#never drawn a cat in a not funny way before

[candy-fae]

AYOO!! DREW MY FRIENDS CAT

[bumpscosity]

Bill/dream demon sketchdump, had to get it outta my system

[teyums]

ok ur last post made me think of this

can u do another human reader x neteyam where he meets her cat

this is so funny bc they would absolutely hate each other. it took my first cat two months to even tolerate her new sister when i first introduced them even though i let them sniff each other through a door for two weeks 🥲 it was terrible. it’s def impossible for a cat to make it through cryo to Pandora but let’s just imagine for a sec

neteyam x human!reader

“Just pet him for two seconds. He’s super sweet, I promise!” You assure a shifty Neteyam as his tail swishes behind him, his back leaned against the wall of your reserved section in the lab and his eyes glued to the moving ball of fur a few feet away from him.

“Why… Why does it look like that?” He mumbles with a slight squint of his eyes, the small grimace on his face indicating his displeasure as he watches your cat groom itself. He’s stood off to the side, arms folded across his chest, distanced demeanor matching his continuous refusal of getting any closer to the strange animal he’s never seen before.

Your jaw drops as you fake being offended and you lightly shove his arm, eyes rolling when you lean down to stroke your cat’s head, scratching under his chin and smiling when he purrs.

“What do you mean why does he look like that? You and him are basically cousins, the only difference is you don’t have fur and whiskers.”

A scoff sounds from above you almost instantly.

“Me and that thing are not cousins. I harbor way too much decorum to lick my ass and call it a bath.”

Since it’s clear Neteyam won’t move any closer, you gently pick Loki up and set him back down at Neteyam’s feet, so he can get a whiff of his scent. Your cat has always been friendly with others and loves attention, so your brows instantly furrow when you watch Loki’s ears pin back against his head, and as if he could understand what Neteyam had just said, his back arches, hair standing up off his body and he hisses up at the Na’vi male, followed by a loud, drawn out guttural meow you’ve never once heard him make at any of the scientists who he’s met. Neteyam’s eyes go wide and he immediately jumps to the side, tail standing straight behind him in alert.

“Loki!” You gasp, shocked at his unusual reaction.

“See, I told you he wouldn’t like me!” Neteyam gestures down at your fluffed up feline, only for his own ears to fall back against his braids when he mimics your cat’s behavior and hisses right back at the small creature, as if he couldn’t control himself.

“Don’t hiss at him!” You scold your 8-foot tall boyfriend, swatting at his leg while you’re crouched down to try and soothe an agitated Loki.

“He did it first!“

For a split second it’d completely slipped your mind that while Neteyam is an alien with very obvious feline attributes, introducing two cats to each other like this is pretty much always a recipe for disaster.

Likes + Comments + Reblogs are much appreciated 💗

©teyums 2023

[stararch4ngelqueen]

hear me out…jason proposing 😵‍💫 i’m such a sucker for a lowkey proposal like you’re just having a normal convo and he’s like “marry me” and you’re like wtf but you laugh it off bc like ofc he’s joking so when you’re like “you’re funny” he’s just dead serious, “marry me.”

I don’t really know where I was going with this, but if you get the reference I respect you.

—

Time written - 10:10 a.m

—

You weren’t a criminal when you met Robin, years before his tragic prime. It wasn’t every day when your paths crossed with a cape wearing teen around your age, even more so on his search of a bag of valuables you were ready to deny when it ‘accidentally’ came into your hands.

“Care to tell me how that happened?” The Boy Wonder at the time smirked, amused at your gawking face.

“Cat got her own tongue? What, you need some milk?”

You rolled your eyes. I you were a thief, you’d have sense to throw the satchel at his head. The cheesy jokes must’ve been a Robin thing. “I’m more of an Ice cream girl, actually. But, I didn’t steal this!”

To add up on this horribly unprecedented situation, Robin quirked a brow behind that domino mask of his, gesturing his head towards the bag of valuables in question.

“Trade you a milkshake for that.”

It was your turn to be incredibly confused, your mouth left open for quite some time. Was he serious right now?

“I choose the flavor.” You state after a further moment of thought.

“Seems fair.”

“And the place it’s bought from.”

“That’s askin’ a bit much,” Robin began to huff, hinting his growing smirk as your frown deepens.

“All I’m asking for is a five dollar shake in exchange for this bag full of hundreds of dollars, bird boy.”

“A five dollar shake in exchange for about seven hundred bucks inside that bag,” Robin points out, his smile growing bigger and bigger. “Throw in your phone number, an’ we got a deal, kitty cat.”

It turned into unconventional milkshake roof dates, sitting over the skylines, staring down at the chaotic world below as the two of you shared an unintentional paradise.

He’d tease your fear of heights, constantly calling you a Catwoman rip off, but he always made sure to never let you fall. Your relationship was sweet, too sweet, and gone way too fast.

Your rooftop dates were a tradition you kept alive when he died, only to resurface when a knock at your window interrupted you of sleep, opening your balcony to find a single milkshake perfectly balanced, with a bright black arrow drawn on the cup to meet Red Hood on the roof.

Jason Todd wasn’t the same as you remembered him to be, but he was still Jason, underneath all that broodiness that shielded him from whatever unseen traumas he hadn’t shared with you quite yet.

All these months since he ‘returned’, he always made sure to keep up your ice cream date schedules. Nine o’clock sharp on the roof of your apartment building. Sometimes, ontop of Wayne Industries on special occasions. He’d always be the one to carry you, especially now.

What did stick with him was his horrible Robin humor, which was what you believed he was using when he popped such an unexpected question.

“What?” Came your first response, a nervous laugh leaving your lips. A strange warm throb formed in your heart, thudding rapidly in your chest.

“What did you say?”

“Marry me.” He repeats again, never putting off that firm expression plastered on his face.

What an untimely thing to say in the calm before an unknown storm. Both of you were out of breath after chatting for an hour, sipping on thick melted shakes and laughing over the previous Boy Wonder.

“Jason, this isn’t funny.” You peer down at your cup, nearly finished with its contents. He always got your favorite.

“You’re right,” He agrees, his tone a little too calm to be considered any sort of joke.

All possibility of opportunity to pop a laugh and admit he was joking weighed heavily in the air, carried around by the nightly breeze. He never says he’s joking, never shrugs off such an alarming, mind blowing question.

“What if you’re kidding?” Your denial still leaks through, making his lips twitch upwards. It has to be a joke, he wouldn’t say it like this.

“What if I’m not?” He casually responds, nearly wearing down your patience.

“You’re not joking, are you?”

“I’m not.”

“Jason.” Saying his name so softly, littered with fear and hesitancy makes his second life heart melt. Being so sweet on his girl, even after his death, taught him a great lesson about time.

Regardless if he didn’t arrive at nine o’ clock sharp, or if you arrived two minutes late, time could easily be taken away, ruining everything.

He remains quiet, watching your flustered expression vary from your hands along your cup before setting it down beside you. Taking this chance, he gently grasps hold of your hand before it had a chance to retreat into the safety of your jacket pocket.

“I meant what I said,” Jason speaks again in a more calm, soothing tone of voice. “I know this ain’t traditional. I don’t exactly do traditional, but … I wanna marry you.”

His hand squeezes yours, making you hesitant to speak further. He was serious, the realization was heavily daunting in such a unique way. A unique, exciting way.

“Why?” You look at him again, swallowing slowly as he leans closer, nearly making you anticipate a kiss.

Instead, his forehead settles against yours, taking in the rich, crystalline serenity of your unique, radiant beauty.

“Because,” he mutters, “You waited for me.”

Dedication, patience, hope; That was worth more to him than gold, worth much more than the bag of valuables he knew you didn’t steal.

“I have a ring for ya,” Jason continues on whilst his thumb strokes along the back of your hand. “If you don’t like it, I’ll getcha whatever you want. We’ll have as big of a wedding as you want, then we’re gonna go somewhere.”

“Somewhere?” You whisper.

“Yeah. Just you and me; no crime fighting, no danger. Nothing. Just us.”

“Just us?”

“Yeah babygirl,” Jason peers into your eyes, wanting to coo at your noticeable tears. “Wherever you want. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

You just needed to say yes.

You couldn’t help but giggle with an overwhelming mix of emotions, your trembling hand reaching up to settle behind his hooded head.

“Why do I feel like,” you nearly laugh in between your words. “Why do I get this feeling you put the ring in my cup?”

“An’ ruin a perfectly good five dollar shake?” Jason expresses in surprise, chuckling along with your giddy laughter. “C’mon babe. I’m not that inconspicuous.”

“Then where is it?”

Jason tilts his head, raising a brow. “Why’re you asking, kitty cat? Plan on stealing it?”

“No,” you muse, your nose nearly bumping against his.

“You expecting me to slip it on right about now?” His hand finds purchase along your hip, cradling your supple body. “Dosent work unless you—“

You cut him off via a kiss, one he graciously accepts.

You tasted like cherry sublime mixed with the highlife, a good life where you always existed in it. If he were to die again, he needed to know that he went with one successful accomplishment. Marrying his Robinhood sweetheart.

“Yes,” you whisper, those tears you worked so hard to hold back cascading down your cheeks. “I’ll marry you, Jason.”

In knowing him since he was Robin, till you met him as the muscular, ever brooding Red Hood, you’ve never seen the man smile so big. His eyes shining brighter than the moon that was ever so beautiful tonight.

Grasping hold of your hips, he pulls you into his arms, carelessly tilting over his half finished milkshake cup in the process. His lips find you once more after sitting you in his lap, muscled forearms snuggly hugging around your waist, holding you as physically close to him as possible.

“The ring I gotcha-“ he muffles against your pretty lips in between kisses. “- is at my place. Waiting for you—on my bed.”

Your laugh was all you could respond with. From the very start, it’s as if he planned this all out. All it took was a bag of misplaced valuables and the promise of a five dollar shake.

[eupheme]

— yours, all yours

cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 2.3k

tags: cooper pov, jealous and possessive!reader, sort-of alternate timeline (ft. a fo4 character), cooper is an ass, partners-with-benefits, mutual yearning, light angst, intentional pushing/teasing, soft thoughts, kissing, oral sex, praise kink, biting and marking, come swallowing

a/n: @aliisa-jones left a sweet comment on mine, all mine that got stuck in my head, so this is a “what-if” situation that I whipped up today, with reader being the jealous one (with Coop & Nora on the other side)!

Cooper can’t help the little bark of a laugh when he realizes - disbelief woven into the sharp sound that spills from him.

Goddamn. His little wastelander might just be jealous.

Cooper’s always been a perceptive man. Able to read people when it mattered - a real helping hand during his time in Hollywood.

Even more so now - gun drawn and ready before they’re even figuring their own conclusion. Twisting the situation to his benefit.

So he doesn’t know why it took him so damn long this time.

Two days to notice, after they picked up that Vaultie. Made from before - like he was - on her way to New Vegas.

A pinch of curiosity had plucked at him with her addition, but nothing more. Had been a rare indulgence to have someone understand all the shit he says, unable to help the occasional age-old idioms that have still lingered inside his mind.

But something about her had set you on edge. He’d thought you’d like her. Two peas in a pod, annoying the shit out of him with idle chatter during the long hours on the road.

You had bristled. Narrowed eyes and distrusting. Wondered if that’s the way he looked, half the time.

Wasn’t until you started to move, that he really noticed. Wandering closer than he’s used to. Finding reasons to pass by him, your ass pressing snug his front. Your pretty tits pushed up against his arm, leaning close to ask him something.

Pretty eyes blinking his way, hanging onto every word.

Riling him up.

Acting like a cat in heat. As if there were pink clouds of perfume drifting off you, spelling out “mine” as they settled over his clothes.

Funny, once he’s got it figured out.

Not sure how he missed it before.

The jealousy that oozes from you. His eyes going to yours each time that frown crosses your face.

Nora is a handsome woman. He’s got eyes, after all - yhey hadn’t rotted away like the rest of him. Can appreciate where she’s come from, deep down, though he’d never say it.

But he seen lots of good-looking people throughout his time walking this earth. And even back when he was just a man, that sort of thing never swayed him.

