#calico has spots

[cccat-in-a-meat-sack]

"headspace isn't an actual physical place-" well like duh??? it's literally called HEADspace. INNERworld. Ofc it isn't an actual physical pl- oh, you meant that headspace isn't real at all? And that people can't say stuff like "we can't find someone in the innerworld and we're scared"? Oh no. I'm hitting you with my car.

[sainteclectic]

oh and crimsonsong {warrior cats soul} looks like this. to me. a tortie/calico with a split face

[onaida]

Seems I'm interrupting

[danmeichael]

misvil warrior cat au!!!

[babieken]

Just rescued a cat that was trapped on the roof for 3 days 😪

[cyncity2000]

IT'S HER !!! MY CHILD !!!!

HI... I've made another extremely self indulgent picrew

I made the majority of this in one night and polished it for another two days, this thing was built purely in a cat genetics autism fueled need to see if it was possible to make

it's not a perfect visual representation of all possible cat colours, there's only so much I can do within picrew's simple image layering, but I've done my best to make most colours look close to real life or at least nice looking

there's instructions included if you want to use it the way I built it to be used, but they're completely optional and you're welcome to just mess around with it with no rules if you prefer!

-> https://picrew.me/image_maker/2446358

[whatcoloristhatcat]

Hi! I tried looking this up and got a little confused.

Is there such thing as a tortoiseshell cat with high white spotting, or is that just a calico? :3

they’re the same thing ! calico is a term used in north america for (depending on who you ask) a tortoiseshell with white or a tortoiseshell with mid-high white. in other areas, a “calico” would be called tortoiseshell and white :) fun fact: white affects a cat’s tricolor coloration so that the more white a tortie has, the more solid their spots are. here’s what i mean (phrankie cameo):

as u can see, the tortie with no white is much more brindled. my awful baby girl with low white has a mix of solid patches and brindled red, and a tortie with high white has entirely solid patches ! pls note that this is a general rule and doesn’t hold 100% true but it’s cool :)

[mighwnt]

JELLIES ACTUALLY A CALICO????

[pangur-and-grim]

Hi Greer! Im raising a whole litter of kittens and im honestly wondering about what you think their genetics are? Theyre a bunch of little love bugs and seeing you post about Belphegor has got me curious. I think they're tricolors, but we somehow got a tabby (?) in the bunch as well and Im wondering whats going on with this thing

in this litter, you have 1 blue tabby, 1 blue tortoiseshell, and 2 tortoiseshells with white. I can help break down what that means.

so agouti (aka tabby) is a dominant gene. being self-coloured (aka solid) is recessive. this means that the parents of this litter both carried the recessive gene for solid, but at least one was a tabby.

now onto the tortoiseshells. red is an X-linked colour. male cats typically only have one X chromosome, so they can either get a black-X or a red-X (and be black or red).

female cats have two XX's, so they can inherit one of each. when this happens, the two colours both try to express at the same time, giving the cat a patchwork appearance!

as for the blue tabby and blue tortoiseshell, this happens when a black cat receives a double-copy of the dilution gene. so both parents of this litter had at least one copy to pass down.

and lastly, the white spotting. think of this as a can of white paint thrown at a cat, covering up everything beneath it. this is a co-dominant colour, and two copies of it can result in a pure white cat.

it's common to call a tortoiseshell with white spotting a calico, or a tri-colour, but there's no one calico gene. rather, it's a bunch of genes working together to create the effect!

(all these helpful diagrams came from King Size cattery)

[blujayonthewing]

LOOK AT THEMMMM 😭💕

WE'RE GETTING KITTENS 😭💕

[moodycarcass]

I think spending my entire childhood around my moms elderly patients has prematurely rotted my brain into wholly accepting naming animals basic observations like little dog and kitty

[cccat-in-a-meat-sack]

By the way, I've seen a lot of discourse on "endogenic" alters, so repeat after me

Your brain splits alters as you need them. That means you can have a completely trauma based alter, and you can also have an alter created to deal with homework, aka an "endogenic" alter. If your system formed from trauma, you are not "traumaendo". You are traumagenic. Full stop.

