#reflective cat collars

[kamalshakoor]

A Comprehensive Guide to Cat Collars: Types, Choosing the Best Camera Collar, and the Beauty of Leather

Cat collars serve both functional and aesthetic purposes, allowing for identification, safety, and style. In this comprehensive guide, we’ll explore various types of cat collars, provide tips on choosing the best cat camera collar for capturing your feline’s adventures, and delve into the charm and durability of leather cat collars. By the end, you’ll have the knowledge and inspiration to select the perfect collar for your beloved feline companion. Let’s begin our exploration of cat collars.

1.Types of Cat Collars:

a) Breakaway Collars: These collars are designed with a safety feature that allows the collar to break open if it becomes entangled, reducing the risk of choking or injury.

b) Quick-Release Collars: Similar to breakaway collars, quick-release collars feature a buckle that easily releases under pressure, ensuring your cat’s safety.

c) Reflective Collars: These collars have reflective materials or strips that enhance visibility, making your cat more visible during nighttime activities or in low-light conditions.

d) Personalized Collars: Personalized collars can be customized with your cat’s name and your contact information, ensuring identification if your cat becomes lost.

e) Fashion Collars: These collars come in a wide range of colors, patterns, and materials, allowing you to express your cat’s unique personality and style.

2. How to Choose the Best Cat Camera Collar: When selecting a cat camera collar, consider the following factors:

a) Size and Fit: Ensure the collar is the right size and comfortably fits around your cat’s neck.

b) Camera Quality: Look for a camera collar with good resolution, clear imaging, and features like motion detection or continuous recording.

c) Battery Life: Choose a camera collar with a long-lasting battery to capture extended periods of your cat’s activities.

d) Memory Storage: Consider the storage capacity of the camera collar to accommodate the amount of footage you wish to capture.

e) Ease of Use: Opt for a camera collar with user-friendly controls and convenient downloading or sharing options.

3. Leather Cat Collars: Leather cat collars offer durability, elegance, and comfort. The natural material is soft yet sturdy, making it suitable for long-term wear. Leather collars often come in various colors and designs, including engraved or embossed patterns. They are an excellent choice for cats with sensitive skin, as they are hypoallergenic and less likely to cause irritation.

Conclusion: Cat collars not only provide identification and safety but also allow you to showcase your cat’s style and capture their adventures with camera collars. Choose from a variety of collar types, including breakaway, quick-release, reflective, personalized, and fashion collars, to meet your specific needs. When selecting a cat camera collar, consider factors such as size, camera quality, battery life, storage capacity, and ease of use. Additionally, leather cat collars offer durability, elegance, and comfort, making them a great choice for discerning cat owners. With the right collar, you can enhance your cat’s safety, style, and documentation of their curious and playful nature.

[bravadoting]

OG Nagi Sketches

I challenged myself to draw the NEO TWEWY cast during the time of the original game starting with Nagi 💜

[redfurrycat]

White Collar and Top Gun Fusion

Special Agent for the FBI in the white-collar crimes division Bradley Bradshaw once arrested white-collar criminal Jake Seresin, alias the Hangman.

The Hangman is a charming and sophisticated con artist known as such because he cockily leaves a hangman game on each crime scene (leading to his next theft). However, Agent Bradshaw cracks his hangman code which has allowed him to finally capture the elusive criminal.

(Un)fortunately, his criminal talents in counterfeiting are coveted by the white-collar crimes division. The FBI IceBoss Tom Kazansky strikes a deal with him: serving his remaining four-year sentence as an anklet-wearing consultant to the FBI. Seresin accepts the deal as long as he gets Agent Bradshaw as his handler. (What? The guy has brains and is sweet on the eye –his moustache notwithstanding–, and he likes ‘hem smart and pretty.)

Agent Bradshaw has no choice but to obey his bossdad. He’s thus now working with the infuriating, cunning, and not at all appealing criminal alongside his newly formed white-collar team –Agents Natasha Trace and Bob Floyd. The team has a particularly high solved-cases rate, mainly due to the duo très spécial working together.

FBI consultant Jake Seresin has the time of his life: he lives in a beautiful and richly decorated house with Penny Benjamin, the charming landlady; he wears her late husband’s styled suits and hats; he finds his criminal and genius best friend Javy Machado again and often asks him for help in various FBI cases…

About that…He is surprised how much he likes using his devilishly almost-too-good-to-be-true talents (‘ugh’, says Bradley, every single time) for the other side of the law. His colleagues Trace and Floyd are really nice too: he banters with Phoenix like he would his own sister, and fondly annoys Bob like he would a little brother.

He expects even less to fall for Agent Bradshaw. Bradley. The Hawaiian-shirt-wearing and by-the-book special agent appears to be a little grumpy on the outside, especially with him, but Jake is trying to shatter Bradley’s walls, and he will succeed eventually. They have numerous evening talks during which they share personal details, and pretty much bicker about every possible subject.

Jake also meets the IceBoss’ trophy wife and Bradley’s godfather, Pete (‘Call me Maverick’) Mitchell. Maverick is a mechanic and an engineer, and he does some consultant work when the FBI needs his expertise. These two become thick as thieves, as they have similar minds, and Maverick often invites Jake for dinner (Bradley whines ‘Mav, whyyyyyyyyy?!�� meanwhile Ice is questioning his husband’s –matchmaking–motives…‘Trust me IceBaby, I know what I’m doing.’)

It is Mav who convinces Jake to go for it, because his oblivious godson would never act on his feelings, he’s too cautious (‘Ah. The snug-on-his-perch type’…..‘Well, yeah, but he has his reasons.’). However, Mav is sure he likes Jake because Ice has told him Bradley often comes in his office to rant about Hangman (‘Ice, he’s yet again charming such and such, he’s unprofessional!’… Also Ice has the patience of a saint).

Thus Jake begins wooing Bradley à la Hangman: he leaves him complimentary notes disguised as hangman games on his desk, he delivers perfect art forgeries in Bradley’s effigy (paintings, sculptures, drawings,…) at his home –Bradley’s both scandalised and reluctantly charmed– and, on one memorable occasion, Bradley’s gifted a Carrara-marbled, life-sized and very much naked statue of Jake. He stays speechless for an abnormal amount of time and can’t look Jake in the eye (héhé) for some time. He’ll deny it, but Bradley keeps the statue. Of course, he keeps the statue! Finally, Jake’s last and most romantic move is to offer Bradley a piano he's personally restored! It’s the final straw for Bradley: he jumps him so hard his neighbours call the police to report *suspicious* noise.

[After their “strenuous” activities, Jake asks Bradley if he has succeeded in accomplishing his most spectacular heist.

Bradley: And what would that be?

Jake: Have I finally succeeded in stealing your heart?

