#she will only bite the plant if she sees the cat do it

[kolliekazoo]

There seems to be a creature in my potted plant.

[princesssmars]

teasing abby not on purpose but kind of on purpose… nsfw.

you knew as soon as your sink started acting weird you were gonna be screwed. it was only a matter of time until the stupid thing broke, and then you’d have to call your annoying ass landlord to call an even more annoying maintenance company to come fix it.

which you knew they never would. for some reason they loved to schedule people to come fix things in the middle of the day when you had to go to work, then blaming you for being five minutes late like you didn’t cause three traffic accidents just to get over there.

but now, as your broken sink is spouting water like a fire hydrant and you’re soaked from head to toe, you find yourself with only two choices. and you choose the hotter one.

you hadn't been seeing abby for long, only officially dating for around a few weeks at this point. but she was sweet, strong, and exceptionally good with her hands. she'd offered to help build a mounted shelf you were looking at on amazon last week, so you figured she had to have at least some experience with fixing things, right?

you only start to realize the mental jump you took when she's laughing at you over the phone, telling you she doesn't have much plumbing experience but she'll do what she can. really, its no problem, she's right down the street.

until you heard a knock at your door less than four minutes later while you were trying to take every towel you had to put on the floor, hoping to avoid an altercation with your neighbor below you for flooding her and her four secret cats.

so that's the only reason you open the door and give abby a view of you with a soaked-through tank top and no bra. truly, the only reason.

it's not like anyone can blame you when you get her reaction. she's notoriously not subtle at anything, and its intensity is dialed up to a twenty-five as she stared at the wet fabric barely hiding your nipples, only brought out of it when you snap your fingers and loudly clear your throat to bring her attention to how shes supposed to be helping you with your problem.

she was really selling herself short, setting herself in front of the sink and fixing whatever the problem was in less than ten minutes. it’s funny how her eyes keep darting to you when she reaches for some tools, wondering why on earth you hadn’t changed yet because there was no way you were going to suffer in a tiny cold shirt just to rile her up, right?

wrong. we’re you discreetly shivering when she would turn away and start doing her thing again? yes. was it worth it just to see the way her arms flexed as she tightened and pulled and how the muscles in her back showed through her ridiculously tight top…

once she finishes she helps you with cleaning up the mess, mopping up any excess water and removing any towels that have been soaked through, piling them in your washer and starting the cycle. when she comes back to your room she feels like her heart is going to leap out of her chest because you’re still wearing the damn shirt.

“seriously?” she raises her brow, crossing her arms and fighting off the urge to smirk when she notices how your eyes track them.

“what? i like this shirt, has a nice neckline.”

you’re smiling, and then she’s smiling, and then she’s crossing the room in a second and pushing you down on the bed-

but it’s obvious that she agreed with you - it was a cute shirt. which is why she only pushes the neckline down to suck and bite at your chest until you’re nearly crying and begging for her instead of taking the whole thing off.

“what’s the matter? you were teasing me so much, can’t i return the favor?” her words are mumbled as she bites into the side of your breast, laugh reverberating in her chest at your gasp and the jerk of your leg held under her hand.

but luckily for you abby was sweet and way too pent up, so it wasn’t long before she was shoving her hand into your pants and stuffing her fingers inside you, face still planted in your boobs as she brought you to a strong orgasm. and then another. and then another.

yeah. you were glad you didn’t call your landlord.

horny work daydreams are not a game

[hoe4sports]

Musli

Alessia Russo x Leah Williamson x child

A note from the author: Once again, another fic based off my life. This is a part of a potential series called “Found family”. Enjoy!

Warning: Fostercare, anxiety, long fic

Summary: You are moved into yet another foster home, and you spend your first 12 hours with Alessia and Leah. Oh, and their little companion.

-

You sit in the social worker’s car while she talks about your new home. She says that this home is a good home, but she said that too about the Johnson family and the Sussex family. You shrug your shoulders as a respons before gripping the ear of your plush cat tighter. The kitty is white, or he used to be white until your last foster father spilled his coffee all over him. You tried to rinse him in the sink, but your foster sister got upset with you. He is patchy brown now, and he smells of coffee. You don’t even like coffee. But he is the last piece of home you have left; your parents had no family. No grandparents and no siblings or cousins. Just you.

The houses are passing by your window, and you see the car moving from lower class areas to middle class areas to upper class areas and back to lower class areas. All your bad experiences are sadly linked with lower class families. The families where money is tight is statistically speaking where abuse is more likely to happen. The big raindrops rolls down the windows and you watch two raindrops to see who is faster. The answer is none of them; because a big truck splashes the window and vanishes the raindrops.

“The new family is excited to welcome you. They don’t have any kids, but they do have a friend for you”

“A friend? Like a chicken?”

You feel excited. You like chickens, they are friendly and they don’t bite.

“No silly, a kitty!”

Your eyes widen at the thought of living in the same house as a cat. You used to have a cat, back in your real home and the memory of him makes you miss him every day. You loved your cat. You love your plush cat. It sparks a tiny excitement in you, but then again you worry if you are allowed to touch the cat. Sometimes, foster kids aren’t allowed to touch certain toys, animals or even parts of the house. Tears forms in your eyes of the thought of him, and you clutch your hand tighter around the plastic bag of personal items that you own. It’s weird, you decide. You used to have puzzles that mommy would puzzle with you, and books that daddy would read to you. You used to have Barbie and dolls. And mommy would buy you so many dresses. You don’t have any dresses anymore. No puzzles. No books. No Barbie and no dolls. It’s only you, your teddy and a few pairs of pants and shirts. It used to make you feel sad, but you are just thankful for getting out of the last foster home.

The car suddenly comes to a stop in front of a big white house. It is a fancy house made out of wood and you can see what looks like handrails on the top of the house. There seems to be a garden, and there is a nice front porch with flowers on it. You blink as you look towards the door. It has a cat door. It resembles your real home. Where your mom planted flowers in the garden and your dad would cut the grass. It was only last summer, but it feels like a lifetime ago. The sudden onset of dejavu makes you smile. But then, you suddenly don’t want to leave the car. You don’t feel ready to disappoint yet another family. Perhaps, this family have more rules than draw others. There are always so many rules. Rules about what you are allowed to eat to what soaps you can use. So you let go of the plastic bag and clutch your fists to the seatbelt. The social worker opens up your door, and you shake your head. She tries to grab your hand, but you refuse. You really do not want to come out of the car.

She gives you a sad smile.

“Okay, how about you sit here and I’ll go get your new fosters?”

You shake your head rapidly and your little heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest. You feel warm, and sweaty, and stressed, and scared.

“I cannot let you sit in the car forever, I’m really sorry. I’m gonna have to lift you out of the car now.”

You close your eyes while your hand unbuckles your belt. The last family made you buckle and unbuckle yourself, so you are no stranger to helping yourself. You unwillingly hop out of the car and hold your kitty tight to your chest. The plastic bag comes along, but it’s too heavy to carry so it ends up dragging behind you. The social worker would grab it, if you would’ve let her; you don’t trust anyone with your things anymore. One family threw away your favourite dress and another lost the last picture you had of your mom and dad.

You find yourself In front of the big front door when the social worker presses the doorbell. It’s late, close to bedtime and the rain is pouring down. You yawn. The door swings open after a few seconds and you get caught off guard. You drop your plastic bag and hide behind the social workers leg.

“Hi! Welcome, please, please come in!” A blonde woman says. You peek at her from behind the social workers leg while trying to decide what category to put her in. She has kind eyes, like your mommy and she is smiling. Your social worker steps forwards which leaves you stumbling a few steps forwards. The embarrassment shows up on your face, but before you say anything; you see the woman reaching for your plastic bag. You know the drill, so you quickly snatch it from the ground before slowly moving yourself to the inside of the home.

You scan the entrance. There is a white built in bench with shoes underneath. You see a coat rack and there is some decor. There is even curtains and blinds on the windows that faces the entrance. It smells like warm cookies and milk, like your mother would make when you were little. Then, you see the other woman. She looks stricter than the first woman. She’s not that smiley, but she dosent look mean. A piece of her hair hangs in front of her eye before she quickly brushes it to the back of her ear.

“Y/N, that is Leah and this is Alessia. Say hi to them, please.”

You can’t say a word. Like all the words and letters of the English alphabet have left your mind. You shake your head rapidly. All the bones in your body freezes and your tears starts pressing in your eyes. You don’t know what to say or how to say anything. You don’t wanna sound dumb, and you don’t wanna sound sassy. The social worker looks down at you and sighs.

“Thank you for taking her in at a short notice. Things weren’t exactly good, and I had to move her quickly. She’s a good kid.”

One of the women squats down to your height.

“Hi, I’m Alessia. Who is this?” she asks. She points to your kitty, but she dosent touch him. You clutch him to your chest, and a silent tear rolls down your cheek. You feel terrified, maybe you aren’t allowed to have him?

“Uh..His name is Meow” you mumble, barely giving her a second of eye contact. Even though you don’t look at her, she looks at you. She waits and she seems to be patient.

“Im happy that you and Meow came to stat with us. We are happy to have you stay here for a while”

You feel scared. A while. How long is a while? It’s one of those adult’s acronyms that you don’t understand. Maybe, if you are good; they will let you stay for more than a while. You decided that you need to be polite, and kind, and helpful. You offer Alessia eye contact, and she smiles warmly at you.

“Oh look, there is someone else excited to see you” Alessia says as their white cat appears. He has white and brown fur, and he has blue eyes. He looks exactly like your old cat. The cat that used to live with you and mommy and daddy. Your eyes widen at the sight of him, and the cat trots its way over to you.

You reach out your hand, like you mother taught you. He sniffs it before instantly bonking his head into your had. Then, her purrs loudly.

“His name is Musli, he is a ragdoll, and he is 4 years old: just like you.”

“Musli” you parrot quietly while looking at the cat. You decide that you like musli and for a second, you feel calm.

“Alright, Y/N, I have to go now. Be good, okay? I’ll be back in a few weeks.”

She pats your head.

“Thank you once again Mrs. Russo and Mrs. Williamson. Call me if any issues or concerns.”

And with that, you are left alone. You, your kitty and your plastic bag is left to yourself. Tears swell in your eyes, and Musli rapidly rubs himself on you. You look down at him, and a teardrop lands in his fur.

“Y/N?”

You look up and you gulp. Time to be good. You nod your head while wiping your eyes on your sleeves.

“We were about to go into the kitchen to have some cookies, do you like cookies?” Leah asks while looking at you.

You nod again as your stomach rumbles. The last time you had something to eat was this morning, when you had a few pieces of carrots.

“Let’s bring meow to the kitchen with us, so he can have a treat too”

Alessia winks, and it makes you smile shyly. You follow the two women to the kitchen; meow in your right hand and the plastic bag dragging behind from your left hand. The bag leaves a stream of water from underneath it, and it makes you feel embarrassed.

“This is where I sit, and this is where Leah sit.”

Alessia points to a table with four chairs. You nod while scanning the kitchen. It’s big, and white. It’s pretty, and there is a gigantic fridge with a tap in the door. You shove your bag next to the wall, careful to not leave it out for anyone to trip on. That way, nobody will get mad at you.

Leah drags out a chair, it’s pink and it has a little step, a little place for your feet and a seat. It’s a children’s chair and you feel confused. Did they have a kid that you don’t know about? It scares you, because that means that there will be a competition and normally, you lose them.

You stand there dumbfounded while Alessia gets the out the plates. Leah gets out the glasses. They are high up, in the cabinets over the kitchen sink. It makes you sad because that means that you can’t help out with the plates.

Soon, everything is set and you are still frozen in the middle of the room.

“Come here, Y/N” Leah says before patting the pink chair. You slowly walk over to her before looking at it.

“Whose chair is that?” You whisper.

“It’s yours, you can use it for however long you want” Alessia says while smiling at you.

You climb up carefully, and you place meow next to you. Alessia puts forward a little bowl of milk, which leaves you confused. Are you supposed to drink out of the bowl? You don’t mind, really, all you want to is to be good. Your hands grab the bowl and you lean forward to drink the milk.

“For meow” Alessia says, and it makes you feel embarrassed. Leah quickly fills up your glass while Alessia puts the bowl infront of your plate. She pats the table, and you put meow infront of it.

“See? He likes it” Alessia says which makes you smile. Then you eat your warm cookie quietly. Alessia tells you about her day, and Leah answers. You just nod along, busy eating your cookie. This feels nice, you think. They seem kind. But you worry that they will be extra mean once you make them angry for being disrespectful, bad or dumb.

After finishing the cookie and drinking the milk, Leah clears the table.

“Thank you Mrs. Russo and Mrs. Williamson” you mumble, scared to say their names wrong. The pair of them shares a sad look before looking towards you.

“Please love, Call us Alessia and Leah. We aren’t your mom or your dad, but we are here to take care of you”

You nod.

“Should we find the bedroom?”

You nod, again.

