#catboy fics

[transmasccatboye]

Been thinking about.. robots..

[transmasccatboye]

Robotgirl gf just barely going in and out of consciousness as you fuck her senseless; each boot cycle giving her just a split second of awareness as you grab and grip and pound.

Every time feeling like she's about to cum but never getting to finish. Constantly at the peak with no resolution, forced to endure hours of edging while you have your way with her.

Wanting to cry from the combination of how amazing it feels and the simultaneous torture as every part of her is screaming to finish, that she can't take it anymore, its too much.

Finally booting her in safe mode as she cums so hard she nearly fries herself; everything a haze as she spends the next several hours in low power mode, recovering from the whirlwind.

Exhausted and dazed and dizzy; half terrified and half hoping that you'll start touching her again while she's still only half aware.

Robotgirl gf who's having a really bad time rn bc she runs windows

[peachylynnie]

the cat butler

word count: 2.4k synopsis: in which sylus is eager to please you, as always. but this time, as a cat butler. contains: sylus x mc!reader (they're not dating, but sylus is down bad), references to the cat butler trailer, sylus with cat ears and a tail, suggestive themes, mentions of alcohol, cussing, making out, and stalking(?). a/n: i wrote this after reading somewhere that the upcoming memory might be our first-ever kiss with sylus. so consider this a prediction of some sort (probably not gonna happen). also, sylus' cat ears suit him so well. do not plagiarize or copy my work. sylus would not endorse plagiarism. enjoy!

“my lady,” a rich yet sultry voice calls. you shift uncomfortably in your sleep, wanting to rest a bit more.  

“my lady,” the voice repeats firmly. still, you dismiss it by grumbling and refusing to open your eyes. 

“my lady.” huh, that's weird. why does that voice sound like…

“my lady.” sylus?!  you burst open your eyes upon recognizing who was calling you. though, not without a startled "oh, god" because sylus was mere inches from your face.  

immediately, you sit up, rubbing your eyes and trying to process what was happening. where were you? how long were you out for? and most importantly, why was sylus calling you "my lady?" not that you had any problem with it, but still. your eyes widen as you find yourself on a velvet sofa in a sleek lounge of some sort. extending your arms in front of you, you stare dumbfoundedly at the tight leather gloves enveloping your hands. confusedly, you look down as you pat your body. a silky red, a-line dress hugged your figure, and you couldn’t help but admire the strings of shimmering pearls that hung around your waist and neck.  

hoping for answers on how you got here and why you were dressed so nicely, you turn to look at sylus, who was kneeling on the ground next to the sofa to meet you at your eye level. you can’t stop the gasp that leaves your mouth. are those cat ears?!

nevermind the fact that sylus was dressed in a neat, scarlet tuxedo that matched the shade of your dress. nevermind the fact that he looked good in a tie—so good to the point you wanted to tug on it. nevermind the fact that he was wearing a clean pair of white gloves that outlined his fingers so nicely. what was with the cat ears?! and a tail, too?! 

"uhm" you start. "what’s with the…?" you point at his head, hoping that he would understand. you couldn’t care less about formulating proper sentences. right now, you wanted answers. where were you? why were you dressed so nicely? why the fuck is sylus wearing cat ears and a tail? and why did the caracal set suit him so well? 

sylus' crimson eyes move up cutely as if he was trying to see the ears for himself. then, they fall back down to you, but not without a chuckle. "they're cat ears, my lady," he answers teasingly. "isn't it obvious?" with that, the ears twitch excitedly. yup, you saw that right. they actually twitched. 

"holy shit," you mutter as you reach to stroke the ears. "can i?" 

sylus smirks as he gives you a single nod, closing his eyes to convey that you are more than welcome to touch him.  

the ears felt incredibly real. the fur was super soft, and you could feel the skin vibrating beneath your fingers. your eyes widen as you pinch the ears gently. they didn't just feel real. they are real. the sheer warmth you felt from touching the exposed skin in the ears told you so. fascinated, you move your fingers to the back of one of the ears to scratch at the fur. sylus purrs and leans into your scratches. you can’t help but giggle at the sight. "who's the kitten now, sylus?" you jest, lifting your free hand to scratch his other ear, causing the man to part his mouth and rest his head against your knee. fuck, your touches felt so good.  

wanting to get actual answers from him, you stop scratching and let your hands rest on your lap. before you can even speak, sylus hisses at the loss of your touch, his brows knitting and a scowl growing on his lips. he grabs both your hands and places them back on his ears. understanding his message, you continue your ministrations, trying to remember certain spots that cats tend to like. 

"as much as these ears suit you," you coo. "this is really weird. want to tell me what's going on, sylus?" you don't remember him contacting you for a new mission where cat props and formal wear would be involved. heck, you don't remember how you even got here. what exactly was going on?  

sylus sighs and raises his head back up before answering, "you purchased me, my lady." his amused gaze meets your bewildered one. “we signed a contract where i would be your cat butler as of today. perhaps you forgot because as soon as you signed the contract, you drank excessively from the bar over there," he juts his head towards the bar behind you. "then, you passed out." 

what in the actual fuck? did he say purchase? what contract? you don’t remember signing any contracts. and since when did you ever drink? no, this can’t be right. you don't even recall coming to this fancy place. let alone dressing up so nicely.  

"you're lying," you nervously say. "there's no one working at the bar, and i don't see any glasses either." for a moment, a look of pride flashes on sylus' face. you always were so observant. one of the many things he loved about you. if only you were more observant of his affection for you instead of being so oblivious all the time. "besides, what's with our outfits? i don't remember putting this on. let alone coming here..." 

sylus laughs endearingly. his signature, billionaire laugh that constantly stirs up butterflies within you. "trust me, my lady, you drank," he insists, grasping your wrist and pressing a fond kiss. flustered by his actions, you try to pull back, but sylus' grasp remains strong. his sharp gaze locks with yours as he continues. "the dress code here is formal. thus, our attire. you walked in looking like this. a wonderful choice, i must say. you look ravishing, and i am honored to have been sold to you because..." sylus leans in next to your face, his hot breath fanning your sensitive ears. "i wouldn't have anyone else as my master."  

you stand up immediately, uncontrollably blinking and blushing from what you just heard. unfortunately, you don’t realize that you are wearing heels, causing you to stumble backward. sylus swiftly stands up, pulling you to him with an arm around your waist, effectively and attractively saving you from your fall. you place both hands on his broad shoulders, trying to balance yourself and catch your breath. noticing that the two of you were basically conjoined by the groin, you avert your eyes away from him.  

"t-thanks," you stammer as you try to get some space by pushing at his shoulders. "you can let go of me now."  

sylus tilts his head, looking down at you mischievously and trying to meet your avoidant gaze. "is that a command, my lady?"  

puzzled by his question, you finally meet his eyes. sylus sighs a hum of satisfaction, relishing in your eye contact with him. "what do you mean command?" you ask. you were too occupied by sylus’ accusations of you drinking to fully capture his previous answers.  

"it's part of the contract you paid for. i am to obey your every command as your one and only cat butler." the man answers eagerly, as if what he had just said was completely normal. almost as if he was enjoying this.  

you blink once. then twice before asking, "i paid for this?" you did not like where this was going.  

"indeed, my lady. five million dollars to be exact. i am quite the expensive cat butler," sylus grins. normally, you would've found his grin cute. some fangs would peek out, and a slight dimple would show. moreover, he was wearing cat ears. which only added to his playful demeanor. but right now, you were mortified because FIVE MILLION DOLLARS?! WHERE DID YOU EVEN GET THAT MUCH MONEY?!

"what?!" you struggle against his embrace. "what do you mean five million dollars? not even a rare protocore is worth that much!" you panic as you think about your savings. did you seriously spend all your savings on a cat butler contract and put yourself into years’ worth of debt? oh god, if so, you were fucked. say goodbye to all your years of hard work and saving. 

sylus frowns at your last statement. "are you not satisfied, my lady?"

with your jaw dropped, you look at the man towering over you as if he had said something, for lack of a better term, dumb. which he technically did because who would be satisfied after spending five million dollars on a cat butler contract?! (me). "yes?!” you say incredulously. “who in this situation would be satisfied?! you just told me that i blew all my savings and probably even more for a stupid contract!" 

sylus sighs, pinching his nose bridge with his free hand. while it was one thing to have something related to him get called stupid, it was another to see you so rattled. he had to ease your mind, knowing it would spiral if he didn't act soon. "now, now my lady. there is nothing stupid about this contract. you'd be surprised by the numerous benefits that come with it. which are but not limited to me obeying your every command." 

you don’t know which is worse. the head of onychinus telling you that you spent a sickening amount of money just to see him in a suit with cat features. or the head of onychinus telling you that you were actually benefiting from spending a sickening amount of money just to see him in a suit with cat features. as much as the idea of sylus following orders sounded like heaven, being broke in a matter of who knows how long, or in this case, little, and for a stupid reason at that, was not great. not great at all. your gaze shifts rapidly, distracted with coming up with a solution. "are there any refunds by chance?" you ask meekly. 

a dangerous look passes over sylus’ crimson eyes. with no ill intent, of course. he could never harbor any feelings of malice towards you. but the idea of you wanting a refund bothered him greatly. he was not going to let you get rid of him so easily. his arm around your waist tightens, bringing you even closer to him. lifting his free hand, sylus curls a finger under your chin, tilting your face upwards to meet his burning gaze. you shiver, forced to drown in his deep pools of rubies. feeling a rush of pleasure from finally having your attention on him, sylus moves his hand from your chin and reaches behind you to caress the blade of your shoulder. you can't help but shudder at the sudden intimacy. why did this dress have to expose your back? 

"even if my services were terrible," sylus doesn't cease his feather-like touches on your back, causing you to twitch and pant from sensitivity. "there are no refunds," he rasps as he traces a finger down your spine, prompting a whimper from you. enjoying the small yet addictive noises that leave your pretty lips, sylus smirks. yes, this was how it was supposed to be. you, in his embrace where only he could make you feel good and only he could hear your sweet, sweet sounds.  

"sylus..." you try your best not to moan. "s-stop it." you hide your face in sylus' chest, wanting to muffle your sounds and smother your embarrassment away. "i-i got it. no refunds."  

liking what he hears, sylus ceases his ministrations. he brings his hand back to your chin, gently pulling you away from his chest and slowly tilting your face so that you meet his gaze once more. "i'm glad you understand, my lady," sylus closes in on you, his lips millimeters apart from yours. "you won't be returning me anytime soon."  

sylus smashes his lips against yours, earning a moan from you. with the hand that was on your chin now cupping your face and the arm that was around your waist tightening some more, the two of you fall back onto the velvet couch. you gasp at the impact, causing sylus to slide his tongue in, capturing your own in a heated dance that he seemed intent on leading. you shakily wrap your arms around sylus' neck, trying to keep up with his relentless kisses. out of the corner of your eye, you see sylus' tail desperately swaying left and right. an idea flashes in your head. as sylus continues to swirl his tongue in your mouth, you raise your hand from his neck and gently tug at one of his cat ears. sylus jerks violently, mewling filthily into your mouth. taking that as a sign of encouragement, you continue playing with his ear, causing him to lose himself more and more in your lips, your scent, your everything. 

when the two of you grow in need of breaths, sylus pulls away, panting the same rhythm as you. you had no idea how gorgeous you looked right now. splayed out underneath him in tempting attire that was of his signature color. hair disheveled, cheeks rosy, lips swollen, eyes teary—god, you were going to be the death of him. tenderly moving a stray hair out of your face, the silver-haired man speaks.  

"so, what is your first command, my lady?"

extra:

you inhale sharply as you jolt out of bed. what the fuck was that?  you breathe rapidly as you take in your surroundings. sighing a breath of relief, you find yourself back in your room and your comfy pajamas. tiredly rubbing a hand over your face, you start to agonize over the fact that you dreamt about making out with sylus. not only that, you dreamt about making out with him in cat ears. why? you're not sure what this says about you as a person, let alone your growing attraction to him. did you have a thing for pet pla—you don't let yourself finish that last thought. ruffling your hair in frustration, you fall back onto your pillow, determined to recover from that dream. you decide that you are going to avoid sylus for a few days. 

shifting into a comfortable position, you shut your eyes and wait for sleep to find you, causing you to miss the mechanical crow with glowing red eyes flying away from your window and into the night. sylus, viewing the surveillance screen back at his grand residence, tilts his head in curiosity, a subtle smirk appearing on his lips.

 "what did you dream about, kitten?"