[lale-txt]

❦ IDLE HANDS (Kuroo x f!reader)

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two.

a/n: little something for @husbandograveyard ♡ writing this made me a Kuroo girlie. i get it now. i really, REALLY do. also when i started writing this i was aiming for 1k or so idk what possessed me but here we are. maybe listening to bouncy while writing this wasn't the best idea (lie)

tags: f!reader, mild enemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, shameless flirting, food mention, bit of a slow burn, they're so in love your honor

wc: 3.7k

Kuroo Tetsuro is a heartthrob.

With his stupid messy hair and his stupid rolled up sleeves, showing off his stupid toned arms while he’s mumbling stupid sweet things to your favorite cat that’s currently coiling underneath his stupid big hand, getting the best belly rubs of her life from the looks of it. 

It’s not like you’re jealous or something, no; it’s just that you’ve been coming to this cat café for a year now and you thought you and the calico shared a special bond. Maru, who is just as her name implies, very round and very soft, has been sitting and purring by your side while you spend hours typing page after page of your next book. She’d also stretch out all over your laptop and remind you to take a break when you’ve been going at it for hours. Yes, it took you some bribery to win her heart but over the past months she really warmed up to you. Wow, she usually isn’t this friendly with people, you remember the café owner say once. 

What a blatant lie. 

Your peace has been disturbed. A slight shift in the universe when he showed up for the first time merely a week ago. It was easy to remember him, because he was sitting in your spot with your favorite cat purring in his lap, looking like he didn’t have a single worry in the world except maybe that untamed hair of his (and even this was kind of charming, you had to admit begrudgingly).

Sharing usually wasn’t a big deal for you–until it was. You come to this cat café almost every day, feeling much more inspired to write here than in the shoebox you call your apartment at the other end of town. Your landlady doesn’t allow pets, so this place has been a lifeline in the tiring times of deadlines and rejected book deals. At the end of the day there was always a cat rubbing against your legs, reminding you that not everything was bad and that no matter how severe things got, there was always a kitty waiting to be picked up.

You hold this place very dear to your heart, a secret gem you felt a need to protect. It is hidden away in a side street, far from the hectic buzz of the city. The interior is cozy, it isn’t too big and the owner, an elderly lady with candy cotton hair and knuckle tattoos, lives upstairs and treats the place like her second living room with all six of her cats. There’s never too many other guests around and in the corner seat by the window you can unravel your thoughts quietly. It feels homey, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

But now there is an intruder in a business suit and you didn’t really know how to deal with that new found irritation.

“That’s my spot.”

Balancing your laptop, notebook, a slice of carrot cake and a hot drink in one hand, all manners aside, you point at the stranger with your other. In your right mind you know it is rude to point at people, but to be fair he kinda started it by sitting where you rightfully belong. His eyes, a certain gleam in them, follow your movement down to the cat curled up on top of his thighs. With the amount of cat hair sticking to his suit pants you could only pray for him that he had a lint roller somewhere at his desk. 

He cocks his head to the side, giving you a boyish smirk that maybe would make your heart skip a beat if it wasn’t for his audacity. 

“Usually I ask someone’s name first and take them on a few dates before I let them sit in my lap, but I guess I can make an exception,” he replies and you never in your life before wanted to strangle someone so badly. If that wasn’t already worse enough, the tuxedo cat lifts its small head and slowly blinks at you before jumping down from his lap, as if it was trying to make space for you. My bad, didn’t know this seat was taken. Here, girl, you have it.

For once in your life you’re too stunned to speak. You watch the stranger check his watch and let out an almost inaudible sigh before he grabs his backpack (one that looks like he has had it since high school) and stands up to full height. He’s in your space now and you have to crank your neck slightly to meet his eyes. Mentally you’re adding stupidly tall to your list of things you hate about him. 

“Gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

True to his words he is there the next day, too. This time around you managed to secure your spot by the window, three cats idly sleeping next to you on. You’ve been stuck on a paragraph for almost an hour now when the doorbell chimes and his figure appears at the counter. The cats look up with interest but you force yourself not to pay any attention to him, which is hard when his order is literally “I’ll have whatever she is having”, followed by a nod in your direction and this cheeky smile again. 

This damn smile.

“You didn’t strike me as a dirty chai drinker,” you deadpan when he takes a seat at the table next to yours. The café is almost empty around this time of the day, which is no surprise since most of the workers in this district are having a hearty meal for lunch and not whatever sweet delicacies this place is offering. 