-

“This is the bed. I didn’t know what colors you like, so I grabbed what we had. We can go out tomorrow to get you a few things. Where is your bag?”

Alessia says. You lift your bag up, and Leah reaches for it.

“Can I help you put your clothes away in the dresser?”

You nod.

“Thank you, Mrs. Leah”

The pair of them frowns, and you don’t understand why. Then Leah takes your clothes out; one by one until they are all taken out. The clothes are all wet from being dragged on the ground, and the pair of them shares a sad smile.

“Im gonna have to wash your clothes, they are all wet and dirty. Is that okay? Then tomorrow, we will get some more clothes” Alessia says while looking at the small pile of clothes.

You nod, but feel confused. Who are we getting clothes for, you wonder. Perhaps they need you to help carry the bags home. You are either way grateful for getting to come along instead of being left home by yourself.

You let out a big yawn, and drop meow in the action. Alessia instantly picks him up and reach him towards you.

“I think that maybe mr.meow needs a bath? Do you want to grab your toothbrush, hairbrush and pj so you can both get ready for bed?”

You look at her in confusion. You don’t own a hairbrush or a toothbrush anymore. It makes you feel dirty and uncomfortable, so you look down at your socks.

“Mrs. Alessia.. I…uh.. I don’t have a toothbrush or a hairbrush” you stutter out. You don’t see it, but Alessia and Leah shares a heartbroken look.

“Okay little miss, you can call me just Alessia and her just Leah. Whatever you want to, ok?”

You nod.

“We will put down toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrushes, hair ties, hair bands and knot spray on the list for tomorrow. Do you have a pj?”

You shake your head.

“That’s fine, Leah will find something for you to wear. Let’s go to the bathroom to get mr.meow cleaned up”

You smile at Alessia while nodding.

“Okay” you mumble out just loud enough for Alessia to hear.

-

Mr.Meow sits in the bathroom sink in a bubble bath. His whiskers are pointing downwards because of the weight of the water. Musli sits next to your feet, and you find yourself feeling safer around him. Your mommy would always say that a cat knows a good person; so if you ever needed to know how to categorise someone; see if a cat likes them. The memory makes you smile. Alessia hands you a tiny brush and smiles.

“Do you want to give him a little scrub?”

You smile and nod rapidly. Then, you get to scrubbing. You scrub, and scrub and scrub. Then Alessia scrubs, and scrubs and scrubs. Everything from his tail to his ears and paws. Soon enough, meow is white again and he goes into the dryer for a few minutes until he is dried enough for you to cuddle him.

Leah steps into the room while you are hugging him tightly with Alessia sitting on the toilet lid.

“Here, I have a little cousin that is the same age as you. She said that you could have this!”

Leah pulls out a pink pj. It’s a set with flowers on the pants and a princess on the front of it. It makes you light up. You nod your head before crashing into Leah’s legs in excitement. Leah looks surprised for a few seconds until Alessia nudges her to have her put her hand on your head. It feels safe.

“Thank you, Leah”

-

After washing meow, brushing your hair with Alessia’s brush and putting on the new pj; Alessia and Leah put you to bed. Or, rather they followed you to your bed while you put yourself to sleep. They turned on the little nightlamp on the nightstand before they said their goodnights. You found yourself laying in bed listening to the sounds of the house, much like you did at the old foster homes. Always waiting for someone to be disappointed with you.

The bed is soft just like your bed back at home. Not your old temporary home, but your old real home. The home you were born into. Where you took your first steps. Where you learned to put the cereal in the bowl before the milk. Where you learned to say please and thank you.

The bedroom is big. It has been painted a calm pink color, and there is a bookshelf with a few books. A few of the books are books you recognise, like the pink glittery one with Pappa pink. There is some toys and what you seem to recognise as Lego. You are not sure if you are even allowed to use the toys, but you appreciate being able to look at them. You don’t really know who they belong to because you arrived so late that you couldn’t think of asking. Your hand presses down on the mattress you have found yourself laying down on. It’s soft, and it’s comforting in a weird way. It feels like what used to be home. Before mom and dad and you took the trip to the local beach. Before one drunk driver changed your life forever. Before your life become something that you couldn’t even recognise anymore,

But the bed isn’t like home. It’s probably the most comfortable bed you have ever had, you decide. Even nicer than the one you once had. The frame is white with butterflies. The pillows are fluffy and the duvet is warm. You like the print too, it is pink with little purple flowers. Even though your new foster parents have spent a ton of money and effort on making this bedroom feel cosy, you end up sleeping on the ground. Not directly on the ground, but on the big thick fluffy rug in the middle of the room. It’s pink too, so you decide that it is perfect to sleep on. This way, you won’t get too comfortable in Leah and Alessia’s home. If you get too comfortable, then it will hurt even worse when they decide to kick you out. That’s why your hands softly pull the duvet and one pillow down to the floor, before laying down on it and wrapping yourself in the duvet. It feels strangely safe to be in this bedroom, in your temporary house. The feeling is new, and you are not sure whenever to regress the feeling or embrace it. You close your eyes slowly, listening to the soft hum of your two new foster moms chatter soothingly downstairs. It leaves you feeling like you are in a state of bliss that allows all the cells in your body to, for once, relax completely. It feels like you are floating, like you are at peace. Meow is in your hand, and musli comes to lay down next to you. He purrs, sending vibrations through your heart making it feel calm. Soon enough, you see your mom and you feel yourself drifting away.

-

The next morning, you wake up terrified. Did you oversleep? Why don’t your foster moms wake you up? You feel anxious. Perhaps you were supposed to wake yourself up? Irresponsible. That would already be one shot. You only get three. That’s what the other fosterfamily told you. Three shots and you are out.

You are only four, so it isn’t expected of you to wake yourself up. But you don’t know that. You drag yourself out of bed, and then it hits you: oh god. You fell asleep on the ground, but you woke up in the bed. Was it wrong of you to sleep on the floor? Did Leah or Alessia put you in bed? Maybe they are upset with you? It scares you to the point where you feel yourself shiver like a chihuahua.

You stumble out of bed before making a silenced run to the door. You shuffle down the hallway until you see the staircase and you peek out from behind the handrails. It smells like coffee, and pancakes. You find a place to sit in the staircase where you can look into the kitchen, but still be partially hidden by the shadows of the dark hallway.

Leah and Alessia is in the kitchen. Leah is reading something from her phone out loud and Alessia is listening while making pancakes. You can see orange juice on the table as well as jam, cheese and milk. Leah has a cup of coffee with milk in it. It’s light brown, and you recognise it because your old foster mother would tell you to put milk in her coffee for her.

You can feel the hunger growing in your gut, and you hold meow close to you while closing your eyes hoping that it will disappear. Then, Musli hopes downstairs. He sniffs your arm before meowing at you. You quietly try to shush him, but it doesn’t help.

“Y/N? There is breakfast for you in here love”

Leah says while smiling at you from the kitchen. You look back at her with wide eyes. Musli is still rubbing himself on your shoulder, and you force yourself to stand up. You quickly go to the kitchen, not wanting your new moms to wait. Waiting isn’t a good thing, especially when they are waiting on you. It can cause them to be upset with you. You don’t want that.

You hop up on the chair you sat in last night, and your eyes widen when Alessia places a pink princess plate infront of you with a few pancakes on. Are all of these for you? You feel confused. She hands you a fork, not an adult fork. A tiny fork with a bunny engraved into it.

Alessia sits down, and you look at her. She is now eating, and you look over at Leah who is pouring herself juice. You feel conflicted; if you ask if it is for you then they might take it away because you seem ungrateful. But if you don’t ask, then they can get upset with you for eating everyone’s breakfast.

“Uh, Alessia? Can I eat this?”

“Huh? Are you allergic?”

“What’s allergic?”

They both share a sad look, but to you; it looks like disappointment.

“It’s for you baby, just eat however much you want”

You look at Alessia and Leah. Sceptical, yet grateful. You nod before you start eating. Then you realise that you might need to eat everything; because you don’t know if you are gonna get another meal today. It feels strange to sit here with two adults eating pancakes. Musli is sleeping by your chair. It almost feels like a dream. Like something that is taken out of a movie. But it’s a movie that you don’t want to end. That’s the thing about movies; they always have an end.

[mntozakii]

thinking about sugar mommy sana and her college kid princess 🤒

you met her during your part time job as a cat sitter. when she was away during her business trips, you were paid to care for her two beautiful orange bastards.

of course, you have to give a daily update to your client with pictures of the cats. when you accidentally sent a selfie of you with her cats, she responded with "pretty things".

yay her cats are so big and adorable and so stinky that you want bite their paws

usually, her assistant will pick up the cats but she decides to drive to your house and do it by herself. as a courtesy, she invites you for a brunch at the new restaurant downtown.

the brunch turns into a few more dates until she proposed an exclusive arrangement with you.

sana who funds your tuition and spoils you rotten, she always praise you even for doing the bare minimum.

sometimes, all you have to do is sit next to her, look pretty, then receive thousands in your bank later.

sana just love having you around, it makes her feel better seeing you study on the couch while she reviews the same floral theme for the new s/s collection

"i did my laundry today 😗"

"my amazing girl ⭐️ let's try the new steakhouse tonight!!"

"i got a full mark for my presentation"

"my baby is so smart"

sana is a socialite and often brings you to gala dinner. since you major in communication, she helps so much in expanding your network especially in fashion industry.

sana finds it so entertaining when men try to impress you by offering a summer internship in their companies. she knows exactly how these men take advantages of young girls in the industry.

it is too bad though, sana has decided that you will be working with her after graduating (nepo baby behaviour).

when you quietly ask her to come along to the restroom, she didn't expect you to pull her into the cubicles and start to desperately kiss her.

you are becoming tired with the constant interaction with people and the alcohol doesn’t help, it only made you feel horny. the older woman looks so pretty and it kills you to not be under her touch.

"sweetheart, you need to behave well" sana mutters as she lightly slaps your cheek. she plants soft kisses all over your jaw before pulling away, it is adorable to see how disappointed you get whenever you get denied.

“mommy, no, you have to be nice to me”your lips naturally pout when you look up at her, her face is dangerously close to you and all you want to do now is to go home with her.

“or i will go to those men and ask them to play with me” sana chuckles seeing your attempt to threat her, such an attention seeker. she pulls you into a sweet kiss and can't help but to smile when you started to moan out feverishly, she loves how you look like you're about to cry from being deprived of touch.

“play nice and you’ll get a present, baby”

[vienssunshine]

What are the Halloween costumes that would drive JJK characters crazy?

pairings: Maki, Choso, and Nanami x fem!reader nsfw: drug use, implied sexual activity

Maki: Black Cat

Maki has no issue with your "costume" being just lingerie and cat ears. Well, you had drawn a little triangle on your cute nose, so she'd give you credit for that. But even so, how could she mind the basic costume when you made it look so good? It's hard to focus on the conversation she's having when the body suit—so tight on your gorgeous silhouette—is riding up on your hips, allowing her to make out the curve of your ass. And just below it, she can see your black thigh highs and how they squeeze your legs, a little bit of your flesh spilling out over the top. With a sight like this, she can't stand there staring the whole time, she has to come over and introduce herself to the pretty girl in the cat costume. You'd giggle your name back to her and do a terrible job of hiding how your eyes flick down to the strong but elegant hands of hers that you just took a drink from. Later in the night, when you two end up pressed together in the closet of someone's house, she would show you how she's quite the cat person and knows how to take care of your pussy.

Choso: Vampire

This boy is emo!!! And so touch starved, so when you're smoking his weed outside of your friend’s party and you playfully threaten to bite his neck, he agrees. With a fanged smile, you pass the blunt back to him and place your hands on his built shoulders so you can close in on your victim. He shudders at the sensation of your breath on his throat, pulse thumping through his neck as he senses you move closer and closer until your fake fangs graze his pale skin. His hand grabs onto your arm, but he doesn’t stop you as you gently bite his flesh. It’s not enough to draw blood, but it still sends a shiver of—fear? excitement? ...arousal?—down his spine. As a thank you for providing make-believe sustenance, you remove your fangs from his neck and plant a gentle kiss in their place, causing his fingers to squeeze around your arm. Your kiss leaves a smear of your red lipstick on his skin, but he doesn’t wipe it off, he likes being marked.

Nanami: Classic Movie Killer

Nanami would find all your little teases about how he should ‘watch out’ because ‘there’s a serial killer on the loose,’ very entertaining. You’d brandish your flimsy plastic knife and draw a line across his throat with it while telling him he should be grateful you haven’t killed him yet since, if you wanted to, you could. He’d cross his arms, showcasing his strong, veiny forearms, and tilt his head with an “Oh yeah?” and watch as you stumble over yourself to double down on your empty threats. Aside from the fact that he would be able to pin you in under a second, he knows it'd be impractical to kill anyone in the skimpy get-up you're wearing. Not that he doesn't like the little 'killer' outfit though, he actually has a hard time keeping his eyes from roaming the bloodied, exposed skin your crop-top and skirt reveal. Of course he’d keep his composure at the Halloween party, but after it he'd take you home and rip off your costume, leaving you bare and naked and dripping with arousal, and it’s only then he'd allow himself to teach you who should be scared of who.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Pets

Hardersson x Child Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Rocky the Rock

"Morsa," You say one random day off," Why does Sam have Helen?"