He’d buried old Cooper Howard some two hundred years ago. A mercy - tucking his corpse away deep in the labyrinth of his soul, as the Ghoul was reborn into rot and ruin.

A place he isn’t sure how to get to anymore, but sometimes there’s still bits of him that linger. Flowers sprouting up through concrete.

Loyal, perhaps, in spite of it all. When it suits him.

Besides, it's been a while since he’s tasted fruit so sweet. Biting down until you’re gushing against his tongue. Supposed he’s not looking to ruin a good thing.

But despite all that, he decides lets it all play out. Amused at the thought.

Seeing where it goes.

Let’s himself appear at-ease, when Nora slinks closer. A cocked brow bone at the low purr of her voice as they pick through an old house - clearing it for the night.

“You mod that yourself?” Her eyes drag slowly across him, down to the holster that rests at his hip, “Didn’t take you for a handyman, cowboy.”

“Sure did,” Cooper drawls - the shotgun slung across his back held loosely in his hand, as his eye scan the old dining room. “You pick up a few new things, out here.”

Had to, to survive. His clothes a patchwork of black thread, holding together ripped seams. Weapons had come next, not like he hadn’t had the time to learn.

“Can I see?”

She’s reaching for him, and he lets her. His eyes flicking towards you as she slips the gun from his holster, fingers curling around the grip.

“Modified MTs255,” He explains, as she turns it over in her hand. Purposeful in the way she moves - with the slow, admiring brush and stroke of fingers, “Changed it from a side-loader to a-"

“Top-break.” She muses with a nod, her shoulder brushing his as she flicks at the lever. A smirk, as she glances his way - her eyebrow lifting this time, “How’s she handle?”

There’s a soft lilt to her voice. Easy to pick up on - especially with the way she smiles, tongue caught between the white of her teeth.

“Oh, I’d say she handles just fine.” He lets the words turn sweet, smooth as honey as they leave his tongue.

You make a frustrated sound, then. A little whine in the back of your throat that he barely catches, before you’re turning sharply on your heel. Stomping off deeper into the house, and he can’t help the smirk that curls at the edges of his lips.

“See for yourself,” He's quick to excuses himself, leaving the gun in Nora's possession. Peeling away from the Vaultie, not sparing her a second glance. If she calls after him - he doesn’t hear it.

His steps purposely slow as he follows behind you. Letting you simmer.

You don’t notice as he slips in the doorway behind you. A head cocked in interest as you wrench open old cabinets. Breath heavy, a rough hiss between your teeth as your fingers clench into fists against the counter.

“That'd get you killed.” He comments, idly, “Runnin’ off like that.”

A little gasp as you whirl. Your hand doesn’t even twitch towards your gun, and he'd not sure if that annoys him. Or if he knows you knew it was him by the low rasp of his voice.

“Didn’t think you’d notice,” You sniff, head quick to turn away. Eager to break eye contact, arms crossing tightly over your chest.

A huff of a laugh rumbles in his chest, “Now what makes you say that, sweetheart?”

You blink at him, his spurs jangling as he closes the space. Hands pressing flat on either side of your hips, a flash of teeth as he waits.

“She-,”You huff - finger pointing accusatorily, “You let her-“

Another little sound, as your frown deepens, “Her hands were all over you, and you didn’t even care!”

It’s spat out. A kitten showing her claws, sharp little teeth bared.

Cooper lets his hips press against yours. Your hands brace against his chest, torn between pushing him away and yanking him closer.

“Takes two to tango, sweetheart.” He coos, but you just frown - not understanding.

Something in his favor. An admission you won’t get. That flicker of tenderness lost in the air.

He wonders if you’d still be angry, if you knew how long he roamed the wasteland without knowing the touch of another. That it would take more than a gun-laced innuendo to truly turn his head.

“‘Sides,” Cooper husks - finger tucking beneath your chin, “What are you goin’ to do about it?”

Needling at you. A thumb against a bruise, pressing until it stings.

Your jaw grits. Eyes searching his, fingernails pricking worn leather. Before they’re sliding up - fitting against his shoulder, around the back of his neck, as you tug him to meet you.

Pressing your lips against his. It’s possessive - an arch to your body as it curves. Tits pressed to his chest as your tongue flicks against his lower lip.

A rough groan as he parts them, as you seek more. He swallows your whine as his hands roam. Across the fat of your hip, squeezing. Fitting the curve of your waist. Palming at your breast as your hips roll against his.

Needy, in the way you gasp. Little panting breath as his head tilts. As he takes control - pressing you into the counter as he licks into your mouth.

He’s stayed away, since you picked up this new stray. Put away a lot of people, or put them in the ground. Not about to let someone use you against him.

It had him pent-up, too. Desire red-hot in his belly. Stiffening with the way you rock against him - a part of him craving the touch.

Easy then, to catch your hand. To drag it down, across the leather of his bandoiler, the heavy buckle of his belt. Pressing your palm flush against the heavy curve of his cock.

Rocking into the cup of your fingers, grinfing into your touch.

“That’s all you, sweetie.” He rasps, and you moan.

Pulling back to look down, as you trace how he strains. The heel of your palm pressing against his clothed, flushed tip, as a low growl rumbles in his throat.

Unable to hide his own need, as his tongue loosens a command.

“Why don’t you show me why I keep you ‘round.”

It’s cruel to word it that way. He’s been trying to scare you away for weeks. Knowing deep down that you’re meant for better things than him. His words now are untrue, even - he knows that.

But you do too, and you don’t care - a determination in your eyes, as they reluctantly pull up to his. Still caught on the evidence of his desire.

Fingers already fitting around his buckle - tugging.

“She might hear.” You breathe, though you don’t slow. Not until you’ve popped the button. Tugged at the zipper, a hitch in your breath as you draw him out.

He had found you tucked around the corner of the kitchen, close to an old pantry. The window behind peeking out into a long backyard. Facing towards a broken-down swing set, the grass overgrown with thick brush and weeds.

The evening sun casting blue and pink shadows, spilling over your shoulders. The room set deep against the far wall of the house.

No doors to hide behind in a kitchen like that, and you’re right - the sound might just happen to travel.

He grins, all teeth.

“Ain’t that what you want, darlin’?”

You inhale a breath.

Desire swirling in your eyes as they meet his. Sinking onto your knees without a second thought, tucked between his hips and the counter.

A small kindness, in the way his coat would block you from view, if someone were to come looking. Keeping the vision of you just for himself.

He’s biting out a curse as you take him into your mouth. The tight, wet heat as he presses against your tongue, no warning before he’s nudging against your throat.

His own hands scrape against the counter - resisting the urge to buck his hips, not wanting to gag you.

“Easy, now.” Cooper husks, something for both of you.

You hum in response - knees spreading wider. A slow bob of your head as you lick against the underside of his cock.

Eyes lifting until they’re on his. Wide and wanting as your head tips - drawing back to show how he rests against your tongue, glossy with spit.

There’s a deep throb in his core. A rattling groan as you leave him completely, your fist wrapping around his cock. Steady in the way your jerk him from base to tip, as your tongue dips down to trace against his sack.

“Fuck.” It’s bitten out, “Gotta make you jealous more often, sweetheart.”

You hum at the way he sees you so clearly. A soft suck against drawn-tight skin, before your head is turning - teeth sinking into the flesh at his hipbone.

He grunts, as his fingers jerk - clamping down against your shirt. Biting into your skin as you suck on ruined skin, the redden shade of his skin blooming darker.

Bucking into the pump of your fist, as his little wastelander marks him up. Marking a hickey along the curve of the stomach, then the meat of his thigh.

He relishes the sting. Letting you explore, as long as you keep touching him. The pleasure-pain blending into bliss as you stroke him.

There’s a tightening deep in his core, a tremor to his thighs. You go easily when he thumbs at your jaw - a soft whine buzzing in you throat that he can feel all the way down his shaft, when your lips close around him.

It has his cock jerking against his tongue.

You didn’t have memories of dirty films, the lewd magazines from before. Not knowing what it means to exaggerate pleasure for his benefit.

The need etched across your face is real - a hand dropping to nudge against your core. He’ll make up for this later, when the house is bathed in darkness. Spread you out across that dining room table he spotted, tasting what he did to you. Make you come on his cock, driving his point home.

Leaving you sticky and clenching around nothing for now. Always eager to make you learn a lesson.

“You're takin’ me so fuckin’ well.” He growls, and you shiver with the praise, “So good for me, aren’t you?”

You hum around him, your answer in the bob of your head. The sound of your fist and mouth is lewd, slick and loud. His own grunts and panting breath layering in, as everything winds tight.

Unable to help the buck of his hips, now. How expertly you work him, with none of that slow exploration when you’re alone.

Eyes focused on his face, watching what you do it him. Looking for the way his head tips back, the part of his lips.

He’s close. Can feel the way everything tightens up, that mounting pressure in his belly.

“Fuck, honey.” Cooper lets the name slip free, “‘Bout to fuckin’ come. You gonna be a good girl and swallow?”

You moan again, as you work him. Letting his hands guide you to the pace he needs. Lips glossy with spit, all but drooling as he uses you.

His breath coming short and harsh, until his teeth click sharply together. A rough groan before he’s bucking into your mouth, spilling against your tongue.

Your fist works him through it. A hand cupping his sack, gently squeezing as he throbs. Those eyes fixed greedily on his, soaking in every expression that flickers across his face.

Always good for him, and you both know it.

“Show me,” He husks, and you do - a ragged gasp as you pull of him, lips parting. The hinge of your jaw opening to show the way his come pools against the dip of your tongue.

“Fuckin’ christ,” It’s enough to have him ready to go again, if he could. “Go on, then. Swallow for me. Show me you’re mine.”

There’s the gulp as you swallow. Eyes blown wide with need as he hauls you to your feet. Your hand still drifting back to tuck around him - putting him back together, as your head tips towards his.

“Yours.” You breathe - the words hoarse as they slide from your used throat, just as you close the gap between you.

Another kiss. Softer now, though just as possessive. He can taste himself on your tongue. Always liked the way the two of you meld together.

Like it’s meant to be.

And maybe, he thinks -

Maybe a little part of him is yours, too.

ahh thank you for reading! I always love a little cooper pov, it's such a fave to write!

[mitsies]

thinking about high-school!gojo today.....

he’s top of his classes, a-list student, and everyone knows him. people across campus gossip about his latest romances and grades and all— he’s an open book. and a new york time’s best seller, apparently.

gojo is specifically notorious for his position as top student at your prestigious school. only the best from the best lineage, it seems. in graded discussions, he’s viciously tearing down others’ points. he disagrees with the teacher. makes jokes that make the whole class laugh. has been responsible for at least 3 faculty members’ quitting. all this, and he’s still failing art. sculpture class, to be exact.

it’s an elective both he and you have been forced into; you’re a lot happier about it than him, it seems. because he always complains. loudly. and he sucks at art, quite frankly.

it's plain to see that the boy has never even drawn a portrait in his life. he's got two right hands and he's left-handed, it looks like, that's how bad he is. and even worse is the fact that he's got no friends in this class; everyone's a stranger. which is probably why he resorts to bothering you.

you like to think you're a strong person, of mind and of being. but your resolve to being kind crumbles as soon as gojo opens his big fat mouth.

you see why people like him. he can be funny. he's good at lots of things (arts not included) and sometimes, only sometimes, does he have something valuable to say. but mostly, you find gojo satoru to be a nuisance.

working on your projects is made incredibly difficult when 6 feet of pure frustration is bitching right next to you. "this clay," he'd complain, "it's gotta be broken. it's not working."

you try to ignore him, you really do. him and his inane excuses, and empty commentary. and for the most part, he disregards you right back. he looks through you, sometimes. sometimes. that is, until the teacher pulls him aside a few weeks before the end of the school year and he comes back more stone-faced and scared than you've ever seen him. he's quiet for longer than you've known possible and you're surprised to find that you kind of miss hearing his voice.

he doesn't really say much, and class lets out, and you go on with your life like normal. but there's an itch in the back of your mind, and it sounds like his name over and over and you can't quite get it out of your head. not until the next day, when you see him again- 2nd period sculpture class, 9 o'clock in the morning.

and this time, he looks right at you.

