#he sits on them and NOT cat beds of any sort

[rookinthecrownest]

Bedtime Stories For a Demon, Night 3.5: The Wigmaker Job (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

** Major Veilguard Spoilers ahead (srsly don't read if you haven't finished the game)

There was something amiss with Madeleina Mercar, and he wasn’t going to pry.

But a small part of him wanted to. Almost ached to know what she was doing, locked in either her room or the occasional visit to the infirmary. The infirmary is what he’s more curious about. Within hours of arriving at the Lighthouse he had scoped the entire place out- learned all the entrances, choke points, best defensible positions, etcetera. Within a day he has a fully fleshed out mental map of the grounds. He had peeked in the infirmary so as take to stock of all the supplies there. As far as he can tell, only Rook has ever stayed in that room.

She only comes out for brief periods of time to take a small meal from the dining hall back to wherever she decides to isolate herself. He tries to make sure there’s always something on the table for her to grab, if she refuses to come to dinner.

After they returned from Treviso, Madeleina had gone to Minrathous to check on Neve and the Shadow Dragons. Neve, understandably, had elected to remain behind and assist with the Shadow’s effort to rebuild. Between the dragon, the blight, and the Venatori, they had been decimated. He shudders to think about what the damage to Treviso might have looked like if she had chosen differently.

But the fact is, Madeleina hasn’t been the same since her return. Was it seeing the blight devour Minrathous? The Venatori taking control of the city? All of the above, or something else?

She made a quick appearance to the group after speaking with Solas, to tell them they needed a Fade expert and a Dragon Hunter. Both Bellara and Harding had leads, but it would take time to organize a meeting with either specialist. After that, her appearances become increasingly rare.

There’s a sort of hollowness in her gaze, whenever he can catch a fleeting glimpse of her. She won’t make eye contact for long, with anyone. Dark circles begin to rim her lower eyelids, mirroring his own.

She’s not sleeping.

Lucanis is certain he’s not the only one that’s noticed or concerned.

Bellara, tries and fails, to bring her out of the cocoon by offering to read together. Harding checks in on her, only to be met with a few polite words and a dismissive hand wave. Neve isn’t around to strong-arm her into snapping out of it. Davrin is too new to the team to broach the delicate situation around their leader.

And here he is, in the pantry, sitting on his cot. Doing nothing to help.

But what can he do anyway?

He doesn’t feel like he is any more equipped to breach whatever wall she’s put up any more than the rest of the group. Perhaps even less so. A year in the Ossuary had not exactly done him any favours in learning to deal with the emotional needs of others. His own were in a constant state of turmoil he can barely parse out. Some nights it grew increasingly difficult to tell where he began, and Spite ended.

On the nights that Madeleina sits with him by the fire, telling him a story with her magic, the lines between them stay a little sharper.

The demon bristles behind his eyes. He ignores it.

Compelled to break this inertia, he stands from his cot and makes for the door.

There is one thing he’s curious about that he thinks he could find the answer to. Lucanis decides that’s as good a place to start as any.

~*~

He finds Lace Harding tending to her garden.

Spearmint, he notices, growing in a neat row at the edge of the plant bed. He remembers picking that up with Madeleina when he showed her around the Treviso market. Remembers the awe on her face, and the warmth that settled in his chest at seeing someone appreciate his home like he did. The way she curiously picked at everything the vendors were selling, pet the stray cats, and clapped for street performers before tossing them a sovereign.

Warm glow of lanterns like bolts of light in her hair, the redness on her cheeks, her smile and –

Lucanis clears his throat, “Harding”

Lace perks up at the sound of her name and turns to face him. She’s surprised at first, but her face settles into an uneasy smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Not like it does when Madeleina is around.

“Oh, Lucanis” She pushes up on her thigh to stand, before wiping her gloves on her shirt. “Hi!” Her tone is light, but he doesn’t miss the undercurrent of weariness in her voice.

“I hope I’m not interrupting – “

Harding cuts him off with a dismissive wave, “No, not at all, just doing a little gardening. How can I help?”

“I wanted to ask you something …” He quickly adds, “About Rook”

Harding frowns. She motions to the stool across from her bedroll. Lucanis hesitantly takes a seat, and Harding settles herself on the bedroll.

“Yeah… she hasn’t taken losing Minrathous well.” She starts, crossing her legs.

“It’s not about that, actually. Although I suppose it may be related”

Harding tilts her head, now more curious than uneasy. He takes it as an invitation to continue but fumbles on how to word his question.

“Back in Treviso” he begins, lacing his fingers together. “Rook mentioned she had to check in with someone. Someone named Varric …”

At the mention of his name, Harding’s entire demeanour changes. Her spine straightens, and there is something flickering behind her eyes- an emotion or a memory he’s not privy to. Her mouth sets in a thin, hard line.

“Varric…” she repeats slowly. She sighs, her shoulders sinking with some invisible weight, “Right, you don’t know”

Lucanis gives her an expectant look.

Harding’s gaze drifts towards her lap. Her voice is low, and quiet.

“Varric…” She begins, then pauses. Like she’s not sure where to take her explanation next.

“Varric and I were in the Inquisition together. We’d been hunting Solas for the last ten years. We were the ones who recruited Rook out of the Shadow Dragons and started this whole…thing…” She gestures vaguely in the air, before continuing.

“You already know that we interrupted Solas’ ritual to tear down the Veil.” Harding’s hazel-green eyes meet his, and they’re glassy with tears just waiting to spring forth. “What you don’t know is that Varric was with us, and he died at the ritual. Stabbed by Solas’ Lyrium dagger.”

Harding takes a shaky breath and bites her bottom lip. He can see the gears turning behind her eyes as she tries to phrase the next piece of her sordid explanation.

“Harding …”

She brings her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them.

“Neve and I thought … we thought Rook knew too. But when she woke up at the Lighthouse, she started talking about how happy she was to see Varric survived. How… how she’d need to debrief with him after missions…”

Her voice is shaking now, and he desperately wishes he had a more comforting presence. Or knew how to be comforting in general. All he can settle for is patient silence.

“We’d hear her talk to him in the infirmary – well, talk to herself really.”

That explains her trips there.

“So, all this time… Rook has been talking to a dead man?”

Harding nods slowly.

Lucanis doesn’t know what kind of explanation he was expecting, but this was much worse than anything he could have come up with on his own.

 “I think … it’s her way of coping with what happened … Neve and I have just sort of been going along with it”

“Mierda…”

He’s surprised when Harding speaks next.

“Have you tried talking to her?” she asks gently.

He leans back in his stool, careful not to fall over.

“Me? No”

The dwarf stands up and pats her leggings free of some settled dirt, before returning to her garden.

“I think you should try” she calls from over her shoulder, while patting some dirt “She … she might listen to you”

He doesn’t answer. Lucanis stands to his feet, taking that as his cue to leave.

“Thank you, Harding” He says, as he starts for the door.

Though he’s not yet sure what to do with the information learned from Harding, he feels the awkward edges of a plan start to take root in the back of his mind.

~*~

Madeleina Mercar sits in Solas’ music room, surrounded by wisps and instruments from current and bygone eras, and …. Cheese. A lot of cheese.

She has no idea why the God of Trickery and Lies needs twenty cheese wheels in his music room. Doesn’t care to know the answer, either.

The lyre she was practicing with lies discarded at her side. She tries and fails to tune it. Tries and fails to play a few runs from a lullaby she can barely remember. Then, she gives up and lets the poor thing rest against the wall.

She nibbles on a small wedge unceremoniously torn off the closest cheese wheel.

Tarquin’s harsh words, Viper’s affliction with the blight, and Neve’s hurt loop in her mind like a never-ending dream. An eternal nightmare.

This is all you. The risen gods. The blight. The dragon. Now the city’s lost to the Venatori –

And although Viper had cut him off, the reassurance felt hollow from someone who was lying on his death bed because of her actions. Because of her choice.

This is all you.

Even if Tarquin didn’t mean his words, they pressed against her heart like a brand. Even if he tried to take them back, they’d been spoken into existence and burned into her forever.

It was all me.

Minrathous is gone because of me.

She brings her knees closer to her chest.

Somewhere deep down, she wants to believe that’s not true. That her being in Minrathous might not have drastically changed the outcome. She was just one person after all. They had barely managed to wound the dragon in Treviso. Had Ghilan’nain not called it back, she doubted the merchant city would have fared any better than Minrathous. Maybe even worse.

But she can’t bring herself to accept it.

She’s the leader. The consequences fall on her head, and her head alone.

And she is utterly terrified for the choices to come.

Maker’s breath, she would kill for a glass of wine to go with this cheese. Something to take the edge off. But she can’t bring herself to walk into the dining hall or the pantry.

She knows this can only go on for so long. She’ll have to start showing her face to the rest of the team at some point. To Lucanis.

She’s already starting to miss the little ritual they’ve developed.

A warm fire, good company, good food, and a good story. Spite’s occasional interjection when the story doesn’t go the way he wants it to. Scolding him like a misbehaving puppy when he does.

She doesn’t know how much she’s missed it until she’s gone a few nights without it. Doesn’t realize just how much comfort he finds in his presence. His quiet, steady confidence off and on the battle field. The surety in his step and his voice. She feels like she can falter, and he’ll be there to catch the misstep. To catch her.

She wonders if he misses the stories as much as she does.

Madeleina wants to move, to seek him out, and ask him to share a story with her.

But her limbs are made of lead. Her breaking heart is a stone in her chest, keeping her rooted in place.

She debates having another go at the lyre, but her arm only moves to bring more cheese to her mouth. What a pathetic sight she must make for someone who is supposedly this world’s only hope against the Evanuris.

Maker, I hope no one sees me like this –

Before she can even fully finish the thought, the stone door to the music room slides open. In walks the one person she wants to see, is terrified to see, and the last person she expected to see.

Lucanis Dellamorte.

She straightens up against the wall and quickly swallows the cheese already in her mouth, not bothering to chew.

“Lucanis” She says, stupidly. She wipes her hands on her shirt and shakes them out. A smile tries to pry its way onto her features, but it doesn’t quite get there.

“Madeleina” He answers, taking a few steps closer towards her. She’s still getting used to hearing her name roll off his tongue. It sends her chest fluttering every time he does.

He’s standing over her now, with two cups in his hand. She recognizes the smell. Sweet and warm – cioccolata calda. Lucanis casts a sidelong glance to the partially eaten wheel of cheese by her side. His brow quirks.

“You’ve been busy” He remarks dryly.

Madeleina’s cheeks flush.

“I … was just trying to tune this stupid lyre …” She reaches for the instrument and holds it up for a brief moment. Doesn’t want to say the real reason she’s alone in the music room eating through an ancient Elven god’s cheese stores. “Got hungry”

“Mm” He makes a noncommittal noise and nods slowly. “I see”

She knows he doesn’t believe her and is thankful he chooses not to say anything.

When he sits down on the floor next to her, she reflexively shifts over a bit to keep more room between them. He hands her the cup in his left hand, and she takes it gratefully. Takes a brief smell of the sweet aroma before her sip. The warmth of it is a balm to her sour mood.

They sit in companionable silence and with anyone else Madeleina would feel the moments stretch into an eternity, but not with him. The silence, like his presence, is like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s day. The longer she is surrounded by it, the less she wants to disturb it. It takes her by surprise when he is the one to do so.

“Did I ever tell you the story of how I got my nickname?”

The Demon of Vyrantium. The personal boogeyman of every crooked Magister and Blood mage in the imperium.

“No …” She starts, turning to face him. “I remember hearing about the incident…”

“But you don’t know the whole story”

She shakes her head.

“Would you like to?”

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious. Everyone in the Shadow Dragons had heard the rumours when the news first started making its rounds a year ago. Over forty casualties, including Vyrantium’s premiere Wigmaker, and high-ranking member of the Venatori, Ambrose Forfex. But that’s about all anyone knows. For days his name was a silent cheer among their ranks. He had the Venatori on edge, and it made them sloppy – which made the Shadow Dragon’s jobs easier, and did wonders for their mission success rate.

She takes another sip.

As much as she wants to retreat further into herself, to cut herself off from everyone so they don’t notice how much of a failure she is, one look into his patient, kind, brown eyes destroys any resistance floundering in her chest.

“Yeah… I’d like that”

Lucanis flashes a lopsided smile, and she thinks she may unravel on the spot. She’s grateful for the large cup in her hands and uses it to partially shield her face from view. The flush she knows is creeping onto her cheeks, her neck, her ears.

He quickly launches into a tale that is a mix of a classic caper, a spy escapade, and a horror story. She rolls her eyes when Lucanis goes into Illario’s lines he uses to pick up the guard captain. Equally surprised as he was that it worked.

She visibly recoils as he describes the slaves hanging from Ambrose’s ceiling, and the wig-based abomination he becomes. But there as much hope in his tale as there is despair. She smiles as he talks of freeing the slaves in Ambrose’s estate and stopping a dangerous man from committing any more atrocities like the ones hanging in his dungeon.

At the conclusion of his tale, Madeleina finds the strength to stand up.

Lucanis throws a curious glance at her but stays seated on the floor.

“You know, I think Illario’s wrong about you” She begins, tightening her grip on her cup.

“Illario is wrong about a great many things, you’ll have to be more specific” He grins.

“That you’re all stomach and no heart” Madeleina smiles.