Magda looks up from where she's working on her laptop. You're sitting by the coffee table on the floor, cross-legged as you make your farmyard animals enact something that really reminds Magda of the book Animal Farm which is a little disconcerting but she's trying really hard not to focus on.

"Huh? Helen the cat?"

You nod.

"Well, Sam's got Helen for companionship. Helen's her pet cat."

That makes you frown a little bit. "Why?"

Magda shrugs. "Some people want a pet to keep them company. Some people have cats like Sam, some people have dogs or hamsters or other little things."

You go silent for a moment, you head bobbing up and down in a nod. "Okay," You say," Can I go play outside now, Morsa?"

Magda leans back in her chair to look out the window. It was meant to rain later on today and she didn't want you to get a cold but, thankfully, the sky is clear.

"Do you want someone to kick a ball at you?" Magda asks as she helps you slip on your coat.

"No thank you, Morsa," You say, practically vibrating to be let out," Just going to play."

"Okay. If you get hurt, yell and I'll come out, alright?"

"Okay!"

Magda types away at her laptop for a while as you play in the garden. Every so often, she drags her eyes up to check on you but you're just poking around in the gravel.

When Pernille comes home, you're still there and Magda is still typing.

"Where's Princesse?" Pernille asks before she drops down to steal a kiss.

"She's outside," Magda replies," Hey, Pernille, what does it mean when a kid starts asking about pets?"

"What?"

"Well, she was asking about why Sam has her cat. I said it was for companionship."

"Magda," Pernille says fondly," I love you so much sometimes."

"Sometimes? Not always?"

"You know what I mean. You're so oblivious sometimes."

Magda frowns. "Huh?"

"She's planting the seed in your mind," Pernille explains," So when she asks about getting her own pet then it's not out of nowhere."

"But we can't get a pet!" Magda says," We're moving soon!"

Pernille laughs. "She's probably angling for one when we go back to Germany. She's very smart."

"It's sneaky! Oh my god, are we going to have to start buying pet food?! And vet bills! I don't think there's a good vet near our new place and-"

Magda's mouth snaps closed as Pernille rests her hands on her shoulders. She's giving Magda a pointed look tinged with amusement.

"Magda," She says," Calm down. We're not getting her a pet."

"Oh." Magda blows out all her air. "We're not?"

"No. We'll be much too busy and Princesse's still very little. A pet would just add stress onto everything."

"But she wants one."

"And I want a three course meal and for Sam's whole existence to stop being a threat to Princesse's wellbeing but I'm not getting any of that anytime soon."

Magda laughs. Her hand reaches for Pernille's hip, dragging her closer until she's comfortably sitting on Magda's lap. "I can make you the meal. I'm not too sure I can help with Sam though. I can wrap Princesse up in bubble wrap though."

Pernille smiles. "You're so sweet, Magda." She cards her fingers through Magda's hair, leaning forward to steal a kiss like she did earlier. "You're such a good mother."

Magda rarely gets embarrassed about these things but with Pernille's weight in her lap and you playing in the garden, there are no interruptions. Her face flushes red at the compliments.

"The perfect mother for our little girl," Pernille continues, littering kisses all over Magda's face," You and her are so alike."

"I think she's more like you," Magda can scarcely gets the words out as Pernille bites at her earlobe.

"That's only because you're so oblivious. You and Princesse are more similar than you think."

"Well-"

"Momma! You're home!"

Pernille looks over Magda's shoulder to see you. Your hands are covered in dirt like you've been digging around in the flowerbeds again and you're pulling off your shoes, throwing them onto the floor.

"You look like you've been having fun," Pernille laughs," You're all dirty."

"Only a little," You say, wiping a hand on the front of your shirt," Where's my googly eyes?"

Magda frowns. She'd been preparing herself for you to ask about a pet, not about your arts and crafts supplies. "Er...Should be in the toy box."

"Thank you!"

You run off without even giving Pernille a hug, though she's secretly grateful for that because your hands look to be caked in dirt.

Magda sighs. "Is she going to start sticking those eyes on her shoes again?"

"I hope not. She nearly had a breakdown when they fell off last time."

Neither of them get an explanation about what you're doing with your googly eyes until way after dinner when you stand in front of them sitting on the sofa.

Magda takes a deep breath.

This is it.

It's time to completely break your heart.

"Sam has Helen as her pet," You begin," Morsa says Helen's for companionship."

"Pets are a lot of work," Magda says quickly, wanting the soften the blow," They take a lot of care."

You frown, your crinkle appearing between your brows. "Even the little things?"

"Even them," Pernille says solemnly," The little ones a very complicated. You have to feed them and clean out their cages."

You nod along before," That's okay. I've got one that doesn't need feeding."

That alarms Magda and she remembers how you were poking around in the garden all day. She wonders if you've managed to dig up a mouse or something from the dirt.

Pernille also looks suitably alarmed and her eyes immediately dart to where your hands are hiding behind your back.

"Princesse," She says slowly," Have you brought something into the house that you shouldn't have?"

You shake your head. "He is my pet," You say.

"Princesse-" Magda begins before her mouth hangs open in shock.

"His name is Rocky," You say proudly as you hold up a little granite rock from behind your back. You've stuck a set of three googly eyes on it. "And he is my pet."

"That's a rock," Magda says.

"Yes. Rocky the rock. My pet."

"Pernille, that's a rock."

"I can see that, Magda."

"I found him all by myself," You boast, puffing out your chest," I saved him from the cold and gave him eyes so he can see. He's my pet and he's going to sleep in my bed with me."

Magda can do nothing but stare with an open mouth as you show off your new rock.

"Pernille," Magda manages to whisper as you fawn and coo over your new rock," She dug up a rock."

"Yes, she did."

"She wants to sleep in bed with it."

"Yes, she does."

[hirukochan]

I feel cheeky sending another ask but I lived the interrogation one so much so just 3 so words: snape sex pollen. Perhaps a professor x professor?

(Ps: is their a place that I can support your writing!!!)

Snape x Professor sex pollen coming right up 🫡

Writing is one of my many beloved hobbies; liking, reblogging, giving kudos or commenting is all the support I need! Thank you very much for asking though!

Blue Speckled Mushrooms

(Severus Snape x fem!Professor oneshot)

Words: 2572

Warnings: 18+ Sex Pollen :D - mutual dub-con, some biting, rough smut

Summary: In your continuing efforts to catch the grumpy Potion Master's attention you follow him into the Forbidden Forest - a mistake of perhaps destiny unfolding?

This is play post-war, Sev survives - not that it matters much to the 'plot'

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

It could have been so easy. Gather these blasted Moon Cornflowers and Speckled Blue Mushrooms and return to the castle. It’s all he asks for. Moon Cornflowers and Speckled  Blue Mushrooms to finish the brew currently under stasis in his office. Two plants. Just a few of each. They couldn’t be preserved through either magic or other means and had to be harvested within three hours of being used in a potion and only during a full moon. 

Now usually this is no problem for an accomplished potion master such as Severus Snape. A quick trip to the forest and done. He knows the half-forgotten paths, the safe routes. Knows how to avoid the Centaurs and other nastier beasts that live in the Forbidden Forest.

He does not know how to avoid her.

Irritating, stupid girl.

She took over the History of Magic position earlier that year, one of Snape’s first students he taught after becoming a professor himself at merely twenty-one. A seventh year at the time who already stared at him in the library back when he was a student. 

She just wouldn’t leave him alone!

“Midnight stroll?” She asks with that irritating smile on her stupid pretty face and follows him into the forest.

“What do you want?!” He growls at her. She keeps trying to make conversation with him, keeps sitting next to him during meals or in the staff room, talking. Always talking. Talking talking talking. 

How can a single person be this annoying?

She is still talking. Jesus fucking christ!

“So anyway…what are you doing here?”

“I don’t see how that is of any concern to you.”

“Just curious, is all.” She replies. Stupid girl. And she is still following him!

You have no idea what to do anymore. You’ve tried everything. You’ve tried catching his attention by talking to him, leaving the top button of your blouse undone, batting your lashes at him like a teen on a love potion, you’ve searched his company, flirted like your stupid life depends on it and the cranky bastard doesn’t even recognise it! 

You run to catch up with his long strides, wrapping your cloak around yourself to shield yourself from the cold night air.

You were about to go to bed, just finishing up your rounds through the castle on the lookout for students out of bed when you saw his billowing cloak sweep out of the entrance door. You of course followed him. Curious as to what he was going to do outside but also secretly hoping today’s the day he’ll finally notice your intentions.

Perhaps you have to be less subtle. You thought men like to be subtly seduced but Snape is not like any man you’ve known! Maybe he doesn’t like playing cat and mouse, doesn’t enjoy the chase. 

You’ll be blunt! Yes, if a stroll through the forest at midnight doesn’t do the trick you’ll gather what little courage you have and just make the first step yourself. You’re an independent woman! You don’t need to wait around for Snape to realise you’re interested in him and make the first step.

“Are you gathering ingredients of sorts?” You ask and walk quicker to keep up, pressing your arm against his by walking closer to him. He glares at you.

“Obviously.” He snarls and looks forward again.

“Cool. cool cool cool….um…which ones?”

He audibly grumbles.

“Sorry, I couldn’t understand you.” You smile. He is making it very hard to be attracted to him. Grumbly bastard. Prickly idiot. Why can’t he just fuck you? Shove you into a broom closet and let out his frustrations if you’re so bloody annoying to be around! Why can’t you fall head over heels for someone normal?

Because normal is boring.

Your eyes glide over his sharp jaw, every muscle tensed, about ready to snap, beneath his pale skin that shines in the moonlight.

“I said, you were a daft, simple-minded girl when I had the misfortune of attempting to teach you potions - I very much doubt you’d understand any more now than you did seventeen years ago!”

His venom cuts deep. You stumble backwards. You thought he was clumsy when it comes to socialising, that he perhaps didn’t understand your intentions, not that he loathes you.

“Oh…” You murmur. “Um…okay…” don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry. “Sorry for bothering you.” You turn on your heels and run. He calls after you but you ignore it, disappearing between the trees into the undergrowth, away from Snape because you are about to cry your eyes out like the stupid little girl he sees in you and you are not about to embarrass yourself any further than you already have! You just want to go back to your quarters.

Stupid girl! Insufferable, annoying, bothersome, foolish girl!

Snape runs after her. He considered leaving her to her own fate and capabilities and collect his ingredients but he had been cursed with a conscience. A nasty, biting thing demanding he not let her run to her death in an Acromantula den.

He’ll tear her a new one when he catches up to her! The sheer idiocy! Running into the Forbidden Forest like that! What possessed her.

“Stop running!” He snarls, draws his wand and sends a non-verbal Stupor at her. She stumbles and falls face-first into the flower field spreading over the clearing they had entered during their chase. Snape lifts his spell.

You spin around, furious. How fucking dare he? Isn’t it enough to insult you? Does he have to embarrass you by forcing you to bear your pathetic little hurt feelings to him?

He stands at the other end of the clearing, pale blue flowers reaching to his calves, emitting a gentle glow. He looks furious. The light of the full moon illuminates him from the back, deepening his already sharp features, cloaking his face and body in menacing shadows.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” He snarls and points towards the direction you were running in. “Do you want to be eaten by enormous spiders?”

“Like you give a damn!” You shout and pick yourself up off the ground. Swiftly you brush loose dirt and a few pedals off your robes and out of your hair. The motherfucker stunned you!

“I might be a cold son of a bitch but I am not letting a colleague run to her death - no matter how annoying said colleague is. The way back to the castle is-” A wind picks up. His cloak flutters behind him, the fabric whispering with the motion. Pedals are ripped from the flowers.

His eyes widen.

You tilt your head to the side, brows pulled together. “Severus?”

“Stay where you are!” He hisses, sending droplets of spit flying. You look around, confused, searching the dark rows of trees for some beastly critter about to attack but you find none. Snape’s eyes are pinned to yours. His chest is heaving, his breath seems shallow. You take a step forward to which Snape instantly backs away, keeping his wand pointed at- you?

“What’s going on?”

“To the castle! Go back to the castle!”

“I am not your student! You can’t give me orders! And to think I’ve been trying to go on a date with you for months!”

“You have to go back to the castle now or- what?” His wand hand sinks a little. A crease forms between his brows. You’ve never seen Severus so puzzled.

“Year really…” You mutter. “Back in school too-”

“I am not in the mood for jokes or pranks.”

“It’s not!” You take another step forward. Severus’ back hits a tree. The wind picks up. A sweet scent reaches your nose, infiltrates your mind, swirls around your brain like vapours of a potion-

Weren’t you cold?

You were! Yes, you were- but it’s so hot- when did it get so hot?