"you're really good at this whole sculpture thing." he's making a statement, not asking a question. you blink and realise that this is the very first time he's spoken to you, directly. he was complimenting you in a way- on what? does this mean he's seen you? all this time you presumed he stared straight through, blue eyes burning holes through your skull. maybe, just maybe, he's been looking at you the whole time. you're not sure how to reply so you just nod, "i guess."

"i," he says the next words like he's choking on glass and you see his adam's apple bob (his skin is so pale; translucent. you think it'd be cold to the touch,) "need help."

you almost feel bad. he looks like a cat that just got soaked in water. pitiful. playing dumb, though you know exactly what he means, you tilt your head innocently. "help with what?"

he grimaces. you bite the inside of your cheek to stop a smile from spreading like wildfire.

"this class."

"oh? what about it?"

he dramatically slumps against the desk, knocking over the boy in front of him's water bottle. he doesn't bother picking it up. "sculpting. art. everything."

"i thought you were good at everything, though."

that might've been too far, because he looks at you again. he really, really looks. and you think he sees you. because he smiles, "my reputation precedes me. i'm so famous, aren't i?"

"i guess you are," you concede, allowing an edge of amusement to lighten your tone. he is still looking at you. he does not break eye contact. it makes your stomach churn with something sickeningly alive, something abhorrently beautiful.

"then it should be your honour to help me out or something, yeah?"

it should be. it will be. you could let it be.

"i'm pretty busy. sorry."

he blinks at you. you turn away. why did you say no? you didn't want to. but then again, you'd prefer to be away from him and his life- lavish, elegant, mansions and stars and cameras and glamour- you have homework to do.

you think that, after this, gojo satoru will leave you be.

he does not.

in fact, you think it gets worse.

if he wasn't talking to you much at all before, it's all he does now. he sits in your seat before class starts, getting there before you, waiting for you. chats your ears off, too, when you try to get work done. and he always ends up bringing up that proposal again- to help tutor him in sculpture, or give him pointers, or whatever, you try to tune him out.

you wonder why he only asks you. there's plenty of much more talented, much more friendly students in your class. ones that'd say yes. but he only asks you. you think he knew it was only a matter of time before you gave in. that was what he was banking on, probably. all it took was two weeks worth of asking, talking non-stop, and basically borderline begging. and you folded.

..which, is how you find yourself in the art room, after-hours, sitting next to gojo satoru and a pottery wheel as he helplessly squishes the miserable and miserly beginnings of yet another deformed clay pot.

"you can do it," you encourage rather dryly. he shoots you a look. "great acting."

"sorry. i'm trying my best here."

his hands are covered in wet clay, so when he wipes his brow he uses his forearm. the crewneck he wears is pulled up and pale, pale skin glows a wintery shade. you tear your eyes away. "and i am too! but it isn't working!"

you frown. he really is bad at this- ignoring all your direct pointers and advice. you've told him what he needs to fix; be gentle, go slowly, be patient, patient, patient. all that has gone in one ear and out the other.

you really dread what you're about to do. but you want to help him save his grade in this class, because gojo satoru was not gojo satoru without his 4.0 gpa. so, bracing yourself, feeling a tight, tight knot in your stomach, you ghost your hands over his on the wheel and hold on, shadowing them. a guide.

his skin is cold, you were right. big hands, bigger than yours, they feel good and frigid beneath your touch; like they were made for you, sculpted to your touch. you feel his breathing stall before he starts rambling again.

his words move fast, but not faster than his heartbeat, which you feel in his wrist. you'd be dizzy with the proximity if you weren't so focused on making something. it's almost magic, how 2 pairs of hands come together to make something- a small pot, spinning on the wheel.

it's a little lopsided and wonky looking but it's far, far better than anything gojo's accomplished. he goes quiet. "wow," he says, so so hushed you almost don't catch it. you know he's not talking about the pot.

"i told you that you could do it."

his hands break away from the wheel, leaving the clay formation and pulling your hands away, too. they're in his, still, and covered in a think muddy-coloured sludge of slip. but he holds them.

"you have something on your face," you exhale after a beat of silence. because he does; a dash of clay, marking the expanse of skin on his cheek. just below his lip. he smiles and a dimple creases his pretty, pretty face.

"yeah? why don't you get it for me?"

you blink. "my hands are filthy. i'd make it worse."

"do you think i care?"

you're surprised your hands are steady, a sculptor's hands, as you wipe away the drying residue of slip. it crumbles and flakes off his cheek, but your thumb brushes his lip and you feel him freeze before grinning wider and pulling away. you miss his cold. you feel a bit too hot all over, now.

"it's all over your face now," you inform him, snapping your gaze away to hide your embarrassment. he doesn't look away. he looks at you, he looks at you, he looks at you. like he likes you, a little bit.

"we can deal with that after the lesson, yeah?"

you expect him to sound different than he does, when he says this. you expect his voice to be full of ego and confidence, like usual. boisterous, louder than life. but he's quieter. almost like he's shy. you turn back, and you see the way he watches you. like you're precious, like you're fleeting and rare and the most beautiful, beautiful piece of art he's ever seen.

"okay," you say, "okay. sure."

his grin is worth a million dollars and his boyish confidence returns after the lapse of shyness; "awesome!"

promptly after, he moves to go back to the clay pot. in his excitement, he squishes it into a lump again.

"awesome," you sign, resigned. but you can't find it in yourself to be mad. you like him too much for that.

[forgeofthenine]

Hi, I love your blog ♥️

I was hoping to get some headcanons for Zevlor and the others, for when their non-tiefling partner tells them that it's not that difficult to read tail language because they've had cats for most of their lives and tieflings are similar enough.

Since we're already likening Zevlor to a wet cat, might as well go all the way. Tell him to his face that he's just a grown up catboy >:3

I honestly cackled at the last line of this ask, this entire thing was a pleasure to write and I hope you enjoy!

The bachelors when you compare them to cats

Dammon

You'd known Dammon for a while now, learning the blacksmiths little quirks and attributes

One think you'd picked up on a while ago was the way his tail moves

Your eyes were often drawn to the way it would wag and curl in your presence, how it never quite seemed to stay still

It was only when you'd been giving a stray cat hanging around Dammons forge a scratch that you'd connected the dots

The blacksmith definitely wasn't expecting you to understand what his tail language means the next time he sees you

Having your partner matter of factly point out your excited tail wags is enough to fluster even the most self assured tiefling

When you compare him to a cat he gets even more flustered, letting out a light laugh as he asks you to be a bit more specific

Honestly, Dammon kind of likes the comparison despite being more of a dog person

He'll join in on making jokes about Tieflings being half cat, or saying that he's secretly a cat in a tiefling suit

Dammon is very chill about the whole thing and definitely appreciates having a non tiefling partner that can read his body language

Zevlor

Zevlor has a habit of dragging his tail when he's tired or upset while in the privacy of your shared home

He gives big sad cat energy a lot when he's recovering from his time on the road

It definitely helps you to know when he needs a bit of extra care and affection, being able to read his mood through his tail

Seeing the way it sways slowly when he sees you despite how it was layed on the ground originally

After some time, Zevlor starts to wonder how you always seem to know when he's in a bad mood

Sometimes you know even before he does

When he asks, the last thing he expected you to say was that he acts like a sad cat whenever he's upset

Zevlor is quite literally speechless at that, you can even see the cogs turning in his brain

He'll be confused by the idea but it doesn't change how he moves his tail is when you're around

Every time you liken him to a wet cat it's like trying to explain an internet phenomenon to your out of touch grandad

The way Zevlor is always so adorably confused and accepting of it as a compliment is definitely a sight to see

Rolan

This ever proud wizard is definitely an easy one to read, even if you aren't used to cats

His tail lashes behind him when he's annoyed, it curls in on itself when you praise him for his magical ability, it sways lightly when you enter the room

Bringing up his similarities to cats is something that just happens naturally

The two of you are reading in his study when he drops something and lashes his tail in annoyance

When you mention his annoyed tail language he assumes it's his siblings who explained it to you

He's halfway through cursing Cal and Lia under his breath when you say he's actually acting like a cat

It's enough to completely stop him in his tracks, furrowed brow as he considers your words

Rolans much too proud to let himself be compared to a cat without complaint, and bringing it up is an easy way to get under the wizards skin

His tail flicks around behind him and his face glows an even brighter red

Even better, get Cal and Lia in on the joke!

Make Rolan regret ever introducing you to his siblings, trust me, it'll be really funny

[kissingghouls]

The Date (Mary Goore x Reader)

Summary: You and Mary are still trying to figure things out, but you've agreed to a first date. (This is a follow up to Winter Chill because frankly we all need to kiss Mary more often. 💕)

tags: kissing, somewhat sexual situations, feral cats, and soft soft he/they Mary Goore.

A guitar solo wails from a nearly busted speaker as you lean against the dive bar’s tricky door. The air is stale and the floor is sticky, but Mary lights up when they spot you ducking past the entryway and into the dingy room. It’s obvious to anyone who might be watching through the smokey haze, but it’s a look meant for you alone. That half-smile, half-smirk is a signature look that really only works on Mary’s lips. It makes you feel too warm, too tingly as you drag your body toward the empty seat in front of them.

You don’t miss that it’s the only “nice” barstool in the place, the only one in the entire establishment without gouges or missing stuffing and exactly zero crudely drawn dicks etched in permanent marker. Mary must have guarded the thing their entire shift as it was a treasured piece in the bar—a mighty throne for all the “tattooed freaks” and “weirdos” that made up your social circles. You wouldn’t be surprised if the regulars had been threatened with certain death or worse—room temperature beers.

“The fuck you looking at, Goore?” you hurl at him as you climb onto the seat.

“You, darlin’,” he answers with a grin and a wink.

Before, you would have rolled your eyes and walked away. You probably wouldn’t have been here on a Monday night in the first place. But things were different now and a warm pink blush flares across your face at their words. It’s funny that it’s all still new, how all the butterflies and funny feelings still show up even though you’ve known Mary for years. But you’d never known this side of them, this genuinely sweet and ridiculously smooth side that they reserved for whoever currently held their affections.

Whatever this was—this thing happening between you and Goore—you were happy to let itself play out rather than giving it a name and getting attached too early.

“You don’t stand a fuckin’ chance, Goore,” Mary’s boss hollers with a laugh and tosses a couple of pity bills into the tip jar.

“I dunno,” Mary sings with a shrug. “I’ve got a certain charm, eh darlin’?”

“I guess you’re alright,” you reply.

Mary plays it cool, but you can see the way their eyes light up like they’d just won a million dollars. “See Pat? I’m alright.”

“They pay you to say that?” Pat huffs with a laugh.

“You could have a little faith in me, man.”

“Nah,” Pat replies in a gruff tone. He stands and pulls his leather jacket over his shoulders. “You treat this one right, Goore,” he instructs with a friendly pat on your shoulder. “There’s a lot of ways to make someone disappear.”

“Jesus, Pat,” Mary laughs. “What makes you think I won’t mind my manners?”

“I’ve met you. But this one? This one’s a good kid.”

“How could you accuse me of such a thing Pat?” you ask in mock horror.

“My mistake, kiddo. Try to leave Mary in one piece, yeah?”

“I make no promises,” you call out as Pat walks away.

Mary leans forward, elbows resting on the bar as he asks in a low voice, “you gonna take me apart, darlin’?”

“Shut the fuck up, Goore,” you groan, shaking your head. “Are you ready to go or did I drive all the way up here for nothing?”

They grin and grab the tip jar. “Lemme get my jacket.”

Minutes later Mary rounds the bar shouting goodbyes at the regulars and their coworkers as you juggle your keys in your hand. You do everything you can to will away the nerves clawing at your stomach, but nothing quite works until the two of you are outside and Mary reaches for your hand. They stop and pull you closer, bottom lip chewed nervously between their teeth.

“Thanks for this.”

“For picking you up from work?” you ask with a laugh.

Mary rolls his eyes and groans, tugging you closer. “For the whole thing, I mean. The date,” they reply with a nervous tinge.

“Is that what this is?” you tease, knowing exactly what the two of you had agreed on when they’d proposed the idea.