“You’re a lot more heart than you give yourself credit for”

She thanks him for the cioccolata, and with renewed strength and purpose, leaves the music room to check in on the friends she’s been neglecting for the last few days. The warmth that settles in her chest, that familiar, safe feeling, acts as a bulwark against the darkness of her thoughts. Her regrets.

Instead, she’s focusing on one question in her mind – a question that brings her great comfort amidst the chaos encircling her life.

What tale should I tell him next?

[fvzzyelf]

one thing u need to know about meatcat is.... he's gonna sit on that bag.

[manicpixievixen]

Logans animalistic traits and moments hcs bc oh my god it makes me feral when he acts animal like in any way

When it's all hot and humid out in the middle of summer he pants like a dog, you'll find him laying on the floor behind the couch too, or sometimes he says it's too hot on the bed because of the way the sun comes through the window and he lies panting on the ground at the foot of your bed. Even when you close the blinds, he will still lay there.

When you guys go swimming he shakes his hair out like a dog too (sort of like that head swing in the cage scene) but it's unintentional, he says he doesn't do that

He does that thing that cats and dogs do when they bite you in a play fighting way. You'll be sitting on the couch with his head in your lap and he'll just...lift his head up and bite your hand or arm, not enough for it to really hurt, then when you look down at him he lets go and darts his head into the pillows like a dog putting his paw over it's nose to hide.

He purrs. It took a little while for you to notice because he's very alert most of the time, the first time you experienced it was when he'd fallen asleep on you during a movie binge. You swore you'd heard an animal in the house, turning down the volume, coming to realize it was quiet purrs coming from logan

Now that you know he purrs you're always trying to get him to relax enough that you can hear them

He also growls, we know this already. He does this when threatened, when fighting, even playfully. He also let's out the most animalistic ones in the bedroom which send you right over the edge usually.

Whimpers too. Like a kicked puppy. When he's upset and cuddling into you, or even when he's a little submissive in the bedroom

Sometimes if he's home alone and gets on edge or spooked by something, the claws come out obviously, but he accidentally breaks stuff or slices through things on occasion. When you come home and notice, he totally does that guilty dog look before apologizing

Head scratches. He loves head scratches. Especially when you get behind his ears

Sometimes you joke that he should be out howling at the moon

Above all of this, he is very loyal. Mostly that's just him as a person but it's also him in an animalistic way as well

Scary dog privilege. You want to go for a walk at night? Bring logan. You want to go somewhere, but the neighborhood is sketchy? Bring logan. Going anywhere? Bring him.

He smells everything. And remembers people's smells. So when you come home and a new smell is on you, especially a man's, oh he is not stopping until answers are provided. On top of this he is territorial and protective of you, he is immediately curious where or who the new smell is from.

Same goes for purfumes and other fragrances. Sometimes, one that seems nice to you is a bit too much for his sense of smell

Extra pronounced canine teeth. You can feel them when you kiss him, when he playfully bites you, sometimes you just want to see them and reach up to open his mouth like you would around a dogs snout

He sometimes tries to brush or style his hair so that it doesn't form into little puppy/kitty ears, and it stays for a little while, but for some reason it just comes back without him doing anything to it. He doesn't mind though, he knows you like it

[miryum]

An arranged marriage with James Potter

Something had happened over the summer that made James Potter the most love-sick fool in all of Hogwarts. Purebloods being purebloods, it wasn’t uncommon for children to be paired up early on to secure the bloodline. While this happened mostly between the old-arching Slytherin families, an example being Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black, every once in a while, the other houses would participate too. 

Such was the case with James Potter and Y/n L/n. The L/n’s had spanned generations, stretching back to even the Gaunt’s time. But, such as the Gaunt family, the L/n family had run into some bad luck. Stocks didn’t go the way they wanted or something of the sort and now they were in ruining trouble. 

Euphemia Potter was usually one to scoff at arranged marriages, wanting the children to find love for themselves, blood status be damned. However, the L/n’s were good friends of hers and James had written home multiple times about their daughter. From his letters, it seemed as if the two were already dating. It was a perfect coincidence. Euphemia and Fleamont agreed instantly, lifting the weight of a thousand bricks off of the patriarch of the L/n household. 

However, James and Y/n were not dating. Much to James’ annoyance, the only thing between them was his unrequited infatuation towards Y/n. 

So that’s where the pair found themselves at the beginning of seventh year. Y/n L/n trying to fly under the radar and not draw any attention to herself or the new ring on her finger, and James Potter doing everything in his power to show off their relationship and spoil her in front of everyone. 

It began at the start of the year feast. James had an arm around Y/n’s shoulder the entire time. When a third year nervously asked if the two were dating, staring reverently up at James, the boy grinned and looked to Y/n. “I don’t know, love, are we?”

Y/n pushed James’ arm off her shoulder and indelicately said, “no. Take him.” The third year blushed and mumbled their way out of the conversation as James clutched his wounded heart.

During classes, James would loudly correct the professors from Miss. L/n to Mrs. Potter. It earned him wry smiles from McGonagall and Sprout, chuckles from Slughorn and Flitwick, and a cold glare from Y/n. The students all looked a bit confused whenever this happened, but chalked it up to the usual antics of James Potter. 

In the courtyard or by the Black Lake, James would lay his head on Y/n’s lap, even if she pushed him off or was sitting with her knees up. There were roses on her bed and notes in her bag and it got to the point where Y/n didn’t even question how James had snuck into her dorm. 

If Y/n ever went to Hogsmead, James was sure to follow. No matter what she bought, he would pay for. Even if she got frustrated, he would slip the galleons up onto the counter, grinning at the cashier. He wanted to show her that he could provide for her and give her a nice home. As she would walk from shop to shop, he would point out colours of shops, saying, “oh, that would be a good colour for our bathroom. Look at that little cuckoo clock! Y/n, we have to get it.”

He would follow wherever she went, asking what seemed like meaningless questions. Have you ever had any pets? Do you like the country or city better? Any aspirations for your career? What’s a place you always wanted to visit? Y/n thought nothing of it, but to James, her answers were slowly sculpting his future. Would she want a dog or a cat in our home? Where should our house be? I would like the country so our kids could run around more, but we can easily make the city work if she wants. Should I be a stay-at-home dad? Or could we juggle two careers? Where should our honeymoon be? 

Quidditch games were no better, because after every goal the chaser scored – and he scored a lot – he would look to the stands, find his fiancée, and blow her a kiss. Before every match, one of his spare jerseys would be laid out on her bed, a small note attached, begging her to wear it. She never did and he always gave her a pout when he realised it. And God forbid she didn’t go to the games. Once, she had been studying for an upcoming exam and hadn’t been able to make it. James had thrown a fit. Sirius had to drag him away from Madame Hooch before he secured an entire year of detention, but the boy still refused to get in the air. Madame Hooch threatened to start the game and make Gryffindor play a catcher down, but thankfully Remus and Peter had just found Y/n and dragged her to the pitch. The moment James saw her, he beamed and kicked off, broom now in the air. They had ended up winning. James spent the afterparty with his head on Y/n’s lap, arms reaching up to encircle her waist. He continuously reminded her how awful it would’ve been if she hadn’t shown up and only shut up when she began running her fingers through his hair.

And every night, no matter if he went to bed first or she did, James would always go over to Y/n and give her a soft kiss on the forehead and a whispered, “sweet dreams.” No matter where she was, this became a daily occurance in Y/n’s life. At first, she tried to avoid it by sneaking off to the library whenever James began yawning and tossing around the idea of going to bed. But he would find her. She tried the kitchens, hoping he didn’t think to look for her there. But he would find her. She tried being in a group with her friends, in animated conversations. But he would weave his way through the group, step in front of her, and still say goodnight. It was like he had this magical map that told him where she was at all times. It was bloody infuriating. 

Much to James’ dismay, no progress seemed to be made. At least she was staying faithful to her fiancé, the Marauders reassured him as James griped and moaned. He would sling himself onto a common room chair, conveniently in the earshot of his dearest. Y/n would just roll her eyes. 

The majority of Hogwarts didn’t know what to do with them. The girls would swoon when they heard the new thing James Potter had come up with to woo Y/n L/n. The boys would huff and grumble about needing to step up their own game when it came to their girlfriends. James was setting the bar too high. The teachers would sit around, taking time to sip a well-deserved drink, as they complained how if L/n didn’t soon see the boy that was right in front of her, helpless to his love, then Potter was going to have a breakdown.

Yet, Y/n continued to push him away. James could be patient. He had been waiting practically seven years – he could wait a little more, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hurt whenever she brushed him off. She could’ve said no to the engagement. She could’ve punched or hexed him. It didn’t seem like she truly hated him, more like she was embarrassed and tired of him. 

“I don’t get it,” James said finally one night. He laid out on his bed, long limbs stretching over the place as Peter and Sirius played Exploding Snap on the floor. 

Remus was reading on his own bed. The werewolf sighed, knowing where this was going. “What don’t you get, Prongs?” 

“Why doesn’t Y/n like me?” James murmured, looking at his friends with large, hurt eyes. 

“Mate,” Sirius said. One of the cards exploded, making Peter flinch. “Listen. She likes you, yeah? How else are you able to get close to her? I swear, you were practically on top of her a couple days ago.” He scoffed and laid down a card. 

James groaned loudly and exclaimed, “but I’ve tried everything! Hell, we’re literally engaged! I can’t go through an entire marriage like this. Especially not with the woman I love.”

Peter piped up, smiling sincerely at James. “Hey, I’m sure she’ll realise it soon enough. I think she loves you back. She’s just scared.”

“But I’m me!” James shouted out. “I’m not scary!” He looked around wildly at his friends. “Am I?” he asked pathetically.

“I think if you have to ask if you’re scary,” Remus pointed out, “then you’re not scary.”

Sirius grinned. “Excellent point, as always, Moony.”

Remus sighed and gave James a pointed look. “Perhaps, the best thing to do is talk to her. Since she is your future wife, after all.” 

“I do talk to her!” James argued. “I ask her about her day and tell her about our pranks. She- she responds. She’s very sweet, you know, but she never shows any affection.”

“Maybe you’re pressuring her,” Peter commented. “By being all lovey-dovey. You could try being her friend first?”

James didn’t think he could do that. He already thought of Y/n as his wife. He already thought of her as one of his best friends. But what else could he do to get her to feel the same way?

The next week, James took Peter’s words into consideration. Instead of leaving flowers in her dorm, James asked if he could join her in the library for a study session. Instead of blowing her kisses during Quidditch games, he just waved. Instead of envisioning their future, he focused on the present. 

It wasn’t until three weeks had passed that James noticed the results. Y/n began coming to him with some questions on schoolwork. Y/n waved back at Quidditch games, shooting him a thumbs up in encouragement. Y/n wouldn’t fiddle with her engagement ring nervously, as if worried someone would spot it. 

The girl noticed her changed behaviour too. On a random Thursday, when James came to kiss her goodnight, she paused her conversation and whispered back, “sleep well,” angling her body so he wouldn’t have to reach as far to kiss her temple. Soon after, she excused herself from her friends, flustered. Y/n paced around her dorm, twisting the ring back and forth. 

A knock came at the door. “Hey,” James murmured as he pushed open the door. “Are you okay?”

Y/n turned to face him. “You actually care about me, don’t you?” she whispered. 

James couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course,” he replied. “Why on earth would you think otherwise?”

She shrugged. “It seemed fake, you know? Like this one big prank to single me out. But then you actually seemed excited and willing to marry me, James. Marriage. This is the rest of our lives and we haven’t even kissed!”

James cracked a smirk. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I can fix that really easily.”

“But you think you’re in this for the long run?” Y/n asked desperately. “For- for the fights? The late nights? The chores? And we haven’t even talked if we want kids or not!”

“Love,” he interrupted her spiral. “Have you thought about the waking up every morning in my arms? The dancing in the kitchen for no reason? The anniversary dinners where I profess my love over and over again?” He stepped forward, placing his warm hands on her arms soothingly. “And if you want, I would love to have mini replicas of us running around, waking us up in the middle of the night because of a night terror. I would love for them to disrupt our dancing in the kitchen by demanding they want to dance too. And I would love for them to groan when they see me being all sappy towards my wife.”

How could any girl say no when James Potter was standing before her, promising her endless devotion? The kiss was slow, James’ lips slowly moving against hers. He revelled in the warmth of her body and how her head tilted to him as he cupped her cheek gently. All short and lovely and sweet, the kisses were exactly how James had dreamed. 

The couple parted and the boy stared down at her. His finger went up to brush her bottom lip before murmuring, “will you marry me?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

[octopiys]

Lost and Found

I. roll call and rainy nights

Next

Maybe Simon doesn't have any kids. Not yet at least. Maybe he doesn't know anyone we'll enough, or maybe he's not sure if he wants them in the first place.

But I'll tell you what.

Every time he goes on leave, without fail, he has an army of critters showing up to his house in the country. He never turns anything out to the streets, or to the cold night. The bottom of his pantry is stock full of dog and cat food. He's got three bird feeders in his back yard. There's four refillable water bowls by his garage.

The raccoons show up first without fail. They're named One and Deux, and they just recently had a baby named Tres. Hes pretty sure they live on his roof. He checked his cameras one night, after a long mission, and found them holding up Tres to the camera.

He didn't cry about that, what are you talking about?

