#one of you hoes

[whateveriwant]

18+ mdni

I know I’m far from the first person to say this, but I love the idea of Simon and Ghost being like two separate people.

Like on the one hand you have Simon, the caring, devoted family man who holds his duty to his loved ones above all else, and on the other hand you have Ghost, the cold, detached soldier whose only driving forces in life are his need for blood, order, and karmic justice. Or one moment he’s Simon, the wisecracking goofball trading jokes with his comrades over the radio, and the next moment he’s Ghost, the sadistic interrogator hooking up enemy combatants to live car batteries.

And those are just a few in-universe examples we’ve seen of this divide in Simon Riley’s identity. Imagine what it’s like in his day-to-day life; what it must be like as his significant other trying to navigate such a personality schism.

Is it Simon who you’re about to pick up from the airport, the one who’ll eagerly take you into his arms the second you step into the terminal? Or is it him, Ghost, the one who’ll not hug you or kiss you or so much as hold your hand over the center console during the drive home?

Is it Simon who sits across the dinner table from you tonight, the one who, given the right amount of liquor, will regale you with (heavily redacted) stories of his time away? Or is it Ghost, the one who, no matter how well fed, fueled, and fucked he is, remains as tight-lipped as a corpse?

Is it Simon you’ll wake up beside tomorrow, finding him gazing at you like you’re a gift from God? Or is it Ghost who’ll leave behind cold, carefully tucked sheets for you to discover in the morning, wondering if he ever came to bed at all last night?

Is it Simon you feel beginning to stir behind you, who warms you up with soft kisses and sweeter touches before he makes gentle love to you? Or is it Ghost you feel pressing hard and hot against your lower back, who holds you down by the throat as he fucks you through the mattress?

Is it Simon who stumbles into the kitchen when you accidentally nick yourself with a knife, who helps wash and bandage your finger until it’s as good as new? Or is it Ghost who spots the crimson spilling from your hand, who sticks your bloodied finger in his mouth so he can suck it clean?

Is it Simon who’s dying to spend hours with his head between your thighs, much preferring to give over to receive? Or is it Ghost who’s pushing you down to your knees, clutching your head between both hands, and skull-fucking you until you’re dripping with spit and almost passing out from lack of oxygen?

Just the thought of these two distinct, almost opposing personalities coexisting in the same body is super intriguing to me. And how at the drop of a hat, he could switch from one to the other, leaving you guessing who it is you’re really dealing with at any given moment.

[royaltea000]

watching yet another person fall from an unimaginably tall height

[dankovskaya]

Why did he fucking do that 😍

[bangchansbackohmygod]

I keep seeing posts about Mingi being one of those “loser in a hot body” types and like it’s the Truth so……

Loser!Mingi specific random thoughts:

-Loser!Mingi who literally starts drooling when you first show him your tits, head so empty that he doesn’t even think to touch them, has to have his hands guided by you to squeeze them as he gasps and stutters

-Loser!Mingi who has no idea how to get you into the mood at first because he switches from 0 to 60 in a second when it comes to being ready to plow, so you have to tie him to the bed and ride his face slowly, explaining the basics of foreplay over and over until his little pea brain can retain it

-Loser!Mingi who thanks you for every orgasm he gives you, showering you in gratitude and breathless kisses as if you just squirted all over his fingers just to be nice, too caught up in how lucky he is to notice that he’s fingerfucked the soul straight out of your body, your brain having lost function about 40 scrapes against your g-spot ago

[beerose12]

*scurries up to you and drops the harry potter meme redraws at your feet*

*scurries back into the art void until who knows when*

[insidekatmind]

P links p.15

Jude Bellingham

Blowjob

He fuck you

After all day of acting like a brat

Netflix night

He punished you

Jobe Bellingham

He fuck you so well

Backshots

You allow him to release all his frustration

Pool sex

Blowjob in his car

Vinicius jr.

