He lifts both hands in the air like he’s holding your hips, thrusting behind you with an silent moan.

The rest of the boys lose it—coughing, snorting, trying to swallow their laughter as you stand up and smooth your dress, still completely unaware.

“All right, go have fun,” you sing out as the group starts to head for the door.

You return to the pitcher, lifting it to the sink.

You fill it slowly—water churning the lemon juice and sugar together, rising to the top—when your gaze drifts out the window. And you see him. Rafe...

Out front on the cobblestone walk, his white shirt soaked through, hose in one hand as he rinses down the G-Wagon. Sunlight hits the spray like glitter. Water clings to his tee, molding the fabric to every cut of his chest and arms. You freeze, breath caught, as he turns—hat flipping backwards with one hand.

Your thighs press together. Your grip tightens on the handle of the pitcher just as the water spills over the top, running down your hand in a sudden splash. You fumble for the sink and shut off the tap, your eyes never leaving him.

His shirt clings to his broad back, light blue swim trunks riding low on his hips and high on his thighs. One hand grips the bucket, the other coils the hose. The sun glints off his biceps. The thin cotton darkens, outlining every muscle, his chest shifting and flexing with each slow move.

“Have fun, boys,” you chirp, draining a splash of lemonade into a glass, your eyes locked on your husband until the very last second.