“You’re not gonna make this easy for me, are you?”

“Isn’t that why you like me?”

“Of course, it is darlin’.”

You reach up and press a soft kiss to his lips. He tastes like mint gum instead of smoke and you can’t help but grin at the thought of Mary Goore nervously chewing through an entire pack in the hopes that they might get to kiss you again. You can’t help grabbing fistfuls of their jacket to pull them even closer as you dare to deepen the kiss. Mary’s hands go straight to your hips as your heart begins to race.

“You’re fucking dangerous, darlin’,” they whisper against your mouth, eyes closed and forehead pressed to yours to savor the moment.

“Maybe. You like it though.”

They nod. “Very much. More than you know. But as much as I enjoy making out with you in the street, I do have a nicer evening planned.”

“You’re really serious about this date thing, huh?”

“As a heart attack, sweetheart. Gonna romance the hell out of you.”

“Bring it on, Goore.”

Mary laughs in response, fully accepting your challenge by running past you and doing a little bow as they open the drivers side door for you. They tilt their head as they wait for your witty retort, but you’re too stunned to do anything but stumble over a “thank you” as you slide into your seat.

It’s a short drive to Mary’s place, but time seems to slow to a crawl when he’s sitting next to you. You can feel the cold still clinging to his jacket as he directs you toward a spot on the street that’s normally occupied by his roommate’s van. He assures you it’s more than ok steal the space, giving you another one of those Mary Goore grins that used to mean trouble, but now they’re starting to make your heart stutter in your chest. As you throw the car into park, Mary’s face is haloed by the streetlight buzzing above and all you can think about is how badly you want to kiss them again.

“Stay there,” he says quickly and jumps out of the car, sprinting to reach your door before you realize what he’s doing.

“You’re out of your mind, Mary,” you laugh, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the entire thing.

“Hey, I told you I was going to romance you, darlin’.” They hold out a hand and help you out of the car as you take it. Their fingers are soft, lingering just a touch longer than expected as they run a thumb over your knuckles. “This is just the first step.”

“Should I be worried?”

He scrunches up his face, pretending to think. “Yeah, probably. Come on, darlin’,” he says as he urges you toward the sidewalk. “It’s cold as shit out here.”

You follow Mary up a winding set of narrow stairs and lean against the wall as they fight with their front door. The winter weather’s made the locks harder to turn and you can see the satisfaction on Mary’s face as the door finally swings open.

“After you,” they say with a broad sweep of their arm. You’re still shaking your head as they follow you in and realize the apartment is freezing. “Fucking piss,” Mary shouts in frustration and rushes to fumble with the thermostat. “I’m gonna kill him.”

They wait a bit for the tell-tale click of the heat kicking on and the distinct smell of radiators warming up fills the apartment. You watch them move through the space for a moment, realizing you’d been here before. Some distant memory filters in and the room is full of half-naked people and those plastic party cups while music blares at an unholy volume. You can’t remember what the party was for—a birthday or valentine’s day or something equally unimportant—but your heart feels like someone’s gripped it in their fist as a perfect vision of Mary leaning against the wall wearing a bored expression and that same battle jacket appears clear as day in your mind.

A screeching sound pulls you back to the present and Mary’s rushing through the kitchen to the back door. You hear it again, not screeching, but desperate meowing just outside the door.

“Hang on, hang on, I’m coming guys,” Mary says with a laugh before turning back to you. “Sorry, they can always tell when I get home.”

As Mary carefully measures out cat food into two plastic baby food bowls, the meowing turns to howling cries as though the cats know it’s dinnertime. You smile as two small cats swarm Mary as soon as he steps onto the balcony. He sets down their food and grins back at you as he waves you over. “That’s Scratch and that one’s Sniff. They’re pretty sweet for being feral cats, just don’t try to pet Scratch.”

“I can’t believe that stupid rumor was true. Mary Goore feeds street cats.”

Mary shrugs. “Is it that hard to believe?”

“No. Honestly, it’s the one rumor I always hoped was true.”

“Hmm, so you’re saying you think about me when I’m not around?”

“That’s hilarious coming from the guy who’s had a crush on me ‘for-fucking-ever.’”

“Oh, because you never had a crush on me?”

“I never said that.”

Mary smiles and takes your hand. “C’mon darlin’. We have a date.”

Back inside the small kitchen, Mary becomes increasingly frustrated as they open and slam each cabinet shut. There’s a growl under their breath, throaty and deep like the noises they make on stage and their shoulder sag in defeat as they stare into the empty fridge.

“So…uh…” he starts and rests his forehead against the door of the freezer.

“What’s wrong?”

“I swear I had a plan. I was going to do all this nice shit for you—I was gonna make you dinner! But it…uh…it looks like my roommate ate all the food?”

“Were you…trying to impress me, Goore?”

“Yes,” he confesses quickly. “Trying real fuckin hard here, darlin’.”

“You know you don’t—”

“I don’t have to do any of this for you? Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just…I wanted to?”

“Well, you still could right? There’s got to be something left in here,” you suggest and begin to search the cabinets. Tucked away in a back corner is a single box of mac and cheese in little cartoon shapes. “Ah! What about this?”

Mary laughs. “Probably about as good as it’s gonna get. This ok with you?”

You lean closer to them and whisper, “I kind of love that stuff.”

A soft smile creeps across their face before they steal a kiss and send you off to the living room. You settle on the sofa and pull your sleeves over your hands as you fold up to keep warm. The heat might be making noises, but it’s still cold as hell in Mary’s apartment. You know it’s the kind of thing they can’t help, but you keep your discomfort to yourself. You didn’t miss that hint of embarrassment under his makeup because things weren’t “perfect” when you’d arrived, but you weren’t sure how to tell him that none of that mattered to you. You just wanted to be here with him.

“Well, this is a fucking disaster,” Mary states with a self-deprecating laugh and drops next to you on the sofa. They swipe at their face, clearly still upset by the way the evening’s events continue to unfold. The metal of their rings clicks together as their fingers smudge their already fading makeup.

It’s almost cute the way Mary is aggravated by things not turning out as planned. Hell, it’s cute that Mary made plans, but you weren’t about to let them put you on a pedestal—lest you fall from it later.

“Mary?” you start softly.

“Hmm?”

You don’t really have anything to say to follow up, so you crawl across the sofa and straddle his thighs instead. You level your eyes with the pale green of his, watching as his pupils go wide at the sight of you in his lap. “It’s not a disaster,” you tell him, slightly impressed that you’ve earned his full attention. “It’s just a regular date.”

“Fucking hell, darlin’,” they groan.

“What?” you ask with a doe-eyed innocence that has Mary pulling their lip between their teeth.

“You’re something else, you know?” they whisper.

You shrug and lean in, closing what little gap was left between the two of you. “I can’t help it. There’s just…something about you.”

“About me?” he asks in disbelief.

“You gonna argue with me or are you gonna kiss me, Goore?”

“Hmm,” he hums, pretending to think once more. “Yeah, I’ll be honest I think I’m gonna kiss you. Like, a lot.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good plan.”

“Probably one of my better ones, really,” he says softly, urging you closer with each word before his mouth claims yours. He smooths a hand over your back as the kiss grows more and more heated. He shifts beneath you, turning to pin you to the sofa as he hovers above you. The weight of his hips against yours is like a dream and you reach up to pull him closer. Tongues twist as hands tangle in each other’s hair, fingers gripping with hesitation to find the perfect pressure to make the other moan. While Mary’s kiss is aggressive, they keep their hips almost respectfully still until you give chase with your own, raising to meet the slow, tentative grind.

The sound they make—somewhere between a whine and a whimper—is so pretty you’re determined to hear it again, but it’s too hard to think with Mary’s teeth on your neck and their fingers trailing under your shirt. They’re leaving marks, but you know you will too as soon as you get the chance, so you tug hard at Mary’s hair and attack as they throw their head back. Their eyes shut tight as you nip at the skin below their ear and suck an angry red mark into their skin. They make that sound again and this time it’s almost desperate as their hardening length drags over your sex.

Before either of you can do anything about it, a horrific noise erupts above you. Mary falls from the sofa, knees banging against the hardwood floor as you sit up and try to catch your breath. There’s a haze of steam in the room and Mary scrambles toward the kitchen to wave anything they can in front of the screaming smoke alarm. When the wailing finally stops, they turn back to you sheepishly and burst into an uncontrollable laughter.

“Forgot—” they heave between giggles, “forgot—about—the food.” They finally catch their breath and wipe away an errant tear as they shake their head. “Darlin’ I might not be cut out for this fancy date stuff.”

“Is this a bad time to tell you that it’s fucking freezing in here?”

“Yeah, I think the heat is out. I might have been…trying to pretend it wasn’t.”

“Ah, well, do you have…I don’t know…blankets? Like…maybe on your bed?”

“Darlin’ are you trying to get into my bed?”

“Yeah, actually.”

Mary grins. “Ok, this might be the best date I’ve ever had.”

-x-

more stuff by me // ko-fi tip jar

[beesspacedotorg]

beebebebebebebeebee… kitties minbin grooming each other 🥹🥹

hihi. there's no porn in this. just kitties being kitties! I was gonna write porn, and then decided I just wanted cats!!

Minho hated Changbinnie when you first brought him home. Hate … might be a strong word, but your Lino certainly didn't like the other cat. Went so far as to hiss at him whenever he sat in the wrong spot on the couch. It took a while, and several long, tough conversations where Minho was being exceptionally stubborn before they warmed up to each other.

(To his credit, Changbin seemed ecstatic at having an older friend. Wanted to be attached to Minho’s hip despite the other cat's best efforts.)

Looking at the two of them now, though, you'd never know that they used to not get along.

When you walk in after work, your job which you hate, Lino has Changbin pinned to the couch, licking his face while Binnie fusses underneath him.

“Yah!” It comes out as more of a yowl than a yell, “Let go!”

“Changbinnie,” Minho's voice is cloying and sweet, “stop wiggling or hyung will accidentally bite you.”

“I'm not- stop it- I'm not dirty! You don't need to clean me!” Changbin says, and Minho pulls back to stare at him with a frown, tail twitching behind him.

“I don't need to do anything. I'm doing this because I want to.” Changbin’s ears turn pink. “Or does Binniecat not want me to?” Minho pouts, fake and even though his back is turned to you, you can see the way his cute lips turn down.

“Ohhhh,” Minho flops over onto his back, trapping Changbin beneath him and giving the other a mouthful of hair, “Our Changbinnie doesn't like me anymore! Jagi,” he reaches out to you, “Changbinnie hates me.”

You snort. “I'm sure that's not true, Lino.”

“It is,” Minho yowls, rolling around on top of Changbin and causing him to groan in discomfort. “Changbinnie hates me and doesn't love me.”

“And why do you say that?”

“Because he won't let me-”

“Because I told him to stop licking my face.” You coo at how put upon your Binnie sounds, walking around to kneel on the ground next to the two of them to pinch at one of his full cheeks.

“Aigoo, is our Binnie sick of Lino’s grooming?” Your voice is high and pitched and you can see out of the corner of your eye how Minho’s ears have pinned themselves to his head in annoyance and you can feel when he flaps his tail hard against your arm.

“I just wanted to watch my shows.” Changbin is pouting at you, reaching out with his little hands to grab you in a bid for more affection. It works.

You are notoriously weak for displays of cuteness, willing to let anything slide if one of your kitties apologizes sweetly enough, and the two of them take advantage of this at any opportunity.

“Jagiiii!” Minho's drawn out whine sounds alarmingly close to your ear and when you turn your head to look at him, you're met with more of a Minho-shaped blur than anything else. You reach out to scratch between his ears.

“Yes, kitty cat?”

“Pay attention to me!” You giggle.

“And what about Binnie-bug?” Changbin headbutts your shoulder at the mention of his name.

“He doesn't love me anymore. Put him outside and let him become a stray.” Minho turns his head away, eyes closed and chin raised in the perfect image of distaste. The way he has one leg resting overtop of Changbin's gives his nonchalance away.

“Yah! Why don't we put you outside and let you become a stray?!” Changbin is leaving his post at your side to start wrestling with Minho.