He peels himself out of his suit jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. The same cat as yesterday jumps into his lap immediately after he sits down, giving you a look of “if you don’t want him, I’ll take him” and you almost roll your eyes. Kuroo (you learn his name from the ID he is wearing around his neck) seems to notice and he grins at you. 

“Then what did I strike you as?” he asks, his chin resting in one hand while his other finds the soft fur of the kitty, stroking it gently. 

You look him up and down, now taking your time while stretching out the silence between you two. Only the purring of the cats and the soft music in the background could be heard. At first glance he seems like your typical office worker in the three piece suit who spends his time filling out spreadsheets and drinking cheap vending-machine coffee from the conbini next door. Everything a little rumpled, himself included, someone so used to tristesse he doesn’t even notice it anymore. 

Only at second glance do you notice the small wrinkles around his eyes, not from age but from laughter. The dimples when he smiles down at the tuxedo cat in his lap, now showing off its belly. His calloused hands, atypical for an office worker, more like you’d see them at craftsmen or athletes. Something in his eyes that radiates warmth and an air of calm confidence. None of it is unpleasant.

“If I had to guess, maybe three espresso with a pump of caramel and honey,” you say, more to yourself than to him. Kuroo looks at you in surprise before barking out a laugh. You hate how you like the sound of it.

It’s the beginning of spring and you award Kuroo Tetsuro the title of the greatest nuisance you’ve ever met.

In the midst of summer, you pity him. 

“I’m just saying that maybe you radiate a natural fragrance of catnip,” you say as you stir your iced oat milk latte. Kuroo got you that one when he popped in during his lunch break and saw that your glass must have been empty for a while. By that time you were hunched over your laptop, trying to decipher your notes from last night. You had saved him a seat at your table, but if he asked you, you’d say you just happened to put all your belongings on one chair and nothing more.

The man is swarmed by the cats of the café. They didn’t even bother to hide who their favorite is, rubbing around his legs, sitting pressed to his side or just straight up climbing his shoulders. It would’ve been enviable if he wasn’t already sweating from wearing a suit in the humid heat of the summer month alone. 

“Can you get at least one or two off me?” he asks and his tone is close to pleading. It makes you laugh as you stretch out in your light sundress, giving him a look as if you’re contemplating his question. 

“I could, but it’s really much funnier seeing you struggle like that. Serves you well,” you chime and pull out your phone, snapping a photo of this moment. You hold it up for him to see, a kitty phone charm dangling from it (they just happened to come in a pack of two and you gifted him one out of generosity, nothing more). He snatches it from your hands and makes a face.

“So you like seeing me suffer, is that how it is?” he snarls at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His slender fingers fly over the screen of your phone and you let out a small gasp.

“Don’t you dare delete it,” you huff and grab the orange tabby mercifully off his shoulders so you can lean over him better. 

“Relax. I’m only saving my contact info since you never bothered asking me for it despite being my constant for the past three months.”  

There was this cheeky smile again. You blame the flutter of your heart on the caffeine and not the way his pupils are dilating when he gazes at you. 

He loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. Suddenly you’re very aware of how close you’re leaning over at him. Kuroo gives you a little glance from the corner of his eyes and taps the now revealed side of his neck. 

“What do you say? Do I really smell like catnip?” 

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two. You can feel the heat radiating off him and for a brief moment you wonder what it would feel like to press open mouth kisses on his skin. Your eyes flutter shut as you engrave this moment into your heart. 

“Definitely irresistible,” you murmur once you pull back–reluctantly, as if a hidden part of you ached to be in his proximity, in the inside of his soul.  

By autumn you miss him on the days when he was gone. 

He traveled quite a lot. You didn’t know one would need to be on the road so much for something as simple as volleyball (you can imagine the look he’d give you over this). But he was passionate about it and that’s also something you liked about him. The way he talks about the sport holds so much love and you wonder what it would feel like to be loved by a man like Kuroo Tetsuro.

Gentle, you think. Honest. Treasured.

A tap against the window pulls you out of your thoughts and when you look up, you're met with a pair of honey glazed eyes. Whatever he sees when he looks at you, it’s making him grin from ear to ear before he hurries towards the entry door, eager to meet you again.