Vacation sex

Console him

Morning sex

"Come outside we gotta talk"

Relax time

[alecz-obssesionz]

˚₊ A treat to myself for being able to draw again ₊˚🪻🌹

PREVIOUS ONE:

[blushweddinggowns]

Prompt number 2 bc I’m praying for more jealous Steve content. Bc Eddie can be so oblivious and Steve can be such a bitch and those things are so important to me

Eddie was a glutton for self-punishment, that was the only reasonable explanation he could come up with on what the fuck he was doing here. Sitting at some random gay bar as he watched the man he loved dance the night away with his bestfriend.

He just had to volunteer to be their designated driver. Maybe it was stupid, but Eddie thought that y'know, a gay bar meant that no he would not have to watch Steve flirt with some randos. But he forgot the small detail that bisexual people existed. And he had seen at least three damn girls slip Steve their number.

Which was just...so fucking cruel. Why did life always have to do him so dirty? Eddie had thought that maybe...if they went to this type of place together Steve's mind would open up a bit. A stupid fucking thought honestly. Based off of nearly nothing. Like, okay sure, Steve was all touchy feely with him sometimes. When he was high or drunk suddenly Eddie became his personal chair. And he would say just...the sweetest shit. Going on and on about how happy he was to have met him, how he's so glad he's alive and well, how funny Eddie was, how nice and sweet and pretty and...and all of it had sent his traitorous brain into a tailspin that had him thinking he actually had a chance with a straight guy.

And the fucked up part was that Eddie had really tried to start doing the right thing. He put a little distance between them when he figured out that he was past a silly crush. No he was head over heels for the guy and he needed to get over it. Fast. And if he could just start saying no when Steve called to get high or have a few beers together he probably would have made some progress by now.

But no, he was still to eager for contact with him to say no. Which made him feel like a creep, always waiting around for Steve to be a little out of his mind just so he could get a hug.

When did he become so pathetic?

The only slight comfort he had tonight was the fact that he wasn't alone. It really wasn't fair to bring a straight guy to a place like this, but at least every guy who had eyes on Steve was going to have to suffer in silence with him.

And some of them were kind of cute. Cute enough for Eddie to try and use one as a distraction. He was sitting next to a preppy looking guy, talking to him a little bit. Maybe he shouldn't have set his eyes on someone that kind of looked like Steve, but fuck it. His name was Andrew, and he was nice, a good flirt. The perfect diversion for when Eddie could tear his eyes away from Steve.

And things were actually getting a little interesting with him. He had his hand on Eddie's arm, leaning in to loudly whisper everything he said in Eddie's ear. He was smiling at him, close enough for Eddie to see the pretty gold flakes in his eyes.

They weren't as pretty as Steve's but they'd do.

Andrew tucked a bit of Eddie's hair back behind his ear, leaning in again. But he didn't go for his ear this time, no, he was zeroing in right to Eddie's lips. Not that he was complaining, he let it happen, a sweet, light kiss that had zero time to escalate to more.

Because suddenly, someone was tugging at his arm, hard enough to force Eddie's whole body back, nearly out of his chair. He blinked, more than a little startled to see Steve coming out of nowhere, clinging onto him with that stupid, gorgeous smile.

"Eddieeee," Steve whined, completely ignoring Andrew's presence, "Robin ditched me to make out with someone in the bathroom."

Eddie couldn't help but smile a little bit, despite the fact that he was definitely interrupting what was probably the first good thing about this night. He glanced over at Andrew, who was staring at them, wide-eyed before saying, "Uh, I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

"I don't-"

"I can't hear you in here," Steve loudly interrupted, looking adorably confused, "Come outside with me?"

If Eddie was smart, he would have gently pried Steve's hands off him before sending him off to find Robin. But...a drunk Steve was also a very cute and cuddly one. So fuck it, Eddie could find a rebound for his non-existent relationship next weekend.