“Stop that!” Snape snarls again.

“Stop what?” You roll your eyes and pause- your cloak lies in the flower field three steps away from you. You have unbuttoned your robes, revealing the white blouse and dark trousers underneath- when-?

“Go. back.” He has his jaw clenched, teeth pressed together. His nostrils flare, his eyes flick down to your chest and he seems to struggle to force them back up.

“Are you hot too?” Your fingers pry open the buttons of your blouse without you even noticing or you’re just not thinking about it…

“Go-”

“What’s happening?”

“Pollen-”

“What?”

“Where you shit in Herbology too?!” He snaps and you glare at him about ready to-

Your blouse slips off your shoulders and falls to the ground. “Stop- you don’t want this-”

“What? What is this?”

“A rare flower.” His voice sounds pressed, as though he’s struggling to speak, to breathe, to exist. He has his back moulded to the tree, clutching at the bark with his hands, straining to keep his eyes on your face.

The button on your trousers is open.

“The pollens they emit to the air to spread and form these dense fields- they have a unique effect on humans-”

“Which effect?”

“Can’t you tell, stupid girl?”

Your trousers push past your hips.

“You should be running from me, not stripping for me.” His eyes graze over your body, standing in front of him in only your underwear, devouring the sight. His eyes trace along the curves of your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake…Heat rushes to your core.

“Sex pollen-” You gasp, noticing you’re standing a mere arm's length away from him now.

“The rather crude colloquial name - yes.”

“Severus- what-”

“Too late, stupid girl.” He snarls and the next moment he’s on you, pouncing at you like a wild beast. His woodsy, herbal scent flows around you, mixing with the sweet smell of the damned flower. His hands grip your arms roughly, blunt nails dig into your flesh. Severus swirls you around and pushes you against the tree. Bark scratches against your skin, stabbing into it but you don’t even notice.

It’s like a trance has taken over your mind and only one thing matters. 

He.

Severus’ mouth latches onto your throat. A million tiny explosions rush over your skin where he touches you and you moan, a feral sound ripped harshly from your throat, echoing over the empty clearing. Severus growls in response, even more feral, even less human. His teeth scrape over your throat. His hands roam over your body, squeezing your breasts, your thighs. Then he tears at his own clothes, shedding layer after layer with a quickness and urgency that has your head spinning.

“Stupid girl.” He repeats and kisses up to your jaw, your cheek. Heated, open-mouth kisses that leave your skin marked by his saliva. 

You place your hands on his shoulders, searching for something to hold onto, something to pull you back into reality, your head spinning, skin exploding, core hurting. You’re so aroused, so need it fucking hurts.

“Severus-” You moan. His hands find your thighs and he lifts you up. Your legs wrap around him on their own accord.

“You should have run when you still had the chance.” He snarls against your lips, his breath brushes over your skin. “You’ll regret this.”

“Shut up and fuck me, you prick!”

Your lips meet in a violent clash of teeth and tongue. You’re pretty sure he bites you or perhaps you bite him. None of it matters anymore when you feel his prick against your soaked entrance. You’ve never been so wet- never so wound up- so desperate for sex-

You cry out when he enters you, a forceful thrust that buries him to the hilt in your twitching channel. He is big. Too big under different circumstances perhaps. He doesn’t give you time to adjust. He pounds into you, spearing you open, using his grip on your waist to bounce you on his cock in sync with each of his thrusts.

You cling to his shoulders, your nails drawing blood, fingertips running over old scars, exploring the surprisingly defined muscles of his lean stature.

Your breasts bounce, rubbing against his naked chest, his lips lay claim to yours, your face, your neck, your chest.

He stumbles, his left side giving in and you tumble to the ground. You’ve seen that happen before. The venom of you-know-who’s snake has left him with some permanent damage, not only the huge scar on his neck.

You don’t care.

You push him down to the ground, your hands on his chest and move your hips, lifting them, letting them slam back down, riding him. You throw your head back, your eyes closed, lips parted as his cock drags along your inner walls with delicious friction.

“So- so full-” You moan. Your breasts sway. Severus catches them, squeezing them with such pure delight on his usually reserved face. He twists your nipples between his fingers, revelling in the noises he coaxes from you.

“You could have had this so much sooner, idiot.” You hiss and grind down against him before lifting your hips up once again.

“Wha-?” His puzzled expression is almost cute.

“I’ve been trying to get you to ask me out for months!” As though to reinforce your discontent with his lack of romantic interest you pick up your pace. His head drops back into the flowers. The pale blue petals glow in his inky black hair.

“How was I supposed to know?” He asks, bucking up to meet your movement.

“I was flirting!”

“I thought you were acting especially stupid for some reason.”

“Arsehole!” You dig your nails into his chest but Severus seems to like that. His eyes squeeze shut, his lips part, pleasure drawn into every wrinkle of his face.

“Why didn’t you just ask me out?”

“Would you have said yes?”

“I’d have called you stupid. Perhaps laughed at you. Slip poison in your tea.”

“I hate you.”

“I don’t think you do.” 

Quicker than you can follow his movements you’re underneath him and your legs on his shoulders. Your head is still spinning when Severus starts pounding into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the clearing, accompanied by your and Severus' animalistic, feral sounds of pleasure.

“I don’t-” You moan and dig your fingers into the dry soil underneath you.

“I know.”

“You’re supposed to say me neither.”

“I do whatever the fuck I want, sweetheart.”

“Shut up.”

“No.”

His balls slap against your arse. His hand drops between your bodies, his fingers find your clit, run over it once- twice-

You see stars. Dots of light exploding all over your field of vision and pulling you into darkness, bringing the complex system keeping your body alive and moving to an abrupt stop. Your lungs refuse to fill with air, your brain crashes, your limbs tense, your whole body forced into a contortion made of carnal desire and the world-ending pleasure Severus Snape brings you.

You twitch. Then you inhale sharply, filling your lungs with air, shuddering, whimpering under Severus who spills inside you with an ear-splitting grunt and then slumps down above you. On top of you. Your legs found the ground somehow. His cock still inside you, throbbing, slowly softening, you lay in the dirt like a starfish, feeling dizzy, overwhelmed and confused.

“Friday.” Severus murmurs, his lips brushing over your cheek as he speaks. “Dinner. Be ready on time or I’ll leave without you.”

“Mh?” 

“You really are dense." He grumbles. "Your date, stupid girl. Friday.”

[syoddeye]

consequence / cupid

price x f!reader | 1.2k words series directory tags: alcohol, exes, a touch of angst. a/n: have a snack. next one's a meal. john price vs. art. ☕

it isn’t as if john hasn’t seen an arse cheek before. he’s a man. he’s military. he’s seen soap’s full moon upwards of fifty times in the last year.

but this cheek, barely beyond his arm’s reach, is connected to his barista. his friend, as she keeps inferring. it’s lovely and round, and those little lightning strikes peeking over the waistband of her jeans are a tease. it’s not even the whole expanse, only half, but oh, what a half. the heart-tipped arrow notched by the impish cupid tattoo begs for a kiss. a bite. he thanks christ for decorative pillows and his superiors for putting him through multiple rounds of resistance training.

a lesser man, he thinks, would break. say something crass or play his hand here. john simply hums appreciatively, as if observing a masterpiece in a museum.

(which it ought to be.)

“so you lost a bet.”

“yes.”

“the result of which was…this.”

“yep.”

“it’s cute.”

she pulls her jeans and underwear up and collapses back onto the couch dramatically. “cute is a word for it.”

“did it hurt?”

“no more than my thighs or stomach.”

john’s mouth dries despite the drink. although he initially planned to nurse it to prolong his stay, he considers downing the rest immediately. get out while his dignity is intact. before he does something careless.

cece clambers onto the back of the couch, putting on a show of stretching each of her legs. she bumps against his head, pausing to plant two paws on a shoulder to steady herself, then drags her tongue where his beard connects. sandpaper matting it aslant. deep, contented purring drowns out the dull roar of his blood. it diffuses some of the one-sided tension. some.

“wow. cee really likes you.” 

“feeling’s mutual.” john reaches blindly to find the cat’s withers for a scritch. he lets his attention wander in the silence that follows, roaming the room to see if anything’s different. so long as the cat’s using him as a saltlick, he doesn’t foresee himself venturing to her end of the couch.

“so. special forces.” 

“mhm.”

“the arms aren’t just for show, then.”

and where are we going with this? john shoos cece, leaning forward to peer at his host. he brushes over his wet, cemented sideburn and spares a brief glance at the lovable interloper, responding in a flat, unsure tone.

“my…arms. no.” he squints. “why do you ask?”

“how confident are you with a drill?”

“that’s it—yeah, right there, john.” 

john grits his teeth. sweaty from the unplanned exertion, his palms nearly slip at her praise. he shoots a mildly frustrated stare at the ceiling. it’s about time.

nearly an hour of dialogue and negotiation as to where her new shelves would best fit, the task’s finally at an end.

not that he’s genuinely annoyed. he could’ve guessed she was meticulous, no, a perfectionist. it’s a latent trait, he thinks as he attaches the shelves. one he’s watched how she pours the milk into those artsy lattes she serves. tongue poked out, brow furrowed, muttering self-flagellations—he just hasn’t been the focus of it. in her crosshairs. he spits the screws into his free palm and starts to fix the bracket to the wall.

“can’t thank you enough. i’ve had those sitting around since before the whole wrist thing, but i, uh, it’s still finicky.”

“not a problem.” 

she stoops to rifle through a stack of books and frames while he tests the anchors. ensures the mdf won’t collapse the moment she sets one of those thick artbooks on it.

“your tenancy agreement even allow these?”

“no,” she smirks. “but nothing patching plaster can’t hide.”

john chuckles, gaze catching on a shallow stack of canvas set against the wall. he shuffles backward to get out of her way as she slots books on the shelf, but he stares at the stretched fabric. a splotch of orange bleeding into the edge. before he can stop himself, he steps closer to card through them.

“what do we have here?” 

“oh, those–those are old–oh god, don’t laugh.”

laughing is the last thing on his mind. he finds himself staring at a portrait. it’s, well, shit, he doesn’t know the vocabulary. it’s…evocative and bright at the border, with oranges and golds gradually cooling into greens. at its center is a profile of a woman, with her hair tied up and face expressionless. pensive? she almost looks wary with the side eye. the style isn’t one he recognizes, not that he’s a mind for art to begin with. her skin consists of thick brushstrokes, a gradient of complementary shades from the same color family. he’s unsure if he should look at each individual stroke or the face as a whole. the uncertainty is an uncomfortable thing—he’s made a career out of knowing precisely where to focus. looking past the surface to decode the complex.

he does know one thing for certain: it’s good work. belongs in a museum.

“well, she’s pretty,” john murmurs as he stands the piece facing out. his eyes flick to her with a grin. “not as pretty as you, ‘course. who is she?”

a flurry of emotions passes over her face and ultimately settles as a nervous smile. “old classmate.”

he grabs the next canvas and flips it, expecting more of the same, but it’s decidedly not. this style he recalls, though not the name, just a name. warhol. it’s the same woman, painted identically nine times on the canvas. facing forward, a timid smile and big eyes. a rainbow of colors that’s snatched right out of his hand.

her mouth is a wavering line, struggling to stay still. something wants out.

john repeats himself. “who is she?”

“like i said. an old classmate.” she shoves the painting over the first and waves him away from the rest. “there was an unofficial tradition. students are paired and each term, you create a piece based on each other. i painted and…those are the results.”

there are three canvases left. quick math. if the program was full-time, she dropped out with maybe a single term left.

he wilts at her tone. it’s slightly sugary. practiced. it’s her customer service voice. “well, it’s getting late.”

it’s not. it’s barely dark outside.

“so i won’t keep you.”

please do, he wants to say, but he doesn’t. 

“thanks for coming over.”

on the way to the door, he brushes a thumb between cece’s ears, toeing his shoes on with a resigned sigh.

“this was nice.” she tells him at the door.

“it was.” until i ruined it.