Kuroo is holding up a bag, some brand of sweets from Hokkaido he’s been texting you about, but you didn’t think he’d actually go so far and bring you some. He sounds breathless when he speaks, as if he rushed all the way to get here and when he keeps on rambling, you order him and yourself a hot matcha boba and a chocolate mousse to share. 

The cats are happy to see him back too, and you laugh when you help him take his scarf off before some kitty claws can tangle up in it. It was a precious gift after all, one you knitted for him, under the feeble excuse of “keeping my hands busy helps me come up with ideas for my writing process”. It makes you happy to see him wearing it, and the color makes you feel as if you took the red string of fate connecting you two and turned it into something to help him stay warm.

You think a lot about kissing him now. Sometimes your hands would brush against each other on the table, neither of you pulling away. He spends his lunch breaks with you and comes to pick you up from the café in the evening, walking you to your station. The two of you still bicker at each other, but underneath lies a certain kind of softness, one that feels too fickle to put it into words just yet but also too bright to ignore. The leaves of the trees are falling and so are you. 

With winter comes snow and the quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, it’s unadulterated love. 

You spend a lot of time huddled together in the corner by the window now. He looks over your shoulder when you type on your laptop, one arm resting idly on the back of your chair, fingertips brushing against your spine sometimes. You don’t think he even notices when he lets them run up and down there. Often you forget which cups on the table belong to who but it doesn’t matter since you order the same things anyway and because this could count as an indirect kiss, right? 

On some days he’d just close his eyes and laze next to you, with his head resting on his folded arms on the table and your fingers idly weaving through his hair, before he had to hurry back to work. On others he would tell you excitedly about a special match he was organizing and you can hear the pure joy in his voice. It’s contagious.You get them now, the cats. How drawn they are to him, like chasing sunbeams. 

He spells L-O-V-E on your back with his fingertips and something inside of you softens. 

Then there’s snow, more snow than you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and Kuroo comes to pick you up early, the tip of his ears bright red and his cold hands seeking yours to warm them up. 

“I’m really sorry but I’m closing the shop early today,” the café owner apologizes and puts a box of cinnamon rolls for you on your table. “You two kittens better hurry and get home, too. On the radio they said they’re gonna shut everything down soon.”

It can’t be that bad, you think. But when Kuroo and you stand in front of the closed station, it dawns on you that maybe you’ve underestimated the amount of snow a teeny tiny bit. You huddle a little closer to him for warmth and to shield yourself against the snow as you pull out your phone. 

“If there’s no more trains running, I better start looking for a place to stay. With some luck there’s still a few vacant rooms in the hotels nearby…”

Kuroo puts a hand over your screen and gives you a stern look when you open our mouth to protest. 

“You can crash at my place for the night. I live close by," he mutters and it doesn’t really leave room to decline his offer. Maybe it’s not really an offer to begin with; more of a silent pleading to stay. Not just for the duration of the snowstorm, but forever maybe. 

His place is just like you imagined it would be like. Not overly spacious but it feels like a home in every corner. There’s photos on the wall, back from when he was a kid to his high school and college years, and pinned with a magnet to the fridge is also a polaroid he took of you back in summer. In it you’re laughing about something silly he said and you’re holding up two cats at once, one strap of your sundress almost slipping down your shoulder. You still remember how he fixed it for you because you didn’t have a hand free and how his fingers lingered for longer than necessary. 

You hope one day he won’t pull his hand away anymore.

The apartment is certainly not messy but you can see he lives in this place, with some papers scattered across the coffee table and the unmade bed and the slightly concerning stock of buldak noodles in the kitchen shelves (in which you peeked out of curiosity into while he was in the shower). You imagine yourself living here, too. Maybe you’d get a cat on your own and plants for the balcony once this winter was over. 

The laundry machine rumbles quietly in the background after you step out of the bathroom, too. It wasn’t just the steamy shower that had your cheeks feel hot, it was also his clothes that he put out for you, with his scent lingering on them and engulfing you softly. Kuroo appears with two cups from the kitchen and pauses when he sees you, his mouth opening and closing again as his eyes flicker over your form. He doesn’t want to stare but also he does want to stare, wants to drink you in and memorize every detail of this moment. 

You can see his Adam's apple bop slightly when he swallows and nods over to the couch, and it’s at this moment that you know you’re not leaving this apartment again before every inch of your skin has been plastered in kisses. 