He shrugged at Andrew, mouthing a quick apology at him before Steve started to drag him outside through the back door. Eddie half expected Steve to do his usual routine when he was toasted. Sweetly asking for a piggy back ride that Eddie literally could never refuse before falling asleep on his back. Then he'd get him in the car, wrangle Robin from wherever the hell she was, and they'd be off.

But the second they were stepping outside Steve was straightening up and stepping back, to Eddie's immediate confusion. He leaned against the wall, glaring at Eddie in a way he had never seen. Or at least directed at him.

"So," Steve started, his tone way too close to how he sounded when one of the kids pissed him off, "Who was that guy? You looked pretty cozy in there."

Eddie's brain was still struggling to catch up to the change in atmosphere here. But he tried to answer anyway, "I mean we were but-wait. Why are you not drunk? You were literally just-"

"It's called acting dipshit," Steve mumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Which ow, rude. But his next words hurt even more, "Not like I have a choice, since you only seem to like me when I'm fucked up."

Eddie could feel his heart stop in his chest. He didn't-oh no. Oh god. Steve figured out he was a creep. A creep who was probably moments away from getting his ass handed to him.

Eddie swallowed, at a loss for what to say. But he still tried, "I-look dude it's um, it's not like that. I didn't- I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable-"

"Then why the fuck would you kiss another guy right in front of me?"

Okay. That was enough of that. Yes, Steve could be mad about him being creepy, but no he couldn't be mad over having to bear witness for a gay kiss at a gay bar, "Well if I had known that you were apparently only okay with seeing girls kiss each other I wouldn't have come out tonight at all! Honestly Steve, how can you even say that? Like that is some real dumbass levels of homophobia, even for you. I thought the King Steve thing had died-"

"Shut the fuck up oh my god," Steve hissed out, "Are you really that damn dense? That's what you think I'm upset about? Are you fucking kidding me? And I'm the dumbass?"

"Then why are you mad?" Eddie half asked, half yelled.

“I’m not mad," Steve seethed, like he didn't look about five seconds away from choking Eddie out, "I...I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

Maybe he really was drunk after all. Because now he wasn't making any damn sense.

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose, beyond frustrated, "Who Steve? Like, I'm sorry to break this to you but not all of us can fucking look like you do alright? We're not all charming, golden Adonis basketball players okay? And sometimes you need to take what you can get. And there was nothing wrong with Andrew-"

"You think I look like a golden Adonis?" Steve interrupted, a weird expression on his face. He looked almost...hopeful? But that didn't make any sense.

"That's what you got out of that?" Eddie asked, exasperated, "I-come one dude. You know you're hot. But that's not my point."

"Well it's mine!" Steve groaned. He was biting his lips, a very distracting nervous habit that Eddie had picked up on, "Because what the fuck are we even doing? You think I'm so hot, so charming, so great, and you decide to kiss someone else in front of me? What the fuck is that? Do you like seeing me jealous? Do you get off on me pining? Please explain."

You see, that was the funny thing about Eddie's brain. One second he was lost, staring at Steve's red, bitten lips, and the next he was desperately trying to catch up with what just came out of his mouth. All of it the perfect blend to effectively shut his brain off completely.

Eddie stared at him, his words as dumb as how his face probably looked, "I-what? Huh?"

Steve narrowed his eyes at him, "Are we really doing this? Are you going to pretend like it's all in my head?"

"I-no. I just-please explain," Eddie is pretty damn sure he had never stuttered through a sentence that hard in his life.

"I've been coming on to you for months and you just keep giving me all of these mixed signals and..." Steve sighed, looking away, "I'm so sick of it Eddie. If you don't like me just say that! Stop whatever this is. Because it's mean and you know it. If you want a better option then just take it already and leave me alone."

He-what-that didn't even- Steve was straight, wasn't he? And now the stuttering had invaded his thoughts. Because if he actually understood all of that then...

He was the biggest idiot on the planet.

And his stunned silence was not helping anything.