Bradley: For a seductive bastard, you are ridiculously corny sometimes…but if you must know. Yeah, you did.]

Once they get their act together, Bradley feels comfortable enough to do some wooing of his own: he serenades Jake with skillful renditions of 'Smooth Criminal' on the piano as well as old romantic ballads.

[mizandria]

"terf brainrot hurts all women" no I think we're good! it's just you and other males that are "hurt" by someone calling you who you are. we're good.

what the actual fuck? all of the comments were supporting this dude even after this disgustingly misogynistic comment. I feel so bad for the women at that event.

"I don't even act like a man" yes you do. you're just completely delusional. @redditreceipts

[reyenii]

since edwin is very closed off, except for when he’s with his best friend, charles, costume designer kelli dunsmore reflected his buttoned-up mentality through his bespoke suit, complete with bowtie and collar. edwin’s outfit, along with charles’ period garb, were designed to help them stand out more in modern day port townsend. “i knew edwin would, because no one dresses like that now,” says dunsmore.

dunsmore wanted everything about charles to feel “a little bit cool and underground,” from his union jack and the who bull’s-eye patches to his checkerboard pins. his little cross earring and chain on the outside of his shirt are also meant to be homages to the ’80s.

in the show, crystal’s hero color is purple, which you’ll notice in her velvet coat and long silk letterman jacket, which dunsmore thought of as a psychic cloak with hand-embroidered patches, including the wilting rose of england.

her brown trench coat represents an explosion of everything going on in her mind. dunsmore decided the scribbled words and drawings are a result of crystal writing all over it to express her inner turmoil. there are even lyrics on there from the song she’s listening to on the tube when she meets the dead boys.

david’s connection with crystal seeps into her wardrobe, too. since david wears a flower shirt, dunsmore’s team hand-painted flowers onto crystal’s black boots. and niko is wearing a dark sweater with flowers on it when we first meet her, as an homage to crystal. the costume department also drew the same rune pattern the dead boys use to exorcise david in episode 1 onto crystal’s trench coat and on the tab of her wool bomber jacket. “so she’s always got some sort of protection,” says dunmore.

every color niko wears is inspired by what’s happening in that episode, from the green post-sprite exodus to blue when she’s feeling sad. niko only wears a white look, with nods to her japanese heritage, in the finale as a reset. the charms on her obi belt represent the colors she’s worn all season.

night nurse is someone who’s in control all the time and likes things to be in their proper place. dunsmore looked to vivienne westwood for inspiration, since everything in night nurse’s world is a bit exaggerated. (by the way, niko’s orange monochromatic look is a nod to her scenes with night nurse and night nurse’s red hair.)

since david is a demon, he finds a london boy that looks cool enough for crystal to find attractive. that meant dunsmore dressing him in a shearling jacket you’d find in “all the guy ritchie movies,” black pants and creeper shoes. the costumer’s mood board for “david the d” featured radiohead and amy winehouse and her husband blake, who often wore hats similar to the one you see david wearing in the show.

pay close attention to monty’s leather jacket and you just might spot an inlaid crow feather or two.

it’s not only esther who wears clothes with a gilt, old-gold color — cat king and night nurse also do as a nod to their villainy. (esther and cat king also have similar fur coats.) amidst her beauty, dunsmore wanted esther to be a little rough around the edges. she wears a cuff around her hand that’s adorned with a snake and a ring with teeth all around it to represent the teeth she’s collecting from all the little girls. her eye necklace is meant to be her witch pendant.

mischievous as ever, cat king has (cat) eyes everywhere and is aware of edwin’s affection for charles. so he wears charles’ socks the first time he meets edwin.

[facesofcinema]

Guillermo del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities, Season 1: “The Autopsy” (October 26, 2022)

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Don't you agree we need more A/B/O for love and deep space?

Omegaverse Scenarios with the Boys

Content warning: Omegaverse, jealousy, marking, scenting, fluff, mild sexual content, no pronouns, MORE ABO! MORE ABO!

Original Post

“You’re back.”

You whip your head around to see Xavier standing at the balcony door, looking serene as ever in the mid-morning light. The soft look the sunlight gives him brings a smile to your face. However, it quickly strains and breaks, collapsing into a frown as Xavier steps out onto the deck. There’s nothing scary about his demeanor; he seems calm as usual but there’s a subtle tension in the air that fogs heavy from him.

Wordlessly, Xavier scans you up and down, focusing on…something. You’re not sure what he’s searching for, but you suspect he’s found it when his forehead creases and his voice drops.

“Did you visit Philos while you were out?"

"How'd you guess?"

"You smell like Jeremiah,” Xavier concludes coldly, which causes you to hold on tighter to the little packet of plant food clutched between your hands. “What were the two of you doing?” he follows up; this time he fixes his face and flashes you that sweet smile.

You’re smart enough to not be fooled by the innocent expression he puts on whenever he tries to pry information out of you. However, you have nothing to hide and answer honestly.

“My friend has been sick, so I wanted to send her some flowers.”

“Is that all?”

"I also got plant food for the strawberries," you add, flashing the green packet of nutrients. 

"That's not what I meant."

Your suspicion tipped off, you raise your eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

Xavier closes in on you, each step making your heart pound as he boxes you in between himself and one of the large ceramic pots homing the strawberry plant. Raising your hands to your chest, your knuckles brush against the tassels of his hoodie as you try to make some space between the two of you. It's clear you have no room to run, and a part of you isn't sure you want to escape.

Xavier reaches out to you; his hand sweeps under the collar of your black turtleneck, sending jolts through your body when his fingertips hit the sore bruise in the soft junction of your neck. The way he immediately finds that tender target reminds you of the way he hunts down wanderers with precision, persistence, and unfortunately, pinpoint accuracy. Despite the severe shivers being coerced in your soul, it doesn’t frighten you as he traces around your scent gland.

“You’re practically shaking,” he mumbles, gripping the neck of your shirt and giving a gentle tug, exposing your bond mark. “Are you cold?”

“No," you answer immediately, watching his snooping hand from your periphery, "and don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not,” he says with a shake of his head as he continues to fumble with your clothing. “I was just wondering why you were so covered up.”

“There’s no reason,” you breathe out, distracted by the fierce concentration reflecting from dark pools of blue so different from the soft glimpses and angelic gazes he normally shares with you. They strike you so deeply, peering through you so sharply that memories from how the mark was made begin to flash through your mind, fumbling any other excuses you might have said.

“None at all?” he comments, making your face warm. “If the mark hurts, it’s nothing a hot bath won’t fix.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Then, why are you covering it up?” he asks; this game of cat and mouse quickly unravels when he brings up, “Did you not want Jeremiah to see it?”

“That’s not it,” you deny with a sigh, pushing his hand away.