“see you around.” probably not. 

the streetlight’s dead outside her place. he’ll report it in the morning before he heads to the café and after he perfects an apology.

~~~~

you shove the paintings in with the box. ben’s supposed to fetch his last box of odds and ends any day now. a sour taste bubbles in your throat, furious with yourself for not hiding it better. you’d become lazy in john’s absence, not tidying as well as you should have. though, in your defense, it’s not as if you have friends to invite over. no company to speak of or to keep.

now you’ve shoved your first shot at something out the door. in your head, you hear how stupid it sounds. show your arse, sure, but god forbid you share the whole story.

crawling into bed, you turn the argument around. 

you’re a washed-up artist and a boring barista with emotional baggage. john’s some secret agent soldier type. he’s not interested in the dramatics of failed relationships. he’s just…john. a man you shouldn’t’ve shown cupid to. a nice fella. your favorite regular. 

best leave it at that.

[asidian]

Set breakdown time! Next up: Niko's room.

As before, I've circled the points of interest and numbered them to make them easier to talk about. Cool? Cool. Let's do this!

1: Niko's mom's name! This part is her and Niko's surname. The kanji are 佐々木.

佐 – sa, meaning help or aid

々 – an iteration mark. When you see this, basically it means "exactly what the last one said, one more time." So another sa meaning help or aid

木 – ki, meaning tree

It's really neat that they picked a last name for her that doubles down on her role in the narrative. Just like Niko is there to support and help other characters in whatever way they seem to need, her surname hammers it home by including 佐 not once but twice.

2: Riza (リザ) Niko's mother's given name. Somewhat odd here is that it's written in katakana and not kanji. Without getting sidetracked too much (you can pop over here to read more if you're interested) most Japanese people write their names in kanji.

Katakana seems like a bit of a strange choice here, unless a) Niko for some reason doesn't know the kanji for her own mother's name (weird, given that she's in high school) b) her mother is a foreigner (a possibility; foreigners usually write their names in katakana) c) the set designer/whoever prepped the letters didn't know the appropriate kanji for "Riza" (seems unlikely, given how accurate all the rest of this is) or d) some sort of personal habit. An interesting side note is that her letter to Niko also puts Niko's name in katakana.

3: Cutesy stationery, used for marking your place in a document or book

4: A cute blue purse!

5: Watermelon! Judging by the shiny material and placement near the other bag, I'm going to guess this is another purse

6: Niko's clothes :>

7: Pink luggage

8: Lots of instant noodles

9: A rice cooker

10: Rice vinegar

11: This girl LOVES her some plants

12: Probably food items…? The one on the right looks like it might be a five-pound bag of rice, but I don't recognize the brand

13: Lots of unwashed dishes

14: A toaster oven

15: Chopsticks

16: A cute octopus pillow. I think I saw someone mention that it's from Ikea :>

17: She often leaves dirty dishes sitting on the bedside table

18: A painting of what seems to be a skyscape

19: Brightly colored pillows

20: Metal art in the shape of a moon

21: A decorative window hanging

22: More plants :)

23: Candles

24: Her tv

25: Cute pens with pompoms on the end

26: Regular tape

27: A cute cat statue

28: Marble Pop Ramune, strawberry flavor. Ramune is a type of soda that's a popular festival drink in Japan. It's sealed with a  glass marble and you have to pop the marble down into the little catch basin before you can drink it.

29: Anime wall décor

30: Fruit jelly cups. In Japan, small gelatin based snacks like this are popular. They're tiny, about an inch tall, and you eat them in just one or two bites.

31: Niko's laptop. She has stickers on it

32: Washi tape! It's decorative Japanese tape, often with bright colors and patterns, used for crafting.

33: A lot of cute magnets, including the bunny one, which serves double-duty as a kitchen timer

34: Niko's grocery list. The only thing on here that's here because she wants it is strawberry ice cream. The rest of the items, licorice tea, manuka honey, and Epsom salts, are all natural remedies. She's been trouble-shooting how to get rid of the effects of the sprites. She knows she's sick, but not why

35: Cutesy craft supplies! Sequins, glitter, and pompoms

36: More washi tape!

37: Niko's manga collection. She is that particular brand of organizational mess that does not put her numbered volumes in order. She has made an exception for the series that makes a complete picture when you line them up, though

38: More plants :)

39: Manga posters! Issho is one of the series that she has on her shelf

40: A decorative jar

41: Little metal bird sculptures

42: What seems to be the only framed picture in her room. The angle is wrong to see what the photo is, but it's interesting that they added just one in here. Maybe it's her family…?

[gamesetart]

Open relationship au I’m SICK!!!!

Approaching Art to ask if hooking up with girls is okay <3 that you met Tashi one of your classes and you might be interested in seeing her if he’s okay with that. And maybe he’s a little conflicted, he didn’t know you were into girls too, it makes him feel a little insecure about it maybe. First he has to worry about Patrick, and now Tashi?

And maybe it’ll make him feel better if he just watches. Just that once. Not because he’s a perv, just because he needs to know what it would be like, if he’d be okay with it again.

cat i need you to know i waited until i could sit with my laptop home from work for this <3

eyes on me (tashi's interlude i)

tags: tashi duncan x fem reader, voyeurism, cunnilingus, fingering, cucking (arts cool with it). nsfw. minors DNI.

"Baby, I'm not... homophobic," Art says, staring at you, nonplussed.

You fluster a little at this -- of course he isn't, one of his friends on the tennis team is gay (the only openly gay man at stanford as far as you're aware) -- but you were genuinely nervous. Art has a rosary hanging on his wall. He prays before bed. Your reservations were warranted.

"I-I know," you frown, "but I'm just asking if you'd be okay with it."

"I didn't know you liked girls," he says, casually avoiding the question. He's good at that, you've noticed. Sidestepping the uncomfortable stuff. (It's probably why he's never told you about Patrick.)

"I like this one," you tell him nonchalantly. "Her name's Tashi -- she plays tennis, actually, maybe you know her. We met in my kinesiology class."

For a moment, you swear his expression flickers. Swear something dark and angry and hurt flashes in his eyes. But the second passes, and it's gone, quick as it came. He smiles. Nods.

"Yeah, I do. She's good, really good. She won the US and the Australian Junior Opens."

"So... you're cool with it?"

Art pauses, cocking his head to one side. He pretends to consider it. Pretends like this is really weighing on him. He waits until he sees that moment of doubt in your eyes, like you're about to take it back, offer up something else to soothe the ache, to speak. He knows you better than you think. And he knows how to use it, more than you know.

"I don't know," he says slowly, rolling each syllable over in his mouth. "I'd have to think about it... maybe. I mean, it's so different from just some guy."

He makes you think it's your idea. It's easier that way, if you think you came up with it all on your own, if you think you're the one pulling the strings. (Both believe the other clueless. Both believe themselves the one in control. Both are sorely mistaken.)

Tashi was the one who suggested it to you.

"He could always watch," she'd said lightly, over your coffee and her weird green energy smoothie. "You know. Sit in. Cum in his pants, or pray, or whatever it is good Christian boys do when they watch their girlfriend fuck another girl."

You'd laughed. "I don't think good Christian boys watch their girlfriends fuck at all, girls or otherwise."

But the seed had sprung. She'd planted the idea in your head, and now it bloomed anew.

"You could aways watch," you say mischievously. "See if you're on board. Do some research."

His ears go red, and you giggle. It's adorable, how sweet he is. Art reaches up to run a hand through his hair, and that damn ring catches your eye. One day, you promise yourself. Soon.

"You're so pretty," you mumble into Tashi's hair. Her lips catch on your neck, biting the skin soft enough that it won't leave a mark. "You're so so pretty."

She laughs breathlessly, and it tickles. You're in your bedroom. Art's sitting on your desk chair while Tashi hovers above you. You lost all your clothes a long time ago, and she's well on her way, in nothing but a thin pink bra and matching panties. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you think she prepared for this. And you like it.

"You ever see her naked before, Art?" Tashi asks. (Something about the way she speaks to him is familiar. Like she's done it before.) But you can't think about that when she shifts above you, clears the view for Art to get an excellent view of your slick, sweet cunt. She spreads your folds with her right hand so he can see your perfect hole.

"N-no," he says, and you can't see him, but it sounds choked.

Tashi smiles above you. Her fingers - sweet, clever, calloused and warm - slide up your cunt, gather the wetness. Slit to clit. And then, slower than you expected her to be, she pushes a single finger into your quivering hole. You gasp, because Tashi doesn't waste any time. She curls right up, searching for that single perfect spot inside you. She wastes even less time finding it.

"Oh, fuck, Tashi, right there--" you moan, hips bucking wildly into her touch. Her wrist brushes your clit, and you sob.

Art's never seen you like this. You're so firm with him. Kind, gentle, loving, but firm. You're sweet, but he has no doubts about who you are. Didn't, anyway, before this. You're fire, you're thunder, you're lightning in a bottle. You're wild and wonderful and brilliant. But right now, you're a just quivering mess melting on Tashi's fingers.

Tashi pulls her two fingers out of your and brings them to her mouth. You watch her suck them clean with a vicious smile.

"Why don't we put on a show for the boyfriend?" Tashi asks you, and she's wicked.

Her bra and panties fall to the floor. She straddles your face. You take it willingly, licking and sucking at her folds. No technique, really, you've only done this once before, drunk at a party, but what you lack in skill, you make up for in enthusiasm. You eat her out like she's your last meal on death row, like she's water to you, the drowning girl.

Tashi laughs, but it's a little shaky. "Oh, babe. You've got a lot to learn. It's okay, I'll teach you."

She leans over, dipping her fingers back into your cunt. Two, and her other hand comes to toy with your clit, bracing most of her weight on her knees - on either side of her head - and her elbows, balanced gently on your hip bones.

"Watch closely, Art," she says. "Your girlfriend's gonna cum on my hand, and then my mouth."

Art whines. But he's good, he's patient, he's nice. He's not a sinner. He's only here to watch. And watch he does. He watches you come undone on her hand, true to her word. He watches her cum on your face - she's beautiful, the arc of her back pushing her tits up, her skin shiny with sweat.

"Fuck, yeah, that's it," Tashi moans, riding your face eagerly. "Yeah, god, you're good. No fucking -- god -- clue, what you're doing, but good."

And then he watches her eat you out, and by God does she know. She knows exactly what she's doing, tongue flat against your slit licking all the way up until she reaches your clit. She flicks that around, swirls the bud around gently. Sucks on it. You lace your hands in her hair and cry out her name, right up until you look up for the first time without anything in your path of vision and lock eyes with Art.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, cumming-- Art," you choke.

Tashi won't admit she enjoyed listening to you fall apart on her tongue, moaning your stupid cuck boyfriend's name. Art won't admit he's probably going to get himself off to the sound of you crying Tashi's name (he gets it, he's been in the same place). You won't admit you really enjoyed being watched. Especially by your sweet, lovely, innocent boyfriend.

[coolbeesbro]

TGOFC Leshy Facts (Chapter 6 Spoilers)

There's so much that goes into each character in my au, and the last chapter I dropped had a bunch of lore for Leshy's character, and I just felt like compiling the minute facts that might be overlooked in light of the story that genuinely bring me joy.

Unlike the other siblings, Leshy was just a regular chaser worm who was evolved into something more human (even though humans aren't a thing in this universe, I can't think of a term that would convey the same thing here) through the power of the Green Crown. The others were like regular people already capable of complex thinking, bipedal etc., who came to find their crown one way or another (I'll go into them more in their own posts), so in comparison Leshy is more unpredictable and overall feral in his actions and mannerisms. He also still has a strong connection with the worms and can communicate with them perfectly fine, giving him an advantage over prior gods of Chaos who couldn't control them at all.

Some examples of him being more animalistic is the fact that he's being prone to biting just because, and still having urges like burrowing underground being more comfortable for him than sleeping in an actual bed, and randomly making strange little noises. He also thinks nothing about eating through and ripping up the floorboards in his house, and has Heket bring him spare lumber to store as a "little snack" when he's too lazy to get up and go to the dining hall and raid the kitchen. Every sibling's homes are reflective of their personalities, and where Heket, Kallamar, Narinder and Shamura have furniture and decor, Leshy's home, though normal looking from the outside, is literally just an empty room with the majority of the floorboards ripped up or gnawed through, looking like a storm ripped through the inside of his home. He has no furniture or decor outside of a few potted plants gifted to him by Tebryn (au yellow cat).

Another thing, and this might be controversial, is that he's actually terrible when it comes to taking care of plants. Almost every plant he owns is either dead, or on the brink of death, but he doesn't really know it since he can't see for himself that they are. He use to be good at it, but that ended up being 100% the Green Crown's power. Having not been capable of thinking past basic animal instincts prior to becoming a god, he can't fathom that he might not actually know what he's doing. Tebryn teases him lightly about it, but also doesn't have the heart to tell him that the plants in his window died months ago. There's one plant that's hanging on by a thread, an overwatered camellia bonsai that's now really just a stick in dirt with 3 leaves, and it only stays alive because Tebryn repots and tends to it when Leshy isn't paying attention. That doesn't stop Leshy from attempting to unintentionally over-trim the tree, much to Tebryn's dismay.