“I lived here first!”

“I lived here second!!”

You laugh as their fighting takes them off the couch onto the floor, and you move from your spot next to the couch to take Changbin's now empty seat.

It's funny watching them wrestle, watching the way Minho's tail poofs up and the way Changbin’s ears disappear into his curly hair. If they were any closer to you you'd be able to see the way their pupils are blown wide from the fight.

Changbin gets a particularly good hit in and Minho lets out a high pitched meow, they're just playing, and you know now to only step in if hissing gets involved. That hasn't happened in a long time though, so you aren't worried.

Minho steps back and wiggles a little before pouncing on Changbin and you coo loud enough that they both turn their heads towards you.

“Oh, don't stop on my account, cuties.” Minho lets out a huff of air through his nose in that catty way of his before he goes back to wrestling Changbin to the ground.

Changbin usually lets Minho win. Something about cat hierarchy that you don't understand despite their attempts to explain it to you.

“It's the same reason we let you win, jagi.” Minho had said to you once.

“You don't let me do anything. I win based on my own merit and strength.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. Changbin snorted.

“Yeah, sure. You're very strong.” He’d said, kissing your cheek.

“I know I am! Thank you!” Minho had said something about feeding delusions and then the three of you had gone to sleep. Or, you went to sleep and the two of them started wrestling on top of your body in the middle of the night.

Either way, Changbin usually lets Minho win, but today he doesn't. He pins the older cat to the ground and grabs the scruff of his neck between his teeth. Minho struggles, tail thrashing wildly and growl building in his throat. Changbin answers with his own growl and Minho flops uselessly underneath him.

“You cheated.” Minho says, faced smushed into your rug.

“You're a sore loser.” Changbin replies, letting Minho turn over so he can straddle him.

You smile at the two of them and laugh, bright and joyful, when Changbin starts grooming Minho's face.

“Hey! Knock that off!” Minho says.

“Not so fun, is it?” Changbin says, pinning Minho's arms down when he tries to shove him off.

[ornii]

Hiya!! Can I please request a Wednesday Addams x Male!Reader where reader tries numerous ways to get his girlfriend to smile?

Love: The Unspoken Language

What makes Wednesday Addams smile?

Wednesday and Pleasant smiles were complete Polar opposites. While her love for you was strong and resilient, showing affection was completely annexed from her ideals. And it was up to you, to see her soft grin.

Sitting solemnly upon her chair, typing an excerpt from her future famous novel, her pace was steady, fingers meticulously tapping the keys, suddenly her precious writing time was interrupted by a figure entering her dorm room. (Y/n) enters with a shine and calmly approaches his love. He leans a bit as his face is next to hers, she stops typing.

“Hello Meine Liebe, Ive missed you dearly.” He says and gives her a soft peck upon her cheek, trying to make his black cat smile, but it was much to her annoyance.

“(Y/n), Mi amor, I requested an hour of silence for my novel. That includes your advances of affection.” She said, (Y/n) let out a solemn sigh and stands up and walks to her bed, calmly sitting upon it, watching her. He just stares at her, Mesmerized by her beauty. While many feared her rough and dark demeanor, you were attracted to it, drawn to it like a moth to a burning flame, inching so closer to getting burned but just barely enough not to be snuffed away in her flames. Wednesday, as upfront with how much she despises most people is, wasn’t the best at conveying emotions, especially ones so primal and, overtaking. Love.

Wednesday eyes (Y/n) from the corner, she stops again and turns to him.

“Your staring.”

“I just want to see my little Deathtrao smiles, Oh, Is it harming you as well?” He asks smirking, he bats his eyelashes at her, and a small scoff rose from her.

“No, it’s off putting.” She said with her classic cold tone, while (Y/n) tries not to take her abrasive nature to heart; it does hurt. His smile fades and he stands up.

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone then.” He said quietly and walked to the door, Wednesday quickly realized what she said hurt.

“(Y/n)..” she says, and he stops and turned to her direction.

“What?”

“I.. didn’t mean that in a negative way. I meant that it’s.. odd for a man to stare so lovingly that isn’t my father.” She said, (Y/n) calmly walked over to her and kneels down so they’re almost face to face, and he takes a risk, using his hands he gently cups her face, and smiles.

“Wednesday staring at you is like looking into the Victorian Era in its finest beauty. Your dark eyes are like staring into the dark side of the moon, so lost in space that I can’t catch my breath, Wednesdays Addams, I love you.. no, I adore you.” He says, and Wednesday, smiles, those harrowing words were so, lovely, “Allow me..” (Y/n) says, his eyes close as Wednesday closes hers, her lip quivers as he slowly leans in, preparing to seal the deal. Before the two can seal their love, they hear the door open and (Y/n) was suddenly on the floor, and Wednesdays was typing on her typewriter like nothing happened. Enid enters, a bit shocked by (Y/n)’s presence.

“(Y/n)?” She asks obviously confused.

“I-oh, Hello Enid, I was talking with Wednesday about Mr Stiens biology class.”

“Oh. Okay..” She says, Enid wasn’t the most, perceptive but she could tell something was upon, By (Y/n) stunned look, and the fact Wednesday was tapping her foot, something she never does unless she’s, Anxious. Enid walks over to grab a book and walks out; not before delivering a perfect zinger.

“Well I’ll let you two get your chemistry on~” she says and leaves, (Y/n) sighs and sits up.

“Everyone knows, you don’t have to push me.”

“Yes I do..” Wednesday said, and turns to face (Y/n) as he sees her cheeks were red embarrassed. She didn’t want Enid to see her face, a snicker comes from (Y/n), Wednesday scowls.

“This is not funny.”

“You’re right, It’s hilarious.”

“I don’t know what curse you put on me, but you will release it, now.” She orders, he nods and leans in, planting his lips on hers, leaving her stunned. And even more red, she looks at her mirror and turns to him fuming

“You made it worse!”

“Calm down, Ha Ha! I promise you’ll stop being red in a moment.”

“… you better not be lying.” She says and goes back to typing. As a tiny smirk creeps along her face.

[official-darkforest]

i am SOOO unbelievably thrilled by your anthro au omg. do you have fashion ideas for the characters? like their favorite outfits, fabrics, etc? imo one of the best parts of anthro characters is deciding how they'd express themselves through their clothing :]

I HAVE A FEW ALREADY!!!! i dont have many specifics because theres so many characters ahd i havent drawn them all yet LOL but i'll share the ones i do have at least SOMETHING for

im also trying to keep these reasonable for the time period and location, as in my au the clan cats are mostly rural and in small towns set (mostly) before the 2000s so most may dress more modest and conservative (especially if theyre older and very religious)

squirrelflight - the best i can describe her sense of fashion is that it ranged from tomboy as a younger girl and is currently closer to a working class butch. im not sure if masc would be a more appropriate term since i dont hc her as a lesbian (shes bi) but she dresses "like a man" and owns a lot of jeans, slacks, and button-up shirts of all kinds of fabrics and patterns. she also enjoys bright colors as well, but as she got older her fashuon sense got a little more sensible and less "loud" like it was in the 60s and 70s. she also has glasses like her daddy once shes like 35 or so. she and firestar dressed very similarly, and a lot of her shirts and neckties are things she stole from his closet

feathertail - very feminine. hippie adjacent, lots of loose and flowing garments and jingly pieces. breatheable clothes and open toed shoes. her favorite swimsuit had some little frilly bits on it i think. often combines neutral earthy tones with blues and whites

crowfeather - lots of handmedowns from his father. clothes you can do farmwork in like jeans, overalls, hardy flannel/denim shirts and boots. never grew out of this and still dresses this way and he likes it

jayfeather - he looks like a modernized (as far as the 80s goes) version of his father - same hairstyle snd way of dress. he isnt too formal but does have some more preppiness to his clothing style (polo shirts and sweaters). he avoids full button downs since buttoning them himself jjust gets frustrating since he cant match them up every time. new wave band shirts. he also wears orange tinted glasses to protect his eyes (in this au i wrote that hes able to perceive shadows and light pretty okay, but not much else beyond that) And Kinda As A Fashion Statement cuz it goes well with his facial structure and hairstyle i think

lionblaze - hes like if the stereotypical jock and stereotypical 80s rock+metal enthusiast had a baby. muscle tees and bandanas, ripped jeans, those absurdly short shorts, crop tops, etc. he's a drummer i think if that matters LOL

ivypool - punk, also sorta like joan jett to an extent. very homemade, tho sometimes she gets lazy and doesnt really commit to the outfits all the way (but definitely has the mindset, dint get me wrong). one of those girls with a chest small enough to go braless 99% of the time; wears a lot of tank tops and sleeveless shirts LOL

bone/brick/scourge - just google "the outsiders movie" or "greaser" and you'll get the idea. tho i imagine these three in particular also have some kind of bare minimum formalwear scraped together from their escapades. theyre kinda like the jetts/sharks from west side story if that helps at all

daisy - she combines flowing, pretty dresses with a sunhat and work boots. she also teaches horseback riding and owns a few (its a business she runs w smokey and floss. i think its be funny if they were polyam ITS MY AU I CAN CHANGE WHAT I WANT) and she has horseback-appropriate clothing as well

poppyfrost - THEE preppy girl of the 80s. big hair, perm and all. dresses with pastel colors. her sisters cinderheart and honeyfern are pretty similar, tho i imagine honeyfern is a little more sporty and cinderheart takes inspiration from madonna once shes trying to court lionblaze

hazeltail - long haired country girl butch. enough said

spottedleaf snd cinderpelt are nuns lol

[bruisedknucklesandbloodykisses]

Boyfriend

CW: College AU; Unreliable narrator/reader; Delusional reader/Nobunaga; Unhealthy relationship; Lovesick reader; Insecurities (Reader); Possessive; Ignoring multiple red flags; Sexual content towards the end (Grinding, Messy Kisses)

Summary: You’re  hesitant to ask Nobunaga on a date due to not wanting to destroy your friendship with him. He has other views on the subject at hand.

Word Count: 2,094 Note from Knux: I just wanted to say that I was very inspired by this fic from @uvobreakmylegs (they have the best writing PLEASE-). But, seriously wanted to give credit where credit is due though!

You leaned against Nobunaga’s side, his steady breathing helping to distract you from your nerves. It was so silly how nervous you were; it was just a date after all- well, it would be a date if he accepted. The words seemed to die in your throat, turning into a hard lump that made it hard to breathe, every time you tried to ask the simple question: do you want to go on a date with me? 

Honestly, those words weren’t daunting at all and it was frustrating that you’ve never had any issues asking before. You were used to making the first moves on people you liked- sure, you haven’t done it since high school, but that’s besides the point. The point now is that you felt like you were drowning in your own emotions because you could spit out the damn phrase. 

You glanced up at Nobunaga, taking in his face: angular, lips drawn into a thin line and his dark eyes focusing hard on the text in front of him. It was funny to you how you had convinced him to join you on this little study date- it made you feel fuzzy inside. Though, you had finished your studies and were simply keeping him company now. Which, you didn’t mind. If it meant that you got to hang around the silly athlete, the better it was. 

You sighed, nestling closer to him, allowing your eyes to slip shut as you snuggled deeper into the blanket you wrapped yourself in. 

“Hmm, getting bored?” Nobunaga’s voice said, startingling you out of your dozing.

“Maybe,” you murmured against him, pressing your face further into his arm as you let your eyes slip close again, “but I don’t really mind if I get to sit with you.”

He snorted. “You sap. You sound like you really like me.” 

“Well, yeah.” You quickly added: “we’re friends after all.”

He went silent and you couldn’t help the way your stomach started to churn with a strange sort of anxiety. A frown tugged at your lips, peaking one eye open to glance up at him. He seemed irritated as he glared at the book in front of him. 

You slumped against him once again, both eyes open now, as you thought of how you (or what) had upset him. Nobunaga had a bit of a hairline trigger with his frustrations occasionally- you sometimes felt like you were walking a tightrope with him, but you didn’t really mind. It was just how Nobu was. Your silly friend who was sweet and always took care of you. Before him there was only you. 

A small smile pulled at your lips. How did you ever make it without him? 