Then the dogs show up. They're all mutts of varying sizes. One looks like some sort of lab, named Dog. Another is about the size of a pomeranian, but looks like a shaggy chihuahua. That's Barrow. He found her in his garden shed. She's got a mean bite, but a sweet face. The third is a big dog, almost the size of a Dane, but... not. He's not very smart. He's named barkmulch. Get it, cus- cus he barks- the fourth has gone unnamed. It's a furry little white thing, and it yaps at him a lot, nipping at his ankles anytime he enters the room. Behave, and it'll get a name.

There are a few cats that show up too. None of them have names except for one: Scraggle.

Scraggle is the ugliest fucking thing you can imagine. Scraggle is that shade of grey that white cats get when they're dirty, except you can't wash it off. The poor cat is missing patches of fur, and it seems permanent. It only has one eye. It's nose is flat, and gives it's face the illusion of a squished tomato. There's a scar going from it's whiskers, across it's nose and up to it's missing eye. Simon doesn't actually know what gender this cat is. It is only Scraggle.

Scraggle is also... very stupid, as far as cats go. It gets squished between the couch cushions, and yowls when Simon accidentally sits on him. How could he have seen him anyways? Scraggle screams when his food bowl is empty. Scraggle screams when everyone else's food bowls are empty. Scraggle screams when it manages to find it's way on top of the kitchen cabinets, and needs Simon's help to get down. Scraggle is a full time job when he's off duty.

Scraggle is his favorite.

He finds you in the rain.

Not nearly as run down as the rest of his animals, but just as lost.

Covered in scratches, blood, and muck, he finds you on the edge of his property, being screamed at by Scraggle, because it doesn't do much else.

Your clothes are torn, and you look a bit more haggard than you should. Wet, and cold, and hungry. Like you had missed a turn off the trails, or you were running away from them. From something.

You look up at him with wide eyes, but decide to trust him, to follow him like a lost creature, because he could not be worse than what you escaped from.

He makes soup. He gives you soup.

He's not the best conversationalist. He's not used to things he finds actually talking back to him in a language he can understand.

You tell him your name. He calls you Honey. You'll earn your name. Behave, you'll get it.

Scraggle is on thin ice with you. Attention stealer. Food giver. You get the cat down from places it shouldn't be. But Simon pays more attention to you than he does Scraggle. You fool. Scraggle is all. Scraggle is life.

You don't leave, much like the other things he feeds. You make yourself useful, because you're afraid of being turned out. If you're useful, then nothing will happen. And you go to bed every night warm with a full belly.

You're just another lost thing he's taken in. You don't leave when he disappears. You know he'll come back. He always does.

And he watches the cameras, while he's on a mission. He watches you diligently fill the bowls, the bird feeders, the waters, the bath. You trot out to the fish pond, and throw handfuls of feed out in the early hours of the night. Then you make your way back through the tall grass, and into the house.

Scraggle screams. You feed it too, and then pick it up. And carry it around like it's a little baby.

Hm. Maybe....

You were a sweet like honey, a pretty little thing. You weren't lost anymore. He'd found you, you're his now.

He'll take care of you.

Scraggle agrees. Scraggle likes you too.

masterlist

[darkmuffinstudios]

It's a quiet evening.

Nightmare is in bed with his boys on his massive, XXL king-sized mattress. He's sitting against the headboard, a pile of pillows his only cushioning. In his hands, a book about flora and it's many uses.

Killer is comfortably draped across his lap and tendrils, lazily playing with the tip of one like it's some sort of fidget toy. His eyes are closed, but he isn't asleep just yet. He has a cat on his chest that hasn't stopped purring.

Dust is curled up a little ways off from them, using another tendril as a sort of weighted pillow. He's sleeping soundly, any kind of night terror being warded off by Nightmare's vigilance.

Horror and Cross are nestled together beside Nightmare, watching cooking videos on a tablet together - those cozy ones that have minimal talking and the calming aesthetic. They don't talk to each other during it, simply enjoying each other's touch and the sounds of carrots being cut.

All is well; The sounds of gentle dish clattering, soft kitten purring, and light snoring combining into a symphony of bliss and comfort.

Nightmare couldn't be any happier.

[safination]

Little Things

|Masterlist|

Pairings: Alastor x Reader Warnings: None! TLDR: There are days when Alastor just doesn't want to be touched, and you totally understand that. You're one your best behavior to not touch Alastor. Surely, with such an attentive partner, no misunderstanding will occur.

My inbox is currently accepting requests. Feel free to ask for some stuff. I'm in a mood to write and create, so lend me your ideas and I'll bring them to words. This is a drabble. It's weird not to make full one-shots tbh, but meh, wasn't in the mood to make this a whole one-shot.

It’s the little things, really.

Alastor sits towards the edge of the bar, his stool nudged just a fraction farther than usual.  Charlie leans forward, eyebrows furrowed as she rants about this and that and this and that.

Tentacles slither out the shadows, wrapping themselves around the legs of Alastor’s stool. No one really notices when the tentacles pull him another fraction farther away.

Or, how just this morning, Alastor took time out of his day to grab a bowl, and carefully place the three eggs Niffty asked for.  The bowl slides across the table instead of being placed into her tiny hands.

See? The little things.

Heh . . .

You deserve a pat on the shoulder, honestly. Because what a considerate partner you are! Alastor didn’t even have to mention the slightest discomfort, yet still, you know he’s in ‘no touch!’ mode.

That’s why, for the entire day, you’ve been supporting Alastor’s ‘No-Touch’ day.

The rest of Hell’s day goes something like this:

Alastor asks you to hand him his coat.

And like the considerate partner that you are, you hand it to him. Although, you do have to bite your cheek to stop yourself from helping him wear the thing.

If it were any other day you would wrap it around his shoulders, and hold the back as he slips it around his arm. Then you would trail your fingers across his lapels to adjust its fit. Maybe, even give his bowtie a slight tug.

But you are a very, very, good partner.

So, your hands are kept to yourself, and the coat is placed on the table with a smile.

The devil seems keen on tempting you, but no, you are not giving in. (If you were in the garden, not even the devil himself could make you eat that apple.)

It’s been quite the productive day, and you definitely deserve an award! Not once have you touched Alastor, not have you stepped a foot into his personal space. It’s been difficult if you were being honest, but oh, well.

Maybe you’ll buy yourself a sweet, little treat for being such a considerate partner to Alastor. He’s quite lucky. Very few are as kind as you are, and even less are as attentive to his needs.

Just like right now.

There’s a gaping space between your bodies. It’s an easy thing to place yourself on the edge of the bed, careful not to roll and wrap your arms around Alastor.

Really, an award is in —

Alastor shoots up the bed, his note turned into the air with a scowl. “I refuse to keep playing this childish game,” he says, huffing at you. “I’ve been waiting all day for you to sort it out, but I’ve had enough.”

“Dearest . . .” You blink at him, pushing yourself up to sit as well. “I . . . What?”

His lips twist, and once more he huffs. It reminds you of a buck. “I would rather that you tell me that you’re upset with me instead of doing these ridiculous little things.”

“Ridiculous?”

“Ridiculous and childish!” Alastor points a finger at you, and there’s this petty voice urging you to chomp it off for such an audacity. “Do not confuse me for a fool, dearest. You’ve been avoiding me all day.”

“Well, of course, I have!” you say. “You’ve been in a mood since the moment you woke up. The cat almost got its tail bitten for rubbing between your legs.”

Alastor stares at you, an incredulous look on his face. “Ridiculous,” he tells you. “You are, absolutely, ridiculous.”

“I think you mean ‘considerate’.”

He flops back down to the bed, then rolls to you like some fucking child. Alastor keeps rolling until you don’t know whose limbs belong to who. His fingers curl around your shirt as he buries his weight deeper into you.

It’s the little things, remember? Like how you reach out to play with the strands of his hair until you’re finally combing through.

“I thought you were in a mood.”

“I am,” Alastor tells you, and deeper and deeper and deeper he goes. “All day I’ve been wanting nothing but this, yet you were so quick to deny me.”

“Don’t your moods usually require personal space?”

Alastor pulls you even closer, until your personal space becomes his as well. “This belongs to me,” he says. “And I don’t appreciate it being taken away from me.”

[sp0o0kylights]

Wayne takes in a Beat to Shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as n Owed Favor to Hopper Part 4

Part Three: link

First Chapter (parts 1-3 on tumblr) on A03: Link

The kid was madder than a wet hen.

Just as slippery as one too, when he got like this--music pulsing like a living thing to signal all his rage and upset. 

Not like Wayne hadn’t expected it. 

He just wished it wasn’t quite so damn loud. 

The music had started up almost immediately after Eddie had stormed to his room, startling Steve awake and nearly making Wayne curse for it.

Normally it was a good thing--music meant Eds was willing to listen instead of heading for the hills.  

Normally, they didn't have a house guest who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a bear.

They had a routine for this, was the thing and the music was a key part of it. It worked all the edges off for Wayne, and he'd long figured out that about thirty minutes was a the perfect length of time for Eddie to stew before he could actually talk things through.

Given the hand Harrington put to his forehead, Wayne wasn't eager to give him that thirty minutes.

Not when Steve deserved little peace he could have.

Unfortunately, so did Eds. 

Still.

 Strutting through the door and demanding to talk right now was a bad move and so, with a sympathetic look given to Steve, Wayne did what he did best

Gave space.

Let Eddie rage, as Wayne got up and shuffled about the kitchen.

Pulled out the soft earplugs he pretended weren’t there for Eds to steal (playing that damn loud guitar all the time could not be good for his ears) and offered them to Steve, before making two cups of what Wayne privately thought was the Munson “chitchat” drink. 

One cup of hot water, one packet swiss miss, a small amount of maple syrup drizzled in, topped with little marshmallows they reserved for these types of situations. 

Wayne took his time with it, thinking through what he wanted to say. 

‘I understand that this is a screen door on a submarine kind of situation...’ 

Nope. 

‘Son I know you hate listening to anyone for anything but this is serious...’ 

Absolutely not--that would end up with the boy bolting for sure. 

‘Ed’s, I love you but could we please turn Ozzy off while we talk? That man wails louder than any damn cat I have ever met.’

That one was purely self indulgent, mostly because the wall was starting to shake. 

Wayne put the finishing touches on the cocoa before staring at both of them. 

Perhaps if he stared the Garfield mug in its eyes hard enough, the right words would come through. 

They did not.

He kept trying, standing there long enough for the cocoa to reasonably have cooled and for Eddie’s song to flip over to something with more screaming in it than singing. 

Wayne supposed that this was the hardest part of being a parent. You just didn’t get to have the magical one liner. The right thing to say at just the right time.  

The joke that would ease all the tension and let things progress forward nice and easy.

Instead, you got to fumble your way through the dark with a flashlight up your ass and hope you were going in the right-ish direction. Ideally without making things worse. 

Wayne was here though, and that had to count for something. 

(Knew it counted for something--because Eddie was still here. 

They had cleared hurdles far higher than this when it came to trust. They’d get through this too, come what may. 

Steve too.)

“Can I just ask,” Eddie started, aggressive as always when Wayne finally gave in and entered his room, feeling all sorts of awful for the migraine Steve had to have, “what the absolute fuck is happening?” 

Sure as fire he was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing a mile a minute.

An unlit cigarette hung between two fingers, looking a little chewed on, but otherwise undisturbed--as it should be, because one of Wayne’s few rules was that smoke stayed outside the house. 

“You could.” Wayne said loudly but agreeably, as he turned himself around and dropped down next to his kid.  

Held out the Garfield mug, and was happy when it was taken from him. 

“Figured you might have other things to say, though.” 

Likely a lot of things. 

It was as good an opening as any, and his kid didn’t disappoint, launching right to it. 

“Why is he here and not at a hospital?”

 ‘Here’ was punctuated by Ed’s hand winging towards the door, and while it wasn’t the righteous fury Wayne expected, it was at least, an easy answer to give. 

“Steve has some people looking for him. Bad people. Hospital makes him an easy target.” 

Wayne was still talking loud. Could only hear Eddie himself because he was looking at the kid’s lips more than he was actually hearing his voice. 

Eddie took that in, swallowing it about as well as he’d swallowed anything he hadn’t liked. 

And thank the stars above, he finally reached a hand out and turned the music down. Not a lot--Steve wouldn’t be able to hear them over all this--but enough that Wayne didn’t have to struggle. 

“We’re hiding him from the cops now?!” Ed’s spat. 

“Cops know he’s here. Hopper’s the one who asked me to take him.” Wayne reminded him, because it was the truth. 

Not the full truth, but given how Ed’s pissed off half the local PD on a good day, Wayne absolutely did not want to see his nephew take on Federal Agents.

(Particularly not the kind who were going ‘round killing kids.) 

“So--what?” Eddie yanked hard on his hair, a gesture that looked less intentional and more like he was trying to fight his own anger down. “Hopper just called you up and said ‘Hey, we had a whoopsie with the rich kid, the hospital’s not safe anymore. Can we stash him with you for a few days?” 

Wayne nodded once, slow-like. 

Always remembered how too fast movements had made Eddie flinch and jerk back when was littler, and given the way Steve was looking, figured it was a good time to be cautious again. 

“He did.”

“And you just--agreed? Just like that!?” 

“I did.” 

He pretended not to see Eddie boggle at him at the simple admission, so furious that he seemed to struggle for words when he normally had too many to say. 

Wayne took advantage. 

“We did talk a bit more than that, I’ll admit.”

Ed’s scoffed. “About the weather I’m sure.” 

“‘Bout trust.” 

Eddie blinked at that. 