[chaos0pikachu]

Great really just wanted to stay home, drink wine, chill with his nepo cat and channel his inner catboy but the time goddess was like lol nah and now he's got the gift of prophecy and pornography from apollo

[blorbocedes]

“My tongue still remembers the way you taste.” for our favourite kitten friends Norstappen? 🥺❤️

Even though cats only groom each other if they're friends, it can also be a sign of dominance. For this reason, if a cat is offended by the scent of another, he may do some light grooming just to get rid of the smell. (s)

"Lando—"

"No."

"Come on. Nobody will know, and it's none of their business anyway."

"I said last time was the last time, Max."

"But it will make you feel better. And we will both enjoy it. Don't you want to feel good?"

"..."

Lando finds himself curled up against Max in the uncomfortable sofa of his dressing room, back against Max's broad chest.

"I should've asked for mediums, should've known the fucking softs would disintegrate. Fucking threw it away." Lando squirms in Max's grip, body boiling from frustration.

"Mmm. You smell like dog." Max scrunches his nose, making an icked out face, eyes narrowed into slits. "And koala."

We don't all have the privilege of working in a feline only environment, Lando thinks rolling his eyes. Oscar smells fine, just a bit like eucalyptus and mildew sometimes.

Max is the Dutch lion, blonde mane and claws to boot. He never had much of a chance to socialise as a kid, being as rare as they come. Lando's cat ears are of the house cat variety, and growing up in a litter of siblings he's all too well grown up under their ministrations. That's why Max took such a liking to him, felines gotta stick together, right?

Except it's embarrassing.

Max has taken to grooming Lando's twitchy ears, post races. Like he's his dad, or older brother. It's horribly condescending, and if anyone knew little Lando Norris gets his fur brushed by a rival no one would ever take him seriously again.

At the same time. It is really nice. They're the only two of their kind on the grid, and others just don't get it or chalk it off as some weird sex thing. It's no weirder than roughhousing or playing video games together.

"You made the right call. You knew. Cause you're great like that." Lando sulks. Max's barbed tongue is rough against his ear in a way that makes him feel fuzzy.

"You could have pitted a lap earlier. You were quite snappy on that turn." Max agrees.

Lando circles in on himself further, feeling small. He's limber like that, stretching and contorting into small spaces to hide. Max seems unaware, lifting Lando's shirt and exposing it to the cool air so he can knead circles into the soft flesh of his tummy. Only the slightest hint of his claws are out, poking Lando. He can feel the deep rumbles from Max's chest purring in contentment.

Getting biscuits made on, after he lost a race. Behind him is an apex predator, one with the jaw strength to break his neck, politely licking his ears while Lando's tail is trapped between their bodies, gridlocked.

Against his better instincts, Lando closes his eyes.

[woundedoves]

Catboy!yandere x Bottom GN!Catperson!Reader(NSFW)

a/n: meow

CW: claws, blood, exhibitionism (almost? you dont get caught), smoking, carving his name on your stomach, !not proofread!

Word Count: 783

Catboy!Yandere who’s just way too possessive of you, also a cat hybrid. He doesn’t let anyone else sit by you in classes or eat with you at lunch, you’re his, you’ve always been his, ever since you were kids. He cooks you lunch at home, takes you out on dates at the arcade, and likes to draw with you or play your favorite games, all while his tail is wrapped protectively around your thigh.

He loves to take you in empty classrooms as everyone is too busy eating at lunchtime, he wants to get caught, so they can see you mewling so cutely on his cock as he pounds your cute little hole full of cum. He fuckin’ loves working his tongue on your sex, poking it out and presenting his cum covered tongue that makes you blush and grind on his face again. He loves the way you choke on his cock as he takes you by your cat ears and fucks your throat like there’s no tomorrow, biting his lip as he sees the fucked out expression on your face, “fuck, baby you look like a whore. Mine, of course.”

He picked up smoking due to just stress… loves the way you stare at his lips so intensely as he smokes, taking you by your chin and blowing the smoke into your mouth as you breathe it in and kiss him, the rush of nicotine making him shiver against you as his tail wraps around your thigh again. He loves shotgunning with you, always such a thrill. You got real good at it over time, pretty cute.

Takes you behind the school building, his claws digging into your hips as he hisses at how fuckin’ tight you still are after all the time of fucking this hole, fuck he never gets tired of it. You’re just so perfect. Smirks as he pulls on your tail, making you yelp and tighten around him as he speeds up, he already came in you once, and just wants to fill his kitty to the brim, that’s how you like it. Loves the way his cum just drips down your thighs, such a filthy fuck aren’t you? He groans as he speeds up his thrusts and cums with you at the same time, pulling on your tail and pushing his cock until your hole swallows it to the base, filling you up good baby. Loves to just take you by your chin, digging his claws into your cheeks as he kisses you harshly, biting your lips, nipping them with his sharp teeth as he draws out a cute little mewl from you as your lip bleeds.

Loves making out with you anywhere, anytime. Hands go down to your sex as he gropes you, moaning when you grind onto his palm as you taste cigarettes and caramel candy on his tongue, the taste makes you whine as you suck on his tongue and your tail wraps around the hand on your crotch, “fuuck, that’s a good kitty… keep grinding baby.” He licks along your jaw as his hand disappears underneath your pants and underwear, his fingers making quick work of your sex as you cum with a quiet whine of his name in the middle of class, “such a cute whore you’ve become, all for me.” He kisses your cheek and helps you ride out your high as he glares at a bitch that dared to look at you in this state. You’re at the far back of the class, that whore should keep their eyes to themselves or he’ll poke them out raw with his claws and hand it to you on a silver platter.

You have no idea just how far his depravity goes. He wants to carve his name on your stomach as his cock is going in and out of you, your body shaking and shivering with pian and pleasure as he brands you. He’ll lick your blood to clean you up, moaning and his cock throbbing inside you as he does so, you can feel him purring as he’s licking the carving, and his tail sways in satisfaction. Fuck, he wants to scratch your thighs with his claws as he draws blood, jerking himself off with his blood covered claws. Hissing as he cums on your face, wants you to stick that cute little tongue out as he coats it with his cum and your own blood.

‘Not yet’ he whispers to himself as he’s scrolling through the pictures you took together with his cock in his hand, not yet, he doesn’t want to scare you off just yet, but know that you’re never ever getting away from him kitty.

[anonymous-dentist]

Or: Cellbit runs an alchemy shop with his family, and he's also the lost prince of the Gato Kingdom, but he isn't, but he really really isn't, you've gotta believe him, he isn't, really, he isn't, you've gotta-

For day seven of @smallchaoscryptid's Spiderbit Week - Royalty/Family

-

The day starts off normally:

Cellbit wakes up to find himself alone in bed, Roier having already gone to work downstairs in the store.

He lazes beneath the covers before hearing his son shouting in the other room. Grudgingly, he gets up, slides on his slippers and his bathrobe, and he goes to get Richarlyson settled with a new coloring book because, according to Richarlyson, Pepito ate the last one.

(Pepito did not eat the last one.)

Cellbit goes back into his bedroom to change, and then he goes to the wash basin in the hallway to brush his teeth and wash his face. He goes to the kitchen, shoves a singe slice of bread in his mouth for breakfast, tells the kids to behave, decides to live in ignorance and believe that they actually listened to him, and then, finally, he goes downstairs to help Roier with the shop.

That's when things get weird because, instead of the normal dozen or so customers they usually get in the mornings before things get busy, there are a handful of people in shiny armor with pointy swords, and there's a woman with cat ears leaning against the counter talking at an indifferent Roier.

Cellbit freezes on the stairs. Absently, his hands raise to his own ears, thankfully pinned down today with his alchemical goggles. He tends to have them out more days than not now, but. Well. Old habits die hard.

"I really don't know what you're talking about," Roier casually say. He isn't even looking at the woman, he's, instead, inspecting his nails- recently painted by Jaiden and absolutely adorable, just like he is. "But we do have a sale on luck potions if you wanna try one of those."

The woman's eyebrow twitches, and, for whatever reason, Cellbit doesn't think that she's here to buy something. Between the fine quality of her clothes and the literal knights with her and her entire aura, she just screams royalty, and that's a bad thing.

That's a really bad thing.

But Roier seems to have it under control, so, silently, Cellbit starts sneaking back up the stairs. If Roier needs him, he'll scream, and then Cellbit will rush down and kill everybody in the room and blame it on a sudden alchemical reaction gone wrong. Easy.

Except:

The door to the living quarters slams open and Pepito comes rushing out of it with tears streaming down his face.

"Apa!" he cries, leaping into Cellbit's arms and nearly sending him stumbling back down the stairs. "Richarlyson ate my crayons and now he's dying!"

(Richarlyson is not dying.)

Cellbit can practically smell the irritation coming off of Roier, even if he can't see him with his back turned to both him and the store and the really annoying royalty inside.

And, sure, Cellbit is annoyed, too, but he's also a father. So he just sighs and holds his son and lets him cry into his shoulder.

"Who's there?" one of the knights asks.

There's the sound of a sword being drawn, and then there's the sound of another sword being drawn and, really, is a peaceful retirement too much to ask for? Pac and Mike got one. Bad got one. Even Etoiles has some sort of retirement plan he's supposedly following between father-daughter dungeon-busting field trips.

The way Pepito is being held has him looking down the stairs and at the very rude people about to kill his parents, so Cellbit turns around so that Pepito is facing the door instead. He's always preferred looking danger in the face, anyway; it's much easier to be stabbed in the back than the front, after all.

Cellbit passively looks from one knight to another. He skips his eyes over the woman entirely. He catches Roier's eye, subtly rolls his own eyes, adjusts his hold on Pepito.

"Sorry," Cellbit says, "but my son is dying. I'll be right back."

"He's dead!" Pepito wails, ever-helpful. He's such a good kid.

The woman frowns. Cellbit doesn't think he likes her face. It's too... uncanny, like a doll come to life. Or, rather, like an image escaped from the mirror above the wash basin, and Cellbit does not like the implications of that, thanks.

As the knights start to advance, the woman holds up a hand to stop them.

"Hurry up," she says.

"Yeah," Roier agrees. "Tell Richas to die quicker, we have company."

Pepito screeches right into Cellbit's ear, making him wince very angrily in Roier's direction; all Roier does is wink and motion with his fingers for Cellbit to hurry up.

Cellbit quickly takes Pepito back into their living quarters and puts him down on the sofa.

Richarlyson is on the floor, very calm, very much not dying, and very much using Pepito's crayons in his own coloring book.

Pepito gasps, tears gone and replaced with wide, shocked eyes.

"But you ate them!" he exclaims.

Cellbit sighs, "Your brother is a magician, now can you two please behave for ten minutes while Roier and I deal with those people downstairs?"

Richarlyson's head perks up. "There are people downstairs?"

Cellbit nods. "Bad people, probably. If you hear glass breaking, you know what to do."

It's Richarlyson's turn to nod.

They have a plan. If things go down in the shop, Richarlyson and Pepito stay upstairs and hide until either Cellbit or Roier goes to get them. If the kids hear glass breaking, they are to escape out their bedroom window and climb down the tree outside and run to their Uncle Bad's house until Cellbit and Roier can get rid of the bad guys and save the day.

(Roier's words, not Cellbit's. Apparently, calling unruly customers or the police "the enemy" is bad. Go figure.)

Cellbit makes the kids both pinky promise him to follow the plan before letting out a long, stressed-out breath and starting back downstairs.

First, though, he dips into the kitchen and grabs his favorite butcher knife from off of the counter and tucks it into the custom-made sheath hidden beneath his jacket. Just in case.

Once downstairs, he's immediately manhandled by the knights until he's pushed up against the counter. Unfortunately, he isn't pushed behind the counter. But at least he can act as a shield... just in case.

On instinct, Cellbit reaches behind himself and takes Roier's hand. Roier takes it and squeezes gently, his thumb rubbing little circles into the skin by his thumb.

"Well," Cellbit says, looking from the knights to the woman, "you want something. What is it."

It isn't a question. It's more of a demand, really, and maybe he's stupid for demanding answers of royalty, but, like. Fuck the monarchy. What have they ever done for him?

The woman speaks: "We're looking for whichever one of you is Cellbit."

If they weren't already pinned down, Cellbit's ears would be flattening themselves to the top of his head. He bites back a hiss and instead just squeezes Roier's hand.

The woman continues with, "I'd like to bring him back with us to-"

"Yeah, okay," Roier casually says. "I'm Cellbit, hello."

Out of the corner of his eye, Cellbit can see Roier waving; he stifles a smile. He's so stupid...

Cellbit turns around and gasps dramatically. "Gatinho, no! You can't leave us!"

Roier bites his lip and looks away, turning his head to the side.

"But guapito," he says, dropping his voice an octave just for effect, "if I don't go, then... what about you and the children? They might-" (He moans and bows his head.) "-kill you. And then what would I do with myself?"