Steve sighed, pushing himself away from the wall. He turned away, "I'm going to find Robin. We can just...act like this didn't happen I guess. I'm done."

Eddie had to give himself on thing, at least his body was working a lot faster than his brain. Steve barely had time to take a single step away before he was shooting his hand out to grab his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

"I didn't know you were an option!" Eddie blurted out, his heart hammering in his chest, "I-Stevie I thought all of it was in my head. I-I thought that you were straight and we were just hanging out-"

"You think I sit in the laps of my other guy friends?" Steve asked, completely unimpressed, "While playing with their hair and calling them beautiful? Really, dude?"

Eddie nodded, sure and fast, "Steve, I had to do my senior year three damn times. I'm not always the smartest okay? And in my defense you never mentioned like dudes-"

"Yes I have," Steve interrupted, "When you came out to me, I told you to your face that I understand. That I could relate about hiding things and not talking about it. I literally said we were in the same boat. What else could that mean?"

Eddie remembered that, crystal clear. But..."I thought you were talking about PTSD, not secretly being into dudes."

"One dude," Steve corrected, but he was relaxing a little, thank fuck. Maybe Eddie could still fix this.

He took a deep breath, using his hold on Steve's wrist to pull him closer. His hands were fucking shaking, bad enough for Steve to almost certainly notice when he rested them on his hips.

This was it, he might as well be as clear as humanly possible, "I am so into you. Like a scary amount. Like I'm...borderline in love with you."

He was completely in love with him, but he didn't have the balls to say that bit out loud. He kept going, "And I didn't know you felt the same way. At all. Like I am dangerously close to having a stroke from hearing all of that. You kind of flipped my world upside down there."

Steve huffed out a laugh. Eddie may have fucked up everything leading up to this point, but Steve was eating his little speech right up. He shuffled a little closer, wrapping his arms around Eddie's neck with a small smile, "Keep going."

"I thought that I had no chance. I mean even tonight, people couldn't stop looking at you. And you got those numbers-"

"I threw them away," Steve interrupted, "You missed that part."

He had definitely missed that part, too caught up in his own head. But that didn't stop a smile from breaking out on Eddie's face, "Good. Because if you want me, you have me. I'm all yours, in any way you want me. Understand? Fuck, Stevie if I had known any of this we'd be the ones making out in the bathroom right now. And I'm sorry about..."

For the life of him Eddie couldn't remember his name, not when he had Steve smiling at him in his arms, "The other guy. But it literally means nothing to me. Not if I get to have you. Do...do I get to have you?"

Steve hummed, pretending to think about it while he played with a lock of Eddie's hair, "I guess that depends. Is making out in the bathroom still on the table?"

"Fuck yes it is."

Steve grinned, leaning up to press the sweetest little kiss to the side of Eddie's mouth, "Then I guess you have me then."

[jjmaybankswifeyx]

my heads down xx

[flamingtouya]

some hori sketches from volume 38

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Canon events aren't bad, Miguel's just projecting his trauma.

One of the things that will always stand out or bother me in this scene are these three lines from Miguel:

Because... Wait what?

SOME OF THEM ARE GOOD??

Miguel admits himself that some canon events can be positive - but he names none, refusing to show any of these instances, instead surrounding Miles with images of loss and grief.

Even he admits that Canon Events aren't inherent tragedies.

They only come off that way, because he's hyperfixated on suffering. Largely, his own.

People have talked about Miguel's background in the past and that's a job for a Spider-man 2099 fan - but in short, Miguel DID NOT have a good life.

If you think about it - it's extremely hard for Miguel to POSITIVELY connect with other Spider-people.

He lacks the spider-bite, has no MJ, Harry, Doctor Octavius, or May. He's never had the experience of happily and excitedly coming into his powers.

The only thing he has, is a lot of tragedy.

Him not having many positive events in his life is just another reminder of how he's othered.

Because he's unable to connect to other Spider-people based on things like biology, love, familial connection to aunt May, the driving lesson that 'with great power comes great responsibility'.