You never understand how Xavier can be so jealous. Jeremiah is a friend to both of you; he has been for centuries from your understanding. Even if there was some point in those decades that Jeremiah possibly had feelings for you stronger than friendship, you didn’t hold those same feelings for him. You only desired to be bonded with one person, the one standing in front of you. Even when he was being a needlessly jealous dummy.

“It has nothing to do with him.”

“Do you not like the way it looks?” He questions instead, his demeanor softening only slightly with regret. With a slight blush, Xavier pouts and rubs the back of his neck. “I admit I was a little out of it when I did it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it! It’s pretty,” you finally yell, which causes him to clamp his mouth shut enough for you to explain better. “This is the first time anyone made a bond mark on me, and it’s a little embarrassing cause then everyone knows, we’re um…” you start to lose your concentration when he looms over you. You take a sudden step back, stopping only when the pot behind you threatens to fall over when you bump it. “Doing things…together.”

Chest aching, you hope your explanation is satisfactory. You never want to make him insecure but the idea of people knowing intimate details of your love life makes you sheepish.

“So, you don’t want him to know.”

“Xavier, did you not listen to what I said?”

“I did but isn’t what you said still a roundabout way of saying you’re hiding it?” He teases with a small laugh. There’s a pleased curve in the smile on his face and a shimmering light like stardust in his eyes; unbeknownst to you, that’s from knowing he’s the first and only one to ever mark you. How proud he would be if everyone was aware of that fact. “You don’t have to be embarrassed by something so natural. Everyone, especially him, should know you’re mine and I’m yours.” 

You open your mouth to protest but you’re interrupted by him grabbing your wrist in one hand to prevent you from squirming away as he hooks a finger into your turtleneck. Pulling your collar, he presses an open-mouth kiss to your bond mark then higher up to nip the soft flesh under your earlobe, higher until he's breathing into your ear. 

"I'll fix it," he murmurs and kisses your neck again and again until all you can make sense of is the heat blooming along your throat with each touch of his lips. 

His kisses lack his normal gentleness; they’re filled instead with a desire that makes your knees shake and buckle. You’d fallen if he hadn’t held you closer, squeezed you to him like letting go would be the end of him, as if he finds joy in feeling the aftershocks of your fluttering heart against your ribcage.

“Xavier, what are you-you-ah."

You desperately hold in the moan that builds up in your chest as he continues to bite into your skin and the sound of his kisses fills your ear smooch by smooch. Xavier chuckles against your flesh.

“Relax. I’m not going to do anything bad to you. I’m simply making a few minor adjustments to your  first  mark." He hums, tongue sliding along your neck to mark its target. “I think this is a good spot,” he whispers before sinking his teeth into your pulse.

It burns in a searingly blinding way, and your eyes roll up when he sucks onto your bite-broken skin. He doesn't stop until he manages to ring out a strangled moan from your throat. He cements his work with another swipe of his tongue then pulls away to admire it.

He paints that innocent smile back on his face as he locks his eyes with yours. His voice is light and airy like a weight is off his shoulders when the fresh mark peeks from your turtleneck. "This time I gave you a mark you can’t hide."

It’s another day at the arcade and another day Zayne watches you spend an exorbitant amount of money winning a plushie you could’ve easily ordered cheaper online. The Tinkle Toy you win this time is cuter than the normal fare at least. It’s a bright candy streamer rainbow, with smiling pink cotton candy clouds.

“I did it!” you cheer and hold out your prize to him in search of his approval. He congratulates you on your well-earned victory. With a smiling face, you push the toy closer to him rather than hug it to your chest in your normal possessive manner.

“What is it?”

You wave the toy back and forth. “You know.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

In truth, Zayne knows exactly what you want, and it makes his neck hot under the collar. He presses his pointer finger to the bridge of his glasses and pushes them further up his nose as an excuse to avoid your slowly narrowing gaze. Your previously cheerful smile flattens into a stern line and your tone becomes more demanding.

“Zayne,” you repeat ominously, like a parent scolding their child for not finishing their chores. Somehow, it always works to earn his attention, and he briefly glances over the toy again; it looks much less cute this time, the carefully stitched smiles now a mocking grin.

Zayne examines his surroundings: the kids running around the overly decorated and gaudy arcade, the bored and drowsy-eyed employees behind the gift counter, the many older siblings and parents trying to win tickets for the little ones, and, well, you, glaring him down. That look tells him you’re not going to be willing to let this go despite how crowded the arcade has become in your short time here.

“You want me to scent your toy for you?” he questions, adding for emphasis, “Right here?”

“Rainbow Candy can’t join the other plushies in the nest without being christened by the leader.” Poking out your lip, you give him the biggest puppy eyes you can muster. It doesn’t move him enough to give in, not until your eyes start to gloss like stained glass and you softly plead, “Please, Dr. Zayne.”

Ice quickly breaks and chips in the mildest bit of sunlight, dissolving into warm puddles, and it’s just like that when Zayne finally breaks and melts at the smallest insistence from you. Grabbing the toy, Zayne quickly shoves it against his throat, ignoring how plush the toy feels against the underside of his chin. He trails it up and down the column of his neck, swiping it one final time under his chin. It’s a simple motion, done quickly and precisely to efficiently cover the toy in his scent in the least amount of time possible, yet it still feels so inappropriate to do here under your watchful, yearning gaze threatening to make his body stiff.

As he feels his limit about to be broken, he hands the rainbow back to your waiting arms.

“Is this satisfactory?”

You squeeze onto the toy as if someone could snatch it away. You press your face against it, smelling deeply, and when you look up at him from under your brow it’s with the sweetest smile he thinks he’s ever witnessed.

“Your best work yet, Dr. Zayne. Good job!” you giggle, and he has half a mind to pinch your cheek and wipe that childish grin off your face. “Now, I’ll have something to remember you by while you’re at work today.”

“Is that why you demand I scent all your toys?” he asks, and you nod slowly.

“You’re always so busy that I hardly get to see you outside of the hospital, so when I get lonely I just cuddle with these guys,” you confess. You press your nose deeper into one of the garishly pink cotton candy clouds; this time when your eyes waver like watery skies, it isn’t to sway him. “When the teddies smell like you, it’s like I’m holding a piece of you too.”

Those words connect everything that has ever happened between the two of you together, stringing the moments like a red line of fate. Despite the words  I love you  never leaving your lips, it excites the same effect that can make a sane man an idiot, an effect not even Zayne is immune to when you so innocently and freely express your feelings to him.

It’s a skill he struggles with; though for you and your happiness, he’s willing to give in and let loose the restrained mask he wears on his face as he listens to the one person he’s longed for all this time admit that they get lonely without him beside them.