"Oh, don't worry!" the woman quickly says. "We won't hurt your family! That's why we're here, actually, to bring you and your family with us."

Cellbit ignores her. He reaches across the counter and cups Roier's cheek with his free hand, gently nudges his face until he raises his head and looks Cellbit in the eye; Roier's eyes are already wet with unshed tears, wow, he's good.

"But what will I do without you?" Cellbit demands, pitching his voice up just slightly. "Don't be stupid! I love you, pendejo!"

(They do this a lot, believe it or not. It drives Richarlyson crazy every time they do it because it somehow always ends up with them kissing until they're out of breath and shaky in the knees.)

"Não!" Roier cries. He squeezes his eyes shut and rips himself away from Cellbit entirely, staggering back and leaning against a display shelf full of anti-gravity potions. "Don't say that!"

"Say what?" Cellbit asks. "I love you!"

Roier screams and flinches against the case. "Não!"

Cellbit leans over the counter. "I love you."

Roier moans his time, his hands flying out wildly and grasping onto seemingly-random bottles on the shelf. "Não!!"

Cellbit extends a hand. "I. Love. You. Te amo, guapito."

One of the knights asks, "What the fuck is going on?"

And then the knights all start shouting as Roier opens his eyes and lunges to shove a potion into Cellbit's hands.

Cellbit grins and yanks the cork out of the bottle and chugs the potion and slams the empty bottle against the floor. It shatters, and he jumps.

"What the fuck?" the woman demands.

Cellbit twists mid-air and lands on the ceiling. He waves down at Roier, blows him a kiss, and takes off running for the back potion room. The door is closed, but the ventilation window above the door is open because he was supposed to be making potions right now. Silver linings.

He dives through the window, just barely managing to squirm through. He grunts, frowns, regrets getting this old, makes it through.

His goggles are nudged off of his head, though, leaving his ears on full display as he escapes into the potion room.

The woman gasps, "Get back here! Cellbit!"

But Roier just cheers, "Corre, gatinho!"

The potion room's door thuds and shakes in its hinges as the knights all slam against it. But, like, fuck those guys.

Cellbit runs down the length of the ceiling until he's reached the wall facing the alley behind the shop. He steps onto the wall, and then he runs down that until he's by the window. Again, ventilation, he should be working right now, but no, he can never know a moment of peace.

The potion starts running out just as Cellbit crawls through the window and lands on the shop's outside wall. He wrinkles his nose at the smell, but it's fine. Just trash, it's fine.

There's shouting from the front of the shop and the sounds of more bottles shattering. Roier sounds fine, though. He's even laughing, of course he is. He's badass, and Cellbit loves him, and Cellbit just wishes he was there to watch Roier swing his sword around like the sexy piece of shit he is.

The potion's effects wear off as Cellbit's feet touch the ground; two minutes, just as he'd made it to be.

He can see Richarlyson and Pepito running for it at the far end of the alley. Good, they actually followed directions for once.

Cellbit turns to run after them and get Bad's help, but he's stopped by a firm hand grabbing his shoulder from behind.

He snarls and pulls his knife out of his coat, spinning and slashing and just narrowly missing the woman's throat.

"Cellbit!" she shouts. "Calm down, it's just me!"

Cellbit responds by lunging at her with his teeth bared. He's been filing his teeth down for years, but he knows that he still cuts an intimidating figure when he's pissed enough.

The woman doesn't seem afraid, though. If anything, she just seems angry. And sad. Mostly angry.

She easily sidesteps his attack and yells, "It's me! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Oh, that's cute. Royalty asking why someone would want to hurt them, that's funny. They have the self-awareness of a walnut, all of them.

"Stop shouting 'it's me'!" Cellbit snaps. "Why should I care who you are?"

The woman's face starts turning red from frustration. "Because I'm your sister!"

Oh, that's rich.

"I don't have a sister," Cellbit sneers.

He swipes at her. Of course he does, he doesn't have a sister. He didn't have a family before he and the others found Richarlyson, and he only has one now that he has his kids and his husband.

"Then why do we have the same ears?" the woman demands.

She ducks under his knife and sweeps his legs out from under him. He falls and hisses and growls and does all sorts of things that princes might do because he isn't royalty. He knows that for certain. His first memory was him eating the corpse of a soldier on an empty battlefield, and it's with that image in mind that he snaps his teeth at the woman's throat.

"Only the royal family of the Gato Kingdom is born with feline features," the woman snaps. "Idiot!"

"Fuck the Gato Kingdom," Cellbit spits. "Your war destroyed everything I had!"

The woman's eyes turn sad. "It destroyed everything I had, too. It took my family from me. My friends. My home. We're just now starting to rebuild, and-"

She shrieks as Cellbit manages to flip their positions so that she's the one being pinned to the ground.

"So you show up and try kidnapping someone to fill in for your lost prince?" he snarls. "You people haven't changed."

The woman's mouth thins into an angry line. "I'm not trying to kidnap you! I just want to bring you home!"

"I don't have a home! This is my home!"

"You really don't remember, do you?" she asks, voice low. She isn't even struggling any more, not really. "It's me, your sister. Bagi."

The name stings Cellbit's brain in a way he doesn't like.

"I don't know you," he firmly says. "You don't know me. Leave my family alone."

He stands, hands shaking, head spinning. He doesn't like this.

Roier calls his name from the front of the building.

Cellbit, sure that this Bagi won't do anything while she's busy crying, turns and starts running towards the store.

He doesn't make it three steps before getting thwacked in the back of the head with something large and heavy and metal.

"Sorry," Bagi flatly says.

As he falls to the ground, his knife falls from his hand and ends up just out of reach.

He lands on his stomach and immediately tries standing again.

But he's stopped by a foot on his back pressing him down.

"I'll be sure to bring your family with us," Bagi tells him. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"Could have fooled me," Cellbit mutters.

Darkness takes him at last as Bagi smacks him again with her weapon, and all Cellbit can think is that he hopes that the kids ended up making it to Bad's after all.

[revelisms]

sillies

[teecupangel]

Catboy Nonny back again, sooner than normal, new idea: Catboy Desmond x Federico?

You know those stories about how some people want to pet cats but they just get scratched for their troubles? Then they see someone petting the same cat a few minutes later and they just go ‘oh woe is me!’ because of how much purring the cat is making.

That’s how Federico feels every time.

Desmond being a catboy is like… a secret of the Auditores but everyone in their family (and their most trusted servants) know about it.

Ezio brought the ‘young man’ home one day and they’ve been inseparable since.

Ezio changed that day. He seemed more… melancholic and secretive.

But he was still Ezio. He still teased Federico and nothing amused him more than seeing Desmond bat away any attempts of Federico to touch those fluffy looking cat ears.

He just didn’t understand why Desmond hate him so much.

On the other side of this entire thing…

Ezio is absolutely amused.

He died and woke up a year before his family fell into ruins with Desmond sleeping in his bed.

Desmond had gotten strange… ‘additions’ to his body but they could still communicate. It’s hard for Desmond to communicate but they soon developed their own sign language (many borrowed from what ASL Desmond knows and the rest they developed when Desmond doesn’t know the official sign language for it)

So they’re making headway to preparing for next year. During that time though, Ezio now has front row seat in watching his brother try to pet Desmond who is trying to stay away from him because… well…

Desmond’s cat instincts very much sees Federico as ‘mate potential’.

[natelia-aldelliz]

Werewolf au where Price is the pack leader, Ghost and Gaz are also werewolves, and then there's Soap, who tried to tell everyone that he was just a human, which they believed until they noticed that his eyes reflect light just like theirs.

Turns out Soap thought it would be safer for him because he's a cat. He can change in a cat. Not like a werecat or anything, just a house cat. Average sized even. And cats are prey for dogs and wolves so he was scared.

Now he can't escape the puppy pile. He's convinced that when they're in wolf form they don't even realise that he's a complete different species and think he's just a pup, isn't sure to believe them when they swear they know because those licks on top of his head don't lie.

[littlebitsalt]

Hello can i request yandere catboy x reader, so the yandere is reader's cat (in cat form) but in school yandere is also reader's classmates (in his human form (so he can change his form to cat and something perfect human even human with ears & tail)) so automatically the knew each other as classmate (they're not close in school) but reader didnt know that their classmate is their cat too, the yandere its so obsessed with reader inside school and house, but he more clingy when he in his cat form because he can get patted and cuddled with reader, but one day when they're cudding together the cat turn into human which make reader shocked, the reader keep trying to get rid of him even start to ignore him in school where he suddenly being clingy ans touchy, the rest of the story i let you continue (≡^∇^≡)

Yandere catboy x reader

Note: longest fic I've written It got longer than I expected 😙

Summary: you find out your cat is actually your classmate.

drawing of yandere catboy 1

drawing of yandere catboy 2

Your friend stopped walking as an orange cat came into view.

"Oh- There's a cat over there!"

Before you could react, your friend dashed over to the cat.

"Aww... so cute."

"Come on, let's go home."

You said, standing beside your friend who is taking pictures of the cat.

"Wait- she's purring. I need to take a photo of this."

You sigh. Your friend was obsessed with cats and never missed any chances to watch them, take pictures of them and touch them. She also took photos of this orange cat just outside the school gate everyday.

"I don't have anything to feed you today.. but I'll buy some tomorrow, okay? Bye, Chesse."

After one last pat, your friend stood up.

"That cat has a name?"

You asked.

"Of course she does! Everyone in school calls her Cheese. Her soft fur is just like cheese."

Your friend proceeded to show you pictures on her social media. You had no choice but to look at her social media that is filled with pictures of cats.

You didn't hate cats, but you weren't a fan of them either. You've taken a few pictures of cats in the past, but admiring cats all day was not that interesting to you.

After saying goodbye to your friend, you went to your home.

"Mom, I'm home."

You shouted loud enough for your mom to hear.

Your mom was in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

"Hey mom- huh?"

You felt something cling to your leg. You immediately looked down to find a black and white cat.

"What is this?"

You said, confused. You tried to back away from the cat, but it was still clinging on to you. You turned to your mom to hear some kind of explanation.

"It's a cat from my office. I'm sure you've seen this cat a few times."

Your mom replied. Now that you think about it, you could remember this cat from a few days ago when you visited your mother's office.

"Is this cat the one staying at the back of your office building?"

"Yes it is! I made a simple bed for it to stay.. and I decided to just take it home-"

"What? Does dad know about this? What about my brother?"

"They seem pretty chill about it. Your brother liked the idea. You know the drawing he drew in his kindergarten? That kid likes cats."

"What if this cat already has an owner?"

"I checked it, and everyone around my office said this cat was alone for a few years. So it's fine, (y/n), don't worry."

"You could have asked if I'm fine though."

You looked back at the tuxedo cat. You didn't want to blame the cat, but getting a cat without your opinion was not the best feeling.

You patted the cat's head while it curled around your leg. This cat was acting like it's smart enough to comprehend your feelings. You felt the cat clinging to you more as you touched it.

"I'm sorry (y/n). I should've told you sooner, but I was busy. Plus, the person using the second floor starting next week is allergic to cat fur, so I had no choice to take the cat to home."

Your mom said. You nodded as a reply and looked at the cat again.

"Look, the cat likes you the most. That cat never warmed up to me like that. Why don't you name the cat, (y/n)?"

Your mother was true. You visited your mother's office a few times, and this cat only liked it when you touch it.

"I'm bad with names, and why don't you name it? It's you that brought it here anyway."

"Oh come on, (y/n). Don't be so harsh on the cat."

You ignored your mom and tried to go inside your room, but the black and white cat followed you inside your room without any presence.

"You really do like me.."

You murmured to yourself.

The cat still curled up to you between your legs. You had to pick up the cat and move it to your bed to unpack your school bag and change into comfortable clothes.

You crawled into your blankets and got your phone ready to watch videos before dinner. The black and white cat also crawled beside you, using your right arm as a pillow.

"Oh right.. I need to think of a name for you.."

You said as you scratched the cat.

"What about.. just Tux? That's pretty easy to pronounce."

You said as the cat digged into your chest.

"Do cats like their owners this much..?"

You mumbled.

"So Tux it is? Or do you want another name?"

Your cat ignored your mumbling and rubbed its face onto you.

"... okay then. Your name is Tux from now on."

Your cat, now named Tux, reacted to its new name, and it seemed quite pleased.

You spent time scrolling down social media with your cat beside you before your mother called for dinner. As you got up and walked to the kitchen, Tux followed you. At the kitchen, you found your little brother and your dad talking about their experience today in the playground.

"Where have you been?"

You asked your brother.