“It’s not as good as the one’s at the café but I tried my best for my special guest,” he laughs quietly when he hands you your cup, his fingers brushing against yours. The hot chocolate looks impossibly sweet, with whipped cream and sprinkles on top (they’re not ordinary sprinkles, you realize, but tiny cat shaped ones), and the first sip would’ve been enough to send you in some higher spheres if you weren’t in a state of bliss due to his proximity already. You put the cups to cool down on the coffee table and sink into the couch. 

Outside the snow is falling relentlessly, muffling the sounds of the outside world and opening up a new one, right here in these four walls.

In his arms. 

Without realizing you both settled down in your now familiar positions, only closer this time. Huddled next to each other, with one of his arms around your shoulder drawing you nearer to him. It feels natural, the way your head comes to rest against his shoulder and your legs thrown over his lap, the two of you sharing a blanket. 

He’s warm. Kuroo is so warm. 

And when he presses a fleeting kiss on top of your head it’s like everything is falling in place; the months of pining and yearning and unspoken desire. In the midst of a snowstorm both of your hearts are set ablaze, with a tenderness you haven’t experienced in this lifetime before. You sure hope he will find you in the next and the one after that as well because you never want to miss his embrace ever again. 

“That’s my spot,” you murmur and Kuroo laughs, the kind with his head tilted back and his chest rumbling. His grip around you tightens and he pulls you impossibly closer, till you’re really in his lap now, your head tucked under his chin. 

“Damn right it is.” 

You can feel his heart drum, or maybe it’s your own that’s doing somersaults–either way, it’s the same rhythm, a steady thrumming and rattling, begging to be felt. Time seems to freeze at this moment and you’re both quiet. Cat’s got your tongue. Kuroo has both arms around you now, and one of his hands settles on your waist, at the part where your sweatshirt is bunched up a little. His thumb draws small patterns against your bare skin, his touch featherlight and gentle.

You lift your head, only enough so you can catch his gaze. For the first time in your life you understand what it means to have your heart in your throat, because he takes your breath away with a simple glance. His other hand comes to rest against your cheek, cupping your face softly while his grip around your waist tightens a fraction.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters and you can see his sharp teeth flash in the corner of your eyes when he laughs. 

“Like what?” “You know what.” “I think I’ll need to have it spelled out for me.”

He laughs again and this time he leans in closer till his breath is fanning over your skin and everything is happening all at once. Honey and caramel eyes asking you to drown in them. The heat of his body mingling with yours. Your fingers playing with the shaved part of hair in the back of his neck, sending small shivers down his spine.

“Oh, I’ll spell it out for you alright.”

Kuroo kisses you with all the gentleness of the world. It feels as natural as if he had done this countless times before, as if he had kissed you in every life prior to that. He hums into the kiss and smiles when your lips part for him so willingly, and then he deepens the kiss in a way that makes you forget your name for a heartbeat or two. 

Sweet, you think. Soft and saccharine. And warm. So warm. The same what loving Kuroo feels like.

[ghostbsuter]

"And? What did you decide on?" Duke asks, fork slipping from his mouth and chewing, focused on Danny.

The boy in question hums. "Oh yeah, I'm totally joining in on the nightlife."

The statement has all of them stopping in their tracks, blatantly staring at the still eating boy.

"This will be my emo arc, daylight vigilante turned dark."

Tim snorts, Jason gives a smirk, nudging the eldest sibling next to him from his frozen state.

"Ooooh," Steph leans forward. "Have you decided? Bat or Bird?"

"New name?" Cass jumps in on the questioning with a small smile, eyes crinkling.

"Will you be joining us tonight then, danyal?" His twin speaks up for the first time during dinner, eyes narrowed and calculating.

"Yes." Is the short reply, with the way damian's lips turn down and displeasure makes itself clear, the intention of giving such a short answer has been met.

"Danny," Bruce gains the attention, leaning forward with his fingers interlocked and brows furrowed with what must be worry.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to feel pressured into this just because everyone else is—"

"I'm more than sure, B!"

The man sighs. "And I won't be able to stop you?"

"Mhm." He gives a nod.

"Okay," his shoulders sag in defeat. "Do you have everything then—?"

"Yep!"

"Even—"

"B, I'm pretty sure I got everything, you can, if in your opinion I am missing something, give it to me later!"