“I think scenting you before my shift would be more comforting,” he offers; the adoration glowing in your irises makes him weak enough to stroke your forehead with the back of his hand. There’s a little whimper muffled into your plushie while your forehead feels hot to touch before your face falls into shock and your eyes dart around the room, like his before. As sweet and innocent as you can be, you can also be very easy to read. “You’re thinking inappropriately.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Not here.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

Zayne gently pokes your forehead to clear your head of the improper thoughts running through it causing you to whine and rub the spot, which only reminds him how you’re much, much cuter than any plushie. 

You hold in a giggle as Rafayel shoves his face against the crook of your neck. Since you came over to his studio, he hasn’t been able to tear himself away from you, which left you sitting on the couch, covered in little splotches of dried paint, trying to discern why he feels the need to drag his hands down your arm and audibly sniff your hair.

His breath is heavy and ragged as he sucks in a breath, or rather your scent, and continues to trace up your skin until his finger can finally sink into the collar of your button-up. “Did you do something different today? New lotion? Bath Soap?” 

“I did what I normally do every day.”

Rafayel groans against your skin again. You haven’t seen him hot and bothered, face soaked and flushing red with fever, since his last ebb day, which already happened earlier this year.

“Are you sure?” His lips on your skin feel so familiar that your body is immediately on edge and reacting to every stuttered exhale he makes whenever your leg so much as brushes against him. He sinks closer to you, removing any space in between your bodies. “You smell delectable.”

“Rafayel?”

“I just want a taste.”

“Rafayel, are you rutting?”

“No, I’m not,” he groans, laps your shoulder without any care for the fabric covering it, then pricks his canines against vulnerable, pulsing skin. You can tell he’s about to lose it when he pops the first button on your shirt, not even paying attention to the way his nails draw across your upper chest. “I’m just…admiring you…there’s nothing wrong with that.” 

There’s a whimper melting from his mouth when you press your hand to his chest and push away. Your confidence is quickly rising thanks to the pitiful expression on his face, highlighted by parted, puffy lips and wide violet-pink eyes fogged with hazy lustful clouds.

“I charge by the hour for appearances.”

Rafayel huffs lightly in response. Something about him is different today; something that your experience tells you is due to the rut he fails to explain away. He misses the usual flare he has, the coy seduction that he uses to draw you in. He trades it for brute force, spurred by the mind-numbing need to have this fire in him quenched inside of you as he grips your wrist and forces you closer to him.

“Just send any charges directly to the studio,” he pants out in desperation between sporadic breaths. His voice hitches, forming a short gasp when you grip his chin and focus his sights back on you. He follows so readily at any touch you offer him no matter how rough. Your mind was becoming fuzzy with how much power you have when he’s like this.

“I only take payments in kisses, but I’ll be sure to let Thomas know.”

There’s a moment where his eyes narrow, perhaps in frustration, before they drop and lock on your mouth; specifically, he's memorized by the motion of your tongue glancing across your lips. Rafayel is only consumed with thoughts of how gravely he wants to be the one wetting them despite doing so hundreds of times before. His body wildly craves yours like the months before he was graced with a taste of you, or maybe this yearning is because he knows exactly how it feels to be touched by you as you are now. Rafayel isn't sure which it is anymore, the lines fade and blur, becoming harder to trace by the second. It hurts being this vulnerable, his body uncontrolled by himself, but if you’re his mate then there isn’t anything to fear, at least not this time.

“On second thought, I really should settle my own debts.”

“Are you sure you can afford it?”

“I’ll gladly pay you with interest, darling,” he barely manages to force out in his last single coherent thought. “Now, let me taste you already.”

Rafayel leans closer, aiming for your lips, but is stopped by your nail dragging up the center of his neck, unhindered by the thick gulp he takes to stop his heart from jumping into his throat. You creep your finger up his chin, stopping at the point to force his head up and eyes to lock with yours. The smile on your face is torturous, the look in your eyes out to kill as your lips purse and part to form one simple word,

“Beg.”

The arrogant smirk on your face says you know he will; Rafayel knows he will; anything for a small taste to quench this thirst built in him since eternity for you, but he also knows he’ll have you in his trap instead very soon.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sum of All 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You sigh and back up through the file explorer. Come on. Your frustration bubbles up until you feel sweat on your scalp. You squint at the screen, searching for what you need. You blow out through your lips and reach for your mug. The white one with the small agency’s logo on it. 

“Mr. Brenner,” you pivot your chair as you put your cup down, “I can’t find the Dubeau files. I was almost finished--” 

“Dubeau? Never heard of ‘em,” he doesn’t look away from his screen. You tense and nod. 

“Of course, sir, I must be misremembering.” 

You don’t argue. Not out loud. Just like always, you roll over and take it all. You hold it all in. When you lost something, you resign yourself to it. When you miss the train, you sit down and wait for the next, and when you’re told something is a certain way, it must be. And if not, you’ rather wait for the truth to leak through then speak up and make yourself the fool. 

You click around the files. That means you can move on. There’s a backlog of accounts to get through as it is. Ever since Wallace quit, you’ve been doing his work too. It was so unexpected. Strange how abrupt that was. He left his jacket behind but he still hasn’t come to get it. Well, once you find a better firm, you’re out the door just as fast. 

“Carson. It needs to be done,” Brenner says as he clicks his mouse lazily. 

You glance over. You can see the reflection of his screen in the glass of his framed accountant certification on the wall. It doesn’t look like a spread sheet. The colours move and you try not to think about what they resemble. 

“Got it, sir.” 

“What about Williams?” Geraldine suggests. 

Brenner clucks, “delete that. Thought I already did.” 

The tapping of keys continues. Geraldine is old and slow. Her work is reliable but not timely, and Brenner, the senior accountant, tends to do better at sweet talking clients than the paperwork. 

You focus on the Carson file. Like many of the clients, it’s a mess. Assets all over. Photos of wrinkled documents and few of loose cash on indeterminate surfaces. You don’t ask questions. You just figure it out. The place isn’t your first choice but with zero experience, it’s the only way you’ll have any. It’s a pathway to a better destination. 

The office is stagnant but for the clacking of keyboards and clicking of mice. Only Brenner’s heavy huffs and Geraldine’s incessant sniffling interrupt. You lean on your elbow as you compare your two monitors and input values. 

The front door opens and Geraldine stands. She deals with the walk-ins. She enjoys chatting with them. Sometimes too much. You suspect she doesn’t get much conversation with her two cats. 

“Oh, hello, aren’t you a strapping young man. My, oh, I know you,” she chimes, “Mr. Rogers. Yes, I recall.” 

The man sighs in response. You glance over as Mr. Brenner stands so quickly that his chair rolls back into the wall. He clears his throat and hurries around his desk. You haven’t seen him react like that for anyone. 