"In the playground with my friends... wait- that's the cat mom's talking about-!"

Your brother's attention darted to Tux immediately as he touched the cat. Tux didn't avoid the touch either.

"That cat's name is Tux. I named it."

You said, sitting on your chair and eating food your mom prepared.

"That's a.. intuitive name."

Your dad said, looking at Tux.

"... Anyways, why did you agree to raise a pet?"

You asked. Looking at your brother's wide smile, your dad answered,

"Didn't your mother tell you? Uh.. your brother likes cats, and why not?"

"... yeah whatever."

You ate dinner listening to your little brother talking about Tux. You felt good that your brother got a pet that he wanted. However, at the same time, you felt uncomfortable... having a pet all of a sudden. It felt like having a new family member without your permission.

You know that having a pet will feel like having a family member as time passes. Your friends told you about how their pets meant the world to them... But there was this uncomfortable feeling about Tux.

Maybe you were just mad about your family and wanted to leash your anger to Tux. You didn't know.

--

When you woke up the next day, you found Tux right beside you.

"How did you get in here..."

You went to sleep alone last night. You remembered that you closed the door before Tux gets in.

You shrugged it off since you had little time before you go to school. You walked around, brushing your hair and wearing your uniform.

"Where is it? Ugh.."

You mumbled as you searched for your earphones. You put them on last night, and the right one was missing.

"Hey- don't distract me."

You lifted up Tux from the bed sheets and searched to see if the bed sheets were covering your right earphone. You rummaged through your bed sheets but you couldn't find it. While you were busy lifting up bed sheets, Tux crawled under your bed.

"What are you doing?"

You also looked under the bed.

"Oh- You found it!"

Tux was playing with the right earphone you were desperately searching for. You grabbed your right earphone and put in the case as your cat tossed it to you.

You sighed in relief and looked at Tux.

"Thanks for your help... I would've died for boredom in school without your help."

You smiled at Tux and left your room, ready to go to school.

In your classroom, you talked about your new cat to your friend. As expected, your friend was excited about it, asking dozens of questions.

"How can you not have a picture of it?"

Your friend said.

"I didn't think of it. I'll send you a picture when I go back home."

Your friend rambled about how her mother would not allow her to have a pet. You listened to your friend quietly.

"Hey."

Someone poked your shoulder. You looked back to see who it was, and one of your classmates was standing right behind you.

"Huh?"

"You're sitting on my seat."

Your classmate said.

"Oh- sorry-!"

You stood up right after.

--

"Don't you think you and him have a lot of connections lately?"

Your friend said, eating a chocolate bar she bought in free time.

"Who are you talking about?"

"You sat in his seat in lunch time. How could you not remember?"

"Oh- are you talking about Blake?"

"Of course I am! Don't you think he likes you?"

You knew your friend loves setting people up and likes searching for possible couples, but this time, she's talking nonsense.

"I didn't even talk to him that much."

Your friend was eager to tell you what she has found.

"That's not the point- The important part is that he's constantly gazing at you during class. Also, how can you not notice that it's you he talks to!"

"He talks to plenty of people."

"Oh no, you're clueless. If you observe further, you'll definitely realize he only talks to certain people, or friends, and they all knew Blake even before highschool."

"How do you know that?"

"My eyes and ears are open."

"..."

Blake and you? That's such a confusing match.

"Your observations can't be the reason."

"See for yourself then. I'm sure. Blake has interest in you."

"..."

You didn't believe a word your friend said before Blake asked if he can join you on the way home.

It was awkward, walking with a classmate who you've barely talked to.  Blake was quiet, and you didn't know how to start a conversation.

"I thought you go home with your friends."

You said.

"Oh- I moved recently. It seemed like you go home this way too, so... I thought it could be great having another friend to go home with."

Blake said. You could see he was a bit nervous... but why?

Not much conversation went by, and you waved goodbye to Blake in front of your house. You went into your house, throwing your book bag onto the bed and taking off your jacket.

You looked around to see if Tux was around, but you couldn't find it anywhere. You went into every room in your house but Tux wasn't in any of them. You went back to your room, wondering where that sneaky cat hid himself. You were unpacking your bag when you noticed something jumping over the fence. You looked at it to realize that it was your cat that was jumping over the fence and into your home.

You quickly opened the window facing the garden Tux was walking across and let it in your room.

This was strange. The doors were all locked, and you went out of the front door in the morning, so there's no way for Tux to get out. Your mother took your little brother to kindergarten and your father went to work after you left for school.. but they wouldn't have left Tux leave the house.

"Do you get out of the house when no one is watching?"

You said, in a surprised tone.

Was this cat extra smart, or were you mistaken about all the doors being closed?

Tux didn't seem to care that it got out of the house when everyone was outside.

You were skeptical but decided to ignore it and kept on unpacking your bag and organizing your clothes.

After a few hours, your mom came home with your brother.

"We're going to have dinner after an hour when your dad comes back from work-"

Your mom said loudly enough for you to hear.

In your room, you were studying while Tux was watching. You studied until your mother called you to eat dinner.

Your little brother was talking about his day in kindergarten like always, and your mother was setting food plates on the table.

You ate quietly as your brother went on about how his friend and him played some kind of game.

"Mom, today a classmate wanted go home together with me. The funny thing is.."

You said to your mom when your brother cooled down.

"Are you listening?"

You asked your mom.

"Oh- I am listening. Go on."

"The funny thing is that.. I've never talked to him properly yet."

You went on.

"And I beat Anthony- so I got a prize-!"

Your words were blocked with your brother's babbling.

You sighed. Everytime your brother blocked your words, it felt so frustrating.

"Can't you wait when I'm talking?"

You would've heard what your brother needed to say, but this time, you felt like speaking up.

"What?"

Your brother looked at you.

"I mean.. I want to talk too."

"But-"

"Your brother is thrilled he got a present today in kindergarten. Let him talk, he's feeling good today."

Your dad said.

"I think he talked enough though."

"You talked a lot more when you were young too."

Your mother said, smiling.

You were annoyed. Why was she smiling?

Your family wouldn't listen to you, and it was so frustrating to you.

"I ate a lot, I'm going back to my room."

You said.

"You haven't eaten half of it, why?"

Your mother asked.

"My stomach hurts today."

You stood up and walked to your room. Tux follwed you.

--

You couldn't understand it. You wanted to talk about your new friend too. You wanted to talk about how Blake suggested to go home with you.

You turned to your cat that was cuddling you, covered in your bed sheet. You scratched its fur as it purred.

You noticed that Tux followed you everywhere in the house. You also noticed that Tux only cuddled with you. That actually felt heart warming.

Tux jumped off the bed and crawled to a shelf you collected all your goods like  small stuffed animals, and some figures you collected from before. It was usually goods from a few years ago.

"Is there something interesting?"

You looked at the shelf, confused.

"I don't see anything interesting... wait-"

The shelf was missing something.

Now you searched through all your goods to find there was a figure missing. And you also found some of your markers missing. You actually needed those markers for art class tomorrow.

The first thing that came up to your mind was your brother.

You thanked Tux and went out of your room, to the table where your family was eating dessert.

"Where's my figure and markers?"

You asked your mother.

"What do you mean by markers and a figure? The ones on your shelf?"

Your mother replied.

"Yes- where are they?"

"I gave it to your brother."

With your mother's answer, you went straight into your brother's room to find your figure on the corner of his shelf. You grabbed it and put it back on your shelf. Your mom watched with a confused expression.

But you couldn't find your marker still.

"Where's my marker?"

You asked your mother again. Your brother was quiet, staring at you now that he realized how irritated your voice was.

"Why?"

"I said multiple times that I needed my markers for my art project-"

You were shouting now.

"I gave it your brother because he had a drawing competition today, and your brother left it in kindergarten because it got damaged. You can draw with something else for your art project, right?"

Your mother said, annoyed too.

You tried to calm down, but this was too much. How can your whole family ignore your words?

"That's not the point here- why would you take my stuff without my permission?"

Your mother said nothing, but she was definitely baffled from your statement.

When your mother said nothing and your brother kept whining, you went into your room again, shutting the door roughly.

--

The next day, you were silent the whole time getting ready for school. You didn't have your marker, and you couldn't finish the art project how you wanted to because of that.

You walked to school with heavy footsteps.

Art class was after lunch, so you still had time to think about how to do your art project. But you didn't have good ideas on your mind. Also you have already done the sketch for the drawing, which makes it harder to think of other good ideas.

Time flew by fast and it was time for art. Unfortunately your friend didn't have markers, so she couldn't help you out.

The uneasy feeling went on. You had to decide whether to switch the concept of the drawing or find usable markers one way or another.

"You'll do good with or without markers..."

Your friend comforted you.

"Thanks..."

You decided to use watercolor the school had and walked over to the sink with a small yellow bucket.

"Hey."

You felt a poke on your shoulder.

It was Blake.

"Oh- hi."

".. I have markers.. if you want to use it."

"... wait- really?"

You couldn't stop yourself from smiling.

"Yeah.. you can take them and use it at your table. I use watercolor anyway."

"Thanks- you're a lifesaver."

Blake was a lifesaver, and that went on for a few weeks. He gave you stuff you really needed, which made your friend more invested in your relationship with Blake.

Your relationship with your family recovered a bit over a few weeks, but you were still in some kind of a cold war, and you were still angry at them. You didn't talk very much either, so it really didn't matter.

You went home with Blake a few times a week. Blake wasn't the funniest person to talk to, but Blake was sure a great listener. Just like Tux.

Blake listened to you, occasionally talking about how he thought. He was not like your family who ignored how your life was in school, and everytime Blake helped you out, you thought of your friend's words. Maybe your friend was an expert at reading people's feelings.

If Blake helped you out in school, Tux was your company in your home. When you went home alone, Tux was waiting for you behind the front door.

You felt uncomfortable around Tux at first, but now you warmed up to Tux. You spent all your days with Tux telling your worries and secrets that you wouldn't tell anyone.

Tux stayed right beside you curling its body into your arms.

Spending your time with Tux felt soothing, and you thought this would go on for sure.

However, despite your wish, it didn't last long.

It was Friday, and you walked home alone. You went home fast to see your cat waiting for you.

"I'm home-"

You shouted.

You didn't see your cat behind the front door, so you walked into your room to find your cat lying down on the bed.

It was unusual for you cat to be like this. Tux always tried to rub itself on you if it had the chance.

You sat beside Tux, worried if the cat is sick.

"Are you ok?"

You asked. You knew Tux won't understand what you're saying, but you wanted your cat to know you're worried by your tone.

You lay down on your bed with your school uniform on. There was no one in the house, so there was no one to scold you for not changing clothes.

You turned to your cat. Tux seemed to be struggling with something, and you didn't know why. You thought about calling your mom, but you knew she wouldn't answer when she's busy with some project of hers.

What if Tux needs to go to the hospital?

Several thoughts went by your head.

Tux was still in a bad state and you didn't know what to do.

You got your phone out and searched through the internet to find some clue after you messaged your father(hoping for him to message you back).

As you searched with your phone, you felt Tux slipping away.

Tux was slowly crawling away from you. It seemed he wanted to head out of your room.

"Hey, where are you going?"

You put one arm around your cat, confused.

"Do you need something? Where are you going all of a sudden?"

But your cat was desperate to get out.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

That was the moment you saw something so unbelievable.

With a blink of an eye, Tux was gone, replaced with a boy your age.

".... Blake?"

You couldn't believe what you just saw.

Tux was no where to be seen, and Blake, who said he was going home with his friends, was exactly in Tux's place, facing you.

Surprised and confused, you quicky removed your arm on Blake's body. Then you jumped out of bed before Blake could react.

"W.. wait-"

Blake grabbed your arm and yanked you back into the bed. You lost balance and fell back first to the bed while Blake grabbed your arms still.

"What the- what are you doing??"

You said as Blake's grip got stronger.

Blake was on top of you, facing you with his face red.

"I'll explain-"

You didn't want to believe it, but from the looks of it, Tux was actually Blake.

Blake's face came closer to yours, and you could hear Blake's heart beating fast.

You pushed off Blake and ran out of your room before Blake came any more closer. Blake followed you without hesitation, desperate to explain himself.

You maintained certain space between you as Blake tried to take a step closer to you.

"I can explain-"

Blake protested.

"Get out of my house.. I'll listen to your explanation later.."

"No- no- I didn't do anything wrong.. I just.. wanted to get closer and help you out."

"I messaged my dad and he'll come home soon. I'll tell him about you if you don't get out."

You said in a harsh tone. You wouldn't tell your dad that Tux is human, but you had to threaten Blake..

Blake's face clearly showed that he was not satisfied, but he left.