“Ah, fuck- this thing is boring!” Nobunaga finally declared, slamming the book shut. 

You couldn’t help but giggle despite how he jostled you around when he crossed his arms and pressed himself back into the worn (but comfortable) couch in your living room. “How about you take a break, I’ll make some tea, that sound good?”

He grunted, sulking into the cushions while you unwrapped yourself and laying the fluffy blanket on his chest and tucking it behind his shoulders after you got up. He had grumbled but let you continue with your antics. You laughed as you went to the small kitchen in the apartment- nothing too fancy, just big enough for the fridge, a sink, an oven, and a little bit of counter space for a microwave and the odd times you wanted to bake. 

You reached into the cabinet right above what little counter space you had and pulled out two mugs. They were cute: a sleepy gray cat face and an overly excited white and tan puppy face for the other- they were round and the little cat reminded you too much of Nobunaga not to get. Though he had also insisted that he’d get the puppy one for you if you were getting the “damn cat” for him. 

You traced over the smooth porcelain with the tip of your finger. Maybe… maybe you could just let things be. Let them snowball into dating all on their own. At least, that’s how you hoped that they were going to snowball. The worries began to pile up as you got to work making the drinks. 

Nobunaga was a handsome guy with his angular features, fit form, and his glossy hair. The only downside to him was probably how radically his emotions could go from one end of the spectrum to the other but that was easily avoidable (at least you thought it was, there were several people who dined to disagree but you simply assured yourself that it was because of something they did. Not Nobu. Never Nobu). He could have any person in the world that he wanted if he really wanted- what was stopping him from pursuing someone prettier, more charismatic, more successful than you? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

There was a level of anxiety that shook in your fingers as you had finished Nobu’s and your tea, stirring honey in the calming herbal mix. 

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your wits. Your mind was wondering again. You need to stop before Nobu thinks something’s wrong because you won’t be able to control your tongue if he does. 

You nod to yourself before going to pick up the two mugs just to stop as a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and a sharp chin rests against the junction of your shoulder. “What’s wrong?” Fuck.

“Nothing- nothing’s wrong.”

“Now, now,” he started to lean his whole body weight against you, causing you to catch yourself on the counter. “ Lying ain’t a good look for you and we both know it.” 

There was a certain edge to his voice that made your blood freeze. You had only heard it once or twice, just towards guys who didn’t know when to quit hounding and couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Never at you. 

You licked your lips, squeezing your eyes shut as you willed your knees not to shake. “I-I’m not lying, Nobu-”

He shifted his feet, pressing himself even harder against your back, like he was trying to become a second skin. “Lying doesn’t look good on you.” He repeated, squeezing his arms around your stomach. Hard.

You wheezed, hands scrambling to hold onto his arms. Though, you made no attempt to pull him off. It was so fucked up how you were relishing in how close he was despite how angry he was at you. You just wanted to be held by him- be close to him- you wanted to be as important to him as he was to you. You just wanted to melt into him. 

What a horrible friend you were.

Your chest burned like you had ran a marathon and suddenly the world was spinning and your eyes were stinging with tears that rested heavy on your lashes. How pathetic. 

Hearing a sniffle come from you, something seemed to snap Nobunaga out of his frustrations. “Hey, you ok?” He began to loosen his hold on you, muscles relaxing until your shaking hands squeezed his wrists. 

“No…” You whimpered, “no, please- please don’t let go.”

You sounded so weak and frail. It made Nobunaga’s heart leap to his throat. He squeezed his arms around you again, much more gently compared to a few moments ago, but enough for you to know he had no intentions of leaving. 

It was a couple of moments until you stopped shaking. By this point, you were leaning back against him, hands still resting on his as he held you. His face nestled against your neck. “You feelin’ ok to talk?” 

He wasn’t letting this go, was he? You took a deep breath, releasing it as you nodded against the side of his head. 

He pulled away from you slowly until his face was level with your peripheral. His eyes were dark and observant. “What’s wrong?” 

Your throat felt tight again, but you still forced yourself to talk. “I- you- what… would you…” you lick your lips. “Would you date me? If I asked you out?” Your hands were sweating and you looked away, instead, focusing on the smooth skin of his arms, running your fingers over the sparse hairs. 

When he didn’t answer you began to shift, uncomfortable on your feet. Your skin feeling like it was boiling. This was stupid. You were stupid. You just ruined your friendship with Nobunaga. You’d never be able to see him again- you’d just have to sit like some stranger while he moved on with someone that was on his level- someone who was prettier, more talented- better than you. He was going to leave you behind and take your bleeding heart with him-

“I don’t get it.” You felt a sudden dread rest deep in your chest. He sounded mad. “Why do you always talk like that? Like we aren’t dating already?”

Huh?

Before you can voice anything, his hands come slamming on your counter, once again caging you. You can see the veins pulse on the side of his temple, frown deep as he seethes: “you think I act like this with everyone? Think that I get like this-” one of his hands glides down your spine, a gasp leaving you as when he grabs your ass in a tight grip and presses your hips hard against his. You gape. He’s hard. He’s so, so hard- “with everyone?” He begins to grind against you, hot breath moist against your cheeks as he huffs in frustration. Your hands scramble to hold onto his shirt, head spinning with too many things at once. “I only get this fucking hard with you- it fucking- oh, fuck- do you know how hard it is not to grab you and shove you face first into the closest surface I can? Not to rip you apart? You’re like- like a damn lamb: dumb and oblivious to everything around you-” he grunts when you hike your leg up on his hip (or try to, it’s a bit of an awkward endeavor considering how close he’s pressed against you). 

You’re desperate. You want more of his demeaning words. You want more and more of his attention. You want him to sink his teeth into you and rip you apart. Your blood boiling with white, hot want. “‘M sorry-” you gasp as you begin to rock your hips back against his; sloppy and uncoordinated. “‘M sorry, I didn’t notice. I was-” a moan wretches out of your throat. You crane your head back, the expanse of your neck presented to Nobu, who wastes no time pressing wet, open mouthed kisses against your salty skin. “You’re just so beautiful, there was no way you’d want to go out with someone like me-”

A growl comes from deep within his throat. His hands have come to dig into your hips, guiding you to grind harder against him. “You're so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid- you’re mine. Mine. No one gets to see you like this.” He crushes his lips against yours. The kiss is all teeth and tongue- a mess of passion and repressed frustrations. 

You couldn’t get enough.

“‘M yours. ‘M yours-” you chant against his mouth, head spinning, close to the precipice of an orgasm. Teetering on a precarious line that, whichever way you end up tipping, you’ll be drowning in the euphoria of having Nobunaga suffocating you in his affections. 

He lets out a loud moan, all guttural and masculine, it has your legs trembling. He uses one hand to squeeze your cheeks, swirling his tongue with yours in a sloppy french kiss that has drool dripping from the corners of your mouth. “You’ve been mine since I laid eyes on you.” He pants, his forehead resting against yours, his hips coming to a stop. You whine at the loss of friction, the leg that is still hooked over his hip trembling with leftover electricity. He chuckles, pressing pecks to your lips. “I’m not letting you go.” You envy how even his voice despite having humped you like a dog in heat only a moment ago.

You nod, not trusting your voice. You would give him anything he asked for. Whatever to keep him near you. 

So, you follow him, with your heartbeat pulsing in your ears, as he pulls on your wrists towards the couch, tearing your clothes from your body. You accept that he’s going to tear you apart with open arms.

[rainisawriter]

Hyuga & the Three Kittens – Hyuga (PSF #14)

Ficography

Genre: Fluff, slice of life

Prompt: “I hate it.” “No, you don’t.” (@flufftober)

Word Count: 4,094

Pairing: Reader x Hyuga

World: High&Low

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

From the first moment you laid eyes on Hyuga Norihisa, you thought he was a breathtakingly beautiful man. Insane, to be sure, but beautiful. You were drawn to him as if he were a whirlpool and you a mere dingy. It wasn’t just his beauty that drew you in, though. Even the way he acted had your undivided attention.

In the beginning, Hyuga was, to put it mildly, bat shit crazy. He was like a feral cat that hated humanity and just so happened to have a hoard of goons willing to die for him. He had a score to settle, and damn anyone who got between him and the vengeance he sought.

Unfortunately for you – or fortunately, depending on your outlook – you were one of those people. You just wanted to protect your friends, though you had gotten in a bit over your head, not expecting Daruma to be so strong. Tettsu had warned you, of course, but you never listened to him.

Despite earning more injuries than you dished out, you were satisfied because you had gotten to see Hyuga up close and personal. He was terrifying, stealing the breath from your lungs when those dark eyes fell on you. Honestly, you couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t have killed you if Cobra hadn’t stopped him.

Even so, he was beautiful to you and you wanted more.

You wanted to hear him speak your name. You wanted him to look at you with warmth in those dark pools of his. You wanted to be closer to him, to understand him. What you wanted was borderline impossible. Cobra would never allow it and, even if he did, Hyuga would never accept you into Daruma.

So, you did what any rational, sane person would.

You watched him from afar, wishing you could figure out a way to get closer to him. Tettsu was the only one who knew about your crush and he certainly didn’t hesitate to tease you over it every time he saw you. It was annoying as hell but it’s not like you had confided in him. He found out by sheer accident.

You would never be dumb enough to share a secret with Tettsu and, to be completely honest, you were surprised he hadn’t let it slip to Dan or Chiharu. Maybe he had but they were better at hiding it. Either way, you were just waiting for Cobra to find out and forbid you from seeking out Daruma’s leader.

Thunder rumbled overhead and you cursed as rain started to fall from the grey sky. You quickly slid your camera under your shirt before rushing for cover. You found refuge under a small overhang above the door of an abandoned store.

You had checked the weather this morning but there had been no mention of rain so you hadn’t brought an umbrella. The rain didn’t bother you, but your camera was expensive and you didn’t want it to get ruined. You had worked your ass off for nearly a year just to be able to afford the damn thing and you would protect it with your life.

You tugged your phone from your pocket, attempting to call Tettsu but, as usual, he didn’t pick up the call. He was probably too busy stuffing his face or playing games with Chiharu. You tried to call Dan next and he didn’t answer either, most likely busy with his store.

Before you could attempt calling Yamato, Dan returned your call.

“Dan-san~”

Dan chuckled on the other end of the line. “Let me guess. You got caught in the rain and Tettsu isn’t answering his phone.“

“Shit, man. Are you psychic?”

“No, I just know you too well. Where are you?“

You sent him your location along with a meme of a cat for payment, smiling when he laughed at the funny caption.

“Give me ten minutes.“

“Okay~” Ending the call, you slipped the phone back into your pocket, leaning against the building.

There was movement to the right and you glanced over curiously, feeling your heart picking up speed. Hyuga was walking down the street, his purple wagasa resting against his shoulder to protect him from the rain. 

You briefly wondered if you were about to have your own drama moment where he sees you stranded and offers to walk you home. His dark eyes met yours for a brief moment, but he didn’t stop. You weren’t even sure he recognized you, if you were being honest.

You sighed deeply, watching him with a frown. What would it take to get his attention? Perhaps if you were a stronger fighter, he would pay attention, but that just wasn’t in the cards for you. You could hold your own in most situations, but you were far from being on his level.

Twenty minutes came and went before Dan appeared, breathing heavily. “Sorry! There was a problem at the store.”

“No worries. It’s not like I had anywhere to be,” you smiled, stepping under the large umbrella he had brought with him. “Thanks for coming, Dan-san.”

He returned the smile, ruffling the top of your head. “Of course. Maybe next time I’ll be your first choice instead of your second.”

“For real, though,” you scoffed, folding your arms over your chest. “Tettsu is completely useless! Honestly, I think he ignores my calls on -” you paused when something caught your eye.

Three tiny kittens were curled up beneath an umbrella that sat at the edge of the path. Their tiny bodies were trembling despite how they huddled together for warmth. 

Your heart ached for them. Pulling the camera from around your neck, you shoved it against Dan’s chest. “Here, hold this. Do not let it get wet.”