Much of all knows is tragedy.

Because of this he hyperfixates on traumatic Canon Events, using the resulting fear as a source of unity, rather than uniting them all over good, constructive Canon Events.

Idk it just always stood out to me. Cause what do you mean GOOD???

Either Miguel is wrongfully weaponizing 'Bad' Canon Events as a source of authority - protecting his trauma and ignoring the good-

OR he's lying about there being good Canon Events, and that's something he tells them to make them feel better. Which would be fucked up.

OR OR The Canon Events he considers 'good' aren't actually good at all. Marrying your MJ might be a 'good' canon event. But you still have to do it. Even if you aren't into marriage.

Isn't that an arranged marriage?

If I don't wanna marry my MJ, but that's my Canon Event, is Miguel gonna beat my ass over it? 🤨😐

[Yes, that's apart of Dianes lore lol Her MJ Martin is a poseur-punk asshole rich record producer whose bordering misogynistic. He hates Hobie. But uhh oh he's supposed to be a 'good canon event']

But like...

If Jessica Drew's canon event was getting pregnant and the next one is like 'nah I want my tubes tied' Miguel gonna be like 'sorry no can do'?????????

HUH... IS THAT WHAT YOU MEAN BY GOOD??? Compulsory 'positive' events.

BUT NO REALLY what the hell is Miguel talking about???

[hauntingjasper]

"I'm calling a truce!"

The truce in question:

[goffilolo]

Team Akuta reporting for duty

[faeriedoodles]

I give you … them

[insidekatmind]

P links p.16

Jude Bellingham

after three days of arguing and you went back to making up

reassure him

Night together

Missionary

Jobe Bellingham

have sex in the bathroom of his best friend's house

Blowjob

He love fuck you

He eats you

Vinicius jr.

you proposed a threesome with your boyfriend and he brought his friend Vinícius but you focused more on Vinicius ignoring your boyfriend

Shower sex

after a stressful day

you only had to watch one movie together

[sageyxbabey]

Whiskers & Wishes - Gaz x Reader (1)

jesus christ, i can't believe i'm doing this...

two of the images used are renders done by loneghostwolf88 (@loneghostwolf ) and BettyBRenders3D

Gaz x F!Reader, eventual smut (final chapter only).

this is: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | (TBA)

Summary:

Gaz knows you very well - he's been in love with you for the better part of a year. So when he jilts the wrong woman and ends up being turned into a cat for his troubles, surely the person who knows him best will recognise him, even like this... right?

You know Gaz very well - you've been pining over him for the past year. So when he disappears without a trace and a strange cat appears at your apartment, the little coincidences that remind you of Kyle are just your anxious mind making false connections... right?

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Kyle kept his head down as he made his way to the pub near your apartment, rain slipping down the slope of his nose. 

This was his last night of leave, and he had spent the entire day with you, the same way he had for each time off he’d had for the past year of his life. Outside of his task force, you had become his closest friend. To his heart, you had become something more. You were the lightness in his chest, threatening to float away with his heart in tow every time you smiled. You were the warmth that settled over his skin when you hugged him hello and laughed at his quips. You were safety and peace. You were still and mundane compared to his working life. And with a job like his, God only knows how magical the mundane could be.

But he could never tell you this. He couldn’t tell you this because you were his best friend, and you had been for a year now. A year spent spinning in your orbit and eclipsing you in sweet, soft moments. He had flirted, he had touched, he had watched. And now, in this dance of yours, he had spun you out and waited for you to keep the waltz going, but the longer he stood with arms outstretched, the less likely it seemed you would spin back into him. Being with you but not being with you was the sweetest torture. Your blade was carving him up, but all he wanted was to kiss the hand that held it. 

Sergeant Garrick was trained to hold up under pressure, but Kyle was about to crack. He knew he had to move on for his and your sakes. For better or for worse, Kyle needed you in his life now, and if the only way he’d get to keep you was as a friend, so be it. So, he pushed open the door of the Crossroads Hotel and bought himself a goddamned drink. 