You stare at the man across from Geraldine. He’s tall and well-dressed. He wears a pinstripe suit with a pressed white collared-shirt, a sleek grey tie down his chest. Despite his tailored attire, his hair is overgrown, his beard too. There’s a permanent stitch in his forehead. 

Rogers... it sounds familiar. 

“Sir,” Brenner extends his hand as he approaches the other man, “how are ya? What can I do for ya today?” 

The other man looks at him dully and ignores his handshake. He sniffs and peers around at the beige walls. The place is enough to drive anyone mad. 

“I need an accountant.” 

“I didn’t know you were looking? Brian--” 

“Shut up about Brian,” the man snarls. “I’m not hear to chat.” 

“Well, I can take care of it--” 

“You won’t,” Rogers insists. “The things you click on, I don’t need that risk. It’s off the books. No digital trail.” 

“Right,” Brenner agrees, “Wallace is... gone--” 

“Didn’t ask,” Rogers turns away from him and looks past the empty desk to you, “her. Come on.” 

He snaps then curls his fingers. Brenner bounces on his heels anxiously, “um, right, but Geraldine is more experienced--” 

“She’s wearing orthotics. I need someone who can run around,” the man snaps.  

“Yes, sir, of course, sir. I don’t mean to overstep,” Pete shows his palms. “Get your bag, sweetie. You’re gonna help Mr. Rogers for the day.” 

“More than a day,” he says as he checks his watch. 

“As long as you need,” Brenner agrees. 

You save the spreadsheet and slowly close down the Excel sheet. You wheel back in your chair, unsure, and reach beneath for the leather briefcase you splurged on when you got the job. When you still thought it was a professional office. 

“I heard about the engagement,” Brenner lowers his voice but the place is too small not to hear, “Sorry, buddy, that’s tough--” 

“I didn’t ask what you think,” Rogers bristles. 

You peer over again and find him staring. Impatiently. 

“Right, right, was just saying--” 

“And I’m not your buddy,” he growls. 

“Of course, sir,” Brenner preens. “I’m digging the new look. Growing out the hair. Very in vogue--” 

“Enough,” he waves past Brenner to you. “Let’s go. Boss is waiting.” 

You get up and snap the clasp on the plum briefcase as you shuffle in your kitten heels. You approach the man as you grip the handle and offer your other hand formally. “Hi, sir,” you introduce yourself. “What can I help with?” 

“We’ll get to it. For now, stay close,” he looks at his watch again. 

“Glad to be of service, sir,” Pete says. “I’ll waive the invoice--” 

He’s once more ignored as Rogers spins and marches for the door. Tension curdles in his wake and you look around. Brenner gives you a toothy cringe and shoos you, “don’t keep him waiting and for god sakes, smile.” 

You raise your brows as Geraldine returns to her desk. She sits stiffly as she rubs her hip and offers a sheepish look, “good luck, dearie.” 

Their nervous demeanour fills you with dread. Who exactly is this Mr. Rogers and why are they all so afraid of him? You can only be sure that you should be too. 

[r0-boat]

Whb Cats headcannons

Enjoy just screwing around.

Sfw cutting for length

Satan (Turkish Angora)

Has Zoomies at 3:00 a.m. There are many nights when you wake up and try to fall asleep and then hear a crash in your kitchen. You cover your head, pretending that you didn't hear it. before hearing another crash in your kitchen.

Use to scratch up all your furniture It took you months to finally move him to scratching at cat trees and scratching posts. He goes through him like crazy but at least it's not your furniture.

You put a camera around his neck because you thought it would be cute You were shocked to find out that your cat outside the house is a little menace to society digging up people's gardens, and bullying other cats. You decided to keep him inside for a while.

Mammon (Maine Coon)

Once, he somehow got out and came back with $100. You don't know where he got it. Your eyes widen, and you check to see if it is even real because you honestly couldn't believe your eyes. The last time he got out, he mysteriously brought back more money. Now, you just let him do as he pleases, hoping he brings back more, and he does. That's why he gets the more expensive cat food.

He's a big boy, but he's just a little lap dog. The moment you sit down, he's in your lap. If Satan or any other of your cats take your lap, no worries, he'll either sit on the side of you or sit on them uncomfortably until they move.

You watch him and Satan fight all the time. It could be just playing if it weren't for the fact that both of them were hissing and growling. So you thought Satan hated his new friend but then you were surprised to see them cuddling together on their half torn up cat tree... To this day you don't know if they like each other or hate each other.

Leviathan(Snowshoe)

He was labeled as an aggressive cat from a shelter you frequent for volunteer work. He seems to tolerate you the most so you are co-workers suggested that you keep him. He follows you around but keeps his distance. Every time you look you see him stare back. When you try to encourage him to come over He just runs away.

It took him a while to warm up to you. Now he's literally a shadow no matter where you are he will be in the same room as you acting like he's always been there, and that he's totally not following you. He only lets you pet him. Only you pet him. He gave poor Minhyeok a good scratch on his arm when he got a little too close to you for comfort.

He only comes to you when you least expect it and when you don't want him! When you're trying to do work suddenly he's all up in your face getting all up on your computer. Or if you have company he will be all up over you or trying to hiss and growl at whoever came into your house.

Beelzebub(Bengal cat)

Just fucking showed up at your house He must have snuck in somehow because you caught him sleeping in your warm laundry. You have no idea where this cat came from and the fact that he is a bengal scared you that is an expensive cat that's an owner must be looking for. But there was no one who recognized him so I guess he's yours??

He wants to go outside again but you didn't let him until you got him microchipped and collared and you're so glad you did because he would leave for hours. Only coming back when it's time to eat. But the weirdest part is when you would always find him when you're outside of your house?? At the grocery store? He's fucking there in the parking lot! At a friend's house a couple streets away? He's scratching at the door wanting to be let in because he knows you're in there!

This little shit steals your food. You had to get child locks on everything because of him! For a cat so smart you can't believe how stupid he is as you find him in the weirdest positions or napping spots. Or just manage to catch him running into a wall at full speed, trying to jump only to not make any traction. Scratching at his reflection, somehow getting on top of a high place in your house, real orange cat stuff.

Lucifer (Norwegian Forest)

Obsessed with licking you. Like grabs your hand and starts grooming you profusely. If you move away he'll try to lick something else. He always tries to go for your hair.

Once he starts laying on you he always starts purring. You don't have to pet him He just starts purring. Especially when he knows you're sick he will sprawl on top of you and just purr as if he's trying to help you feel better.

Along with Mammon probably one of the more chill cats you have You can pick him up carry him and he'll just sit there purring. True gentle giants.

Belphegor (bobtail)

Sleepy boy. You love this boy so much He doesn't cause trouble, He doesn't knock over your things or hiss at your guests. He doesn't come back with dead rodents in his mouth or do anything weird outside. He is a simple boy. He sees a Sunbeam and he sleeps.