When your dad came home, you told him Tux was somehow escaped. Your little brother was upset. But you didn't care to notice him because Tux being Blake was the most important topic in your head for hours.

You've done some pretty embarrassing stuff in front of Blake in his cat form. You told him all your cringey moments, you showed him your true personality.. and you even changed clothes in front of his cat form. You basically showed every aspect of you.

You went to bed imagining how it will be meeting Blake in school again. You imagine yourself being awkward in front of Blake.

You hoped not, but the thought that Blake came to your house just to be beside you made you feel a bit frightened.

The whole situation was weird. Blake was weird. His actions only tell you that he's creepy.

--

Instead of confronting Blake, you avoided Blake in every was possible. You ran straight to home after school, hoping for Blake to lose sight of you.

"I'm home-"

You said. You find your mom sitting on the couch.

"(y/n)-! Tux came back!"

"..."

"Why, aren't you glad Tux came back without a scratch?"

"Can we just let him be a stray cat again?

You blurted out.

"How can you say that, (y/n)? We brought Tux here, so we have to take care of it."

"It was your choice- you brought him here- then don't let him in my room, okay?

"Why are you acting sensitive lately? Don't you think this is too much?"

You ignored your mother and walked back to your room. Blake tried to follow you, but you shut the door at his face.

Your mother noticed this right away. Irritated herself, she opened the door to your room and let the cat inside.

"Don't vent out your frustration on Tux, (y/n)."

With that, your mom closed the door and headed to the livingroom again.

You glared at the person pretending to be a stray cat. With the frustration that built up past few weeks, you couldn't stand someone deceiving you.

"Get out."

You said.

Blake was still in his cat form, standing still.

"Are you listening..?"

You said. Blake just stood there, staring at you.

"... I'll just go out then."

At that moment, Blake went back to his human form, grabbing your wrists.

"Don't go out."

Blake said.

"....why don't we cuddle like we always did?"

"Are you serious? Why would I-"

You tried to get his hand off your wrist, but he's grip only got stronger.

"You can't even force me out of your room."

"Can you at least let go of my wrist?"

"Oh-.."

Blake let go of your wrist, but he didn't move away from you.

Both you and Blake got quiet after. Your mother shouting from the livingroom broke the silence.

"Stay here."

You said, looking at Blake. Then you went to the livingroom.

"Why did you call me?"

You asked.

"Actually, I didn't buy eggs since I was busy with work. Can you buy them now? You didn't even change to comfortable clothes yet."

"I'm keeping the change."

"Okay. Just come back before I prepare dinner. Oh and we need something else too. I'll send you a list."

You got money from your mother and walked back to your room. Blake was waiting for you, sitting on your bed.

"Where are you going?"

"To buy groceries."

You looked away from Blake and picked up a bag to carry groceries.

--

You felt someone following you while you were walking to the supermarket.

You knew it was Blake.

"I know you're following me."

You said.

As expected, Blake came out of his cover. He was in his human form.

"I just wanted to see if.."

You ignored him and kept walking. Blake followed suit.

"I like you a lot.. I'm sure you know by now..."

You stayed silent. The whole situation was strange and you didn't quite process it.

"I actually liked you way before you knew me. I can move around more freely as a cat, you know?"

"..."

Blake held your hand and walked right beside you.

"It was hard for me to keep my distance from you in school... that's why I tried to be a stray cat. To get closer..."

"That's... uh..."

Blake suddenly wrapped his arms around you out of nowhere.

"What are you doing??"

You said, trying to push him away. Unfortunately Blake didn't budge. Instead he only got closer, which made your head spinning.

"What if someone sees us?? Stop-"

"Does that mean I can hug you in your room?"

"That's not what I meant.."

Blake laughed as you panicked and didn't know what to do.

"You should stop ignoring me in school. You liked Tux, why not treat me like it too?"

Blake said, holding your hand again.

"Uhm..."

Blake didn't do anything that would attract glances while buying groceries. He kept holding your hand, but he didn't do anything other than that.

You quickly bought the things your mother asked and went home with Blake. Blake transformed into Tux by the time you arrived home and everything went smoothly after that, like a normal day. Blake, in his cat form, watched you from afar as you ate dinner.

You went back inside your room and Blake quickly made his way inside before you could lock the door.

Blake changed back to his human self as soon as he closed the door to your room. Then he lead you to your bed, wrapping his arms from the back.

"I waited for this."

He said while digging into your neck.

"Hey- don't rub your face onto my neck-"

There was no use resisting because Blake had no intention of letting you go.

"I have to study. Let me go."

You said firmly.

"I know you don't study right away after dinner. Let's watch something together. Or we can just lay on bed together and sleep."

"What if my family finds out??"

"Then you should be quiet."

Blake smiled.

You were annoyed, but you kept quiet.

Blake pestered you so you couldn't do much of anything. It was soon late at night and all your family members went to sleep.

"I'm going to sleep."

You said, organizing your desk before bed.

"Really? Then we can sleep side by side. Cuddling each other."

"I'll get you bed sheets. You can sleep on the floor."

"What do you mean-"

"Or you can turn into a cat again."

"I- I'll turn into a cat."

Blake, in his cat form crawled beside you when you lay in bed, covered with blankets.

--

You heard the alarm and slowly opened your eyes to see Blake's face right in front of you. You screamed right that moment.

Your mother heard your scream and opened the door to check if anything's wrong.

"What's wrong here?"

Your mom asked.

You quickly hid Blake under your blankets, covering his face with your arms.

"Nothing- just a bad.. dream."

"Well, ok. Come eat breakfast in 10 minutes."

"Alright."

Your mom walked out of your room, still suspicious of your actions.

"What were you doing? We could've been caught-!"

You jumped up pushing Blake away.

"Are you going to change into your uniform?"

Blake asked, still lying down on the bed.

"What?"

"I mean.. uh..."

"..."

You grabbed your school uniform and changed your clothes in the bathroom.

--

"I can't believe you watched me all the time."

You said, leaving the house. Blake already prepared for school and waited for you at the front door.

"..."

"Aren't you hungry? You haven't ate since yesterday lunch."

"I go back to my house in night and stay there until it's time for you to wake up. I do regular things I missed at daytime."

"That explains why you're sleeping all day at school."

"Then will you let me sleep in your room with you? I want to beside you all day."

"All day? That's exhausting."

"It's not exhausting for me. I want to be beside you whether it's in school or home."

"I'll think about it.."

Blake held your hand.

"I know you'll accept it at some point."

Blake said with confidence.

Blake's words were oddly convincing to you.

He was beside you when you fought with your family and got upset. He listened to your words and helped you.

It's true that you liked Tux in your home, and Blake at school as well.

You like Blake's warm touch, but you'll have to think about Blake staying with you all day.

Part 2 here

[fatuismooches]

HIIII :3 ITS ME... the 🐓!!!!!!!!

So we've had brainror abt reader turning into a cat but what about Dottore?? and his segments?

Reader walks in one day to see a big blue puff cloud and when it disapears theres a bunch of blue cats roaming around and meowing (As soon as they see reader its on sight and they WILL be begging for affection)

Reader sitting on a counch while a bunch of cats surround and suffocate them (it reminds them of Foxttore and the pufflings)

I NEED TO BE SURROUDNED BY A BUNCH OF CATTORES NOWWW Auauuuug

all the cats BITING reader affectionately (they are so MEAN even though reader is so nice to them 😔) AND OMGGG ZANDY AS A TINY LIL KITTEN AUUUUGGG MY HEART IM EXPLODING. ZANDY KITTY 3 SAUCES TALL!!!!!!! his lil meows..... 😭😭

I am ill..... I need doctor..... - 🐓

DOTTOCATS!!! CATTORES!!! <3 It would be the result of a failed experiment of course, just like all the other mishaps that always happen in the lab. Only that this is a lot worse than all the other ones. For them, at least. For you, you could die happily, surrounded by all of this kitty cuteness. Cattores are not amused by your lack of seriousness at the situation. No, they are not cute. Wait, is that a Kamera you have? Don't you dare.

Unfortunately for them, despite all the words they try to spew out, it only comes out as 'meow meow, meow meow meow! meow!' much to their dismay. You don't take their kitty anger too seriously, until they quickly learn how to utilize their new body (biting and repeatedly clawing your leg for attention). (Funnily enough somehow the masks shrunk down to the same size too?)

You will have the tall task of creating the cure to turn them back to normal humans but it won't be too much of a problem, they already have the ingredients in their mouth and are impatiently waiting for you to hurry up. You take your sweet time and take lots of breaks petting Zandy kitty, the only one who doesn't bite you and always brushes against your leg.

Just please cancel that meeting he has with Pantalone today. Please. And then be prepared for when he turns back. At least a cat his biting power isn't that much. As a human, however, well, you already know how that goes. (Isn't he much better to cuddle like this, Dottore asks, as you are trapped for a long time in his arms.)

[lowrezbonuslevel]

Susie's Super Star Repair Service! (coming eventually...?) ft. new side blog, just dropped

"When strangely-familiar stars spark to life across the universe, Susie sees a chance to rescue her father from the byte-sized boundaries of his digital purgatory (and turn a profit, while she's at it). However, her developing plans evince an undesirable yet ultimately inescapable side effect—in piecing together Max Haltmann's soul, Susie will simultaneously restore functionality to the Deus ex Machina, Star Dream: the destructive, numb-hearted computer that has held him and his memories ransom for years.

"Still, no good businesswoman is afraid to take strategic and potentially-catastrophic-on-a-universal-scale risks when majority shares of her dreams are at stake. The biggest glitch in this technological operation, as a matter of fact, has nothing to do with her father, nor the not-even-half-baked Clockwork Star that became his tomb. No…

"The greatest risk is prolonged exposure to the trademark antics of a beguiling wizard extraordinaire (which roughly translates from Magolorese to 'least agreeable person in existence'). Susie knows he can't be trusted—but his understanding of ancient technology can't be beat and his long-suffering Starcutter can't be outpaced. If only she and her insufferable 'captain' can follow their begrudging agreement to the letter… maybe they'll both come out of this with only minor injuries and moderate insanity.

"The bottom line: it'll take patience, prowess, and persuasion for Executive President Susie Haltmann, the universe's greatest powerhouse of pink-haired persistence, to finally make her dreams reality—and with everything between a shrouded suitor, a cosmic jester, secret keepsakes, long-forgotten promises, clandestine coronal plots, and Star Dream itself threatening to send her off course… it might take just a little bit of magic, too."

some cover thumbnails. still not sure which one i'm going with, if any. but i did like the top middle so i gave it some values. (i wanted to incorporate magolor since he's unfortunately an important character, and the lor and star dream/haltmann of course... and, yup, that's it. nobody else along for the ride. no murderous stowaways or anything.)

this might be the last post about my fic on this blog (unless i make some particularly banger art based on it or something), so if this interests you, check out my other blog, dedicated to this and any future fanfic endeavors, fresh off the Gryll (btw that was a Kirby joke, based on the Kirby video game series, very few will get this!!!). and feel free to send in asks i suppose? i will try not to spoil TOO much

[honeyandthunderstorms]

max’s katje

“Max,” Charles purrs. Quite literally purrs. “Hi.”

Max can’t tear his gaze away from the two pointy ears sticking straight out of the top of Charles’ head. The tufts of fur lining them are the exact same shade as his chocolate curls, blending almost seamlessly. They look real, but they have to be fake, right? Max blinks. Then he blinks again as his heart rate speeds up and his palms grow sweaty. Surely he can’t be losing his mind. There’s no way. But then he watches as the ears twitch and how Charles’ face twists into that menace of a smirk of his.

or

In a world where magic and potions are a thing, Charles decides he wants to be a cat for Halloween. Max likes it more than he thought he would.

[anonymous-dentist]

Part 11 of the Catboy in the Village AU

Part One | Part 10.5

-

The plan is simple:

Roier has a headache.

In reality, he's curled up under a mountain of blankets on his and Cellbit's bed clutching a pillow to his chest. His eyes are red, but he is not crying (...anymore.)

Cellbit, meanwhile, is concerned.

In reality, Cellbit is pacing a groove in the floor between his bed and his cell's door, hands behind his back clenched so hard that he can smell blood. He hasn't been able to breathe properly since breakfast, and breakfast was five days ago.

Five days. Five days of being locked in a windowless room with his borderline-suicidal husband as the queen sends spy after spy to try and track down his kids. Meals slipped in through a crack in the door, guard changes every few hours. There were even handcuffs involved until Cellbit threatened to strangle the queen with the chain.

The queen has visited every. Single. Day. Twice, even! Once in the morning, once in the evening. She comes with updates- none good- and explanations- none good- and apologies- none good.