And when he finished that one, he bought another.

And another. 

A hand grazed his wrist when he raised the bottle to his full lips for one last swig. 

“You’re drinking awfully quickly there, handsome.” Kyle turned to find the owner of the voice. She was nothing like you.

Maybe that would make it easier.

He leaned one hip against the bar and grinned, “Is this you offering to get my next one?” 

“Maybe, what are you offering me in return?” The woman purred.

“Hmm… Where to start? I have several talents, you know.” Kyle moved in closer as the stranger laughed. This was why he was here. He needed to try to shift his attention to people who would want him back. This bout of flirting went back and forth like a tennis match, and felt like one, too. It was performative, a hollow game. When she excused herself to the bathroom, Kyle was on his sixth drink and still just as drunk on thoughts of you. 

When he turned to scan the bar (hypervigilance was a serious work hazard), he spotted someone else who looked so similar to you… How could he resist? It was a terrible idea, but he was already feeling terrible. He approached this new player and started the same kind of game as he had before. His only prize was frustration at himself.

“Well, you don’t waste time,” a sharp voice groused – the woman from earlier.

In his self-pity and irritation, he said the words that he would both curse and praise himself for later. “No offence, but I don’t exactly owe you anything, do I?”

The woman cocked her head to the side, her smile just on the wrong side of inhuman. When her grey eyes locked onto his, he felt a shiver down his spine. “Fine. Since you’re so concerned with getting pussy, maybe you’d enjoy being one instead.” 

Gaz let out a grunt as the woman’s palm smacked into the centre of his chest, an odd sensation spreading out from his heart to the tips of his fingers and toes. By the time he collected himself, both women he’d been speaking to were gone.

He was alone. Wonderful…

With a heavy sigh and a heavier heart, he closed his tab for the evening.

Shuffling back out into the cold and biting night air, Kyle made his way towards the end of the block. Nausea was setting in. God, how hard did that woman hit him? ‘ Clearly, the alcohol isn’t helping ,’ he thought, as an aching started in his head and joints.

Then, there was nothing but excruciating pain. If Gaz could’ve screamed, he would. But he could not breathe. He could not think. He felt like his bones were being pushed to breaking, like his skin was tightening in on itself.

Snap.

Now he screamed.

Crack, snap.

Holy shit, his bones were breaking. They must be because he knew that sound all too well. What the bloody hell was going on? Gaz moaned out in pain, shaky breaths getting smaller and tighter as he closed his eyes to try and brace through it.

As suddenly as it had started, it was over. 

When he opened his eyes, everything looked… wrong. Colours were not what they should be, and things were too clear for this time of night. That streetlamp was also… a lot bigger than it had been a moment ago. Kyle went to stand before freezing when he caught a glimpse of himself.

Was that a fucking paw ? Why was it moving when he tried to move his left arm? Kyle swung his head around to see not his torso and two legs but a cat's body and a full, long-haired tail. A glossy brown-black coat of thick fur.

‘I didn’t think I’d had that much to drink…’ Kyle thought. He was dreaming. He must be dreaming. But he felt very much awake, very much in pain, and he knew he had not made it home yet. Oh God, home. How the fuck was he supposed to get home? His clothes and belongings were not lying around after his… episode? Transformation? The half-an-hour taxi back to his place was now out of the question, and – assuming this was real and he wasn’t just having a fit in the gutter – he was not about to get very far on foot. On paw?  

“Shit…” Kyle tried to mutter.

“Meow…” was what he heard. 

Oh… you’ve got to be having a fucking laugh.

He was a soldier, a problem-solver. He just needed to think and find a way out of this. He needed help. He needed…

You. 

He’d come from your apartment, not two blocks away. Your building was pet-friendly, and he remembered the little dog door leading onto your balcony. Bless you – even when you didn’t know it, you were helping him. If he could get to your apartment, get inside, and figure out how to convince you who he really is, you could help him.