“Oi, what are you -“

You stepped out from the cover of the umbrella, the rain like ice against your exposed skin. Despite approaching slowly, the kittens ran off into the bushes as soon as you got close. “Wait, no, come back! I just want to help…”

A frown tugged at your lips, feeling sad knowing they were out in the cold, rainy weather without protection. You turned to return to Dan only to pause, eyes trained on the purple wagasa that they had been huddled under. It looked like the one Hyuga was using, but… there was no way, right?

Dan jogged over to you with a scowl, bringing the umbrella over your head. “Now your clothes are all wet. We need to get you home before you get sick.” He grabbed your arm, tugging you down the street.

You glanced over your shoulder at the umbrella, watching as it shifted slightly in the breeze.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

As soon as your shift ended, you rushed to the store to buy some cat food before returning to the area where you had seen the kittens at the day before. You were hoping you could get close to them this time so you could take them home with you.

When you arrived at the spot, you were surprised to find a bowl of cat food already sitting by the bushes. The umbrella was gone, as well. Was it the same person? you found yourself wondering. Could it really be Hyuga? As usual, your curiosity was getting the better of you.

After refilling the bowl, you decided to wait nearby to see if you could catch him in the act. People came and went, the hours slowly ticking by. The kittens finally appeared, their tiny heads sticking out of the bushes as they looked around to make sure it was safe.

A smile came to your lips as you watched them, giggling when the orange one tackled the black and white one, making them both stumble and fall over. They were so cute! You wanted to try and get them but you decided to wait until they finished eating in case they ran away again. At least they would do so on a full stomach rather than an empty one.

Once they had their fill, the three started to run around in circles, chasing the orange leaves as they fell from the branches. They weren’t very good at catching them, but they were trying their hardest.

You slowly approached them, leaves crunching beneath your boots. The kittens jumped in surprise, the fur on their back raised as they stared at you. 

“It’s okay,” you told them softly, leaning over in the hopes of appearing less monstrous to them. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

They started to back away and you feared they were going to bolt so you stopped in your tracks, slowly lowering yourself until you were on your knees. “Here, kitty, kitty,” you called, holding out your hand. You figured it was better to let them come to you.

The orange and tuxedo kittens remained cautious, their fur raised as they stared at you, waiting for you to attack so they could run away. The third kitten, its fur grey and white, slowly approached you, her body low to the ground. She slowly lifted her paw, tapping your hand a few times before deeming it safe.

Her nose was as cold as ice when it bumped against your hand and you smiled, gently scratching her between the ears with your index finger. You hoped the others would follow her lead but they didn’t budge, as if frozen to the spot.

You carefully picked up the kitten, holding her to your chest. She started to purr and it took everything you had not to squeal at how cute she was. “See? It’s okay. I’m a friend, not a foe.”

The roar of a motorcycle cut through the quiet afternoon, making them jump in surprise and run away. Even the kitten you were holding stuck her claws into your chest, though she didn’t try to get away.

“Damn it,” you muttered, frowning at the tiny creature in your arms.

You felt bad separating her from her siblings, but you certainly couldn’t just leave her there. Especially not after she put her trust in you. 

“I’m sorry,” you told her softly, pulling yourself to your feet. “You’ll have to be away from your brothers for a little while. I promise I’ll keep coming back until they trust me, though.”

She meowed at you softly, the sound going straight to your heart. 

“I promise to love and spoil you, little one!”

Meow~

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

You tried to visit the kittens every day, working hard to earn their trust. Their food bowl continued to be filled by someone else but you could never catch them, probably because they came while you were at work.

Today, however, you had a day off and you fully intended on spending the entire day waiting on the kittens and their mysterious caretaker. The problem with this plan was that you hated waking up early. You managed it somehow with the knowledge that if you were late to work, you’d be fired.

With it being your day off, you had no such worries so your brain completely ignored the alarm when it started to go off. It was four hours later before you finally woke up, cursing when you saw the time. You scrambled to get dressed, completely forgetting your jacket in your haste.

You ran down the street, breaths coming out in thin puffs of smoke. You rounded the corner, leaning against the abandoned building as you tried to catch your breath. When you looked up, your eyes widened.

There he was in all his glory – Hyuga Norihisa. He was squatting down in front of the kittens, waving a cat tail toy lazily. They were taking turns trying to catch it, occasionally bumping into each other when they tried at the same time.

Slowly, you slowly crept closer, taking cover behind a light pole as you watched him.. He was frowning, a worried look in his eyes. He kept glancing up at the bushes as if waiting for something.

“Where the hell is she?” he muttered under his breath.

She? You frowned, clutching the light pole tighter. Was he waiting for someone? Did he have a girlfriend? The thought hurt you more than you expected it to.

The tuxedo kitten yawned widely before pawing at Hyuga’s leg. He chuckled, readjusting himself so he was sitting on the ground with his legs crossed. The kitten didn’t hesitate to climb onto his lap, curling into a ball atop his leg.

The orange kitten meowed at him and he carefully picked him up, holding the feline in front of his face. “You miss your sister, huh?”

Your eyes widened in realization. The she he had been referring to was the third kitten that you had taken home. He was concerned about her.

Your heart flooded with warmth and it took everything within you not to let out an awww. He was so pretty on a good day, but now he was holding a kitten while another slept on his lap. You wished you had brought your camera with you, but you had your phone at least.

You pulled it from your pocket and lifted it up, biting your lip as you framed the photo before pressing the shutter button.

Click.

Your body tensed up at the loud sound, Hyuga’s dark eyes snapping to you. You quickly ducked back behind the light pole but you knew you had been caught. 

A heavy silence settled over you, your heart hammering within your chest as you waited for him to appear beside you. Would he attack you? Threaten you? You honestly didn’t know.

“Oi, how long are you gonna hide there?”

You slowly peered around the pole, expecting to meet his annoyed glare but he had returned his attention to the kittens.

“Get your ass over here.”

You tried to swallow down your nerves as you slowly approached him. “H-Hi, Hyuga-san…”

“Is everyone at Sannoh a stalker?” His eyes slid to you lazily, cheek resting against his palm. “Or is it just you?”

Your cheeks burned, both from the accusation and the fact that his eyes had captured your own. “I’m not a stalker,” you defended pitifully.

“Don’t stalkers take pictures of people without consent?” He quirked a brow, a smirk on his lips when you sputtered. 

“I-It was just one picture!” You managed to pull your gaze away, looking to the side as you muttered, “You looked super cute, I couldn’t help it.“

Surprise flashed through his eyes at the comment. No one had ever referred to him as cute before. Bastard, psycho, son of a bitch… those were the usual compliments he received. The thought of being called cute made him uncomfortable and yet… he wasn’t sure he hated it.

“Show me,” he ordered, eyes flickering to your phone.

“No, you’re gonna delete it…”

He scoffed, holding out his hand. “Of course, I’m going to delete it.”

With a sigh, you set the phone against his palm, watching with a frown as he brought the picture up. He didn’t believe you when you said you only took the one, so he swiped to the side to check for more. To his surprise, the next picture was of the female kitten.

“You took Keiko?” He questioned, eyes snapping to you in surprise.

You blinked, head tilting to the side. “Who…?”

He showed you the picture, tapping the screen. “The female kitten. You have her?”

“Ah! Yes, I do. I felt bad leaving her out here so I -“

“Left the other two,” he scowled, eyes narrowed accusingly.

“No! I tried to get the other two,” you replied, folding your arms over your chest. “They kept running from me, though…” You frowned at the two male kittens curled up on his lap.

He watched you closely as you eyed the kittens longingly. “Come here.”

Your eyes snapped to his in surprise. “Eh?”

Rather than repeat himself, he crooked his index finger before motioning toward the spot in front of him. You were hyper-aware of his eyes following you as you slowly approached, lowering yourself to the cold concrete. The orange kitchen shifted so that his head was lying against Hyuga’s lower leg, his golden eyes blinking tiredly at you.

“So cute,” you whispered, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and pet him but you didn’t want to scare him off. 

Hyuga watched you, lips twitching up in amusement. He carefully picked up the orange kitten, plopping him down on your lap, much to your delight. You half expected the kitten to run back to him but he didn’t. He just walked in a circle before plopping down against your legs and closing his eyes.

“You’re a miracle worker, Hyuga-san,” you breathed out, gently rubbing your finger across the kitten’s head. “He wouldn’t even let me get close before.”

Hyuga just grunted, closing his eyes as he propped his cheek up against his fist. The two of you sat like that in a comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the cool weather and the company of the tiny kittens.

Hyuga glanced at your phone when it vibrated against his knee, startling the kittens. When he saw the new message notification, he held it out to you. You took it with a smile and when you unlocked it, you were surprised by what you found.

“You didn’t delete the photo.”

Hyuga shrugged a shoulder, closing his eyes as he scratched the back of his head. “I forgot.”

By this point, the kittens were awake again, crawling off your lap and his so they could eat from the bowl sitting to your left.

“Forgot, huh?” You grinned. “You like it, don’t you, Hyuga-san?”

“I hate it,” he scowled, trying to snatch the phone from you but you were quicker. 

“No, you don’t,” you snickered, holding the phone out behind you so it was harder to reach.

“Give it to me so I can delete it.”

“No way. You had your chance! Shoo!”

“Did you just… shoo me?” His eyes flashed, but you couldn’t tell if it was with amusement or anger because it was gone as quickly as it had come.

“Uh… no?” You offered him a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of your head.

His lips slid upward and you knew that smirk was dangerous. With wide eyes, you tried to scramble to your feet but he was faster, grabbing the back of your shirt to keep you in place. He reached for the phone again but you tried to pull away, your free hand pressing against his chest.

You could feel his heart beating quickly against your palm and your cheeks heated up. “H-Hyuga-san -“

His hand shot toward the phone, his weight pressing down on you until you couldn’t hold yourself up any longer. Your back hit the ground, Hyuga falling on top of you, lips inches from your own.

You swallowed nervously, face burning as you stared into those seemingly endless black pools. Your eyes flickered to his lips and you couldn’t help but wonder what his lips felt like. Before the rational side of your brain could intervene, you lifted your head and pressed your lips against his.

His body tensed up in surprise but he didn’t pull away. He enjoyed the feeling of your lips against his chapped ones, though he’d go to his grave before he admitted it aloud. When he didn’t kiss back, you pulled away, feeling like an embarrassed fool.

“I-I’m so sorry, Hyuga-san, I… I didn’t… I shouldn’t have…” you swallowed again, closing your eyes.

Hyuga hummed. “I was wondering when you would finally get up the nerve.”

“Huh?” You blinked up at him in confusion and he smirked, shifting his weight so he was lying beside you, head propped up with his hand.

“You’ve liked me since the day we met.”

His words, mixed with the nonchalant way he said them, had your face burning once again. “W-What? No, I -” He sent you a deadpan look and you pouted. “Was I really that obvious?”

“You could never get a job that requires stealth.”

You clicked your tongue, turning your gaze to the grey sky above. “So… what now?”

“You belong to me,” he said nonchalantly before standing up and approaching the kittens. The words went straight to your heart, butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach. You could only watch as he carefully picked the two felines up before sending you an expectant look. “Get up.”

You quickly pulled yourself to your feet, trailing behind him as he started down the street, his wooden sandals tapping against the concrete. “Where are we going?”

“Your apartment.”

“Eh?” The thought of Hyuga entering your apartment made you feel nervous. How messy was it? When was the last time you had given it a proper cleaning? Had you washed last night’s dishes? You couldn’t remember. “Why?”

He glanced over his shoulder at you, brow quirked. When he realized how far behind him you were, he paused until you caught up, walking at your side. “You’re going to keep all three kittens.”

“Oh… right.” You tried to ignore the way his shoulder bumped against your own as the two of you walked. “The female is Keiko… right? Did you name those two, as well?”

“Keito,” he held up the tuxedo kitten who meowed cutely when he heard his name. Then he held up the orange kitten. “Bunta.”

“So cute~” you whispered, a smile on your lips.

Though Hyuga believed you were talking about the kittens, part of him wanted to believe that you were referring partly to him, as well.

When you finally reached your apartment, you stepped aside to let him in. Keiko came running toward you but when she saw Hyuga, she swerved around your legs and jumped at him, climbing up his black pants. You laughed at her enthusiasm, prying her gently off of him before lifting her up to his chest.