She claims that she's trying to protect them. But she's a bad liar; Cellbit knows that this is just punishment. They disobeyed the warden, and now she's finally showing her true colors.

Cellbit hates her.

Five days of no sleeping. No eating. Just worry and pain, because his kids are fucking gone, and he doesn't know where they are, and it's his fault. He told them to run even though there were knights crawling around the entire neighborhood, he turned his back on the queen and let her hit him, he didn't stay with Roier and fight.

Cellbit hates himself.

But it's fine, he has a plan, and the plan is simple:

Roier has a headache.

It's the evening of day five of imprisonment, and the queen is due to arrive for her nightly apology update at any moment.

Coincidentally, the demon is set to appear in a few hours. Cellbit has done the math, and tonight is the night.

Pausing by the door, Cellbit can hear the guards outside shuffling to attention as the queen approaches. The heels of her boots click-click-click against the floor; for a moment, Cellbit could almost swear that it sounds like she's pacing the same way he is. But... nah.

He rushes back to the bed and drops to his knees next to it.

Only Roier's (handsome) face is visible through his depression nest, but that's fine. He's playing his part perfectly, just as he planned days ago when he and Cellbit first started scheming.

"It's time," Cellbit whispers. He slips a hand beneath a blanket and cups Roier's cheek. "She's here."

"Finally," Roier grumbles. "It's fucking hot in here."

"Of course it is. You're here, right?"

Roier, for the first time in just under twenty-four hours, cracks a smile. It's small, but it's beautiful. Cellbit wants to kiss it.

So he does.

The floor is hard, and his back still hurts from breakfast five days ago, but Cellbit would suffer through it all a hundred times over if it meant he could make his husband smile.

Cellbit feels Roier's smile widen as their kiss deepens. A hand finds itself cupping the back of Cellbit's head, a moan is let out as Cellbit playfully bites Roier's bottom lip.

The kiss falls apart as Cellbit almost doubles over laughing. He tips forward until his forehead is resting on the bed and Roier is wiggling his head back and forth in annoyance, fingers tangling in his hair.

"What?" Roier demands, playing dumb.

"Nothing!"

After a moment, Cellbit rolls his head to the side and locks eyes with Roier. He seems himself in them, and he looks so soft. He feels soft.

"Te amo," Cellbit confesses.

Once upon a time, Cellbit would have hated even thinking of himself as soft. But now he sees Roier with the exact same look in his eyes and on his face, and he knows that it's fine. It's more than fine, it's...

"Aww," Roier coos. He twists a lock of Cellbit's hair around his finger and shifts so close that their noses touch. "Eu te amo, gatinho. También."

...real.

(It's not quite right, but it's the sentiment that counts, isn't it?)

Then, just as Cellbit is thoughtlessly going in for another kiss, there's a familiar knock at the door, and he's forced to his feet with a sigh.

Roier catches his hand, moving it from his hair and down as he stands. He intertwines their fingers and squeezes once.

"Remember," he quietly says, "no explosions."

Cellbit squeezes back, once. "No promises."

And then he lets go and walks to the door. Behind him, he can hear Roier adjusting himself in bed and groaning and moaning and swearing. Cellbit himself wipes the sappy grin off his face.

Showtime.

The door opens a crack from the outside as soon as the queen hears Cellbit near it.

"Cellbit," she breathes, almost sounding legitimately upset, "I'm sorry, but there's no new information yet."

Roier moans. He doesn't even sound sexual, impressive.

Cellbit knows that he already looks concerned, because he is concerned. It was bad enough when Roier thought the kids were with Bad, but now that he knows they aren't? It's been... rough. For both of them, but especially for Roier. (He's been dreaming, again, of Bobby. And it's been keeping them both up at night.)

Still, he makes a show of looking exhausted as he leans against the doorframe and braces himself against it with a hand to his forehead.

"Great," he flatly says. "Why bother telling me?"

"Because you deserve to know, and-" the queen cuts herself off as Roier lets out a cry loud enough to shatter glass. "-uh. Is he okay?"

"WAUGH!" Roier wails.

"Headache," Cellbit replies. "He gets them a lot these days. Winter's coming, the pressure messes with his sinuses."

He sighs and lets his eyes slip shut in apparent frustration. "And the stress is just... ah, normally, I make him some medicine back home, but."

He subtly nudges the door open wider with his foot, just enough for the queen to be able to see the absolute mess of things inside the cell, including Roier in 'pain' on the bed.

Cellbit gestures towards the cell with one arm before letting it flop back to his side.

"Oh," the queen quietly says.

Then, marginally louder, she offers, "I can ask Niki to make a potion?"

Cellbit immediately shakes his head. "No, I have to be the one to do it. He won't take it if I don't, and..."

He trails off pointedly, cracking an eye open to glare.

The queen, at least, has the decency to look a bit sheepish.

"And you won't trust a potion that you don't make yourself," she finishes. "Right. That makes sense."

"Yep."

Briefly, the queen exchanges a look with the guards. They both shrug as if saying, "You're the queen."

Roier actually starts crying, then, and the queen's face falls. It's brief, so brief, but Cellbit swears that she actually looks guilty.

(He bites back a smile. Good. She should be!)

The queen looks at Cellbit and nods. "Okay. A guard and I will escort you to the healer's quarters."

Cellbit pretends to let out a relieved breath.

He turns halfway into the cell and quietly calls, "Hear that, guapito? I'll be right back."

Roier just sort of swears at him in his native language and waves an arm at him in dismissal.

As soon as Cellbit is in the hallway, there's a sword very subtly pointed at his back and a queen by his side. Great.

"This way," the queen says, and, well. Yeah. Where else would he be going?

-

The healer's quarters are, strangely enough, completely empty. Niki is gone.

"Empanada likes to have dinner with her and Mouse," the queen explains even though Cellibt doesn't ask. "I usually join them, but I'll probably be late tonight."

If that's supposed to make Cellbit feel bad, it doesn't.

He rolls up his sleeves to his elbows and takes a look at Niki's wall of ingredients.

Good, he thinks. Everything is here.

"I need goggles," he tells the queen, ignoring the guard's protests as he breaks away from the group to go and dig through a supplies chest.

Cellbit hears the queen whisper something to the guard.

Then, to him, she says, "I can get someone to make you new goggles, you know. Because you're going to be staying here."

As if.

"You're really sure of that, aren't you," Cellbit huffs. He pushes past a couple of glass vials until he finds a large-ish pair of alchemists' goggles at the bottom of the chest.

"Well, yeah," the queen says, audibly shrugging. "You're from here."

"Am I?"

She sighs. "Yes, Cellbit. How many times do I have to-"

He cuts her off: "I'm still waiting for proof."

Cellbit stands and takes his hat off. He tosses it towards the queen, who catches it easily; her eyes narrow as he pulls the goggles on and instinctively lets them rest over his ears.

"Seriously, how much more proof do you need?" she asks. "We literally look the same!"

"Nuh-uh. You're a girl."

He grins cheekily at her.

She lets out a harsh, annoyed sounding breath and goes to sit on the edge of one of the patient beds.

"But, seriously," Cellbit continues, going to the ingredients and starting to pick through them for what he needs, "I read somewhere that every person in the world has seven people that look just like them. You might just be one of my seven."

"Yeah, because we're twins."

"Or because our DNA is the same as six other people on the planet."

A pause, then:

"What the fuck is DNA?"

Cellbit's hand hesitates over a bottle of phoenix down.

He frowns. What is DNA?

"It's... something," he decides, waving the question aside. "I heard about it in prison."

Pac and Mike, for all their faults, are self-described 'scientists'. Cellbit isn't too big on the whole 'science' idea, but Pac is very good at making it sound legitimate. (Besides, this 'DNA' stuff is probably just another word for a magical component that Cellbit has in his workshop back home.)

"Right," the queen sighs. "Prison."

"Yeah," Cellbit agrees. "Prison. Because I was there. In prison."

He pauses in his ingredient-searching to check the cauldron to see if he needs to fill it. No, it's good...

"Princes don't usually go to prison, you know," he tells the queen. "Not a very royal place to be."

She nods. "You're right. Which is why I've been trying to figure out why you were in one in the first place."

"I ate a priest."

The queen laughs.

Cellbit scowls and goes back to the shelves.

He starts picking bottles up and bringing them to the table by the cauldron. He organizes them into recipe order, lets out a breath, cracks his neck, and pulls his new goggles down over his eyes.

The recipes for a healing potion and for an alchemical smokebomb are weirdly similar. The only difference is the inclusion of diluted dragon's breath in smokebombs.

Not looking up from the cauldron, Cellbit tells the queen and the guard, "If you start feeling lightheaded, please get out of the room. Healing potion fumes can be a little overwhelming if you aren't used to them."

The queen rolls her eyes. The guard just nods.

Cellbit doesn't bother with gloves as he uncorks the first bottle.

He has enough scars on his hands. What's wrong with getting one more?

-

On their way back to the cell, the queen quietly says, "Our mom tried teaching me alchemy once. It... didn't work out."

Cellbit grunts in acknowledgement.

The bottle in his hands is warm and glowing a faint golden color. To the untrained eye, it looks just like a healing potion. But the gold is the wrong shade of gold, it's too orange and not yellow enough.

The queen, of course, does not know this. Because she's stupid, and Cellbit hates her.

"I remember her teaching you, too," she continues. "You actually managed to make something. I mean, it exploded and burned your eyebrows off and almost made you go bald, but at least it didn't start melting the pot."

"See, that's how you should know that I'm not your brother," Cellbit sniffs. "I never blow my potions up."

-

"I think that I put too much liquid sunlight in..."

Cellbit frowns, laying on the bed next to Roier and holding his smokebomb up into the candlelight.

Roier groans. "Cellbo...!"

"It's fine!" Cellbit quickly assures him. "The explosion won't be that big!"

Roier rolls onto his side so that he's facing Cellbit. He looks... unimpressed. To say the least.

"Gatinho," he says.

"I'm sure it'll be fine. I'll be in front, anyway. You won't even feel it."

"But you will! Pendejo!"

Roier weakly hits Cellbit's chest. But, really, he can't be that mad; he likes Cellbit's explosions more than Cellbit does.

Midnight has almost arrived, and Cellbit and Roier are ready to make their explosive exit.

The demon will start screaming in a matter of minutes. The castle will be in a state of disarray, just like it is every time the demon shows up, and that's when they'll strike.

They're already dressed for travel. Roier has already done his stretches, and Cellbit managed to smuggle a steak knife away from his dinner plate when the guards weren't looking. (He's better with knives than swords.)

The second the castle starts to shake, Cellbit will scream for help, and the guards will come rushing in because he's "the prince'. Roier will throw the bomb as soon as the door is open, and then they'll both disarm-and-slash-or-kill the guards in the smoke. It'll be too loud for anyone to hear the action. They'll leave the guards locked in their own bedroom and escape out the garden exit gate that Cellbit noticed all those days ago.

It isn't the best plan, but it's good enough.

It has to be.

Sighing, Roier takes Cellbit's free hand and holds it between them.

"I'm going to kill Bad Boy Halo," he declares.

Cellbit nods, heart fluttering in his chest. "I'll help you."

"Nah, you can watch." (Roier looks at him slyly out of the corner of his eye.) "I know you like that."

He wiggles his eyebrows.

Cellbit flushes red, but he doesn't argue.

They lay in silence, waiting.

Waiting.

(Cellbit tries not to imagine his children laying cold and dead in an alley somewhere near the shop.

He fails.)

Waiting.

And then the castle starts to rumble and shake, and it's time.

Cellbit looks at Roier.

Roier looks at Cellbit.

The demon starts to wail, and Cellbit and Roier quickly separate from each other and run for the door. They settle on opposite sides of it, ready.

Cellbit waits until the first books start to fall before screaming, "Help! I think something is in the room with us!"

Roier lets out an exaggerated cry and a gurgle. He also makes a very funny face; Cellbit bites his lip to keep himself from laughing.

There's a faint, "Oh, shit!", from the opposite side of the door, and then-

Cellbit frowns as something starts slamming against the door from the outside. Are the guards trying to break it down or something? Where is their key?

He meets Roier's eyes. Roier looks just as wary, if not more so. (He is the more paranoid one of them these days, somehow, after all.)

Cellbit prepares the bottle. He also reaches into his pocket and grabs hold of his stolen steak knife.

The door crashes inwards, and Cellbit throws the bottle to the ground as hard as he can.

Light.

That's all he can see: a blinding white light. All he can feel is heat prickling at his skin. He can smell smoke. He can taste fire.

He can't hear a thing besides the ringing in his ears.