Danny grins, pushing himself up from the table and rounding around towards the door.

"Besides! My whole get up will be a suprise!! So stay awake folks because I'm gonna blow ya all away."

As he leaves, Steph and Duke make sounds of anticipation, curiosity eating at all of them.

(They dont know whats gonna hit 'em.)

"I'm betting 50 bucks that he's gonna be a bat."

Alfred shakes his head at the newfound excitement.

—

What an exciting night.

There is still no sight of their newest, despite oracle's teasing, having apparently already been included in the suprise.

"Well well well," a sly, yet teasing voice makes itself into the open. Catwoman, in all her glory, walks up to the group of bats and birds.

"If it isn't the bat, what's with the gloomy face?"

Batman gives her a nod. "Cat."

Her eyes roam the group and she tilts her head. "Everyone seems to be here tonight." She comments.

"We're waiting," the man shares. "Our newest decided to be more secretive about his debut."

Catwoman gives him a smug smirk. "So I have heard," a chuckle. "I've come here to introduce you to someone, truthfully."

"Oh? Who is it?" Nightwing perks up, having finally decided to join in.

"Me."

Some yelp, whip their head around and away from the lady in black, gasps and cooing (particularly from steph) fill the roof and Danny joins them.

He wears black combat boots, they're heavy just from the look, but make no sound as he jumps around. The front of the boots look like cat paws, they're reaching up to his knees.

Then comes the baggy black pants, knees protected by poleyn and his belt acting as a cats tail. The hoodie he is wearing is also black, with fingerless gloves (only the middle finger is covered) and reaching up to his neck.

Instead of a domino mask, he wears a hood with cat ears and a dark face mask. Cass claps, knowing fully well he took inspiration from her own get up.

The whole outfit is detailed with orange spots, some parts brown and others grayish.

"Meet my new mentee, Calico."

Danny, Calico, waves.

[amourrs]

thinking about the drama that ensues when you bring home three kittens to abby after agreeing on getting two. it had already been a battle convincing her to get a pair rather than a singular pet, your reasoning boiling down to the fact that a solitary kitten might feel lonely without a feline companion. she didn’t really see the logic— “we’ll literally be here to keep it company, babe!”— but you wear her down until she simply agrees to your begging. she doesn’t say it aloud, but you can tell the blonde’s pretty excited when you walk through the door with the pet carrier, wrists aching as you set it down on the soft carpet of the living room. your overeager girlfriend flings herself onto her knees, fidgeting with the catch until the little metal door swings open and the tiny quivering animals inside the container begin to sniff at the air. you both end up reclining on the couch, leaving the kittens to come out in their own time as you sip on your respective hot drinks until a little white paw slides tentatively out of the carrier to land on the carpet. abby bites back a squeal that she disguises as a cough as a tiny calico kitten trots out into the open, pink nose twitching as she picks up the scents of your house. her sister follows soon after, a miniature explosion of orange and white fur that has your girlfriend cooing and leaning forward from her place on the couch as her braid swings back and forth and you tug at it playfully. “babe, they’re so— what the fuck?” you cover the grin on your face with the heel of your hand as the third kitten makes his way out. he’s almost entirely black, a tiny white streak on the base of his tail barely visible unless you’re up close, perfect white whiskers framing a pink nose that’s splashed with midnight. abby turns to you accusingly, eyebrows raised and finger pointed. “why the fuck are there three?” you pout a little, eyes pleading. “he was the runt of the litter and i couldn’t leave him…” your explanations fall on deaf ears, and not just then— for three days, abby glares at you from around the house, girl kittens scooped up in her arms as your boy purrs contentedly from your lap. by day four, you’re convinced she’ll never accept him— that is, until you go to grab your book from the coffee table and spot her curled up on the couch, sound asleep with the little black cat nestled across her neck like a scarf, faces nuzzled together as they snore in harmony. fuckin’ pushover... you knew she’d come around eventually.

[sashiavi]

Thirst idea:

Shane catching you and Sam fucking in the Joja Mart Storage. At first, he's disgusted. At work, seriously? Have some decency. But as Sam pauses his thrusts, Shane decides fuck it, he doesn't get paid enough anyways.