If this were all a dream, he would wake up in his bed tomorrow morning and laugh it off. 

If this was real, you were his only shot at getting out of this mess.

Moving was strange. Kyle’s brain was thinking about moving his limbs the same way he usually would, but the sensations he was getting back were all wrong: the strange tingling from the wind  moving in his fur and whiskers, the lightness of his body, and his shifted centre of gravity. 

He was grateful for how easily he could jump once he reached your block – scaling up the tree to your balcony with sharp claws. In one leap, he landed at the glass door. He ducked his head into the plastic dog door…

It did not budge. Locked. Shit . 

‘Hey!’ Kyle called out in his head. A loud ‘mrrow’ came out instead.

– – – – –

You startled at a strange flurry of taps and yowls as you tugged on your sleep shorts. You followed the noise with cautious steps out into your living room and breathed a sigh of relief when you spotted the culprit. The cutest little long-haired cat with wide hazel eyes stood on its hind legs, tail swishing eagerly with front paws pressed into your sliding balcony door. 

“Aww! Hi there, kitty!” you cooed. In response, you received a string of pathetic meows. 

“Do you live here? Did you get stuck outside, silly?” 

Your building was pet-friendly. You had a few neighbours with cats who liked to laze around outside on the warm pavement. The cat batted a paw at the small dog door. “Demanding little thing,” you laughed and reached down to unlock the flap. As soon as you did, your new guest darted through in a chocolate-coloured blur. The cat’s fur was shiny, and it looked well-fed. It was definitely not a street cat. ‘No collar…’ you thought, ‘Odd.’ You sent a quick message to your building tenants' group chat to see whose cat you’d accidentally acquired. 

In the meantime, your fluffy friend was mrow -ing up a storm as though you’d personally offended them. You knelt down on the carpet and offered your hand for a sniff. “Hi, baby,” you cooed. The cat stopped meowing and stared at you, blinking. You gently scratched behind their ears, watching how their eyes closed and head tilted in pleasure.

— — —

He knew you didn’t realise it was him, but hearing you call him ‘baby’ in that soft voice had floored him for a moment. 

He’d been chatting your ear off, hoping that something vaguely human-sounding would get through, to no avail. He was going to start thinking up Plan B, he swore, but then you’d kept cooing at him and scratching behind his ears – Oh, that feels very good, thank you – and before Kyle knew it, he’d leaned so far into your touch, he was flopped on his back, purring. You giggled sweetly, and Kyle felt his heart melting in his chest. 

“Oh, what a sweet baby! You’re such a pretty girl,” you fussed.

Kyle’s eyes opened, and he let out an indignant chirp. 

“Hang on, are you a girl?” He watched you lean forward with a surreptitious gaze before realising your intent. Kyle yowled and flailed away, but you had seen enough. “Oh, pretty boy. My mistake.”

You were completely unfazed. 

This was the most mortifying moment of Kyle’s life. 

In all the ways he’d imagined you seeing him naked for the first time, this was never one of them. Oh, God… was he technically walking around naked the whole time? No… ‘The fur counts as clothing! The fur counts as clothing! ’ he thought. That was the only way to stop himself from curling up into a ball and dying of embarrassment.

You’d gone back to patting him at some point during his existential crisis, complimenting his fluffy tail and chest. “What a handsome little man!” You praised, stroking a gentle finger down his nose. 

He was going into cardiac arrest. He just knew it. 

“Where do you live, little guy?”

Your question snapped Kyle back into action. With a chirp, he was up and running across your living room.

— — — 

You watched the cat bound past your couch to sit in front of your TV console, right next to the framed picture of you and Kyle from the day you’d helped him move into his apartment. The cat just flicked his tail, looking at you almost expectantly. 

“What?” 

“Meow!”

“What!?”

He sniffed at the picture before turning back to you.

“That still doesn’t answer my question, mister.”