And then, suddenly, the light is gone, and the world is all smoke and chaos.

There's a singular figure in the middle of the smoke: short and recoiling from the explosion.

Cellbit grits his teeth and lunges for the door, leaving the guard to Roier. He'll take care of the one that should still be outside.

Except, he realizes as he stumbles into the hallway, there isn't anyone outside.

The hall is filled with black smoke from ceiling to floor, and the torches on the wall have all been snuffed out by the force of the blast, but, even still, he can tell that it's empty.

The world starts filling in his ears again, slowly. There's the demon. The shaking. The ending of a scream.

And Roier shouting, "Cellbo!"

On instinct, Cellbit turns and runs back into the cell. His eyes are stinging from the smoke and his nose and throat are so irritated that he doesn't know if he can even speak anymore, but he swipes at the lone guard with his knife, anyway.

"Roier!" he croaks.

He dodges as the guard tries to grab his wrist.

Glowing red eyes, four of them, creep up on the guard from behind as they continue trying to restrain Cellbit. That's all Cellbit can see through the smoke, and it's as horrifying and terrifying and just as stunning as it was the first time Cellbit saw him properly so many years ago.

Two arms- and only two arms- suddenly grab the guard from behind and pin their arms to their sides. The guard screams (same scream Cellbit heard the end of earlier, but-) and thrashes and there are footsteps coming from down the hall, and there are a lot of them, and-

"Roier, what the fuck!?" the guard demands, and, wait- "Let me go! We need to get out of here!"

Immediately, Roier lets go and turns the guard around. "No mames, what the fuck? What are you doing here?"

"Rescuing you, dude! Now, come on! Cellbit, you, too!"

Cellbit coughs in response. He's crying, but it's from the smoke. And only from the smoke.

The three of them stagger into the hallway just in time for the smoke to start to clear.

At some point, the demon stopped its tantrum, leaving the castle in silence.

Cellbit wheezes his way into briefly hugging the guard, his guard, his husband's guard.

"Jaiden!" he shouts, backing up and looking over her shoulder cautiously. "We need to hurry, I don't know when the other guards will arrive."

Jaiden, somehow there and in the castle and there, just nods. She's smiling, though, because she's just as crazy as Roier is.

"Come on!" she excitedly says. "I've got a surprise for you waiting outside!"

"Oh, yeah?" Roier asks, waving the smoke away from his face with a wrinkled nose. "If it isn't Richarlyson, I don't want it."

Jaiden laughs.

(If she's here, then Foolish knows, and they'll get to go home, and-)

But then Cellbit sees her: the queen in a sage green nightgown holding a candle in one hand and a goddamn frying pan in the other. And she looks pissed.

"Oh, shit," he swears.

He steps protectively in front of Roier.

Roier steps protectively in front of him.

Jaiden rolls her eyes and steps protectively in front of both of them with her sword drawn.

"Cellbit!" the queen roars. "What the hell?"

Cellbit opens his mouth to insult her, but he's stunned silent by a small little shout from the smoke behind the queen:

"Pai!"

Cellbit can't help it. Even if it is some magical trick, he can't help it.

He drops his knife.

But Richarlyson is still holding his as he runs between the queen's legs and under her nightgown and towards the three of them. And right behind him is a frantic-looking Pepito with his thumb in his mouth and tears streaming down his face.

Roier gasps.

It's on instinct that Cellbit drops to his knees and opens his arms. His children run right into them; Richarlyson's knife stabs a little into his back, but that's fine.

The queen stops short with a... complicated look on her face.

Jaiden, not tearing her eyes off of the queen, says, "I told you I had a surprise!"

Pepito leans up and whispers into Cellbit's ear, words slurred by his thumb, "I think Tía Jaiden ran away from home."

The castle's guards start filing into the hallway now that the demon is done attacking. They immediately surround the group and form a barrier between them and the queen, targeting Jaiden, who only manages to fight off four guards before being overcome.

They lost. They lost before they could even start fighting.

But. But Roier crashes to the ground next to Cellbit and gets an armful of Pepito and Richarlyson, and his stunned smile says a thousand words.

(Failure has never been so bittersweet.)

[revelisms]

Throwing down possibly the tenderest, goofiest, and most feral smut I've written to date...and of course it's with these two. Features: The mortifying ordeal of being Known, gratuitous banter, laughing during sex, Terzo being filthy, and all-around spicy sweetness ;-)

a taste of honey

WC: 4k | Rating: E, 🔞 | Terzo x Alessio (Sibling of Sin OC) | CWs: Established relationship, self-esteem issues, oral sex, switching, dirty talk Also on AO3

The heavens decided to piss a storm the day the European tour was due to start.

It was a putrid sign, according to Nihil. During the 1970 tour, torrential rains had stranded them outside Vienne, tarnished a quarter of their equipment, and left them to scavenge for spare cables hours before their first show.

Terzo, a stack of entry permits pinned between his teeth, had been too late to care. The bus had already given him a honk of warning. His ghouls, always dutiful, had been more than on time.

Huddled in the shelter of the Ministry's front steps stood his impatient-footed sendoff: the All-Father, slippered and spluttering; the retired Monsignor Emeritus, half-smiled; the recently retired Archbishop Emeritus, perpetually-scowled; Cardinal Copia, relegated to packing the final cases of clothes into the bus's undercarriage, standing now like a drowned rat beside them; and the lead financial advisor to the church, who had intentionally placed themself a few paces from the bickering cavalry.

"They've been waiting on you," Ale hushed, throwing Terzo a look.

"I know, I know—Sa'nts."

He'd cycled through his goodbyes like a stack of swiped signatures. Ale's own had been too quick for them to savor. He'd squeezed them into his neck, a black-nailed hand warm at their shoulder. There'd been frankincense and citrus on his clothes, and a trace of cigarette smoke on his hair.

"See you, little bird," he'd mumbled into their cheek.  

Ale kissed his own. "Break a leg."

"You say that to a clumsy man? Lucifer forbid, you will jinx it, darling—they'll wheel me back in a cast!"

"You know what I mean."

A grin glittered in his eyes. His hand clapped softly over their nape. "I know, I know."

Then, like a spirit, he was gone.

It'd been the last they'd seen of him in two months—and the color and chaos had been stripped away, with him.

No chainsawed bantering over popped corks of wine. No wet footprints all over the floor, from him sauntering half-dried from his bath. No sweltering limbs crowding into their dormitory bed, no half-finished songs hummed over chipped piano keys and black-glossed guitars, no chocolate foils twisted into bizarre sculptures on their desk.

The noise was a given; the mess, a creative byproduct. In the face of their own manicured routines, it may as well have come from a separate dimension. Countless summers with their grandfather had given them an appreciation for a quiet home, and turned them tidy as a soldier: qualities no living soul could seem to train into him.

They'd given up the battle, eventually, opting for daily walks far, far away from pit he called a living space. For their own sanity, they'd learned not to question the last time he'd had his cushions steam-cleaned.

But now, in some cruel twist of irony, they find themself nosing into his rooms more nights than not, scavenging for any crumbs of normalcy they can find.

His papal suite is a cavern of deep reds and violets. Dark walls, dark floors, dark velvet on every surface—if one can find the surfaces, at all, given the dimness of his lamps. Opening his windows helps, on the days he allows it, but then one sees the wreckage: clothes slopped over the backs of chairs and doors, like shedded snakeskins; villages of espresso cups and dessert plates cluttering his tables; trashbins piled high with discarded sheets of music; strange little trinkets littered across his shelves, sporting a healthy layer of dust.

Through all of it, though, he'd be there.

His crooked smiles and crinkling eyes, wrapped in shades of black. His musings about art and poetry and literature. His spitballed song titles between half-finished lyrics, and stories about Barcelona, and Berlin—

"—and Brussels." A set of wine glasses clink across the room. "Only had two days to admire the damned place, of course—but the architecture? Satan, it was gorgeous. And don't get me started on the gardens—would put the old bat to shame, those things. The roses."

He's a week earlier than they'd expected him. In the mad rush to tidy everything, it'd left them numb as a plank in his arms.

He'd reeked of engine exhaust and stale cigarettes, their cheek smushed against the satchel slung over his shoulder: devoured by the heat of his body, his breath, his lips on their hair. Not a single text or call could come close to it.

The greeting hadn't lasted long, though. He'd beelined to his ensuite, desperate to wash the stink of the bus off him.

In retrospect, they should have followed him into that damned bath—but they'd slumped back into a world of lines and numbers, instead, trying fruitlessly to maintain appearances.

Still—

Gardens, roses. 

"Sounds beautiful," Ale says.

They can hear the smile in his purr. "The stars could hardly compare, darling."

Over the rims of their readers, they take him in again—their second attempt to confirm that he's here, flesh and blood, and not just some jabbering figment of their imagination.

His footsteps are weaving unhurriedly through the arm chairs and cocktail tables and haphazard book piles that make up his main room. His hair is still damp, slicked back into a sea of untamed waves. There's nothing but a dressing gown on him. In his hands: two glasses of Casavecchia. 

Weariness mangles with the smirk he tosses them, hangs off his bones like a corpse. This tour is moving at breakneck speed—partly by Sister's doing, and partly by his own—and any urgings to take a sabbatical has seemed to fall on deaf ears.

But he's here.

Their thumb skims over their sheet of expenses, creases it. "You're back," they say eloquently.

His dimples are quick to deepen. A chuckle hisses through his teeth. "I am," he murls, and leans down: trades their glass for a kiss. Bath salt and amber ebbs off him, baked into his skin like ambrosia. His voice melts like satin against their mouth. "Hi."

A smile pricks at the corners of their mouth, and blooms. "Hi."

"Missed me, eh?"

They'd elbow him, if the sight of him wet and half-dressed wasn't enough to have them nearly dragging him off his feet. They settle for nuzzling rather self-indulgently into his chest hair. "Just a little."

He scoffs. "Just a little! You wound me, sweetness."

"Sit down."

"I am in the process of it, no?" He clicks his tongue. "Although...it seems I have a little cuddle spider here blocking my way."

They glare through their glasses, crooked now on their face. It's one of the pet names he favors, knowing they despise arachnids more than anything alive. "Will you sit."

A playful growl sings by their cheek. "Oh, no no no. Now, I have you right here, mh?"

"Terzo." 

His mouth skims over their start of their neck. "Right where I want you."

"Sit. Down."

He plants a kiss on their jaw and snickers. "My grumpy little cuddle spider," he chuffs, slumping beside them, "who is still working." Without warning, their readers are plucked from their nose, finding a home upon the end-table. "And who has cleaned for me," he mumbles on, sinking back into the cushions. "You did not have to do all this for me, sweetheart."

Ale folds up their receipts, slides them back into their notebook. "I wanted to."

His tone skews from playful to petulant. "But you did not have to."

There's a strange thing under his smile. A marker of his tiredness, perhaps—or his inclination to squirm at any tenderness he receives.

He's used to being desired. Not to being cared for.

Some nights, denial still rears its head.

Their stare turns silent; his own, twitchy. "I know," he says quietly, before they can beat him to it. His thumb fidgets over his nails, picking at varnish already chipped. "It's just..."

The words struggle to form, swallowed down, as they often are. So Ale waits for his discomfort to soften. His thumb skims the underside of their palm.

"I love you, you know," they remind him.

His tips them a half-smile, sly and lovely. It almost reaches his eyes. "First, they bandage my weak heart—now they try to woo me, eh?"

Ale lifts their brows. "It's almost like...I like doing things for you," they tease.

His ears perk, in an instant. "Oh—do you, now?" 

"Sometimes."

The grin turns impish. "I see," he hushes, nosing into their cheek. "Well." His voice sinks, then: smooth as butter and burning as a flame, a cavernous thing that never fails to leave them shivering. "Is...now one of those times?"

Ale hums. Their fingers wander, trace a slow pilgrimage down the veins in his arm. "Maybe." Beneath their hand, his blood beats, beats— "Can I...do anything for you?"

He's gone for another drink, but the glass stills. 

Sometimes, Lilith willing, he knows when to shut up. To let their heartbeat begin to rattle in their ears. Their eyes linger, loiter, ache.

He runs his tongue over his teeth, ticks it. His fingertips clink at his glass. "Looking for an invitation?"

Ale swallows. "Maybe," they say again.

He tries and fails not to grin. "Che—maybe, maybe, always maybes, with you—"

They kiss him.

It's fast, and starved, and sloppy—and he melts within it. A sea of warmth, beaded bathwater on his jaw, on that dark freckle on his neck: his chest puffed against theirs, and his head rolling to the side.

Their hands are dragging through his hair to pull him closer. His nose nuzzling beneath their ear, nipping a growl into their skin.