When he was still just a baby up until his toddler years, he would often just run around naked (only covered by leaves) and Heket would struggle to just get him to keep at least his cloak on (there'll be a flashback to a scene like that later on). One second he would be fully clothed, she would look away for just a moment, then look back to see Leshy running away on all fours with his clothes in a trail behind him. Now, if not for the fact that he'd get a lecture from the others on why he needs to stay clothed out in public, he would probably be in the nude 24/7.

As a product of his rapid evolution, his appearance from what chaser worms are in present day is drastically different; since while they evolved over time, he was like a preservation of their past. Like how he burrows into dirt, where they no longer have to due to evolution giving them large horns and a larger/tougher build for protection. Instinctually, he still attaches sticks to his head, which was both a defense mechanism of sorts along with helping with hunting. Being partly burrowed in the ground helped him feel vibrations of things walking near him; and with his head sticking up past the dirt, he looked more shrub-like so predators wouldn't go after him, and also prey would be more inclined to walk near him or use him as shelter, making for easier meals.

I also decided to make him a trans man, because why does Shamura get to be the only trans one (also as a youngest child who's a trans man I decided that my comfort character WILL be trans as well.)? With the help of Kallamar he's able to transition with HRT and other surgeries. Nobody but his siblings know he's trans, and is 100% passing as cis to everyone else. He's also the shortest of all the siblings, followed by Shamura, then Narinder, Heket and Kallamar.

There's definitely more than this, but my god I realized just how long this was getting so I'll end it here unless people want me to make a continuation.

[0cta9on]

Hi I hope this is ok for you a fluffy short with cute younger girlfriend winter with her older boyfriend malereader having fun at Aespa back stage with the members playing games

Hello yoohyeons-puppy98! Fluff requests are absolutely okay :] I don't exactly know what backstage at a concert looks like, so I just kinda winged in :> Hope you like it regardless!

Everyone told you it wasn't possible, the relationship would never last. Maybe they're right and you're just too stubborn to listen, clinging onto what could already be falling apart at the seams. But none of that matters right now. Minjeong—er, Winter is going on stage soon and you want to show your support without worrying her.

You knock on the door, carrying plastic bags full of snacks for the girls. Their manager warned you about their diets, but a little snack before performing never hurt anyone. At least, you hope not.

"Baby!" The door swings open, revealing Winter's ecstatic look as she runs to you, arms wide open. As you swing her around in your embrace, the two of you giggling like schoolchildren, you're reminded all at once why you put so much effort to be here in the first place.

"Hello, my love," you say, smiling from ear to ear. "You look gorgeous."

"Thank you." She plants a delicate kiss onto your cheek, spreading her warmth to your entire body. "Our makeup artist did such a good job, didn't she?"

"I doubt she'd have a hard time making you look beautiful," you quip, earning a playful slap on your shoulder. "Oh, I stopped by the store on my way here and got some snacks for you and your friends. I don't know what they like, so I just got one of everything."

"Aww, that's very sweet of you. Come inside, I'm sure the girls will want to meet you!"

Winter pulls you into the green room, which you can only describe as "organized chaos" as an array of staff members run around doing their jobs while the rest of her members goof off on the couches. Despite there only being three of them, they somehow manage to stay the loudest in the room with their cackling laughter amidst the hum of last-minute preparations.

"Guys!" Winter calls out to them, grabbing their attention. "My boyfriend is here with some snacks!"

"H-hello." You awkwardly wave at them as they get up to greet you. Even though you've talked to them in passing while on Facetime with Winter, you can't help but feel a little starstruck at meeting celebrities in person. On top of that, their intricate stage outfits and fierce makeup looks only made them look more intimdating.

"Wah, thank you!" Karina says, taking the bags from your hands and placing them on the table. "I need something sweet before we go up on stage."

"Winter, your boyfriend should play mafia with us!" NingNing suggests. Winter hops with excitement while you offer her a quizzical look.

"Uh, what's mafia?" You ask.

"It's a fun game we like to play while we wait. C'mon, I'll tell you the rules."

"Oh, uh, I don't know, I'm not really good at these kinds of things," you shyly admit. She cups your face gently, calming your nerves with a simple look. You're supposed to be the one calming her down before she has to perform, yet here you are, getting all nervous about a silly game with her friends.

"It's okay, baby. It'll be fun, I promise," she soothes.

"Yeah, we don't bite," Giselle adds, smirking. "Maybe Karina might- Ow!"

"Yah!" The two get into lighthearted cat fight, spiraling into even more laughter from NingNing who watches from a safe distance.

"Maybe I should sit this one out," you joke. With a grin, Winter pulls you towards the couches, adamant that you join in on the fun.

At most, you probably spent 20 minutes with them, playing and joking around like you're children at a playground and not full grown adults jobs and responsibilities. Yet somehow, it feels like hours pass by in a blink of an eye. Even if you can't see each other often, it's comforting to know that Winter is surrounded by such great friends. Like all good things, this too must come to an end.

"Girls, be on standby! The concert is starting soon," their manager announces, earning a wave of disappointment from them. Even you feel a little bad about having to end the fun already.

"You'll be watching, right?" Winter asks while the rest of them get ready.

"Of course, my love," you assure her. "I'll be front and center, cheering you on louder than everybody there."

She giggles, blessing your cheek with a kiss. "Give some cheers to the rest of the girls too, it's not a solo concert y'know."

"Hmm, maybe I can give them a shout or too," you quip, earning an overdramatic glare from the rest of the girls. You chuckle awkwardly, offering a supportive thumbs up.

Winter holds your face with a gentle touch, tracing your face with longing. You know what that look means. Your heart breaks every time you have to see it.

"We'll get dinner after the concert, okay? Just you and me," you say softly.

She sighs, wrapping you up in a warm embrace. "I wish we could do more than just dinner. I wish I could stay with you forever."

You blink away the tears building in your eyes. No point in trying to make her feel worse. "Me too," is all you can utter without giving away the cracks in your voice.

"Winter," her manager says. "We have to go. The people are waiting."

She breaks away from you slightly before capturing your lips in a tender, heartbreaking kiss. It's brief and fleeting, yet the velvety feeling of her lips stays imprinted in your mind like a fond memory. She gives you a brief smile before following her members out the door, waving at you right as it shuts behind her.

Goodbyes are always the hardest, especially when you don't know the next time you'll get to see her, but you know in your heart that you'll reconvene like no time has passed at all. You'll get to see that smile and hear that laugh again, that same one you've adored for years. This love may be difficult and exhausting and downright painful at times, but nothing in this world is more gratifying than being the one to hold her heart. Despite the odds, you'll do anything and everything to protect her.

[wangxianficrecs]

had a marvelous time ruining everything by livinginaworldofnoise

had a marvelous time ruining everything

by livinginaworldofnoise (@gh0st-0f-luke)

G, WIP, 4k, Wangxian

Summary: “Great news, though—well, actually, it may depend how you define ‘great.’” Wei Wuxian folds himself into a cross-legged position and makes a sweeping gesture with one arm toward the closet, from which Lan Wangji can now hear a strange rattling noise. “While you were gone I managed to catch another one!” “Another . . . cat?” Lan Wangji pulls the closet door open wider and stares at the cage he finds there, inside of which a small black cat is clinging to the ceiling bars with all the desperation of a cornered wild animal. “That’s Volcano!” Wei Wuxian says by way of explanation. “She’s a little spicy.” OR: 5 times wangxian's feral kittens get in the way of lan wangji proposing + 1 time they help Kay's comments: I for one think that Tectonic Plate is a wonderful name for a cat. This story is a lot of fun and very cute and Wangxian are such cat people. Love seeing them having to interact with a fluffle of half-feral kittens and I really enjoy Lan Wangji's POV in this. He's so funny! If only he was allowed to propose to his boyfriend! Excerpt: Lan Wangji shakes his head. An urgent care trip to treat Jiang Cheng’s idiocy doesn’t exactly set the right tone for a romantic evening, so Lan Wangji has already written off the idea of proposing tonight. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll order takeout when you return.” Wei Wuxian grins and plants a very welcome kiss on Lan Wangji’s mouth that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jiang Cheng, who pretends to gag. Lan Wangji ignores him and pulls Wei Wuxian in for a second kiss, mostly out of love but perhaps partly out of spite. Lan Wangji lets out a small sigh after the brothers depart, feeling like the perfect proposal is once again slipping out of his reach. Is he just going to keep postponing this dinner date for eternity? He can’t bring himself to blame Volcano, though. Biting Jiang Cheng is a very reasonable thing to do in her position. Lan Wangji can’t say that he wouldn’t be tempted if he were a cat. And if he gives Volcano a couple extra treats when he goes in to feed them some wet food, that’s no one’s business but his own.

pov lan wangji, modern setting, modern no powers, established relationship, 5+1 things, fluff and crack, humor, marriage proposal, cats, pets

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[honestsycrets]

Amor y Respeto II: Corazón [Miguel O'Hara x Reader]

chapter I: mi alma

❛ pairing | miguel o’hara x reader

❛ type | continuation of one shot.

❛ summary | you're trying to forget miguel with hobie's help on the field. but miguel isn't quite ready to let go.

❛ tags | jealousy, latina reader, slightly nsfw (only nudity), spanish is not translated, some mention of blood and wounds, violence, some paranoia, miguel is not pleased, an attempt was made at british slang, some creative liberties.

❛ sy’s notes | gif credit to aehanse. a little reference to gilgamesh with a golden bull in this chapter because i wanted a simple anomaly and for some reason a golden bull just makes me giggle a bit.

Miguel only left Nueva York for very important reasons. Very important reasons usually entailed a little stress relief at the end of a very stressful day. Very important reasons like your gentle fingertips running over his sweaty chest. Very important reasons like your plush lips wrapped around his--

“No chance,” Lyla chittered in his ear. “There’s the whole ‘I don’t love you’ thing. And that kiss?” 

A headache was brewing: everything twinkled, glistened, and refracted light.

“I was there, Lyla. Could do without the reminder.” 

“Really because--” 

“I can fix it,” Miguel growled, clawing past the tall buildings rife with beautiful flowers. It was your favorite time of year. The perfect time to go to the balcony and wait for him to follow behind, to pick off the yellow pollen that dusted his burnt umber hair.

When he finally breached your plant-filled balcony, the window was open despite his warnings to keep it closed. You loved the light and drew the blinds open day by day to let in the bright light of the day. In contrast, he could have done without the bright light streaming in during his early morning visits. That wasn’t wholly the issue. The issue was anyone who wanted to watch you sleep in your love-rustled sheets could. He could.

Miguel’s hands hooked on his slender hips. He glanced at the offensive presence of a singular powdery pink rose in a vividly graffitied cup that he hadn’t given you. He didn't need to guess to know who had. As your shorthair cat trotted into your bedroom, he realized that the rest of the apartment was empty. He wouldn’t be mewing at him if you were singing in the kitchen and making cookies that he shouldn’t eat. It's little, you would guilt him and squish a bite-sized morsel in his mouth. 

Miguel jerked his head to the side and threw a look at Lyla. She threw up her hands in response. They came to the same conclusion. “The roof?” 

There wasn't a worse time to climb the last few floors of your apartment. Light battered his senses as the sun crested past the rooftops of your city and emitted pastel crystal hues. Soon, the night would fall on your busy city and cloak it in darkness. In the darkness, problems always arose.

"Se dice-- never mind, it's a pastellio," you brushed off the small chunks of crystal that nipped at your forearms and picked a chunk up off of a paper-thin napkin. The crumbly remnants held their own memories. Memories of your fingers sealing pastry dough over a cool picadillo, arguing about the quality of HQ cafeteria’s empanadas all by yourself despite knowing that he liked them. They didn’t taste the same lately.

“Tastes like a meat pie,” Hobie waggled a crusty corner. “Must be a meat pie.” 

You brought the rim of an opaque brown glass bottle to your lips. The malt drink coursed down your throat slowly, leaving your throat cool and refreshed. Just the way you wanted to feel after a long day of work. “If that’s a meat pie, this is beer.” 

Hobie-- Miguel sneered. There had some alternative, impure reason he was here. Maybe it was to piss him off, to distract him from the work really at hand. If that was it, he lamented, he was doing a good job. Why else would he be here?

“A kiddy beer,” he flicked over one of his empty beer bottles. “Listen. You coming to see the concert?” 

“Whose?” 

“Mines, who else?” he answered. “Gwen’ll be there.” 

“It’s not really my scene, Hobie,” you said. “Don't you think I’m a bit old for that sort of thing?” 

“Old?” Hobie chirped after you. You swayed under the force of his playful punch to your shoulder and returned one to his willowy arm. Your eyes turned back to the crystalized sun dipping beneath the horizon. He sucked his tongue against the roof of his tongue. “Letting that muppet shoot his cum in ya is the only thing that’s gonna make you old. Complicit. You wanna be complicit?” 

“¡Fo! Gross, stop,” you dropped your drink to the side and flopped back onto the unforgiving concrete roof. But he had a point, your palm migrated over your belly. His spunk was probably still wiggling around in your stomach. Miguel simpered in the shadows.

“You never see these autocrats for who they are," he lamented.

“It has nothing to do with… Hobie. Hobie, my love isn’t politic--”

“Everything is political.” 