This time, the cat turned to paw at the photo of you and Kyle, and you jolted upright.

“No, no, no, we don’t touch that!” You took him into your arms and carried him back to your couch. He meowed in protest the entire time. “That’s a very special picture, pretty baby, so you leave that alone.” He flopped onto his side, the image of dejection at being denied the chance to cause chaos. You checked your phone to see responses from most of your neighbours; no one recognised the cat. “Well buddy,” you sigh, “Looks like you’re stuck with me for the moment. How do you feel about chicken for dinner?”

“Mrrp!” His tail twitched. 

You narrated your cooking process to him, picking him up to show him the pans on the stove. Your little sous chef sniffed the air before giving his approval, but complained the second you put him back down. “What’s the matter?” you whispered. His pleading eyes bore into yours as he pawed at your calf. “You wanna come back up? Okay, you big baby.” You supported his weight with one arm, his front legs resting on your shoulder while he watched you cook, tail swishing lazily. Now and then, you pulled a strip of chicken off the grilled fillets and fed it to him, laughing as he licked your fingers clean. You ate your dinner on the couch as he sat beside you, staring at your face the whole time – strange cat…

You may as well enjoy this little fluffball before sending him on his way. 

Your new friend gave a quiet chirp and nudged your hand where you had been absentmindedly scratching his chin. He rolled over to show you his belly when you looked down, blinking up at you expectantly. 

“Wow,” you deadpanned. “I see how it is. You’re just using me for cuddles, huh?” You hesitantly ran your hand down his tummy, barely brushing the soft fur. You’ve had one too many cats lure you in with this trick, only to scratch and bite you when you give in and pat the sensitive spot. You pulled your hand away from his belly, not wanting to risk a finger. He wiggled and meowed at you – almost petulant in tone – and you returned your hand to his stomach, feeling a purr vibrate against your fingertips. 

This odd fellow was changing your perception of the typical cat. “You are such a weird little guy!” He mrrped back at you and stretched out lazily, presenting more of his belly to you. You couldn't  help but laugh. “Cheeky little bugger,” you muttered before pressing your face into the long fur of his chest, dropping obnoxiously loud kisses there whilst you scratched his sides. You reached up to rub behind his ears before sitting up to grab your phone. 

“I’ve got to tell Kyle about you; he’s never going to believe this!” You starte dtyping out a message, but soon, a chocolate-coloured tail obscured your vision. Your new friend frantically meowed, demanding your attention. 

You hushed him, stroking his back with a soothing hand until his cries ceased. You briefly re-read your texts with Kyle. Normally, he’d have told you he was home by now and maybe sent you a meme or two before heading to sleep. You hope he’s just knocked out after packing his bags to leave tomorrow morning. This deployment wasn’t supposed to be a long one, thank God. 

You’d already started missing him before he left your apartment earlier today. You used his goodbye visits as an excuse to hold him tighter, like you could press him into your chest and keep him there if you tried hard enough. 

Your eyes flicked to the time. It was getting late.

“Alright, pretty baby, I think it’s time for you to go home.” You picked up the cat and walked towards your balcony door, but he wriggles out of your grasp for the first time tonight, darting back to the couch. You kneeled next to the small cat flap, holding it open. 

“Come on,” you coaxed. “You need to go home, little kitty. Your people will miss you!” The cat kept staring, unmoved, even as you pspsps to try and get him closer. You sighed, resigning yourself to leave the little plastic covering unlocked. “Fine, I guess you’ll leave on your own at some point.” You stand and make your way towards your bedroom before freezing in your tracks. You turned back to point a stern finger at your feline friend. “Do not. Shit. In my apartment.” You stared each other down in silence. Satisfied with your quiet agreement, you turned and crawled into bed. 

Half an hour later, you were fast asleep when silent paws padded into your room and leapt onto your bed. You didn't feel it when a gentle weight sank into the pillow next to you, one paw stretched out towards your face.