It is always a treat to walk into a room and see him sleeping in the most weirdest way possible on any furniture he can. And when he is out he is out He scared the shit out of you once because he felt limp when you tried to wake him up. You've seen along brown haired cat around when you let him nap outside in here backyard... Must be his friend.

Every time you see him actually awake and walking around that's when you remember you have another cat. He tolerates you waking him up and pestering him with your kisses and hugs and baby voice. He loves it even though he looks like he hates it.

Asmodeus (Chantilly Tiffany)

You have gotten so many messages from neighbors about this little every time he manages to scamper out he gets another poor cat in the neighborhood pregnant. You are not rich enough to pay cat food child support for another family who's poor female cat is going to have kittens. Sometimes he'll just bring you kittens from who knows where. You already have Seven cats So you frequently have to go next door to check if the kitten is theirs.

Somehow knows what you're planning because every time you want to take him to the vet he just so happens to disappear... You have not been successful yet.

Other than that he's a very loving cat. Actually he's one of your go-to for introducing children since He surprisingly super good with children. He's very gentle and almost protective.

[yaespook]

Indulgence.

✧ Room Content: Dom! Top! GN! Incubus! Reader x Sub! Switch! Priest! Kaveh x Sub! Bottom! Incubus! Alhaitham, reader has a cock, mostly focused on Kaveh, threesome, sacrilegious themes (Catholicism), worshipping and blasphemy, inexperienced virgin Kaveh, Kaveh has religious guilt regarding masturbating/sex, Kaveh wears a clerical collar, handjob (reader receiving), frotting (Alhaitham with Kaveh), vague incubus powers (entering dreams and binding tattoos). Leave a note if anything was missed out. ✧ Retrieved Notes: [The head of the fortune cat appears on the front desk.]

It started out quite innocently in Kaveh’s mind really.

It was another early morning Sunday mass. The same old kind where it was mostly just grandparents attending, when the warm sunlight hasn’t quite fully peeked through the clouds yet. The lights in the church weren’t all on either because only the front few pews were occupied anyway, dousing the environment in a cold sort of blueish grey.

For Father Kaveh, the processes were all the same. The same parishioners, the same blue-greyness, the same prayers. It was always the same and it has always been for a while now.

But today was different. During his homily, he caught a glimpse of two unfamiliar faces sitting amongst the congregation in the wooden pews of the church. It’s hard not to notice such a charming presence intently listening in on the homily he had prepared in a crowd of churchgoers who looked half asleep.

(He would be lying if he said that the both of you weren't attractive too. Unfortunately, lying is definitely a sin. Hence, he simply admits it in his mind and files it away in a mental archive for… further reflection when he has the time. Ugh, it’d be better if that man next to you put down the book he was reading.) 

If he injected a little more pep into his homily after you piqued his interest, then no one but God has to know.

However, he's later promptly caught off guard when the two of you were the first ones to approach him after mass for a chat. Kaveh’s never one to turn down an opportunity to get to know and welcome new parishioners so of course he enthusiastically grasped at the chance to talk to the both of you.

Sparing a subtle glance up and down, he drinks in the sight before him. You were both dressed impeccably, not a single hair out of place, sinfully glamourous. But Kaveh knows better than to ogle so he tears his gaze away and instead focuses on making conversation instead.

“A blessed morning to the both of you! I don't think I've ever seen you two in the early morning congregation before, I am Father Kaveh, the priest of this parish.”

He extends a hand for a handshake, first towards you, which you grasp firmly. When you make contact with him, Kaveh is slightly taken aback at the heightened warmth of your touch on his skin. 

“Sorry, I’ve been told I run hotter than most, but it’s a pleasure to meet you, Father Kaveh,” your voice is smooth and pleasing to the ear, a shake snaking its way down his spine when you say your own name. Silently, he repeats your name in his mind, and he’s further charmed when you remark, “I’ve heard a lot about you, all good things, don’t worry, which is why Alhaitham and I came to see you.”

Kaveh’s head swivels to look over at the other, Alhaitham, and when he shakes his hand, he finds out that the both of you run rather hot. There’s a book held in his other hand, the one he was reading earlier during mass.

“Likewise, a pleasure to meet you,” Alhaitham says, levelling Kaveh with an unreadable stare, “We look forward to getting to know you more.”

At this, Kaveh beams, a cheery grin on his face, “As do I. If you ever need it, the mass timings are always in the weekly church bulletin, I hope to see the two of you more often.”

He excuses himself to chat with the other parishioners, bidding the two of you goodbye. However, even whilst talking to the others and hearing about their day-to-day troubles, and throughout the rest of the week, he finds his mind drifting back to the both of you. What makes you so memorable, so charming to him? Is it the way you carry yourself? Your voice? Or is it simply just, you?

He catches himself looking forward to the next mass where he might see you again, to spot your faces amidst the tired crowd, to converse again. And he does, every Sunday morning mass.

Kaveh sees you and Alhaitham sitting in the same pew every time you attend and it’s almost like clockwork whenever his eyes quickly dart over to the two of you when he’s addressing the congregation. And he firmly attests that you crack him a small smile when you catch him doing so, as if you knew he was going to glance over at that very second.

Over the weeks, he’s grown attached despite the warning bells scolding him not to at the back of his mind.

“Kaveh, get a hold of yourself, you’ve dedicated yourself to the church, this is no way to be thinking of your parishioners,” slapping his cheeks lightly, he tries to shake the thoughts of you out of his head but it seems like no matter what he does, you’ve managed to slither your way into his brain, where you now reside in 24/7.

Sighing, he says a prayer (one imploring for the strength to resist temptation) before he tucks himself into bed for a restful night.

Except, it’s anything but.

As soon as he succumbs to slumber, his eyes snap open at the sensation of a hand stroking through his hair. They adjust to the ceiling light in his room, strange, didn’t he turn them off before sleeping? 

Blearily looking up, he sees the twin troubles plaguing him. But there’s no way the two of you are here, you don’t know the church grounds that well and there should be no reason for you to know which room he stays in either. It’s all improbable and that’s how he figures out that this is just some sort of fucked up lucid dream. (A small buried part of him deflates at this knowledge for some reason.)

“Hey Father Kaveh, sorry we couldn’t wait until the next Sunday, so we’ve come to see you early,” your words snap him out of his thoughts. 

“Oh no, for you to infiltrate even my dreams, just how much am I thinking about the two of you?” Kaveh grumbles as his hand goes to rest over his eyes. He hears you chuckle before Alhaitham speaks next.

“So you think about us too?” The bed shifts and another hand joins in to roughly tussle his hair.

“Begrudgingly so, it’s as if you’ve consumed my every waking thought,” a weak sigh, “Maybe it’s a test from above, something meant to test me.”