“Trust.” He echoed flatly. 

“What have I always told you? People like to ask you to trust them, but you they don’t get to have it until--” 

“They provide proof or a reason.” Eddie finished with an eyeroll. “So which did Hopper provide then?”

Wayne took a noisy sip of his coca. Smacked his lips a little before saying: “Both.” 

Didn’t bother to say anything else, because he knew Eddie would finish the thought for him. 

“One of them was me, wasn’t it.” 

Eds didn’t say it like a question, but Wayne hummed in agreement anyway. 

He wasn’t gonna shame his boy, but he wasn’t gonna sugar coat Eddie’s involvement in this either. Not when he’d already admitted that was half the reason Hopper had gone to Wayne to begin with. 

“No one is expecting Steve to be here.” He said, seeing the chance to hammer home the most important part of this entire shitshow. “So long as no one finds out he’s here, he’ll be safe. Everyone will be safe.” 

Steve from the Feds who were hunting him for while he was busy being involved in shit he couldn’t control and Eddie because he had a mouth that most people didn’t like. 

Not small town people anyway, and absolutely not authority figures with guns. 

“Who’s even after him?” Eddie was theatrical as always, hands waving away as he talked. “Did he make a deal with the mob? Piss off some other rich guy? I know it’s not anything drug related, I’d have heard about it by now.” 

After years of experience, Wayne knew exactly how far to lean away to stay out of range, too used to his nephew talking with his entire body.

“That’s his story to tell ya, Ed’s. It ain’t mine. Same way it ain’t my place to tell him your story.” 

That at least got the boy to think for a minute. Put down that frustration he carried with him all the time, and use the brain they both knew he had. 

“How long is he staying here?”

Wayne shrugged. “Don’t know.” 

Eddie sighed and mockingly mimicked Wayne, taking an obnoxious slurp of his cocoa. “The neighbors are going to notice if he’s here more than a few days. The trailer park isn’t exactly big.” 

“They didn’t notice that time you decided to make fireballs with the cooking spray and about blew up half the driveway. Don’t think they’re gonna notice someone being quiet in the house.” 

Eddie snorted, and probably rolled his eyes again, not that Wayne could see it given the kid was looking into his own mug as he thought it all through. 

Wayne sat with him as he processed. 

Eds worked at his own pace with things, and while life at large might be against that, Wayne was happy to let him do it. Found it easier that way, then trying to poke and prod and force him like so many father figures did. 

Wayne’s patience was rewarded not even a full minute later, when Eddie turned to him and asked; 

“What if he finds out?”  

This in a quieter voice. An unsure one--words and body hunching in a way unlike the Eddie the world outside knew, but very much like the little boy Wayne had brought inside his home. 

It took Wayne  a moment to connect the dots--he’d been speaking out of the place parents and authority figures often do, and in doing so hadn’t thought much of the fact his nephew had a real secret. 

The kind small town minds didn’t like--and would kill him over. 

This all wasn’t about Wayne taking in Steve, he realized abruptly.  It was that Steve being here meant Eddie couldn’t be himself. 

Could not relax in a place he was accepted for who he was, because Wayne knew and made sure Eddie understood he was wanted here, had a place here, regardless of who he loved. 

Now, Wayne had gone and removed it.

‘Shit.’ 

“He won’t.” Wayne said. 

Knew that wasn’t enough, and so, promised: “But if he does, I’ll make sure he understands his safety here relies on your own.” 

Ed’s chin jerked in a nod, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment before the boy did as he often did when he wanted a hug but felt too awkward to ask for one, and tipped himself into Wayne’s side. 

“Thanks old man.” Eddie whispered into his shoulder and not for the first time, Wayne wished things were easier for the poor kid as he put his mug in one hand and hugged his kid with the other. 

Hoped that in the future, it would be.

Even if he had to force everyone and everything coming after him--and now Steve--to do it.

(Wondered vaguely, how bad it was that he was already getting as protective as Steve as he was of his own kid.

Probably very, given his kid clearly hated Harrington.)

xXx

Wayne took the first night of Steve’s stay off.

He wasn’t the type to use his PTO lightly. Was used to rationing it for any possible thing Eddie might need him for.

A night up sick when he was younger, to a night spent chasing him down during some of their bad spots--but the last year or so Wayne had slowly realized he hadn’t had to use it much.

He was still careful with it though, precious as it was, and was thankful for it now as it ensured his nephew didn’t murder their house guest. 

Or at the very least, didn't sit there pecking at him.

The kid might've failed English a few times, but he had a real gift with words and an even better one with insults.

(Wayne wasn't quite clear on what all the "King" jabs were about, and absolutely did not get why Steve looked far more hurt at the comment about his "sad ass floppy hair" but given the increasingly flat look Steve was throwing Eddie's way, Wayne figured it couldn't be anything good.)

Thankfully a pointed reminder about Steve's injuries had finally gotten them all some peace, enough for Harrington to drop back to sleep--and for Wayne to realize he looked a little too dead while he did it to be comfortable getting any sleep himself.

The kids chest barely moved, and that it ate at Wayne’s until he got up and shoved a hand under his nose. 

Felt his breath, and told himself the poor sod was fine. 

Hurt, absolutely, but alive. 

Over and over again, until the sun had made its rotation in the sky, bringing the morning with it.

‘Better than nightmares, I suppose.’ Wayne figured, as exhaustion scraped at his eyelids.

Those Wayne knew, would come later. When Steve’s brain caught up to the rest of him, and stopping dumping survival chemicals through his battered body. 

He'd given up on sleep entirely sometime around 1 am, and now he sat at his small kitchen table, writing out a medication schedule for Harrington so he and the kid both knew when he could have his next Tylenol. 

Wasn’t even halfway through it before Eddie made his typically late appearance and blew through his door. 

Had his back up from the moment he’d stepped a foot in the kitchen and it didn’t take a genius to see he’d worked himself into a snit again.

Unfortunately for him, whatever scenario that imaginative brain of his had cooked up fell flat to the reality that was the poor kid on the couch. 

Steve Harrington was one a hell of a sight.

Didn’t help that he was doing his level best to make himself as small as possible, curled deep into Wayne's ancient couch.

The blankets covered the ribs and hid away most of the damage, but there wasn’t much Steve could do to hide the shiners on his face--or the marks around his neck.  

Not when they’d grown worse overnight, practically inviting questions.

It was almost laughable how quickly Eddie ate whatever words he’d prepared, mouth awkwardly chewing around them as if they were tangible. 

The less-than-sneaky looks he threw at the younger teen were equally amusing, and if Wayne wasn’t trying to peace keep, he’d have given in and chuckled when Eds split attention caused him to pour half his coffee into the sink rather than a cup. 

Looked utterly lost when, after finishing putting his coffee together and grabbing some junk food thing that absolutely was not a breakfast item, he came to stand awkwardly at Wayne's shoulder, openly staring as Steve blatantly ignored him.

Eds didn’t know what to do, and Wayne couldn't blame him. 

Seemed to keep thinking he was going to encounter a boy that likely no longer existed, and whose blood tinged specter just made things sad.

Shit like this, Wayne knew, took a man’s ego and warped it, shaping it to something else entirely. 

At least for Steve, it seemed that getting wrapped up in whatever mess he had had shaped him for the better, instead of pretzeling him into something worse. That, Wayne thought, spoke to the boy's character more than anything he’d done prior. 

(It helped to know what Hopper tolerated and what he didn’t. That he’d vouched for Steve in the same way Wayne knew he’d vouched for Eddie, even if Eddie didn’t yet realize the cop he antagonized so much would do that for him.) 

That didn't erase the history his kid had with Harrington, though.

Wouldn't stop him from seeing the old Steve, first.

‘Don’t you got school?” Wayne asked when he decided Ed had stared enough. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved him off, trotting out the door. “Bye old man, house parasite!” 

It was clearly a jab, meant to nettle, but Steve barely acted like he heard it. 

Wayne rolled his eyes. 

“Goodbye, Eds.” He said firmly, much of a warning as he ever gave, and fondly watched his nephew scuttle out the door. 

Turned to see how Steve was taking things, and was once again given a reminder that Steve wasn’t doing a hell of a lot other than feeling his injuries. 

“I think I promised you a game, son.”  Wayne said gently, startling Steve out of the distant, dim look he had trained on the wall. 

It wasn’t a lot to offer in terms of a distraction, but it would have to do.

[collaredsoldat]

Domestic Winter Soldier / Soldat Stuff

warnings: PTSD | Slight self-harm | Mentions past abuse

a/n: Idk I wanted to write this because he deserves some love even when he's the soldier. Various hcs about domestic life with the Winter Soldier. Actual fics in the works. I run four blogs so I try to balance it all. Not edited ignore mistakes.

Soldat is a little awkward with home life at first. He isn't sure what to do, being free from constant control isn't something he can easily adjust to.

He looks to you for commands all the time. Can he sit? Can he go to the bathroom? Can he sleep? Can he eat? Every little thing he does. You have to reassure him that he doesn't need to ask permission for anything, but he still does.

He sometimes gets snappy at you, since he still can't decide whether or not to trust you 100% or not. He can't understand why someone is being so nice to him.

Sometimes he accidentally breaks something and he flinches away from you, or he hides out of fear. You have to coax him out, telling him it's okay and that you're not going to hurt him. He always hesitates.

He struggles to sleep so he comes into your room most nights and stares at you or roughly shakes you to wake you up. "Can't sleep." he speaks lowly, and he grunts and climbs over you into your bed, never waiting for a response. At first he sleeps away from the door, but as time goes on he moves to sleep closest to the door in case any unlucky person breaks into your apartment.

Very much like a cat, he stays back but when he wants attention he sort of just...flops near you and demands it by laying on you somehow, or sitting super close so your bodies are touching.

He watches you cook a lot. He sits down at the counter and watches or he stands over you and watches. Sometimes you have to pull him away from the stove because the oil will burn him and he doesn't bother moving away on his own.

He's much more curious than you'd think. He watches you do a lot of things, almost as if he's never seen anything like it. Something as simple as brushing your hair or doing laundry, he's mesmerized by it.

When he's not watching you do something, you notice that he just stares a lot. He always watches you, at first out of uneasiness, but then...just because. He's always watching you, almost like he's worried you'll disappear.

You help him shower, he doesn't like touching his scars. He tries to rub them away, and he's tries to claw his metal arm off. So you help him clean to prevent him from going into one of those episodes of hurting himself in that way.

He used to get aggressive when you came around him when he was naked, treating you like some big threat, but you realized this was something more than just fear. It took a lot for him to get comfortable enough to allow you to touch him in the shower/bath.

For being so heavily trained as the best assassin, he's quite accident prone. Nothing major, but enough to warrant some kind of care. He feels a little confused whenever he gets hurt by accident, like he never expected the corner of the table to leave a small cut on his flesh arm. He focuses too much on things he knows hurt, that other things go unnoticed.

He learns to cook with you some days, he was tired of just watching. It's a good way to show him you trust him too, letting him handle things like knives or sharp objects without worrying he will hurt you.

You learn he really likes pie. Apple pie especially.

You also learn the alarm on the oven is too loud for him so you use your phone instead.

If you bring him out with you, he's very protective. His head is on a swivel, constantly observing everyone around you. He stays glued to your side, not letting you take many steps away from him.

Gets overstimulated easily.

Sounds that are similar to a blender or electricity freak him out. A bug zapper is also a sound he hates.

Some foods he looks at with newfound curiosity, like he hadn't seen them before. There are things he doesn't even recognize, newer or modernized things, he didn't know what to think. What the hell is an air fryer? How do you fry with air??

Get one and watch how he looks at it with amazement and confusion.

He seeks out spaces where he can be alone a lot, he needs space sometimes and you understand.

During bad episodes he sometimes disappears from your apartment, making you panic a little each time. You find him in alleys or the streets from time to time, he never wanders too far. You are worried sick but your priority is to get him back home.

It's hard for him to show it, but he does appreciate you and everything you've done for him. He gives you hugs from behind a lot, sometimes he whispers a word to you, but mostly he's silent.

He likes puzzles. He likes putting them together. Maybe because he himself feels like there are so many pieces of himself missing and it's satisfying to fill a picture.

One thing that calms him down are fresh cookies. Chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven, he can go from high strung to calm and docile.

He hates porridge and/or oatmeal. It's too similar to the things he was forced to eat in HYDRA. Tasteless slop, he can't stand the texture.

He loves when you brush his hair. His scalp is sensitive since he had his hair yanked and pulled so much, but you're always gentle. He loves feeling your fingers run through it and it puts him to sleep within minutes.

You're the only one who can touch his scars. Not that he is close to anyone else, but he doesn't fight you when your hand roams over where metal meets flesh.

Watches over you when you sleep a lot, his eyes glued to the door and his ears alert to every single sound. He stays up until he literally can't keep his eyes open.