All three kittens were now meowing loudly, happy to be reunited.

“See?” you spoke softly, addressing Keiko as you gently patted her head. “I promised you that you’d be with your brothers again. Sorry it took so long.”

Hyuga felt warmth settle inside his gut as he looked at you and he knew he had already begun to fall for you. Part of him didn’t want it, but the part that did was much stronger. He set the kittens on the ground so they could run around and play before he flopped down onto the couch.

You remained near the door, feeling a bit awkward. Hyuga knew you liked him and the kiss only reinforced that. Where did that leave you now, though? He had claimed that you were now his, but that didn’t really answer your question. Were you dating?

His eyes fell to you, taking in the way you stared at the wooden floor, brow furrowed in thought. “Oi, come here.”

You lifted your head, approaching him nervously. “Yes, Hyuga-san?”

He clicked his tongue, grabbing your wrist before tugging you down onto the couch, his arm circling your waist. “Norihisa.”

You exhaled, the name feeling nice on your tongue. “Norihisa-san.”

He gave you a scolding look, flicking you lightly on the forehead. “Drop the honorific, idiot.”

You scowled, rubbing the spot he had flicked. “Norihisa…”

A smile slid onto his lips, a glint in his eye as he leaned his head toward yours. “Yes, baby?”

Your breath caught in your throat at the pet name, your hand curling around his shirt. “Can I… kiss you?”

“You didn’t need to ask last time. Why ask now?”

You scowled at his smirk, closing the distance until your lips were slotted against his. His arm left your waist, hand resting against the back of your neck to pull you closer. It didn’t take long for you to get completely lost in the kiss, his scent and warmth overwhelming you. 

All three kittens suddenly jumped onto your back, making you jolt when their claws dug into your shirt so they wouldn’t fall. Hyuga chuckled, reaching forward to remove them from you. You shifted to create a bit of space between you and him, the three nestling there happily.

You smiled at them before your gaze met Hyuga’s. “I never expected to have three kids the day we got together.”

Hyuga snorted, closing his eyes as he rested his cheek against his palm. You didn’t miss the soft smile on his lips or the way his warm hand brushed gently across the small of your back.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

-> High&Low/Rampage Taglist: @kiraaaeon, @simpforchuchu, @star2fishmeg, @thatpoindexterpixy @manhwabtch

-> General Taglist: @asterhaze, @mrskenpachizaraki

[steveshairychest]

back on my fantasy au bullshit

Steve is the only heir to his father's throne, he's the most loved and most fiercely protected man in the city. He has no friends because his father says no one can be trusted, he's not even allowed to make small talk with the lovely ladies that iron his clothes and make his bed, things that he insists he can do himself. He watches from his window as other people his age wander the streets of the city laughing and having fun, some dance in the square where the young bard with the long, curly hair plays everyday.

Steve sits at his window listening to his beautiful music for hours, he loves the way his husky voice carries on the wind around the whole town and causes everyone to sway to the tune of his song as they buy their groceries in the market. Sometimes Steve swears the bard smiles up at him, his dark eyes staring right up at the castle and into his bedroom window,

Then something weird happens.

A cat is sitting on his window sill when he wakes one morning, which takes him by surprise because his bedroom was on the top floor of the castle, it was not an easy climb. Steve knew from personal experience. He'd tried to climb down from his window when he was 15 and ended up with a broken arm and a slap across the face from his father. "Don't be so reckless. You're a prince." He'd said, not an ounce of concern in his voice. His father had soured since his mother's death. Steve understood. He was all his father had left, if anything happened to him, his only heir, he'd have no one to take the crown.

Steve eyes the cat curiously from where he sat in bed, his hair is messed from sleep and his shirt had been thrown across the room because the summer nights were becoming unbearable. "Hey, little guy. Pss pss, come here." He pats his bed softly, trying to encourage the cat to come in to his room, he doesn't want to risk moving closer in case he scares him away. "You're a pretty little thing, aren't you." He says softly when the feline finally jumps down from the window and prowls around his room, looking at all the trinkets Steve has collected over the years. "I've never petted a cat before." It's the truth. His father didn't allow animals in the castle. If he saw the scraggly black cat rubbing his face against all of Steve's expensive furniture he'd lose his mind.

But just as Steve is reaching out to run his fingers along the soft looking fur, the cat makes a funny noise, it sounds almost like a human yelp, and then instead of looking into the dark curious eyes of the cat, he's staring at the soft brown eyes of the bard from the square. The bard is sitting on the floor in front of Steve right where the cat had been, he's dressed in his usual bard get up and his hair is the same dark shade as the cat. "Uh.. hi." He says with an awkward wave.

Steve screams so loud the guards that are posted outside his door come barging in with their swords drawn, only to find Steve staring at the now empty space on the floor in shock. The bard had poofed back into a cat and bolted right out the window, Steve ignores the worried guards and runs to the window. Did he die? It was such a long drop. But then he saw a flash of black run along the cobblestones of the market square, the cat? man? stops next to the fountain and stares right up at Steve, his tail flicking back and forth. Steve doesn't know why, but he raises his hand and waves, he's terrified, his heart beating loudly in his ears, but at the same time he wants him to come back, wants to ask him so many questions, wants him to be his friend.

The cat does a little spin and then he's gone. Steve watches the bard perform later that day with a secret smile, his head in his hands as he watches the way he stalks around the market square in a cat like manner while playing his lute. Steve hopes he will come back to visit.

[qvrcll]

Hello!! Saw you taking requests so i wanted to give one :3

How about Vendetta Leon with a chubby nb person as his partner? Sex and/or fluff please! (Ive never requested one of these before so I'm a little shy!)

when the sun hits

summary: a collection of leon centred thoughts based on this request!

warnings: a little bit of angst, nsfw marked accordingly, that’s it i think :]

a/n: thank u for the request dear anon!! enjoy :-)

His strongest piece of love language is physical affection and I will die undefeated on this hill. When he’s home from yet another debilitating mission, staggering through the darkness of his shared home with you with his shoes clattering against stone cold lumber, he’ll smile softly when he sees you curled against the bed — he finds himself drawn to join you, spooning you from behind with a quiet, satisfactory groan, burying his face into your skin. When you react, pull a groan from the recesses of your body at the feel of his stubble against your body, he’ll only smother you further with the feel of it, creasing with small pauses of laughter as you attempt to escape him.

Another piece of love language is also communication. days when you’re feeling ill at ease or out of place from some source of thoughts or really, something fabricated out of nothing at all, he returns love back to you in a way that has you smiling again. He’ll do anything — jokes? Locked and loaded. Comfort movies? Television is burring on already. Hugs, smothering and warm and full of the smell of him on the couch, with nothing else better to do? Check marked. If it makes you feel better, he’ll offer you a shirt, something inked with the addictive smell of him, because he knows how much you flit with the reminders of him.

Indulges into his love for your thighs like it’s his lifeline. often times, especially at his most habitual, he’ll lay dormant against your thighs, stationary and won’t move at all. Sleeps like a hog against the plush ride of your thighs, stagnant even when you attempt to awake him in any other way feasible. For the darker, hotter side of things, he’ll probably be too awkward to suggest anything lewd of the sort. It’s funny to imagine this rookie-cop-turned-acclaimed-agent as a sputtering, scratchy mess, but the thought is messy — you’ll have to be the one to offer it to him on a golden platter, in the name of experimenting. In a tone that has him skittering for your skin beneath his hardened fingers, gripping it with vigour only won in the name of his want for you in bold, syllabic words. Once he’s got his cock fending in and out between your clenched thighs, with no shame and little care for the pathetic noises he’s making, he’ll literally burst in seconds. He can’t even fathom being embarrassed when he’s sliding against the squeeze of your thighs for the umpteenth time.

We know this man is stacked and loaded when it comes to that bank account — buys you everything and anything you’ve ever wanted. Even if you slightly impress his ears with some talk of “those shoes look nice” or “look at that bear holding that heart—so cute…” there’s already transactions being made, as he distracts you, uses that guise to swiftly tap his card and hide the product behind his back. You’ll notice him and hold him in suspicion — “what did you do?” and he’ll swear it’s nothing, until the cat is out of the bag, the product of interest in your hands as you plaster him with kisses. Maybe, just maybeeee, it get’s comically worrying — his habit in scouring for you smile through these purchases often has him swiping and tapping his card aimlessly, and you have to physically heave him out of the store, with his eyebrows cut in a furrow, a frown, a “wait, what’s wrong? I just want to buy you this one thing, baby,” “leon, we’re holding four bags worth of items.”

Although some days are harder than others, he aims to give you a 100 of his effort when he can. That includes spending a prolonged amount of time with you, maybe securing tickets to the movies, or some other event that has you teeming with appreciation and love. And sometimes, he’s on the receiving end of such love — with his struggle with alcohol (prior to meeting you and as a cataclysmic product of the horrors of 1989 and following) he’s willing to take that stretch, walk the tight rope. He’s willing because he loves you and you love him and for what it’s worth, he’s willing to be better. A cut above the semblance of the man he was before :]

© 2023 qvrcll ! do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[clarkswayne]

Sanji hadn't intended to remember every minute detail about that moss-headed nuisance, Zoro. Yet, three long, tumultuous years of their peculiar back-and-forth had somehow managed to seep into his mind, like an insidious virus. It was as if Zoro had etched a clear demarcation in Sanji's life - a before, during, and after.

Every touch in his life had felt like shards of broken glass against his skin. He was familiar with love, but he also knew that the greatest loves often culminated in violence. He was a creature of survival, not adept at navigating the labyrinth of emotions. But damn it, he wanted to be good, to be better, for Zoro.

The memory of Zoro ghosting his lips over each of Sanji's knuckles, gently kissing them, was etched into his mind. The whispered words, "Your presence is just so… It fucks me up, but like, in a good way," had ignited a fire within Sanji. It was like adding gasoline to an already raging inferno.

But instead of acknowledging the warmth that those words had stirred within him, Sanji had retorted, "The only reason why I’m letting you get away with shit like this is because your fucking dense, sweet heart" His words were sharp, but they hid the turmoil of emotions that Zoro's actions had stirred within him.

"I'm not your sweetheart," Zoro states, his voice a low rumble. It's not a rejection, but a declaration. He's not Sanji's sweetheart, not in the way the cook might wish.

Sanji, who clasps his hand during their private moments, who seems to revel in Zoro's pleasure. Sanji, who showers him with kisses before, during, and after their encounters, who relishes in their shared warmth, who never shies away from Zoro's touch. Even amidst their crew, Sanji's fingers always find their way to Zoro's hair, kneading his scalp in a way that sends a shiver down his spine.

Sanji, who never hesitates to point out Zoro's mistakes in front of others, but who, when they're alone, becomes one with Zoro, snuggled into his chest, whispering praises about his swordsmanship and how much he's improved. It's a stark contrast to the image Zoro has built for himself, the image of a tough, unyielding swordsman. Half the time, he doesn't even know what he wants.

But he knows this: he's not Sanji's sweetheart. He's not the kind of person who can be sweet and gentle, who can offer soft words and tender touches. He's a swordsman, a fighter. He's rough around the edges, raw, and authentic.

And yet, despite his words, despite his resistance, he finds himself drawn to Sanji's touch, to the warmth of his body against his, to the soft whispers of praise in his ear. He's not Sanji's sweetheart, but perhaps, just perhaps, he could be.

Sanji grins, a Cheshire cat-like smirk that's all too familiar. "You came," he says, his voice laced with amusement.

"You left me no choice," Zoro replies flatly, his gaze steady.

"You don't trust me that much, sweetheart?" Sanji asks, his tone almost reverent, as if the idea of Zoro not trusting him was as blasphemous as an act of violence against the gods.

Without missing a beat, Zoro retorts sternly, "In fact, you can go and find a new one."

A frown flashes across Sanji's features, appearing as quickly and swiftly as it disappears. "Alright, it's not funny anymore."

"You're the only one who won't stop flirting," Zoro points out, his tone accusatory. "I'm being pleasant, unlike you, Mr. Stoicism and Brood," Sanji retorts, his voice filled with a playful edge that does nothing to mask the underlying tension.