“Hobie, I take care of him-- them,” you motioned to your city, glittering in the fading sunlight. “For love and laughter. That’s what we all deserve. Love and laughter. Miguel wants it too, he’s just,” Incapable or unwilling, you suppressed. “Complicated.” 

“Complicated,” Hobie spat out as though it offended him. “It ain't complicated to me. He don’t love you. Half the time he don’t even like you.” 

“But I love him.” 

“His love? It ain’t enough.” 

“It matters to me.” 

A low growl emanated from his deep chest. It was enough to cause your heads to wrack around in his direction. Miguel steeled his body against the wall he dangled from, shielded in the dark crystally shadows of a mural.

“Should we--” you stared at the wall, eyes narrowing.

Fuck.

“Ain’t nothing to be worried about. Probably a rat— a big rat,” Hobie lurched over your body. His long and lanky arms caged your body beneath him. It was a universe apart from Miguel’s well-corded arms, broad and strong. Arms that, at the moment, Miguel used not to spring off the wall.

“It’s his muscles.”

“¡Ay cállate! Why is it always his muscles?” You ruptured into laughter and reached up to push him away by his thick wicks. You crawled out from underneath Hobie and stretched out your arms behind your back. Tension unwound from Miguel with an exhale of stale air from his lungs.

“You got a type,” Hobie lazed his elbow over his knee. 

“You don’t know any of my exes, Hobie,” you swept up your trash and covered your head with your rebozo-like cowl. At that exact moment, your watch blared. “And you ain’t know mine, either.”

“Vente, Corazón. I have a call.”

Corazón?

“Can’t handle it yourself?” Hobie hopped up and adjusted his guitar, slouching off his shoulder. 

“Just because I can, doesn't mean I have to,” you took a step to the edge of the rooftop. You turned your hands up. “C'mon, I’ll even make you cookies.” 

Make him cookies. You would change out of your blood-smattered outfit into a little slip to make Hobie, a man that you knew he had a very poor opinion of, cookies. A man that was reckless in life, reckless in HQ, and would not take orders that didn’t benefit his perception of the world. His breathing hitched, heavy and sharp, to keep his rage in check. If you respected him, you would never invite Hobie anywhere near your apartment. Especially not at night. What were you thinking? 

“That your way of keeping me for the night?” Hobie asked. “Think I’ll get lucky?”

“Is it working?” 

You looked Hobie over once, starting at his boots and ending at Hobie’s pierced lip. Your lips budded in a terrible smile. A look that Miguel did not like, not at all. You turned and stepped off the building, out of his field of vision. Hobie followed soon after.

The sun faded far past the horizon, cloaking Miguel in solitary indigo darkness. His fingers teased the ochre face of his watch-- he had things to do.

You didn’t need backup. 

You crawled out of the rubble of one of your favorite flower shops. Bits of lavender crystal embedded in your arm drew blood down your arm. As of late, it felt as though you couldn’t do anything right. Hobie was a consistent fixture in your life and fixed the amateur mistakes you were making day by day without mentioning your incompetence. He was good to you.

This time was different. You recognized this anomaly from another time, but not another place. It was here, at the intersection of Cereza and Trini, that months ago that Miguel and you-- No, you did not need backup. You didn’t need him.

The thick, muscular leg of the stupid bull stormed by. The thing was comically obnoxious. Just as obnoxious as the ache in your chest every morning when you woke up alone in your bed with Miguel visiting… not even once in the past few days. You wondered if he even thought of you.

“Miss Spider lady, are you okay?” a little girl with thick brown pom-pom puff hair and the warmest caramel eyes asked. Usually, she sold singular flowers at the cash register of her parent’s shop. You hated to think what hardship would come to them because of your inadequacy. If you could control your emotions, as Miguel rang true, this never would have happened.

“Si, si, Zaniah,” your head spun with the pain radiating from your side. You broke something, and of course, it wasn’t healing. You blamed him. Your feet stumbled forward in a line. You didn’t want to see the headlines of this one. Most spiders dealt with villains worth the name, villains with prowess. You? A shiny fucking bull from heaven. “No te preocupes, go, go.” 

“Mami, mami!” the little girl shrieked and bolted, her flowy purple cape dissipated as she disappeared into the back. You felt bad for the mother that would have to deal with that for the next few days as you broke into a run, flexing your wrist for webbing. 

If you could just-- trip the damn thing. Then, somehow, with enough time you could… oh, you didn’t know, bind its legs? Or bind its legs first then tip? But where would you even tip without casualties? Maybe, if you were lucky, you could lure it to the river-- but that was on the outskirts of town. You were running out of time. You had to deal with it. Had to. What would that little girl think? What would Miguel think? 

“You sure you don’t need backup?” Lyla asked, her gilded frame bending at the waist. "Because you look like you need backup."

“Si,” you hissed. “I am sure, Lyla. I don’t need anyone. And I especially don't need Miguel. I got this.” 

Your red boots connected with its fuzzy back. Its great, golden chain skid across the concrete floor, emitting an awful hissing noise. You seized its collar and jammed your heels into its back to try and force the thing to heel. It wasn’t. Despite your strength, you weren’t strong enough to do it on your own. The pressure on the side of your rib cage was becoming immense. Breathing became a chore. 

“No you don’t,” she sang. 

It was moments later that the bull howled pitifully. It slid on its side, crunching old cars and taking out rusty street lamps under its thick muscle. Despite digging your heels in, the damn thing whirled you off like a children’s dreidel. The force of the impact thrust you off its back and into a rusty tow truck. The pain burned low in your back. Hobie: to the rescue again. At some point, you were going to have to give him something better than cookies.

“Get up,” rasped your backup, cloaked in vast dark blue and red. Not Hobie, then. Your hazy eyes were playing tricks on you. You heaved out rattly breaths as you obeyed, or tried to obey the dumb big man in your life.

It felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. Heavy and hard, your limbs fought the attempt to move. Before you could complain a minute further about how fucking infuriating it was to have him run to your aid, your world eclipsed into the darkness. 

You woke up with a pulsing headache and the very unwelcome sight of Jess. Through her yellowy glasses, you recognized her colorful kaleidoscope of emotions: annoyance, derision, and eventually… relief. It wasn’t the infirmary. The bed was too comfortable for that. You quickly realized that you were in his room with nothing but one of his annoying tech bandages mummified to your chest. You knew from that alone that you were in for it-- if not for her face becoming increasingly more stoic. They should have been siblings.

“You needed backup,” her arms encircled her belly. “Didn’t you?” 

Your eyes fell to the soft sheets that tickled your skin. Breathing was still hard, harder with the anxiety of knowing a lecture was headed your way. You couldn’t lie to Jess. Tears pricked your cheeks and you tried to steel your heart from them.

It was impossible. His room overwhelmed you: from his rich scent that perfumed the sheets you laid on to the air you breathed. He was close by. That alone was more stress than you could handle.

“I know Jess. I needed backup. Pero, the anomaly, it was-- I thought I could handle it.” 

“Pero nothing,” she held a gloved hand up. “Girl, I don’t need your excuses.” 

“But I’ve called Hobie too much this week.” 

“Is Hobie the only one here? You could have called me. Or-- and I’m just being crazy here. Miguel? Your man?” she rolled her head toward the back of the room. She must not have heard. You followed her gaze to where he stood, his uniform flopped unceremoniously about his waist. Your heart strummed and skipped a beat. With her words, Miguel turned his eyes up from the wound at his waist-- to your eyes. They pierced your heart in the darkness. He would have come.

“You know what? I’ll just leave you two alone.” 

“No, no, no Jess, por favor--” She left without another word. Punishment in its own right. Your hand approached your chest, covering your cleavage from his sight. His hand swayed over the pad to lock the door shut. 

Your head dropped back on his flat pillows. Whether it was the bundles of discomfort at his presence or actual shots of pain, the awkward silence was growing increasingly too much for you to handle. He brought you here, into his bed, for a reason you couldn’t understand. You both were done. Finished. Miguel didn’t seem to think so.

“You act as if I haven’t seen you naked before.”

Maybe, he had seen you naked before. He had no right to anymore. You opened your eyes to look at him, noting the strong scent of sweat permeating his skin and the warm sheen that dusted his chest. You had your increased senses to thank for that. You swallowed air in forceful gulps and burrowed painful shockwaves in your chest. If nothing else, you could at least swallow pain with some honor.

Everything that Miguel did had a purpose. You couldn’t help but eye the way his thumbs looped around his waistband to draw his pants lower, freeing his swarthy skin from indigo fabric. Your eyes fell on his flaccid cock that sat on a tuffet of his thick black pubic hair, chased the curve sight of his shapely ass, and settled on his strong rideable thighs. It was the least egregious sight to stare at. He slipped the suit over his shoulder, raising his brown brows in unison. 

“And as if you haven’t seen me naked before, either.” 

“It… it’s been a while.” Your eyes darted past his figure to the door. You were sure it was locked.

"Has it really?" Miguel threw out as he disappeared into his bathroom. For a moment, you debated running. Your heart ached with the knowledge that he would just come to find you. He left knowing that you would not disobey him because, after everything, you respected his wishes. 

What Miguel's wishes were today was up for debate. The only thing you were sure of was the gentle pitter-patter of water droplets, the steam that emanated from the bath, and his lofty figure swaying in the distance. The warm certainty that filled your body knowing that he would come back to bed. Because that’s what Miguel did when you were hurt: he paid attention. 

He came back into the room nude, ruffling his hair with a fluffy towel. You couldn’t convince yourself to act as if you were asleep. His presence shattered any illusion of ignoring him, even with the expressionless way he considered you tonight. He was utterly intolerable.

After an eternity boxed in with your thoughts, reality came as Miguel, a smooth wall of muscle, clambered into the bed. The bed shifted under Miguel’s weight. Just as you predicted, the warmth of his chest was against your slight back and his large palm was flat against your stomach. 

You broke up with him for a reason, you broke up with him for a reason— Miguel didn’t seem to care about those delicate details. He caressed your neck with his nose. His lips dragged over your unmarked skin. As certain as a clock was to click, your body became slick with anticipation. You knew he could tell. 

You were weak. Weak out there. Weak in here. Weak everywhere.

“You smell… different.”

“Miguel, por favor,” you breathed, thready and thin. “It’s just Hobie.”

“Hobie?” he growled. Miguel’s hand encompassed the large space of your belly. Your legs shifted as Miguel held you a little firmer. You expected his hand to move lower, but he didn’t.

“Hm. Why would it be Hobie?” he asked, his voice dripping dangerously low. “Is there something I should know, Corazón?”

“No, I, no,” you stammered. He knew. Though you said the words, they felt cut off from what you were saying. As though the threat of his rejection took over all the confidence in your world. "You were watching?"

You turned in his arms to face him. His forehead creased in disapproval. You opted to press your forehead against his, running your nose against his, breath puffing his lips.

"You thought I wouldn't," he said. His eyes spun with sharpness, searching your face for evidence of the truth. As though he were asking if you’d been unfaithful despite the breakup. Your face was always pitifully easy to read. Even with the breakup, he could read your intentions as clearly as the words on his lab screens.

"I didn't think you cared."

You were used to a Miguel who crept into your bedside window, slunk into your bed, and woke you up from your slumber with the weight of his body between your legs. A Miguel that only had time for brief moments of pleasure and successful results. This Miguel was different.

"You know I do."

And there it was. He pushed himself free of the bed in search of pants. You watched him pull them over his ass before he flopped into the one chair in the middle of his room, head in his hand. Lyla, he rumbled something under his breath you couldn’t quite hear. Your senses were dull, something you equated to the exhaustion and sleepiness that threatened to overtake you at any given moment. 

“Something is different. And it isn’t him,” he sneered. 

You missed the warmth of his body against yours. The ginger way he touched you just moments before. After days of being without his touch, you missed the simple things. Like the way he touched you. The way he focused on you alone in a room full of others. You hated yourself for craving it. You made a choice. Why couldn’t you stick with it? 

“What did I do wrong now?” Your tongue felt thick and heavy in your mouth. It was the very cottonmouth you feared you would have when telling Miguel about Gwen and Miles. Your mind was too hazy to rationalize what you possibly could have done this time. Miguel would always be an impenetrable castle, one you could admire from afar but never enter. 

“Nothing!” He snapped. You recoiled from the shrill in his voice. Miguel ran his hand through his hair, easing his tone down to a murmur. He threw you a small, bittersweet glance. Almost a smile. “Muñeca, you did nothing wrong. Get some rest.” 

He sat there a moment longer. A frown grew on his lips as Miguel stood up and walked toward the door. After one, two, then three attempts to open the door, his closed fist slammed a hole into the siding. It finally whirled open and allowed him to exit. It left you in the sea of silence that was his dark room. You never liked waking up in his room alone. It was bare, too bare, for anyone to live in. You worried that his mind was just like that.

“Lyla? Lyla, I want to go home.” 

It was a long time-- too long-- before she answered. “You should sleep.” 

And though she advised that, it was a restless night.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

May I request more baji hcs? Like all the hcs you have?

(I love your take on him ajd I wanna hear your thoughts)

The people have spoken and it's now Baji's turn so here we are!

Baji gets extremely excited for zoo visits, as a kid he actually used to frequently get lost at zoo trips since he'd run off to look at all the animals faster then his mum/ class. 

Likes splashing in puddles (especially if it means he can splash Chifuyu or Ryusei).