He's very attached to you and never wants to leave you, ever.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[mushroomates]

gandalf headcanons

hides spare pipe weed under his hat . pippin saw him do it one time. no one believes pippin.

even when he’s like- let me access my emergency stash- and pulls out a doobie from his hat. everyone’s like “woah such wizardry”

it drives pippin bonkers.

will cheat at cards, chess, checkers- has been known to enchant dice to make them weighted. again, denies

just a reminder that he canonically sleeps with eyes open. i’d also like to add that he can sleep standing up. he also does do both during long meetings sometimes.

the sleeping w eyes open particularly messes with legolas. he can’t handle prolonged eyecontact on a good day and now this wizard is staring into his soul and is only maybe conscious

sleeps on his back, stiff as a board. occasionally sits up, pauses, has a brief moment of lucidity and then goes back to bed

also sometimes talks in his sleep. in various languages. sometimes legolas is certain these languages are made up, but they’re spoken with such vigor it seems hard to believe that

you can have full conversations with him. they’re not particularly intelligent or understandable conversations but still very interesting dialogues that he does not recall in the morning. a favored topic is the inflated price of everything.

this is particularly amazing because gandalf does not pay for most things.

often things are gifted. sometimes he finds them, and keeps them as his own. more often than not he mooches off of others, and at times, has been known to take things

not steal. if you stopped him he’d give it back. but no one really has.

he just kind of. picks up something. looks at you. and walks away with it

sometimes will leave small tokens in return,, like rocks with strange runes on them or a single feather

sometimes will return the item after days, months, or years (decades, centuries)

oh i meant to give it back but then the civilization collapsed so-

he tends to favor things shaped like other things- a tea pot that is a boot, a spoon that’s shaped like a flower (evil evil EVIL) salt and pepper shakers that are little houses

also has a fascination with garden gnomes. will often take them ‘home’ as well. where do they go? who knows but they’re his now

no one knows where they go or what he does with what he acquires. a running theory is he has a secret house that no one is allowed in that’s full of weird knick-knacks

in actuality, he gives most of these things away. the garden gnomes are for tom bombadill, the weird spoons are for thranduil because he gives them to legolas and legolas HATES spoons that aren’t *spoons*

arwen is charmed by crossstich, galadriel likes weird soaps and candles, (gandalf the cheese wizard doubles as gandalf the bed bath and beyond wizard.)

saruman does not like novelty salt shakers but gandalf is convinced he does and keeps giving them to him.

on that note gandalf thinks towers are gaudy and would never have one

is very tempted to set up shop in the shire. everyone is against this idea which is why he really wants to.

Disturber Of The Peace- literally loves to uproot unsuspecting hobbits for fun

most known being the baggins, but like, he’s not above standing outside the proudfoots home with a ~mysterious~ envelope until he’s batted away with a broom or very passive aggressively dismissed

he’s like a stray cat that they need to stop feeding with adventures

there’s a list written by the thain of the shire “appropriate times to set off fireworks” . “never” and “when given explicit permission” are the only two things written. unfortunately gandalf is selectively literate

he does not, ever, know what time it is. if he does he won’t tell you-at least in a way that’s understandable to normal people

what’s the time? “it’s today” okay and when is that? “now” thanks buddy.

what times sunset? “when the moon is rising.” when’s that? “at the end of the day”

yk island time? that’s wizard time. just. no sense of any sort of time passing at all. it could be an hour or five days and he will refer to it as a minute. or vise versa. you invite him for tea on tuesday and he shows up on sunday, in the dead of night, with a hand full of seashells and covered in ash. no explanations. he leaves just as suddenly as he came, with a hermit crab in your kettle and dishes in the sink. but yeah, technically, he was there for tea on tuesday.

or arrives four weeks later because you didn’t say what tuesday.

it’s anyone’s guess, including him, what he has in his pockets. four twigs, each exactly 17 centimeters long? sure. half ball of twine wrapped around a chunk of moss? why not. three tea bags, clearly used, tied together and soaking wet. a small glass bottle with strange dust labeled “numbers”. a single tooth. reading glasses, cracked, missing a lense with a shoelace tied around the bridge. he doesn’t even wear glasses.

don’t. ever. ask him for directions. he can give you them, just. in a way that’s so alien that they’re impossible to follow

he kinda just. goes off of vibes? like if it feels like the right distance he will do with it. it’s not miles away but that sounds right

in his heart it is.

is always right. no amount of reason can convince him otherwise

at best, you’re both wrong but still. he knew it all along

rarely knows the right lyrics to things. if he’s called out he’ll just say “well in this version..” because he’s been everywhere and is ancient so no one can really argue

picks fights with a shocking large number of birds.

randomly and for seemingly no reason, in a multitude of languages most long forgotten.

[justice-artblog]

Had a vivid thought

Prior to his current friends, Saiki's room is painstakingly bare. No pictures, Books of the most normal things including obscure stories, his bed is only made for comfort but no fun. His TV is standard, his desk having no noticeable scratches or morks or doodles.

And the first time any of his friends head up to his room, it's clocked in how bare bones everything is. As if the Saiki was ready to drop and move at a moments notice sort of deal.

And of course they go to remedy that.

Kaidou brings in old games for Saiki to play, lending him his consol time to time. It's also a perfect excuse to join him to play games. Saiki seems to know everything before even playing, but it's about the fun more than the story!

Nendou brings different books and manga's to Saiki's home, replacing some of the math and history books with books about random animal facts, one scary book, and a particularly raunchy one that Saiki immediately throws back in his bag.

Kuboyasu coming in with Plushies galore cause he has ZERO idea what to get his homie. But normies like these soft plushies, so clearly Saiki would adore them! Except he gets the weirdest ones, little guys that are very creepy but Kusuo has stashed up on the corner of his bed.

And slowly his room is filled with life that was sorely missing.

Teruhashi stashes cuter plushies alongside Kuboyasu, in order to not overwhelm Saiki with a lot, they have agreed to limit the amount they get and the size. They both pitch in to get a giant sitting pkushie on the floor that you could flop over

Chiyo and Mera tag team in pictures, decorating the frames and taking random pics of Siaki or their friends to hang up on the wall or placs on his desk. They get a pin board to pin up the photos.

Toritsuka absolutely hides magazines under Saiki's bed. The first time Saiki finds em he really wants to murder Reita, but it's actually one of the sweets magazines and none of his horndog ways. So he lets him live... For now.

Aiura stashes beads and Kandi everywhere, she has absolutely bedazzled Kusuo's lamp.

Akechi slips in movies of all kinds, detective ones where Kusuo needs to pay attention and purposefully thinking up of Random Babble so he doesnt accidentally spoil the psychic.

Saiko goes above and beyond and buys Siaki a new bed. He does check in with the other Plebians to make sure it... Ya know... Fits. It's so comfy and the new comforters are still plain in design

He does also buy a little cat house for Amp outdoors cause they all know that the cat is something Saiki secretely adores even if he doesnt outwardly show it.

Yuuta probably leaves Cyborg Cider man action figures scattered around the room every once in awhile, And Saiki has to meticulously clean them and display them so that Yuuta doesnt forget about them next times he's over.

Like i just want one moment where Saiki is there, laying down in bed, playing on the borrowed Switch with a plushie behind his head instead of a pillow and just the the realization that his room is not a room anymore. It's his room.

[luveline]

Hey if you're still taking requests could I get any sort if angst to comfort for zombie au steve? Been feeling down lately and I've always loved that series!

ty for requesting! zombie au. fem, 1.5k

The new pencils are oil-cored, as opposed to his last ones, which had been wax. They were just fine, but these oil pencils allow him to blend colours and shades with more finesse than ever. He can pour twenty different colours into the tone of your skin and have them blend into a real, phototechnical you. 

He’s pretty proud of this one. 

He wakes up first every morning, allowing for time where you’re unaware and he’s got nothing to do. He’s sketched you so many times it comes naturally. Steve probably wouldn’t need to look, but watching you sleep is half the joy of drawing you. 

You're drooling a little. 

Steve puts the handful of pencils he’d been using to colour your neck back into his pen case. He puts the case and his sketchbook on top of his main bag, shoving it into a corner of your tent with the rest of the bags to climb back onto the bed. It’s a portable cushioning made for camping, and it’s nothing like a mattress, but it is much kinder to your backs than sleeping on the ground. Warmer, too. 

He pushes your head back, knowing it will wake you, his thumb to the little drool line to wipe it away, his palm on your cheek to hold it. 

“Hello.” He kisses your other cheek as your lashes twitch. Doesn’t even think about not doing it. “Good morning.” 

“Morning,” you mumble strangely. 

“What’s that?” he says, soft to match your quiet. His breath kisses your lips. “What’s wrong? You sound sad.” 

You force your eyes apart, and you feel along the mattress with your hand. Steve watches in real time as your eyes fill with tears, huge, heavy tears that well in the corner of your left and spill from the right to wet the pillow under your head. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, the effort expended to stay calm so gutting he has to squeeze the pillow just shy of your head. 

You grab for him, blankets and your half-open sleeping bag crinkling but not too thick to feel the force of your fingers gripping his sides. 

You must’ve had a bad dream, that’s what he thinks. He’s had enough of them, and he’s unfortunately cried after almost all of them. Sometimes you’ve seen it, sometimes you haven’t, but you look at him with love no matter what —he can forget dreams of losing you when you’re murmuring niceness in his ear, and he can give it back to you. 

“It’s okay,” he says, letting you squeeze him hard. “Don’t cry.” And that’s a little awkward of him, that sneaking panic, but he’s never claimed to be a professional. 

You cry in a weird breath that borders a gag. “I’m so-sorry.” 

“It’s okay, it’s fine. I have bad dreams too. You know that.” 

Steve attempts to get both arms behind your shoulders, pulling you into him, sitting you up. He can’t cope with how quickly you’ve fallen apart. To wake up crying, how scary the dream must’ve been, he hates it. 

“It’s okay,” he says. 

“It was a good dream,” you say. 

Steve frowns. “Okay, so what’s the problem?” 

“We had a house. We had a dog. I don’t– don’t even know if you like cats, but you had a dog, and we,” —you sob between words, not too loudly as to travel far, but aching— “were planning a trip. It felt so real, Steve. You were so happy.” 

Steve tries to process it as fast as he can. “Oh,” he says softly, hand lax where it had been rubbing your shoulder. 

“You were so happy,” you say again, burying the tip of your nose into his neck. You’re practically crawling atop him, but he’s strong enough to stop you from laying him down. 

“It’s okay, honey. Jesus,” he says, patting your back again. “It’s alright. It’s okay.” 

“We’ll never have those things.” 

“Baby, who says so?” he asks in a murmur. 

“We’ll never get to go anywhere together–”

“It feels like we’ve seen pretty much all of America,” he says. He’s joking, but travelling with you from place to place has felt expansive. You’ve seen forests and lakes, a thousand different houses, hundreds of neighbourhoods, and street art and installations and billboards for movies that were never screened. Steve’s seen about as much of the world as he wants to see. “I’d just stay in this tent with you forever if they let us, we don’t need to go anywhere else.” 

“You wanted to see palm trees,” you say, sniffling and pained as your tears warm the curve of his trap. 

“I’ve seen them,” Steve says. “Don’t worry. I’ve already seen palm trees. A whole bunch of them. Don’t worry about what I wanted in the dream, it was just a dream.” 

He gives you a quick kiss, his lips to the very edge of your temple. 

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick.” 

Steve nods. He draws from you reluctantly and opens the tent, ushering you on knees to sit out in the cool air. He sits next to you, dewdrops from the grass wetting his jeans, the sky a humming of early morning colours; the sun rises in bands of orange and raspberry pink, darkness above, sun rays kissing the sides of tents and the portables in the distance. 

You take deep breaths. Steve holds your hand, the two of you looking up at the strange sky. 

“We’ll never be that happy,” you say. 

Steve can hear your agony, and he knows what you mean. He thinks of that life with you and never lets himself think far. You would've gone to college, maybe, and Steve would’ve drove to visit you —he would’ve moved. Maybe in your second year you’d live together in a suburb just between college and his job, whatever it is he’d ended up doing, in a house you chose, with a ring on your finger. Steve wants kids but if you don’t then perhaps you’d have had none, but he still likes to picture you with your babies, a big family, years later. And maybe he’d have a dog. A silly looking one with bark worse than its bite. 

And you’d be together. You would be happy. Nothing to hurt you. Nothing to lose you to. You’d never worry where your next meal was coming from, you’d never feel cold. 

Steve breathes out. Sniffs biting air. “We’ll never be that happy. That kind of happy. We’re never gonna go on trips, maybe we won’t ever have a house, but–“ He pulls your hand toward him, your eyes latching on to his. “But maybe we will. We might not get to watch cable, but we can have a tv, in a living room. We can live together, and maybe we will take trips. I don’t know. I don’t know what we’ll have, but I’m already happy. You don’t have to cry about me being happy.” He shakes his head. “Shit, you shouldn’t. I want that life with you so much I dream about it too, but I have this one.” 

“You think we’ll have a house?” you ask hopefully. 

“We can’t live like this forever.” He’s promising it. “Something has to give.” 

“I want us to have more,” you say. 

A weak confession, your cheeks wet with tears but eyes thankfully drying, your eyelids puffy already from sleep and crying alike. Steve wants you to have everything, even if everything is a stupid thing to think you’ll have. 

“We will.” Steve closes one eye, a sort of prolonged wink of pain as his nose wrinkles. “But this is enough for now, right?” 

“No.” 

You’re kidding, to Steve’s relief. 

He laughs and elbows you, glad to see your smile as you evade poorly. “Say it’s enough!” 

“No way.” 

You don’t wait for him to pull you in or ask if it’s alright, flopping without ceremony into his lap, and then turning toward him to hug his stomach. He looks down at you fondly, hand rubbing up your warm back. You’re still clammy from sleeping, but you’re not crying anymore. 

“It’s really cold out here.” 

“I know.” He blows a warm breath in your ear. “Do you still feel sick? Don’t barf in my lap.” 