This results in Shane pulling Sam out of you and taking his place from behind, groaning at the feeling of your sweet heat around him. He wastes no time in setting a steady pace, all while mocking Sam for how amateur he is. See how he's making you feel? How his hands pinch and twist your nipples, drawing such sweet sounds out of you? How his cock hits the perfect spot inside of you, making you squirm and clench around him?

Sam better get his act together. Otherwise, Shane just might take his place, and all he'll get is his sloppy seconds. Would that really be such a bad thing though?

Sam and Shane are my absolute favourite poly pair and I will die on this hill </3 I need to write a nice yummy fic for them-

Ty for inspiring me ♡♡ drabble ahead

Joja backroom endeavours with Sammy were always a little tricky.

His cock is thick, bullyingly so; With an impressive length to pair, Yoba its hard to take him easily sometimes.

You whine and keen, your pitiful sounds echoing around the back room, uncomfy with the chilly fridge air biting at your skin and the achy stretch of Sam's cock making an attempt at a quickie.

Of course Shane hears it- He always fucken' does. Those whimpery whines and huffy little begs for Sam to settle down, gasps and choked up hiccups chirped out with each rough fuck of the blonde’s hips.

Always so annoying- Sam being that dirty little exhibitionist that can't keep it wrapped up in his pants, practically dragging Shane into your shared shenanigans.

Of course, you can't blame him for it. For huffing a curse and barking a rough insult towards the blonde, curses dribbling off of his tongue while his lips twitch into an unimpressed scowl.

Look at how he has you.

Bent over a frosty box of product, pathetically clinging to the edges while Sam rails you from behind, large and long fingers twisted into your hair, purposely pressing your face into the cardboard. It's uninspiring if you ask Shane. No wonder you're struggling to take the younger man, heck, you're probably dryer than the fucken' Calico Desert. Boys and their eagerness, right? Skipping all the Prep to get to the goods.

You can't blame him for rolling his eyes and pulling Sam off by the scruff like a mutt, situating himself against your bare ass all while Sam watches with an obedient gulp.

Shane easily leans over you, soft tummy pressing into your back, all warm compared to the chilly fridge air. His hand soothes between your legs, two fingers easily slipping between the wet of your folds, circling that sweet bud of yours, smearing the growing mess of slick all over your cunt. He barks a soft grumble in your ear, filthy words shaming Sam, praising you for being so kind to even help the boy in the first place.

"Sucha' Good n' helpful girl aren'tcha? Hmm? Takin' that idiot all sweet like that-" His prickly jaw grazes the back of your neck, teasing at your ear causing a hot shiver to run down your spine. His thick fingers dare to sink into your supple hole, more than wet than before, practically drooling for the other man. "S'okay.. Gonan make you nice n' ready f'him.. Yeah?" Mockingly soft and yet laced in truth.

Poor Sammy has to watch from the side- See you take the fat of Shane's Cock, a little shorter but far thicker than his own, stretching the taught walls of your cunt wide. That paw of his finds itself cupping the supple mound of your cunt, wet fingers toying and circling the bud of your clit while his hips begin their rolling fucks.

Your sounds are something else- Less of a whining choke, strung along and keening, bottom lip bitten by your teeth stuck in a horny frown. Yoba, the gasp of your throat and roll of your eyes when Shane dares to manhandle you.

His other hand weasels its way between the valley of your breasts, palm laying flat to pull you in, forcing you to half stand while the older man snaps his hips in mean little fucks. He fiddles with your chest, groping and teasing, twisting your pert nipples between his fingers in tandem with the circling of your sticky clit.

You hold yourself up with your hands, back arched perfectly, taking Shane from behind, pushing yourself back into the girth of his cock. Sam can only stare, eyes coming in contact with Shane's, feeling blood rush to his cock with the quirk of the older man's eyebrow, with the insults he throws at the Blonde.

"Can only dream of takin' her like this hmm? Listen- Fuck.. Listen to her-" Was he talking about those moany chirps from your throat or the gush of your cunt- Yoba, Sam didn't care. Not when you looked so good like this.

Nor when you finally cream, stuttering a hiccup while your milky cunt finished Shane off, suckling the man until he spurt his last thick rope of cum into your cunt.

Sam should be embarrassed, beat red in the face for being so put down, feeble in the eyes of the older man- Unable to properly ready his girl and please you like he needed to- But how could he care?

Despite it all, Sammy loves his sloppy seconds.

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Whoops I wrote a drabble