Whenever he sees Luna and Mana they beg to braid his hair (he secretly likes it being played with)

Actually likes talking while watching movies, he likes having someone to theorise with and discuss the plot with.

He can't take any credit for his hair care cause his mother taught him everything he knows.

As a kid he would constantly invite Kazutora round for dinner because he didn't like the idea of him being home alone/ with his parents.

Actually doesn't understand the fuss over dating at all (not until he meets a certain someone and falls in love at first sight).

Can make a really great paper airplane (used to aim them at Mikey's hair) 

Will show affection through biting 

Is super handy with tools, always fixing things his mother tells him to (she taught him everything he knows).

Shinichiro used to ruffle his hair a lot as a kid, he always loved that feeling (Shinichiro's the only one allowed to do this though)

His school sports coaches are constantly trying to recruit him for baseball club (i mean tbf he does have great aim).

Used to have his own piercings but his mum made him take them out (that's why he knows what he's doing with Kazutora's).

Is really great at climbing trees (he wanted to beat Mikey so badly at climbing that he started practising non stop.)

Has accidentally broken his phone at least 6 times

Has named every single stray cat that comes into his room. 

Got so angry when Senju attacked him while training Emma (he immediately pushed Emma behind him to try and protect her) but that anger immediately vanished when he realised who attacked him and why. 

Has teased Mikey before by saying Emma likes him as a martial arts partner more.

Has a lucky hair tie for fights 

Is very protective as a partner, will constantly check your wellbeing and safety.

Is also on bug duty, there's a big spider in the house? It's his job to take it outside. 

Is a bit of a baby when it comes to taking medicines, doesn't like the way they taste and refuses to take them. 

Went to visit Sanzu in the hospital after the incident, he brought him magazines to try and cheer him up. 

Feeds the local wildlife as well as cats, he has a few trees where he hangs birdfeeders etc

His mother always makes a big effort for his birthdays so he's learnt to make a big effort for everyone elses. Though he always puts in the most effort for her.

Has been late to meetings because he was distracted by a cat before

Baji kept every letter Kazutora sent him

As a partner he's very good at reading your moods and adapting to them. Your sad? Then he'll cheer you up. Stressed? He'll help you relax. Angry? Then he'll take you out somewhere to let that frustration out.

Watered a fake plant for two years without realising it wasn't real once.

[messysketchyobeyme]

Can Demons Purr?

Satan/Gender-Neutral Reader

This fic is set in Nightbringer!

Summary:

“Can we do that?”

“Huh?”

Satan shook his head, seemingly too entranced by the kitty to formulate complete thoughts. “I mean, can demons purr?” He gazed at you, tilting his head slightly to the side. “I’ve only had a body for a year at this point, and I’m still learning about what it’s capable of.”

"...Let’s see for ourselves, shall we?”

Word Count: 2,200

---

Yet another fight had broken out between the brothers, and Lucifer had called you over to stop Beelzebub from destroying the kitchen…again. You had half the mind to tease Lucifer over the phone for relying so much on you when just a couple of months ago he all but said that he’d rather drop dead than have an attendant to babysit him and his brothers. However, Lucifer’s quiet, exhausted voice made you bite your tongue and head right over. 

Although you were still miffed at being downgraded from family to class mediator in the blink of an eye, you began your trek to the House of Lamentation without one of your usual complaints. It was one of the few moments you could hang out with the brothers, even though most of that time was spent ensuring they didn’t get themselves into trouble.

…Now that you thought about it, maybe things weren’t so different, after all. 

As you walked up the path toward the brothers’ home, you spotted Satan standing in the garden. 

Wait.

You did a double take to confirm that, yep, Satan was there with his back facing toward you, his fists clenching and unclenching rapidly. His entire body was tense with his shoulders hunched over. 

Huh. You had assumed that Satan was involved in the fight but apparently not. A small sliver of guilt washed over you, but you quickly dismissed it.

Glancing over at the House of Lamentation, you didn’t see a hole being struck through the wall or anything else out of the ordinary. You probably had a few minutes to see what was up with Satan before having to head inside and placate the rest of the brothers. 

You cautiously stepped toward Satan. The grass crunched softly underneath your shoes. “Hey, Satan. What’s up?”

Satan’s breath hitched as he whipped his head around to face your direction. He visibly relaxed when he saw you making your way over. “I thought you were one of my brothers.” He turned back around to where he was facing before. 

Should you have been offended by that? Either way, you noted that he didn’t answer your greeting or your question. “What are you looking at?” you asked. 

You followed his line of sight to see a beautiful calico cat playfully swatting the plants that lined the base of the tree she was under. Splotches of black decorated the orange bits of her fur, which practically glowed under the moonlight. No wonder Satan was so enthralled. 

“That cat over there.” Satan pointed, confirming what you had thought. “I’ve been trying to pet her all day, but she keeps running away from me. I hate it.” Satan kicked the dirt, uprooting some of the grass with it. 

“Well, cats can be skittish creatures at times. If you’re not careful, you may end up scaring her.”

“I’m not scary!” Satan snapped. 

You took a sharp breath and tensed up. Even the cat seemed to momentarily raise her head at his outburst. Satan’s furrowed eyebrows relaxed into a face that you couldn’t quite name. That happened a lot with Satan, you noticed. Whenever his enraged expression would melt away, it would always be replaced by something you didn’t have the emotional intelligence to understand. Was it regret, sorrow, or something else entirely?

“I never said you were,” you said softly. In any other circumstance, you would have given Satan a hug by now, but this wasn’t your Satan. This one was still hesitant about receiving physical affection and would often rebuke any attempts.

 He looked away. “Asmo tried to teach me how to be more approachable to cats the other day, but I think he was just using it as an excuse to dress me up.” 

“Was he now?” you said in amusement. You could tell that Asmodeus was trying his best to befriend Satan, even though his actions tended to be a little off the mark. “I can teach you, instead. I’m pretty sure I have more experience in dealing with cats.”

It was subtle, but Satan’s eyes lit up. “Would you?”

You nodded, smiling at him. “Yes, of course.” His wide-eyed expression was so cute that you had to physically stop yourself from pinching his cheek. “As I said before, cats tend to be kind of timid, so it’s important that you let them come to you rather than the other way around.” 

Ah, if only you had some cat food on hand to draw her over here. You could try to get something from the fridge, but Beelzebub’s rampage probably meant that the kitchen was off-limits for now. You’d have to do without. 

“Here, why don’t we sit down?” You almost grab his shoulders, intent on gently guiding him down, before stopping in your tracks. 

Although you and Satan definitely had a more amicable relationship compared to when you first met, you still weren’t entirely sure if he was comfortable with you touching him just yet. Instead, you sat down and patted the grassy area next to you. Satan followed suit, sitting crossed-legged. His knee was barely touching yours. 

“Like this?” he asked quietly.

You clapped your hands together. “Exactly like this. And now, we wait.”

“For how long?”

You shrugged. “For however long it takes for her to come over here.” The cat was now batting a couple of stray sticks that must have fallen off of the tree. “She seems to be naturally curious, so it shouldn’t take long.”

“Oh, okay,” Satan said. After a few seconds of him twiddling his thumbs, he asked, “Do cats have soft fur?”

“Most do,” you answered, “Though, it depends on how well groomed it is.”

“Her fur looks soft.”

“It does.”

Satan tapped his legs. “I hope I’ll get to feel it soon.” 

You hoped so, too. 

The cat was now chewing on the stick, her tail swishing behind her. She was much closer to the two of you than before, but she was still a long way away.

Satan hummed. He plucked at the grass surrounding his shoes. “I like it when she meows. It doesn’t happen often, but it’s cute.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, I hope you’ll be able to hear it soon.”

Your heart quivered. That was a sweet sentiment. You became lost in thought as the crows chirped overhead. You missed Satan dearly, as you did with the rest of the brothers from the present, but this wasn’t so bad. You enjoyed seeing a different side to the brothers that you never thought you’d ever get to know. 

You flinched when Satan slammed his hand on your knee. “She’s coming,” he whispered urgently. 

Sure enough, the cat was casually strolling over in your direction. Her tail was curved upward into the shape of a question mark, and her green eyes darted around curiously. She came to you first, butting her head against your leg. You held your hand in front of her nose to give her some time to sniff you. When she did, you began to scratch behind her ears, quietly cooing at the way her ears twitched. 

Satan was staring intently at the cat, who was leaning into your hand to get more pets. She was a greedy little thing, wasn’t she? You grinned. “What are you waiting for?” you whispered.

Satan absentmindedly squeezed your knee. You didn’t think he realized he was doing it. “I’m afraid I’ll scare her again,” he said. His voice was strained. 

“May I?” you asked. Satan hesitantly nodded. 

You gently lifted up his hand and guided him toward the cat. Satan bristled at your touch but soon relaxed when you, with your hand on top of his, showed him how to pet the cat along its back. She chirped happily, and you removed your hand, allowing Satan to stroke her fur on his own. 

A tiny smile appeared on his face. It was so subtle that you probably wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t looking directly at him. “It is soft,” Satan muttered in astonishment. 

The cat flopped down on her back, revealing the white fur along her stomach. Satan drew his hand back, now unsure what to do now that his only petting spot was covered. He looked at you for guidance, and you jerked your head forward to silently say, “Go on.”

Satan wavered for a few seconds before copying what you had done before. He scratched the cat behind her ears, causing her to flick her head back. Satan’s face brightened up, and his eyes danced in excitement. His giddiness was palpable as you found yourself smiling, as well.

The cat closed her eyes and let out a tiny mewl. A low vibrating-like sound emanated from her as she cuddled up to Satan’s hand. 

His mouth fell open. “What is that?” he asked incredulously.

Satan had to be careful about getting that innocent look in his eyes, or else you’d fall in love with him all over again.

“She’s purring,” you said, “It means she’s happy. She likes you.” You reached over and gave the cat a few good strokes along the top of her head.

His voice was breathy and quiet. “I like her, too,” he said, “Can other animals purr?”

You scratched your cheek. “Uh, I’m not actually sure. I think some wild cats can purr, too.”

“Can we do that?”

“Huh?”

Satan shook his head, seemingly too entranced by the kitty to formulate complete thoughts. “I mean, can demons purr?” He gazed at you, tilting his head slightly to the side. “I’ve only had a body for a year at this point, and I’m still learning about what it’s capable of.”

You racked your brain to try to think of any moment when you had heard any of the demon brothers purr. Aside from any cat-spell-related mishaps, you didn’t recall a particular moment. If you had to pick, you guessed your Satan was the one who’d come closest to ‘purring.’ He’d often hum in contentment whenever you massaged his head or gave him a back scratch. But, did that count?

You were about to shake your head when you bit your lip and paused. What if demons could purr, and you’ve just never heard it before? Although that would be a low blow to your ego, you didn’t want to give Satan the wrong information. If he found out later on that demons could actually purr, that would put your integrity–and very identity–on the line. 

As you were deliberating this little dilemma of yours, the cat sat up. Satam froze as she shook her body and sauntered off. Her tail waved in the air as she disappeared into the distance, off to go play with who knows what.

Satan winced and started anxiously massaging his hand. “Did I do something wrong?” He sounded uncharacteristically meek, which put you on edge. 

“No, no, you didn’t,” you said, “She probably just had her fill of pets for now. We’ll probably see her again later today.”

“Oh. I hope we see her soon, then.”

You hummed, thinking that you were safe. “I do, too.”

Satan turned to face you. “As for my question?” His eyes were soft, yet curious. 

Dang it. 

Small beads of sweat prickled your back. “Yes, well, um, let’s see for ourselves, shall we?” You reached out toward him, your hand hovering just before his face. 

Satan tensed, tightening his jaw. His pupils fluttered around, as though desperately searching for a hint of mockery in your expression. When he found none, his cheeks slowly reddened as if he just now understood what you were asking. The blush that threatened to engulf the entirety of his face complimented the color of his eye. It was cute. He was cute. 

He looked down, squeezing his eyes shut in what you hoped wasn’t shame. Then, gradually, he nodded, finally granting you the permission you were waiting for. 

You tenderly grasped the underside of his jaw and gently scratched the area leading to his ear. You had expected him to stiffen up immediately, but you found him unwinding himself under your touch. 

Satan was trying to fight the feeling, judging by the way his eyebrows had stitched together, but, soon enough, he gave up. Satan leaned into the palm of your hand, and a soft sigh accidentally escaped his lips. A wobbly, lopsided grin stretched onto his face when you started caressing him behind the ear. 

However, he didn’t purr. You withdrew your hand. “I guess that settles it, demons can’t–”

Satan gripped your wrist so tightly that you jumped. “Please,” he muttered, a hint of desperation on the edge of his voice, “Don’t stop.” Satan’s hand was trembling as he placed your hand back to where it was before. With a vague sense of curiosity, you noted that his eyes were wet.

…Well, he had asked so nicely. How could you possibly have refused? You were certain that Lucifer could handle things on his own. Besides, as a certified demon attendant, it was your responsibility to ensure the happiness of all of the brothers. You went right back to petting the side of Satan’s face, delighting in the way he melted under your fingertips.