“I’m sorry, Steve. It just felt so real.” 

His voice turns to a silky whisper he’s only ever used in love. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine. We never would’ve… I’d never get to be here,” —you squeeze him around the waist— “if we were in a world where we also get the house and the dog and… the family…” 

“But it would’ve been nice,” Steve finishes, looking up from your back to watch as the raspberry bands of pink turn to blue. 

“It would’ve been perfect.” 

[candycandy00]

My Sweet Pet - A Suo x Reader x Sakura Fanfic Part 2

You’re a hybrid cat girl in a pet shop, and Sakura Haruka is a fellow hybrid in the cage beside you. After becoming friends, he promises to protect you. A week later, you’re both purchased by Suo Hayato. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Smut. 18+. Fem reader. Hybrid AU. Suo and Sakura are bisexual. Oral sex. First time sex. Threesome (sort of). Voyeurism. Humiliation. Dividers by @anitalenia and @benkeibear!

I’m having a really rough time right now so any feedback at all would be especially precious to me! Thank you!

The next morning, Sakura wakes up to find Suo standing over him, smiling down. 

“I thought we’d have a little chat,” Suo says. 

Sakura sits up, wincing at how sore he’s become overnight, sleeping on the floor with his arms behind his back. He looks up at his owner with an angry expression. 

Suo sits down in the nearby chair, gracefully crossing one leg over the other. “I’m going to remove your restraints. I probably don’t have to say this, but if you cause any problems, your lovely friend will be the one who suffers for it.”

Sakura frowns. “Still threatening her?”

“It’s the simplest way to make you behave,” Suo replies. Then he leans forward in his chair. “You might not believe me, but I genuinely have no desire to hurt either of you. At least not physically. The ideal situation would be for the three of us to enjoy each other’s company.”

Sakura is looking at him skeptically. “Then what the hell was that about last night?”

Suo laughs lightly. “If I didn’t give you two a push, you’d be blushing at each other for the rest of your lives. And besides,” he adds, his eye taking on a menacing gleam, “it’s way too fun to tease you both.”

Sakura can feel his face heating up, knows he’s going red, though he’s not sure if it’s from anger or embarrassment. “So you are just playing with us!”

Suo stands up and walks over to him, kneeling down behind his back and unfastening the restraints. “Surely you didn’t think I bought you two with no intention of enjoying myself,” he says as the restraints fall to the floor with a clink of metal. 

Rubbing his sore wrists, Sakura resists the urge to attack. He won’t do anything to jeopardize her safety. 

Suo walks to the door. “One of the servants will see you to your room. Please clean up before coming to breakfast. There’s dried cum on your clothes.”

Growing red again, Sakura looks down to see the obvious spots on his pants and bottom of his shirt. Great, now he’s embarrassed to walk down the hall! He grits his teeth and goes to the door, dreading whatever games Suo has planned for today. 

*********************************

You wake up in your huge, plush bed, stretching and yawning. You’ve never laid in something so soft and roomy before, and despite your anxiety over the events of last night, you fell asleep quickly. 

After putting on one of the pretty, too short dresses, you go to your door, where a servant is waiting to lead you to the dining room. When you walk inside, you’re surprised and relieved to see Haruka already sitting at the table. He’s dressed very differently from anything you’ve seen him in. He’s wearing a crisp white button down shirt and black pants. His hair is clean and shiny, slightly pushed back from his face. He seems a little uncomfortable with the new look, but at least he’s not restrained anymore!

When your eyes meet, his face turns pink and he looks away from you. Is this his usual shyness or does he not want to look at you after last night? Feeling awkward, you take a seat closer to Suo. 

“I trust you slept well last night,” Suo says. 

“Yes, thank you!” you say, then your eyes are drawn to the door as three servants walk in, carrying trays of food. They sit numerous plates on the table, revealing more food than you’ve ever seen in one place before. Everything looks delicious! 

“I wasn’t sure what the two of you like to eat,” Suo tells you as a servant pours him a cup of tea, “so I asked them to make a little of everything. You can inform the kitchen staff of your likes and dislikes before lunch.”

You look over the plates excitedly, then realize you don’t even know what some of them are. You recognize the basics like fried eggs and toast, but there lots of things you’ve never seen before. You’ll probably sound silly to the staff when you tell them you like sandwiches. You don’t even know what else you like. 

As if reading your mind, or perhaps noticing your hesitation, Suo smiles at you. “If you’d prefer to try lots of different things first, then tell them what you like, I can have them make sampler platters.”

“That would be wonderful,” you say, returning his smile. You weren’t sure last night, but today you’re almost certain: you and Haruka got lucky! Suo is generous, and is treating you more like guests than pets. Even if you’re expected to do intimate things with him, it’s not so bad with someone like him. 

You glance up at Haruka across the table, wondering if he feels the same way, but he’s just staring at the food with a sullen expression. 

“Please feel free to go ahead,” Suo says, sliding an empty plate over to you and motioning for you to fill it. 

With little attempt to be polite, you begin placing food on your plate and trying the different dishes. Everything is so scrumptious, so delectable, you almost feel like crying. It takes a moment for you to realize you’re the only one eating. The other two are watching you, Suo smiling and Haruka wearing a slightly softer expression. 

You blush and lower your fork. “Um, aren’t you two going to eat?”

Suo shakes his head. “I’ll be eating a little later. Sakura, why don’t you have something? You’re making her feel shy to be eating alone.”

Haruka looks surprised for a moment, then begins placing a few things on his plate and taking small bites. He sniffs everything first, thoroughly examining each thing as if he thinks it’s been poisoned. It’s then that you notice the bandages on his wrists, peeking out beneath his sleeves. 

You stand up from your chair and rush around the table to be next to him, taking his free hand into yours. “Are you hurt?”

His ears twitch as he looks at you. “Uh… no… I’m not hurt. The restraints left marks.”

You sigh in relief, then return to your seat. The rest of breakfast is uneventful, though you worry about Suo not eating. 

As servants clear the table of plates, your owner stands up and pushes his chair in. “Both of you are free to explore the house as you please. This is your home now too. You’ll be expected back here at noon for lunch.”

And then Suo is gone, leaving you and Haruka alone. The cat fidgets with the sleeve of his shirt for a moment, looking nervous. He opens his mouth to say something, stops himself, and looks at the table. Does he want to talk about last night? Or maybe he wants to avoid talking about it. 

“This is a really nice place, isn’t it?” you ask, hoping to get him talking. 

His eyes dart up to your face, as if he wasn’t expecting you to speak. “It’s big, I guess.”

“I’m surprised we get to walk around freely. I thought we’d be confined in some way.”

“I’m glad you like it here,” he says, “but be careful. I don’t trust our owner.”

“Suo? Why not?” you ask. 

He sighs. “I think he just likes to mess with us. We’re entertainment to him.”

You think it over. Haruka has been watching out for you for a while now, and his instincts are sharp. “Okay, I’ll be careful. I trust you more than anyone, Haruka.”

He reddens and looks away. “Thanks. And… about what you said last ni-“

A servant suddenly bustles into the room, gathering the rest of the plates from the table. Haruka grumbles and says, “I’ll tell you later.”

For the rest of the day, you and Haruka walk around the estate together, exploring the massive garden, looking through the kitchen, and even visiting each other’s rooms. 

Haruka digs through all the drawers in your dresser while you sit on the edge of your bed. 

“He really didn’t leave you any underwear,” he says with a frown. “Fucking pervert.”

Then his gaze drifts over to you, to your bare thighs, and he blushes before averting his eyes. 

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “There’s a hole for my tail in the dresses so it’s easier to keep them pulled down.”

“Ah, okay,” he says, seeming a little uncomfortable. 

Lunch and dinner are both extravagant affairs, with even more delicious food you’ve never tried before. And at both meals, Suo eats nothing, seeming content to watch you and Haruka enjoy your food. 

“Will you eat later… master?” you ask. He hasn’t told you what to call him, and you were taught to call your owner ‘master’ until they specify something else. 

He smiles warmly at you. “You can call me Suo for the time being. And yes, I’ll eat later. Thank you for your concern.”

Later that evening, both you and Haruka are called to Suo’s room again. The two of you meet outside his door, and Haruka turns to you. 

“Did… did he hurt you last night?”

You shake your head. “It was embarrassing, but nothing hurt.” You decide not to add that it actually felt very good. 

Haruka hesitates for a moment, then says, “If he does try to hurt you, I’ll stop him. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

You feel your own face heat up. “Y-you too! I won’t let anyone hurt you!”

He gives you the softest smile you’ve ever seen him wear, then puts his hand on the doorknob and opens it. 

Suo is waiting for you in his chair, and he doesn’t stand up this time when you both walk in and close the door behind you. 

He smiles as he makes the usual greetings and pleasantries, asking how you spent your day and if you need anything else. Then, without further delay, he tells you what the three of you will be doing tonight.

“It occurred to me that I’m the only one who didn’t cum last night,” he says in that calm voice. “That doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

You blink, then glance at Haruka. What happened after you left the room last night? The thought of them together makes you feel heated, and you subconsciously press your thighs together. 

Haruka is blushing again as he frowns at Suo. 

“What do you want us to do?” you ask. He has a point that it’s not fair if he’s the only one not feeling good. As shy as you are, you’ll do your best to please him. 

His one visible eye moves to you, then slides down your form. “Come closer, kitten,” he tells you.

Gripping the hem of your dress to hold it down, you step gingerly over to him. He looks up at you and says, “Can you get on your knees for me?”

Your heart races. You were taught many things as a hybrid, so you know where this is leading, even if you have no practical experience. Carefully, to avoid letting your dress ride up, you get down on your knees in front of his chair. 

His hand moves to your face, softly petting you. “So pretty. You don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll take care of everything from now on.”

You look up at him, your brows slightly creased. “But I’m worried about you, Suo. Are you really eating?”

His eye widens, blinks, and then he smiles. It’s the first time his smile has seemed genuine. “You really are a sweet little cat, aren’t you? But if you’re worried about me, then I’m failing as your owner,” he says, his tone kind. “I’m in perfect health, I promise.”

“I’m glad,” you say, and you mean it. Your heart has begun to stir for Suo, just as it does for Haruka. 

His hand is gently rubbing the top of your head, his thumb stroking your twitchy ear. “Do you know what I want you to do for me?” he asks. 

You glance at his lap, at the barely visible bulge concealed by his dark pants, and nod. “I know.”

He pulls his hand back from your head and smoothly opens his pants. “Do you know how?”

“I watched demonstrations,” you say, your gaze locked on his hand pulling out his cock. It’s a little bigger than you expected, perfectly shaped, pale in color, flushed slightly pink at the tip. It’s elegant, just like Suo. 

“But you’ve never actually done it before?”

You shake your head. 

He smiles again. “It’s okay. Take your time. Do what feels right to you.”

You take a deep breath and then lean forward.

*****************************

Sakura watches as the woman he loves leans forward and gives Suo’s cock a few delicate kitten licks. She’s hesitant, moving slowly and carefully. She’s probably trying to figure out how best to please her owner. 

Despite his frustration at the situation, Sakura can’t stop himself from getting hard while watching her suck lightly on Suo’s tip. It’s too easy to picture her soft lips around his own cock. He wants to feel that so badly, wants to look down and see her on her knees in front of him, wants to hear what kinds of sounds she would make as she sucks him off. 

Instead, he’s watching her suck Suo’s dick from a few feet away. 

Suddenly Suo looks up at him. “Sakura, why don’t you help her out?”

Sakura reddens. “Huh?!”

Suo smiles. “Teach her how to please me.”

“I’m not gonna-“

Suo’s smile disappears, and an eerily empty expression replaces it as the man stares at Sakura. There’s something oddly threatening about it, even though Suo didn’t say another word. Would he hurt her if Sakura refuses? Could he hurt such a sweet and beautiful woman trying her best to pleasure him? Sakura doesn’t know the man well enough to make that judgement, so he grumbles as he walks over and gets on his knees beside her. 

She pulls back and looks at him. She seems a little excited, her eyes shiny as she watches Sakura lightly grip Suo’s shaft. Without hesitating, Sakura suddenly spits on Suo’s cock, then uses his hand to stroke up and down the length. 

“You have to get it wet,” he says, avoiding looking her in the eyes. Sakura has the benefit of knowing exactly what feels good, but it’s still incredibly awkward to give her instructions like this. 

He lets go and she takes over again, this time licking Suo’s cock all over, letting her own saliva coat it. Sakura looks up at the other man, who wears an irritatingly passive face. He feels the urge to make Suo react in some way, to see the poker face crack just a little. So while she’s running her cute kitty tongue over the length, Sakura leans forward and licks the tip, tasting the pre that’s beginning to leak out. 

He can hear Suo’s breath catch, but other than that, no reaction. The man is obviously good at keeping his cool. Sakura pulls back and says to the woman next to him, “Take as much as you can into your mouth.”

He feels dirty and perverse for telling her that, but Suo did order him to teach her. And, if he’s being honest with himself, a part of him wants to see her do it. 

She opens her lips and moves forward, letting Suo’s cock slide into her mouth. Fuck, she looks so pretty like this! Sakura’s erection is pressing against the fitted black pants Suo gave him to wear, threatening to burst through the fabric. The little sounds she’s making, the look in her big glassy eyes as she looks up… Sakura doesn’t know how Suo hasn’t already cum. 