“That’s rough, Father Kaveh, to be reduced to ‘something meant to test you’, after all these weeks,” you feign a watery tone, “Is that all you see us as?”

“No! Of course not!” He yells out, snapping to sit upright and grabbing your hands. As if he could ever see you as a burden to shoulder. You’ve been nothing but courteous and kind to him, a rare indulgence in his routine days and scheduled masses. Someone who actually consistently converses with him, asking about him, caring for him. 

The bed shifts again, Alhaitham and you moving to sit in closer next to him, and you ask, “That’s a relief, then what do you see us as?” 

Kaveh feels that familiar quiver snake its way down his spine, like all those weeks ago when it first started, the words caught in his throat as he scrambles to produce an appropriate yet truthful answer to your loaded question. 

“I… I can’t lie,” his voice is shaky, trying to navigate the chaos in his mind for the right thing to say. 

“It’s fine, you can tell us,” Alhaitham’s voice lulls.

Whatever. It’s a dream after all.

Kaveh sucks in a breath before blurting out, “My thoughts about the two of you have veered into more sinful territories-!”

A beat of silence passes and he buries his face into his hands, bright red all the way up to the tips of his ears.

“Such an honest priest we have here on our hands, anything else you want to confess, Father Kaveh?” Your tease makes him flush even more, intense embarrassment washing over him but it changes instantly when you turn his hand over and gently kiss the back of it.

Great, now his mind is making him dream of such situations?

His vision spins when he feels Alhaitham’s hands roam up his back, the heat permeating through his pyjamas as you lean in next to his ear, your breath on his exposed skin hot, hot, hot.

“I would give you your penance but it seems like we’ve run out of time, shame,” your tongue darts out to lick the shell of his ear and he shakes. You snap your fingers.

“Wake up.”

Kaveh snaps up, awake for real this time. The warm sunlight streams in through a window but he can’t find it in himself to enjoy such a wonderful morning when his mind is still reeling from such a depraved dream. He looks down. He’s hard.

No matter what he does, his usual morning prayers, an awfully cold shower, nothing helps to solve his problem. And he’s running out of time with the next scheduled mass coming up soon.

Biting his bottom lip, he experimentally presses his palm against his clothed cock, immediately rewarded with a rush of pleasure through his body. Repeating the action, he palms his erection, breath coming out in pants at the ramping buzz in him. 

“Hah… Forgive m-me Father, for I- ah! -have sinned,” Kaveh blubbers out pitifully between breaths, praying as he tries to tear his mind away from the sin of his act.

He’s never… touched himself in such a way before, and to discover how terrifyingly addictive the bliss that he’s been holding himself back from experiencing all this time is, he feels his resolve crack.

Hurriedly, he shimmies his pants and underwear down, just enough for him to wrap his hand around his cock, revelling in the newness of the sensation. He starts with a light tug, aided by the amount of precum from his earlier palming, and the direct friction goes to muddy his brain. He resorts to biting down on his finger to muffle his noises lest anyone comes down the corridor.

Thoughts of you and Alhaitham flood his brain, the way his hands crept up his back, your tongue on his skin. Unconsciously, his hand speeds up its pace, slick sounds and stifled lewd moans filling the room the more he thinks about the two of you, the fantasies growing more and more unrestrained.

What would you think if you found out this is how your church’s priest spends his time? Would you berate him? Or would you indulge him? Maybe you’d teach him how to masturbate, your hand covering his own as you guide him on how to stroke your dick while Alhaitham steals kisses from him.

He thinks of your voice whispering lowly into his ear, frighteningly realistic, “We want you, Kaveh.”

Head thrown back, he feels the pressure building up to a peak in him, muscles draw taut as a blinding white-hot pleasure shoots through him, and he cums for the first time in his life ever, the forbidden fruit that he’s denied himself up till now. 

Kaveh struggles to catch his breath after his high, desperately rutting into his hand to ride it out. After he does, he’s instantly filled with an indescribable guilt, rushing into the bathroom to wash off the evidence of his act, staring at his dishevelled appearance in the mirror. 

How could he think of you in such a way? (How could he not?)

The next time he approaches the both of you after mass, he makes sure to do it after most of the crowd has already gone off, leaving the three of you alone. Avoiding your gazes, he starts.

“Apologies to keep the two of you waiting… some of the others had a lot to chat about,” a forced laugh, “But it is in my best interest that I should stop interacting so much with you both.”

You give him a quizzical look and Alhaitham quirks an eyebrow at his words, making him quickly tack on some reassurance, “It’s not the fault of either of you, worry not. And it would be too much for me to get into-”

“Certainly not,” Alhaitham cuts him off, his voice alluring, “It’s fine, you can tell us.”

Unable to stomach the thought of his relationship with you souring and ending on a bad note, he swallows down his fear and invites the two of you to his quarters to come clean about everything.

So, how is it that he’s found himself in this position?

It started out already rather lewdly in your mind. 

Catching wind of a devout priest in town, loved by many, adored by most. Naturally, it was your job as an incubus to corrupt him. And they’ve assigned your lovely junior, Alhaitham, as your partner in sin.

The first meeting went well enough, charming Kaveh without the use of your powers, it seems as if he was as taken with you as you were with him. His lovely blond locks, his sweet voice, that downright sinful waist of his. How long would it take until he would snap and tumble into bed with the two of you so that you could defile him and show him the delectable paradise of ecstasy that he’s been abstaining from?

Over the weeks, you’ve teased Kaveh in the most minute of ways. Sly innuendos tossed in nonchalantly during conversations, lingering touches that you can see him secretly longing for. And perhaps you can’t say that Alhaitham and you aren’t unaffected by his charm too.

The impatience was driving the both of you wild, judging from how uncharacteristically antsy he’s been behaving. You’re no stranger to being intimate with him, indulging him when he gets particularly needy. And you can tell he’s pent up when he’s grinding on your thigh as he kisses you, so spoiled. 

When you break apart, cupping his cheek, you ask, “Think our priest is asleep yet? How about we pay him a little visit?” Snapping your fingers, you transport the two of you into Kaveh’s dream, where you plant the final seeds of temptation and guide him down the blissful path of damnation.

The dream ended way too fast for your liking but it all worked out in the end, since now you’re here, in Kaveh’s room with him seated in your lap facing you.

Kaveh’s mind is spinning, unable to comprehend how fast all this is moving. First, he invites the two of you in to talk everything over in a more private location. Then, everything comes spilling out, his thoughts about you, even the sensual dream. His eyes are pinned to his hands clenched into fists in his lap, in fear that your gazes might be one of disgust towards him. It’s all too much, he’s backed himself into something too raw and too vulnerable and he can’t help when tears well up in his eyes, falling onto his hands.