When they got lost in his robe, they don't know, don't care.

"Seems like someone is, ah—on a mission, huh—?"

Their knees stretch, slump to the floor. Their fingers follow the dark hem of his neckline like a tether in a storm.

He watches them go down with eyes bloomed with black.

"You've been gone," Ale finds themself saying, as though that's answer enough. Their hands slide farther, find the silken knot at his waist. "I need to taste you." Slowly, slowly pull it free: a dozy hiss. Their breath jitters. His own stills. "If you—"

He presses his knee into their shoulder. It wrenches their eyes up, and their mouth closed.

For a suffocating moment, there's only green and white, new moons eclipsed, shadowed like the barrel of the gun.

If he was any more a demon than his blood has already leant him to be, that stare alone would have their soul devoured and their bones heaped where they sit.

Terzo's lashes flutter like a royal. Idly, he tips his glass into another sip. Ale watches his throat like a hound.

"Well, then," he rumbles, smirking over his wine, before he unfolds his legs. His robe slithers apart, with them: dark hair and warm skin, soft curves and muscle, baring the damp slopes of his thighs, the pink-kissed flush of his cock between them. "Get on with it."

No banter, to that—nothing they can dream of saying, now.

His glass turns clumsily forgotten, abandoned. His lashes heavy on eyes a touch from rolling closed.

In the quiet chaos of their own artistry, he is the muse; their tongue, the brush glossing down the canvas of his body. Every crease, every curve, every salt-sweetened vein. Satin warmth and silkened musk, blooming on their tongue like nectar.

He fists a hand through their hair. Chokes out a breath.

"Al—ah—"

And they swallow him whole.

His head slumps back into the cushions. 

Tenderness and need mangles beneath his nails. Between it, a primal mindlessness—to take, to fuck, to command. It hangs in the way his palm squeezes on their neck: the way the warmth of his skin shudders down their spine: the way his hips bow off the sofa, aching to drive them down more, more—

But they lay a hand on his thigh. Catch his eyes, hazed with hunger. 

And he eases. Shivers.

Lets them play him like a string.

A slick twist of their mouth; gravel in his throat. "Oh." A lingering stroke of their fist; a river in his lungs. "Hh—" Their lips kissed over every velvet seam; heat jolting on their tongue. "Sl-oh—fuck." His nails paint tremors over their nape. "Slower, sweetheart," he huffs, "that's...mmh, that's..."

They can't resist lifting their eyes. Lost on the marbled arch of his body, that damned freckle on his neck. The flush in his chest, ebbing like a tide—his robe off his shoulder, fine-brushed ink splayed down down down: warm on his thigh, trembling against their cheek.

His voice is pinched, breathless. "Oh, that's g-hh—fuck, that's good—" 

Their hand slithers over his belly, catches at his waist: holds him like a serpent writhing from a kill, a beast fighting free from the confines of its own pleasure. The warmth of his palm anchors on the back of their head. The other scrapes at the cushions. 

"Fuck," he bites out, his face scrunched. "Don't st-ah—oh, fuck, don't stop—don't—oh—oh—"

Ale weighs him down. Devours him. Licks him up like sugar: bittersweet and molten, sweat and spice, the broken whine of his breath delectable.

A symphony to their ears.

When he comes down, he comes down slowly: lungs heaving, hummed. They could stay there for hours, waiting for any final taste he'll give them; for the first slow-thumbed stroke of praise. The lazy grin that peeks through his fringe is more than enough.

"You," Terzo purrs, deliciously low. They swallow around him: watch his lashes flicker, his teeth pit into his lip. "Mh." He smooths the start of tears from their lashes. "My tempter," he hushes on, "my marvel." Their jaw aches when they pull away, cradled in his palm. They wouldn't trade it for the world. "Saints, you're good to me—always so good to me, sweetheart. Come here."

Their legs try. He draws them up the rest of the way, a warm tangle of hands and kisses, his heart beating like a drum at their back. 

Ale tips into his neck, sighing. "Was that—was that all you needed?"

His mouth plants another string of pecks under their jaw. "All I needed?" Clever fingertips at their shirt: squeezing slow and molten over their chest. Ale flinches, arching like a crescent. "You seem...quite strung up, yourself, little one." 

If that's his thigh nudging between theirs—and Hell, it is—he's not all that far off. Not that he usually is. 

He teethes at their ear, a smile playing at his lips. His hand finds the bare slope of their waist: thumbs harder at their back, urging them to grind down again, grind firmer, and—

"Oh—"

There's wonder edging darkly in his voice: prideful as much as adoring. "All this just from tasting me, mh...?"

Ale's fingertips dimple deep on his thigh. Beneath it, muscle firm as marble. "Not just—tasting you," they huff. His fingertips curl beneath the waistband of their slacks. "Watching how you—hearing you—"

The words slither into a gasp. Their nails knit through his hair.

They babble. One of his hands palms lazily against their briefs, matching the rhythm their hips seem intent on setting. The other smooths over their throat, squeezes under their chin.

"Easy, darling," he gravels in their ear. His thumb hushes along their jaw. "You can tell me. Go on."

The words tangle on their tongue. They could manage, maybe, if his hand wasn't doing that—

"I—I—"

The heel of his palm circles hard against their clit, softens to a lazy squeeze. Beneath it, his fingers: sliding lower, and lower still.

"Oh—I want your mouth," Ale blurts. "I want your tongue—I need to you fuck me, fuck—please—"

His breath snuffs to a groan. "Shit."

It all moves too fast: their bones too electric. 

The sofa whuffs beneath their back. Their slacks rustle off their legs, shucked unceremoniously to the floor. A wine glass might have toppled over, or one of the book stacks, or both. A pillow Ale kicks joins them.

"Lilith—you're making a mess, already." He doesn't mean the state of his floor.

Their skin burns. "Terzo," they hiss.

Their briefs snap on their knee, glide quick past their ankle. "What?" He tosses them a toothy smile, nuzzling into their hip. "It is true." He draws in a quiet breath, savoringly slow; rasps it out, on a growl. "Oh...fuck, you smell good." 

Ale drags their thigh against his shoulder. Their fingers pinch through his hair: steer him down. And he plants a kiss to their inner thigh. Lifts his eyes, again. 

Silence bubbles. Their nails cave. His breath is too close—not close enough.

Then, he bows to lay homage to them. 

Worships. Feasts.

His mouth is molten, the slick-skimmed glide of his lips like a hit from a drug. Euphoria buzzes down their bones, and wrenches to a livewire: leaves them whimpering like a dog, already.

Saints beneath, it's good.

Their legs clamp around his head. Their fingers scrape through the waves at his nape. A purr of encouragement sears against them.

"Oh—oh, just like that," Ale gasps. The cushions are drinking them down, another pillow kicked to the floor, his hair slipping between their knuckles. His fingers kiss, curl, glide in. "That feels so—oh...right there, right there...yes, baby, that—"

His tongue laps, licks; paths a burning current over their clit, straight up to their stomach, and trades for a bite.

Their gasp flutters to a giggle. His own joins it, low as a beast's.

His fingers are crooking higher, curling sweet and slow inside them, sliding out to a simmering stroke. Their teeth ache on their wrist. Still, their body sings back with a mind of its own. 

They can feel his breath scattering over their skin, his eyes on them, mapping out the pleasure in their body—every tremble and yelp and panted praise, every twist of their arms and legs. They won't last long, not at this rate: not with his nose teasing through the sweat beaded on their skin, his cheek skimming the glitter his fingers have spread, his mouth sucking over them.

"Terzo—Terz-oh—fuck—!"

They yank on his hair. Feel a grin lavish against them. 

The press of his teeth does them in.

In one go, they lose control of their limbs and their mouth: a half-mooned contortion of stunted shrieks, drowned in bliss that fizzles like a firecracker and bursts like a damn. Where he had come down slowly, they shatter like glass—some overheated sculpture crushed to powder, and smelted, somehow, back to something functional between his hands.

On their stomach: mothwing blooms of warm lips.

"Still with me, sweetness?" Terzo husks, eventually.

They can't feel their fingers. The cushions puff to a crater beneath their hand.

"Yeah?" He tilts his chin over their hip. "Feeling good?"

Another hum, hazy with satisfaction.

"Good. Very good." Terzo pauses, teething a soft smile against their belly. They can hear the smugness in his voice. "I, eh...heh...may need another bath, after that."

They stuff a groan into their arm. "Baby."

"What? As I said—it is the truth!" 

He makes a show of wiping off his cheek, with all the grace of a burlesque artist. And, Satan, he's beautiful. His hair wrecked, his eyes twelve shades of admiring, kissing the sheen off his thumb. 

"In fact," he rumbles on, shimmying closer, "I may just need to have you cum like that, again. Hell beneath."

Their hands slide up to cover their face.

A snicker spills over their belly. "Darling, you are so shy—come on, now." He smooths his hands over their waist. "You do not have to be shy about it."

"I didn't...think I'd get so loud," they mumble, mortified.

"I love when you get loud," he counters.

"I made a mess."

"I love when you make a mess."

"I already cleaned everything."

"And I told you: you did not have to do this, for me."

They groan again.

"Al," Terzo chuckles, speckled still with exasperation. For a moment, he just traces the hair over their knee, turning his mouth into it. His words soften. "Why are you so ashamed, eh?"

"I'm not ashamed."

"You are," he crows. His nose finds its way back to their stomach, smushed into a low burr. "My love, my heart—do you have any idea how much I want you...? How it's been, with all these weeks in between?" They settle their hand gingerly over his ear, stroking the tangle of black from his cheek. He sighs, curling his fingers against their back. "Torturous," he hushes.

Ale bites their lip. Feels their heart fuzz to cotton beneath their ribs.

More honestly melts out of them than they can help.

"I...I don't know what to do with myself," they admit. "I've never felt this...need to just..."

Any straws they grasp for come up short. 

It's another cruel irony, perhaps the cruelest of them all: they, who never needed anything; had been adamant about it, for so many years—

And yet.

They shrug, flushed, voice small. "I want you, so much," they admit, at last—like it's something no part of them should dream of exposing. "I want you all the time."

Terzo's eyes are on them, again. They feel his throat shift. His thumbs stroke down their hips.

"Look at me."

Their breath catches in their throat. Velvet crumples beneath their fingers.

"No thought of you—no memory of you is enough to replace this. Not your heat, your sound, your everything." His lips ghost over their skin, again. "And I..."

Ale swallows, watching as an animal stirs beneath his skin: lust-blind, and raw, and ravenous.

"I want you wet." He sighs a kiss against their stomach. "I want you writhing." Another, beneath their ribs. His palms glide up, splaying along the wings of them, squeezing. "I want you under my nails," he gravels against their sternum. "I want to smell you on my rings." His lips catch beneath their chin. "I want you stained so deep into this fucking chaise, they can't clean you out."

Their pulse batters like a rabbit's, aches into a mew.

"I want you soaked so far into my skin, I can't wash you off," he purrs into their neck. "I want you on my teeth, in my lungs—I want you always."

In four different ways, their body hunts for more of him: hips, hands, chest, mouth. His fingertips dimple at their jaw, before they can steal a kiss—the mingling of his breath slow, sweltering. They can taste themself on it.

"I don't care how much of a mess you make," he hushes on, "because I'll take as much of it as you can give me." A touch catches on the crook of their knee, and tugs: the seams of their bodies melded deliciously to one. Ale loses themself to the heat, the firelight, the shadow. To the trace of his lips on theirs. "And I'm not done making a mess of you, yet."

Their noses bump. Ale's lashes flutter; their nails creased at his shoulders.

No more fingers on their jaw, now—nestled in their hair, in their heart, their tunnel-visioned need to kiss him stupid.

"Fucking Hell," they snarl, entangled with him as close as they can manage.

Terzo preens, breathless. "Good?"

"You keep talking like that, I'll have you buttoned up to your ears for weeks."

They can feel him stir against their hip in the same beat that his bones liquify. "Oh." Their lips trail down the soft cut of his jaw. "I have m-nh—makeup, darling."

"Then you'll need to use it." Ale pulls him back into a kiss, sliding their fingers along his neck. He can't get his hands around them, fast enough. "Take me to bed."

A grin stretches against their lips. "Is that all?" he mumbles between another kiss, and another.

"Take me to bed, and don't trip."

His laughter wheezes like a kettle. "Hell's sake, Alessio." Their own snort mingles with it.

Peppered between their pecks, they slip him a smile. "Please," they add gently. 

He nearly does trip, once he's finally found his footing: his robe tangled up, and his vision clouded by them, hoisted boneless and giddy into his arms. 

"Watch the table—"

"I know, I know—"

But he manages, somehow.

They both always do.