His cat ears are sensitive to sounds, and he can hear Suo’s breathing getting quicker, even if the man is trying to keep it under control. She’s bobbing her head back and forth, taking Suo deep into her mouth and back out, over and over. Suo has to be getting close. With a start, Sakura realizes their owner probably intends to cum in her mouth. In her sweet, innocent mouth…

Just as he hears Suo’s breaths become even more rapid, Sakura hurriedly pulls her back and then wraps his own lips around the throbbing cock between them. He made it just in time, as Suo cums immediately after, filling Sakura’s mouth. 

Suo stares down at him, for one tiny moment looking surprised. Then he laughs, probably trying to cover up his ragged breathing. “I didn’t realize you were so competitive, Sakura. And I haven’t even explained the game yet.”

Sakura still has the man’s cock in his mouth, the last spurts of cum shooting out. He has no idea what Suo is talking about.

“Whoever swallows my cum gets a reward,” Suo says, wearing an absolutely devilish smile. “And whoever doesn’t… well…”

He doesn’t finish, but Sakura’s mind fills in the rest. Whoever doesn’t will be punished! He grabs her, the woman he loves so much, and kisses her, prying her lips apart with his tongue and sliding Suo’s cum into her warm mouth. 

After making sure she got most of it, he pulls away, strings of cum connecting their mouths. He never imagined his first kiss with her would be like this, and he hates it, but he can’t risk her being hurt. 

Suo watches them happily before going on. “I was going to say, whoever doesn’t swallow it will also get a reward, since you’re both being such good kitties tonight.”

Sakura’s head snaps up to look at Suo. “What?!”

Suo laughs as he stands up, then extends a hand to the lovely lady, helping her to her feet. “But since you swallowed most of it, you’ll get your reward first,” he says to her as Sakura seethes and gets up from the floor. 

Suo, still holding her hand, leads her to his huge bed and tells her to lie on her back. Sakura watches her face, looking for any signs that she’s frightened, but she only looks excited and perhaps a bit shy. Suo climbs onto the bed, hovers over her, and then slides her dress up to her waist. 

Sakura can’t pry his eyes away as Suo pushes her legs widely apart and then leans his face down, burying it in her glistening pussy. She cries out, arching her back off the bed, her tail sticking straight out beside her with the fur standing on end. 

Ahh, he wants to taste her too. 

It takes all of Sakura’s will power to not start stroking his hard on right there. Seeing her in such a lewd position, her hands gripping the sheets and her legs trembling as Suo holds them down, makes Sakura so hard he’s about to start humping a pillow again. 

All at once, Suo stops and sits up on the bed. “Sakura,” he says, “come here and get your reward.””

Sakura doesn’t move, just stares at Suo suspiciously. 

Suo stands up. “It’s part of her reward too. Come to the bed and fuck her.”

Sakura’s eyes widen, his ears twitch, and his face goes redder than ever. “I can’t just-“

“Oh?” Suo asks, cutting him off. “She’s already said she’s in love with you. I’m sure she’d rather lose her virginity to you than me. Isn’t that right?” he asks, turning to her. 

She sits up, clutching the hem of her dress and pulling it back down. She’s blushing furiously as she looks at Sakura. “I’d rather it be you, Haruka,” she says. “Only if you want to! If you don’t, that’s okay…”

If he doesn’t want to? He wants nothing more! His last thread of self control snaps, and he crosses to the bed in three steps. 

********************************

Haruka is on you within seconds, sliding your dress up your body and over your head before pushing you back onto the bed and climbing on top of you. 

He pauses, his pink tinted face hovering above yours, as if studying your expression. Is he trying to make sure you want this? To encourage him, your hands move to his shirt, shaky fingers trying to undo the buttons. He’s seen you naked twice now and it’s not fair that you haven’t seen him. 

His breathing quickens as he helps you unbutton his shirt and then slips it off his shoulders, displaying his well toned torso. Your eyes are drawn to the thin trail of fine hair leading down below his pants. 

Before undressing any further, he leans down and kisses you, slowly and softly, the way you always dreamed of him kissing you. The taste of Suo is still on his lips, but somehow that turns you on even more. 

He draws back and unbuttons the expensive black pants, opening them and pushing them down his hips. Apparently Suo didn’t leave any underwear for him either. 

Haruka is different from Suo. A little thicker, a tiny bit longer, a base lined with two colors of soft hair. He’s rock hard and leaking already as his hand lightly strokes his cock. You glance over at Suo, who is standing nearby, watching with an unreadable expression. It’s embarrassing to do this in front of someone else, but you want Haruka so much, you think you would let him fuck you in front of the whole world. 

He sits back on his knees and lifts your hips, pulling you into his lap. His face is still red, but his expression is serious, focused, as he lines himself up with your dripping entrance. Then, oh so slowly, he begins pushing in. 

There’s a sheen of sweat on his body, his teeth gritted as if he’s fighting some desperate mental battle. His hair that had been pushed back has fallen back into his face. God, he’s beautiful. And he’s trying to be so gentle with you, easing in, taking his time. 

You feel yourself stretching around him, molding to his shape, and you only want more. More of him inside you, more of his body brushing against yours. You feel your own breaths hitching, your skin feeling hot as you look up at him. 

Suo moves closer, looking at Haruka. “I admire your restraint,” he says. “Must be hard to control yourself with such a tight, wet pussy wrapped around you.”

“Shut up, Suo!” Haruka practically growls. 

Suo laughs. “Such a feisty cat! But oh, look how pretty she is under you, looking up at you so lovingly. I bet you want to plunge in and fuck her sweet little brains out.”

Haruka growls again, his sharp feline teeth showing. Is it that hard for him to hold back? You wouldn’t mind him going a little faster…

“Haruka,” you say, “You don’t have to hold back! You can be rougher with me!”

He pushes further in, still slowly. “Fuck! I want this to be special for you! I want you to feel good!”

You reach up and touch his face. “I do feel good, just being touched by you. I want you to feel good too!”

His grip on your hips tightens, and he pulls your body further onto his cock. He’s moving a little faster, going a little deeper. It feels amazing! You want him to reach the deepest parts of you. 

“Haruka! Please… deeper!”

He shoves in, finally going all the way to the hilt, making you gasp and clench around him. He’s panting as he begins thrusting in and out of you, still being careful not to hurt you. “Fuck… you feel so good around me,” he says, looking you in the eyes. 

His tip hits a spot that sparks such pleasure, tears spring to your eyes. He pauses, his face alarmed. “Did I hurt you?”

“No!” you cry out, desperate for him to hit that spot again. “Please don’t stop!”

He starts again, going even harder and faster, building a rhythm that makes you moan and writhe beneath him. He hits it again, your sweet spot, and your body jerks  

Suo is beside you, and he puts one hand on your head, stroking your hair. “You’re doing so good. Sakura is nearly at his limit.”

The praise only intensifies your pleasure. All of it combines to make you feel almost delirious. Haruka’s sculpted body above you, dripping sweat, his heavy breaths and growls, his hands gripping your hips, his cock filling you so full, hitting something deep within you that makes your toes curl. Then Suo’s hand gently petting your hair and ears, his soft voice telling you how pretty you look and how good you’re doing. 

You fall over the edge, all the stimulation overtaking you. As the orgasm washes over your body, you cry out, tears leaking down your face. Suo’s free hand rubs down your arm to reach your hand, where he takes it in his own and pulls it up to his face, kissing it as you ride out your high. 

Haruka is looking down at you, still thrusting into your clenching pussy, his eyes looking wild, feral. You stare back at him, teary eyed. “Haruka… I love you!”

He grunts loudly, shoving in as deeply as possible as he finally cums, shooting everything he has directly into your core. When finished, he nearly collapsed, but catches himself on his hands on either side of you. His face is inches from yours. 

He kisses you again, then looks directly at you as he says, “I love you too!”

[daytaker]

The Gang React to You Giving Them Chocolates on Valentine's Day

And other Valentine's Day miscellanea. I'm going with MC giving store-bought chocolates. I know in some places, it's more common to give homemade chocolates, but I for one do not have any idea how that is done and it's not something that's common where I live, so I'm going to go with what I know, which is very little. Enjoy! (Mostly below the cut.)

The length of these varies. Some are quite short. I just wanted to put out some sort of Valentine's Day themed Thing, even if I'm almost two days late.

Lucifer

"How thoughtful. I don't suppose there's anything deeper I'm meant to read into here?"

He's so smug. Unreasonably so. More than you would expect. Yeah, guys, he got chocolates from MC. But his pride doesn't allow him to flaunt the fact. He has to just hope and pray people actively ask him whether he's gotten anything or where those not-so-discreetly placed chocolates sitting on his desk happened to come from.

Lucifer is very traditional in his treatment of you. When it comes to events like this, he's almost painfully predictable. He'll certainly have roses for you, and depending on your relationship, he might reserve dinner for two at a high end restaurant. And if your relationship is at a certain level, you can expect a trail of rose petals leading to the bed. It's kind of cringeworthy but he means well.

Mammon

"O-oh... Ahem... Is it Valentine's Day? Ha! I thought I was forgettin' somethin'. Heh, uh... thanks, human."

Obviously he didn't forget; he's been stressing over this day for the past week. He needs to get you something, but it can't be anything that's too cheesy or anything that makes him look cheap, so he's probably broken the bank to get you some sort of jewelry that he'll spend the next century paying off, but it's worth it.

When he gets chocolates from you, he plays it off like it's no big deal, but actually, he's so excited to reciprocate that before he has time to think it over, he's acting like he just so happened to have this expensive piece of jewelry on his person so you might as well take it for him. He spends the rest of the day kicking himself because now how in the world are you supposed to know that this was actually a very tactful and expensive gift from the greatest demon in the Devildom?

That, and he'll probably spend the entire day glaring at his brothers and the dateables from the corner as they shower you with gifts and attention.

Leviathan

"Wh...? For me? This isn't a prank, right? Because I'm not gonna forgive you if this box is full of tide pods!"

It's not full of tide pods, so all is well. He's so embarrassed to have doubted you that he tries to just shove his gift into your hands and push you out of his room, but it won't take too much persistence to get him to back down.

His gift is some sort of merch relating to an anime, manga, or game the two of you have particularly enjoyed together. Preferably something cute and evocative of the holiday. He doesn't know. He's never done this before. Why would he? Nobody would ever think to give him anything on Valentine's Day, so why would he bother with gifts? You do remember that nobody likes him, right? He doesn't like them either, so it's fine, but---

Let's just thank him for our gift before he falls too far down the self-hate spiral.

Satan

"I had hoped I might receive something from you today."

Satan is glad to get something from you, no matter what it is, but to be honest, chocolates probably aren't the best choice for him. He'd rather have something a little more heart-felt, that seems like you picked it out with him in mind. Literally anything cat-themed, or a book of some sort (bonus if it's a romance novel).

He's probably gone and done something stupidly romantic like buy you flowers and a book of poetry with certain parts highlighted.

But don't be fooled. Satan's favorite part of Valentine's Day is talking about its gruesome history, from the martyrdom of St. Valentine to a whole host of brutal murders that have taken place on the day. Catch him trying to figure out how to shoehorn the Chicago St. Valentine's Day Massacre into a casual conversation.

Asmodeus

"Oh, for meeee? You're such a sweetheart!"

He adds it to his enormous pile of chocolates, cards, flowers, and love letters. But of course, it's special, because it's from you.

He loves it, but... he's another one who would probably prefer something a little more personalized. Being who he is, he's a very popular demon on Valentine's Day, so seeing you put in a little effort to get him something with a bit of Asmo-flair would thrill him.

Beelzebub

"Chocolates...? This is the best thing I could have asked for. They'll taste even better knowing they're from you."

Well, obviously he loves them. He probably tried to get you chocolates too, but it doesn't matter how much he loves you. Beel's gonna Beel. The box is empty. He's shocked. He was sure he left some.

Belphegor

"...Wait, it's...? ...Thanks, MC. They look really good."

Belphie stares down at the chocolates in his hands, looking tired and mellow, while he internally panics because holy shit, it's already February 14? When did that happen? He doesn't have anything for you. He hates Valentine's Day. Why does it have to exist and lay bare all his inadequacies, like being a procrastinator and forgetting to prepare for things in advance even to the slightest degree?

Diavolo

"Ah, for Valentine's Day! It's a delight to receive this in person!"

Diavolo probably gets plenty of Valentine's Day presents from admirers (and suck-ups) around the Devildom, but most of them come in the mail or are otherwise delivered in an impersonal manner. So when you approach him directly to give him some chocolates, he's reminded why you're everyone's favorite human (himself included).

Also, you'd better clear out your schedule, because Diavolo booked out all of Ristorante Six for a dinner date tonight. Yes, the entire thing. Yes, on Valentine's Day. No, he's not worried about the dozens of disappointed couples who had probably been hoping to eat there.

Barbatos

"Any gift from you is satisfactory in my eyes."

It's kind of embarrassing to give regular old chocolates to someone like Barbatos who's a complete whiz in the kitchen, especially when it comes to sweets. But you figure he'd appreciate the gesture, and you'd be right. Of course, he will turn around and present you with a variety of immaculate, handcrafted artisan chocolates, tailor made to your personal taste. But sure, those store-bought candies you got in the heart-shaped box are completely fine, so stop stressing out about it.

Solomon

"Aw, thank you, my adorable apprentice! I have some homemade chocolates for you! What? Aren't you going to try some?"

Solomon tries to kill you on Valentine's Day...with love, obviously! But seriously, aren't you going to try the chocolates? He put his whole heart into them. And the hearts of several unique Devildom species. They're not toxic, stop worrying.

Simeon

"The fact that you thought of me means more than you realize."

And he means it. The fact that you thought about him, and when thinking about him, made the active decision to buy him something for Valentine's Day makes him stupidly happy.

Simeon strikes me as a flowers kind of guy. He got you flowers. Maybe some homemade treats too, but definitely flowers.

Luke

"Thanks! I got you something too. Happy Valentine's Day!"

Luke made cookies. They're delicious. Befriending this kid is the smartest thing you ever did.

[miaoua3]

Can we please get a Vernon head cannon… I struggle to find them on here but your svt ones are just amazing :))

hi! sure you can, and thank you so much for saying that, hope you enjoy this!

Vernon Boyfriend Headcanons:

•(sfw! hcs):

we all know that he is mostly silent throughout the day, but i truly believe that vernon would NOT be able to shut up with his significant other, he would be talking 24/7 to you, be prepared to hear about his day from the moment he woke up to the moment he came through the door of your apartment

throughout your relationship, you notice that your boyfriend has a problem. a very big and potentially dangerous problem. and that is that he brings all sorts of animals home. it started on one rainy night, he was supposed to be home 20 minutes ago but he was nowhere to be seen or heard. just as you were about to call him for the nth time, he came in through the door, drenched from head to toe from the heavy rain. and with three kittens in his arms. he didn’t even try to make any excuses, he just proceeded to say “i found them behind the dumpster two blocks away.”

we all know that he sleeps like a corpse, so naturally he wouldn’t cuddle you back while he’s asleep, but before that he definitely won’t let you out of his arms. he’s either talking your ear off or is casually scrolling through his phone. to be honest, it doesn’t matter what he’s doing, as long as you are in his arms he considers it time well spent. and just because he doesn’t cuddle you back during his sleep doesn’t mean you can’t do what you will lol, you can lie on him, hug him tightly and throw your leg over his stomach, he won’t care-but he also he won’t reciprocate it either because my man is just like this🧍

constantly shows you something on his phone, doesn’t matter what you are doing, you will just see his hand appear in front of your face before you even hear him say “babe look at this”, be it a meme or a cute cat video, he just wants you to see everything that he does too so you can enjoy it too

speaking off, kinda unpopular opinion but vernon definitely calls you babe or a nickname based on your name, i don’t really see him only calling you bro or dude like most claim he would do, i just don’t think he would go that overboard on cute nicknames either, but something small and cute just to signify both to himself and you, as well as to people around you that you two are together, and at the end of the day that would be a small way of him showing his love and affectionate for you

if you have a niece, count on vernon to ask you every other week with sparkly eyes if you can go and visit them, he just loves your niece so much even though he doesn’t really know how to play with her, he still loves her so much. even if he has to sit on a little pink chair with a tiara on his head while drinking ‘tea’ from a little pink cup, he doesn’t mind, as long as he gets to read her bed time stories when she goes to bed, he’s okay with it all❤️

i feel like everyone has already said this but vernon definitely has a big thing for showing you and sharing to you his love for music and movies. from making you new playlists with new songs he heard (and that remind him of you), to having a dedicated day of the week for movie nights, he just wants to have somebody that he can talk to about his favourite things so pls make sure to pay close attention to what he’s showing you :(

•(nsfw! hcs):

vernon strikes me as a man who wouldn’t have that high of a sex drive, but when he’s in a mood, count on the fact that you will be doing it for hours to no end and that you won’t be able to walk the next day. he will bend you in positions you didn’t even know you could be bent into, he will try out all the paces until he finds one that you enjoy the most that night. sex with vernon would never feel like chore but rather like a brand new and beautiful experience every single time

he actually gets really nervous before going on stage, so he always drags you into the nearest corner for a quickie or to eat you out or to have you suck his dick, for him it’s a great way to get all that pent up energy out (plus seeing you on your knees, with teary eyes as you struggle to wrap your mouth around his thick cock is something he can think about while on stage as a way to pass the time-)

if you ever thought that this man had a stone face and that he’s expressionless most of the time, that would change the very first time he fucked you-his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, his mouth opened as moans keep on spilling from his mouth, droplets of sweat sliding down his temple, a few landing onto you due to him hovering above you-yeah, let’s just say that he makes the prettiest faces and noises ever

prefers it when you ride him, especially after a hard day at work, there’s nothing he loves more than leaning on the backrest of the couch and letting you take care of him, as well as letting your wet pussy swallow him whole, he would just lay there with his eyes closed and let you do whatever you think he would enjoy-sucking on his neck, scratching his chest with your nails, whispering sweet and encouraging words in his ears- let’s just say that this is top 3 best feelings he could ever feel

has a thing for both biting and being bitten, just something about the sensation you feel when you’re being bitten is so hot to him-imagine feeling so good and so much pleasure that the only thing to stop from screaming and letting the whole world know how good you’re feeling is to bite his shoulder, it makes his brain go ckslcnsnqjqh

for some reason finds himself always fucking you in the most unusual places-on top of the kitchen counter, in the bathtub, behind some restaurant that is secluded enough but also not enough, on dino’s couch??? when he wasn’t even in his apartment??? he just…fucks you when he gets in the mood, no matter the time, place or the occasion

you can’t even dare to say to me that he doesn’t have a thing for cream pies, just the sight of his cum dripping from inside you, your pussy clenching around nothing before he pushes his cock back inside along with the cum that was just about to drip out-let’s just say every thought from his head (if he had any left due to the feeling of your pussy clenching around his dick) evaporates, only thing he can focus on is you and how good his cum looks like coating your lower lips i- i need him i fear

[mtchee]

[IMAGINE] Living with Cat! Gojo | GN

cw: not edited, second-person-pov, cat! jjk au, non sorcerer au, cat! gojo, kitty satoru, fluff, he's a little shit, love my cat series aww

[1.6k]

| masterlist | jujutsu kaisen collection |

Imagine living with cat! Gojo Satoru. You have no idea where he's from, or who his owner is--but apparently it's you now.

You first saw him loitering obnoxiously outside your region's specialty sweets shop, and he was pawing at the window display longingly. Then suddenly, his head turned to you and he hasn't left you alone since.

When he sauntered over, you cooed and gave him some attention before heading on your way. The strange cat followed you for a bit, and you gently shooed him off a few times before he relented. It was only when you finally got home that you realised he actually hadn't.

He popped up in front of your door bright and early the next morning, sitting all poised and beaming at you before letting himself in.

His fur was too clean to have been out in the streets for long, and he was much too well groomed to be a stray.

But he was yours now, it seemed. Or maybe you were his.

Either or.

Imagine living with cat! Gojo Satoru, one of the prettiest cats you have ever seen.

He's fat.

Or at least, it looks like he is at first.

He's incredibly fluffy, with pristine white fur and the most darling baby pink paws. His eyes are an entrancing cerulean blue, though hidden behind a pecular pair of rounded blackout specs that fit perfectly proportionate to his kitty face. He didn't have a collar--still doesn't with you.

Instead, you had found his name engraved in tiny elegant lettering on the temple of his accessory.

Cat! Gojo Satoru is long. You had been fooled into his thickness from the look of all his fluff, but then when you held him and let him dangle, he just extended.

You had been kneeling when you had first done so, holding him out at arms length from under his shoulders and his hind legs were comfortably touching the ground. You were shocked, all the whilst he went slack and let you manoeuvre him however you wanted.

Imagine living with cat! Gojo Satoru, who fucking yaps nonstop.

He's a chatty little thing, and awfully entitled too.

Just like when he first appeared and walked into your house like he'd always lived there, he abides by his own whims no matter what.

While you buy the prettiest decorative pillows, he kneads them and pokes holes in them like it's nobody's business while shaking off his fur all over. Now, along with his furballs, you see tuffs of the pillows stuffing sticking out from his claw marks.

When you buy him the best kitty bed that you can afford (accompanied by the softest blanket), he turns up his nose and rolls himself around on your clean bedsheets.

He ignores his scratching post in favour of the leg of your dining table.

He would rather starve than eat any of his dry food.

He will not just be drinking tap water--it must be served nice and cold from the fridge. He will also not drink any sort of cat-safe milk. He wants it fresh and full cream. If you have any sort of milk substitutes (whether it be skim, almond, whatever), that won't fly. No, you have a full-cream carton just for him.

Also, whipped cream. He loves it.

God forbid you run out.

He will find a way into your kitchen cabinets and pantry, and he will be eating any and all of the sweets you have stored. Sour gummies? Devoured. Hard boiled candy? Those sugar rocks are done for. Complimentary chocolate? Not a single crumb left behind.

You have no idea how he isn't dead yet.

Imagine cat! Gojo Satoru constantly starving for your attention. He'll yowl, mewl, trill, scream--anything for just a lick of your time.

Imagine cat! Gojo Satoru frightening away your creep of a neighbour who was trying to force his way into your home.

With your eyes slightly glossy from fear of what could happen to you, features perpetually frozen in an expression of discomfort and fright--your cat weaves between your legs with a sweetened "mreow?" before taking seat by your feet.

He tilts his head at the sight of the unwelcome disgrace of a human being leering in towards you, leaning threateningly against your door frame. Despite cat! Gojo's light hearted trill, his fluffy tail swishes agressively from side to side behind him.

A quiet panic latches onto your heart--you don't know if you could bear it if anything happened to him too. "Satoru, inside please," your voice trembles as you whisper at him.

Your neighbour glances down, puffing a condescending laugh at the fluffy cat before taking a step forward and reaching for your arm.

You don't really remember what happened after that. You don't recall blacking out, or maybe it all happened in a blink? Either way, by the time you regained your senses, the offender was scattering off with a series of wounds littering his form, and a scorch mark was left where he once stood in his wake. You swallow wearily, processing everything.

Cat! Gojo plants his fluffy butt back down by your feet, licking at his front paw indifferently before looking up at you with his big, sunglass clad eyes.

When you let out a soft breath of relief and incredulity, he sticks out his little pink tongue with a dopey cat-grin.

Imagine cat! Gojo Satoru, escaping and wandering off for hours at a time, only to come back with some sort of (rather expensive) gift in his clutches.

He's the adventerous sort. Although he loves to laze around the house, he gets the urge to be up and off, and he'll annoying weasel between your legs and make you trip up before heading on his way.

He might leave for the day, but by the evening he always returns. Sometimes you'll find him waiting patiently at your door like you did when you first found him, this time with something akin to an offering sitting at his paws.

Other times he'll already be back in the house, awaiting you leisurely with his present sat nearby.

He's popped up with a paper bag of pricey chocolates (perhaps in replacement of the ones he ate in your pantry?), a pouch of authentic ginger and tea leaves (you'd been complaining about getting migraines recently...), a cashmere scarf (winter is getting closer, where the HELL did he nick a CASHMERE SCARF from!?), and a thin, 22-carat gold chain from GOD KNOWS WHERE.

Whenever you scold him for stealing, he never looks abashed. If anything, he goes out the next day and returns with something even more expensive for you to panic about.

Imagine having a bad day and indulging in your most bed-rotting desires with cat! Gojo Satoru.

Normally you wouldn't eat in bed. You don't like the feeling of grain or bits and pieces poking you in your sleep. Aside from the occassional, mostly able to eat clean meal, you wouldn't eat in bed.

But today--today is an exception. What started as a decent morning turned into an annoying afternoon and a shitty evening. A flurry of emotions battle within you: frustration, irritation, sadness, confusion, annoyance--it ate up at you.

So after getting home and foregoing a shower to change into some old, tatty pyjamas to make you feel even more miserable, you'd picked out your most unhealthy snacks to take out your upset on.

When you get home, normally you'd greet cat! Gojo happily, or at least with a cuss after he trips you up in his excitement, but after a simple sigh and sad, passing smile, he knew something was up.

And so the graceful feline joins you on your bed, padding softly over the covers to stare at you uncomfortably. And when you notice and wave him away with a scrunched nose, finally he scoots closer and rolls onto his back, wriggling up to you with a gentle playfulness that you can't help but indulge.

You poke at his paws when he stretches them out at you, and for once, you decide to share your pile of treats with him. Together, you crunch down on some chips, chew on some candy, eat all your chocolate, and gradually spoon away all your ice cream.

And even when it's all gone, cat! Gojo lays with you some more before gently coaxing you up and guiding you towards your bathroom, urging you to wash the crappy day away.

And when you're done, he's waiting for you on the bed with the messy doona dragged off and replaced with a clean one, pillows fluffed and his favourite plush toy placed as an offering.

Imagine cat! Gojo Satoru taking up a majority of your bed at night because he refuses to sleep elsewhere. Not only does he take over your bed, but also your space.

Where you go, he goes.

When you decide to nap on the couch, he'll flop himself onto your tummy and crawl up to your chest, splaying himself over your body like a weighted blanket.

If you decide to take a nap outside on the grass, he'll lay tummy-up with his head pressed against yours, the both of you soaking in the warmth of the sun. Or, shoulder the weather be a little chilly, he'll cosy up to your side, flopping across your arm and nuzzling into your neck.

On your bed, if you shift so much as an inch, he follows. Where this might lead you to balance precariously on the edge of your side of the bed, eventually he'll just flop on top of you since you keep moving away.

He's a clingy little shit.

But to be honest, you wouldn't have him any other way.