A quick glance over to Alhaitham, and you pull Kaveh into your lap, an act to console him. Gently moving his head onto your shoulder for him to cry into, you shush him.

“Oh Father Kaveh, please don’t feel so guilty, after all, isn’t it natural to be tempted?” Patting the back of his head, you watch as Alhaitham rises from his seat and moves Kaveh’s long hair aside to brush his lips along the exposed skin of his nape.

“If holding it all in is causing you so much distress,” Alhaitham plants a kiss on Kaveh’s neck, “Perhaps giving in is the answer.”

“...No, I can’t,” Kaveh weeps, yet there’s a hesitation in his voice, as if he’s not fully convinced that he should turn away from the pleasure that you two can bring him.

“No one has to know,” your hands cup the sides of his face and move him so that you can look into his eyes, the sincerity behind them startling him when you say, “We want you, Kaveh.”

The world seems to stop when you say those words, his heart soaring and in the split second, his resistance slips away. He abandons it all for you, for a longing reciprocated, for a tangible love, and he presses his lips onto yours.

He whines into the kiss when you take charge, your tongue swiping against his bottom lip and he gasps. When you enter his mouth, your saliva mixing with his, his breath hitches as his desire suddenly heightens tenfold. You can feel him getting hard in your lap, ever so slightly grinding down without even realising it.

“Will you let us take you apart? Allow us to worship and love you like you deserve? To open your eyes to the true salvation of human pleasure?” 

Kaveh’s drowning in your words, the blessing that the two of you are gracing him with, leaving him bare and naked in his longing.

“Please.”

Soon, you have the blond seated on the edge of his bed and stripped of all his clothing, except for his white clerical collar, which still lays clasped loosely around his neck.

“Look at you Father Kaveh, perhaps mankind was indeed made in God’s image,” you watch on from above him as Alhaitham laves a tongue over Kaveh’s clavicle, “If not, how else would you look so divine?”

He flushes crimson at your praise, bashful at how unaffected you are in this scenario. You move and sit next to him on the bed, unzipping your pants as he watches on with bated breath.

“From your mouth to God’s ear, Father Kaveh, your fantasies have been heard and they’ll be fulfilled today.”

Like him, you’re already hard, precum beading at your tip. Your hand goes to grab his, bringing it over and wrapping it around your shaft. Covering his hand with yours, you entertain his desires, cooing as you slowly start to move his hand, pumping your cock at a steady pace while you savour the sensation of his hand.

Kaveh’s eyes are glued to the sight of you guiding his hand up and down on your length, the warmth of your hand over his own. He’s enraptured until he feels fingers under his chin, tilting his head up and suddenly he’s locking lips with Alhaitham. When he realises that the two of you are actually recreating the scene from his imagination, his mind is left reeling. 

He moans into the kiss with Alhaitham when he feels you throb in his hand, more pre dribbling from your tip.

“You’re so good, Father Kaveh, always so kind, so understanding, hmm?” Your praise gets him so worked up, his hips uselessly rutting up against nothing but something settles onto his lap and presses against his own cock. Cracking his eyes open, he realises that Alhaitham has slotted himself into his space, and breaking away from the kiss so that Kaveh can breathe, he frots his erect hard-on against Kaveh’s.

“Maybe this way I’ll keep your attention on me too,” the grey haired male says, hands going to rest at Kaveh’s hip to steady himself as he ruts.

He can feel his legs shaking as that daunting pressure starts to build inside of him again like before. The pacing of his strokes under your hand begins to falter as he chases after his high, grinding more and more frantically against the man in his lap.

But just as he’s seconds away from reaching his orgasm, Alhaitham clambers out of Kaveh’s space, at the same time, you remove his hand from your body 

The sudden detachment brings him back down from his almost peak, his mind clearing up just enough for him to whine out, “Wh- What was that for?” 

“We’re saving the best for last, Father Kaveh,” you say as the two of you manhandle his pliant body into position.

Alhaitham’s beneath him, hands gripping the headboard as he lays on his back, facing upwards. Alternatively, Kaveh’s on all fours on the bed, hands and knees on either side of Alhaitham with you standing at the foot of his bed, hands firmly gripping onto his hips.

“Are you ready to take us into your heart, to accept us for all that we are,” and you all but purr his name, “Kaveh?”

“Yes. Yes, please,” he begs, desperation akin to a sinner’s prayer. 

“Such a lovely obedient lamb, truly the best one in the flock. I’d say you should finally get a reward for such excellent behaviour,” He gulps at your words, the praise you’re showering him in muddling his thoughts as he anticipates whatever the two of you have planned for him. 

Goosebumps rise on his skin when you trace a blunt nail up his spine. However, the breath is punched from his chest when he looks back down at Alhaitham, pointed horns crowning his head, emerging from his mop of grey hair. His head snaps to look at you over his shoulder where he sees a similar sight. Coiled horns like a ram’s adorn you, leathery unfurled wings, and a long slender tail that’s tipped with a heart at the end.

“My dearest lamb, I ask you once more. Do you take us into your being, to love us for what we are,” your voice takes on a sultry tone, dripping with sinful indulgence, “To let us defile you?”

His head bowed, he dutifully replies, “I offer all of myself up to you.”

And with this, you partake in the feast of him.

Coating your fingers in your thick aphrodisiacal spit, you rest one hand on his ass, spreading him apart as you prod at his rim.

“Relax for me, Father Kaveh, you’re in good hands and we’ll never lead you astray.” You hear him release the breath he’s holding and he untenses, allowing you to slip a finger into him.

“Ah-!” The sensation is unfamiliar but not unwelcome, the stretch gradually turning into a growing pleasure thanks to its aphrodisiac qualities, slowly getting used to the feeling of being filled as you prepare him to take you.

A finger loops through his clerical collar and pulls him down. Looks like Alhaitham’s had enough of being ignored. He kisses him like a man starved, teeth clacking noisily as he drinks in Kaveh’s moans.

Taking this opportunity to slip in another finger, your other hand goes to grip his waist, steadying him as he loses himself to the mounting delectation. Scissoring your fingers, it proves to be too much for the inexperienced Kaveh and his legs give out from beneath him, pressing him against Alhaitham’s body.

“Haitham, did you prep yourself beforehand?” He nods briskly at your question. Lowering yourself down so you’re bearing down on Kaveh, you lick the shell of his ear, (he shivers), and ask.

“Do you think Haitham can take you? He’s been waiting for you for so long, he’s even prepared himself for you.”

Between dazed blinks, Kaveh manages to process your words, nodding his head and muttering out a dumb, “Uh- Uh huh.” 

With this, Alhaitham lines his hole up with Kaveh’s drooling cock, and with you pushing down on his hips from above him, Kaveh’s head pushes past Alhaitham rim, a guttural growl leaving your junior’s lips at the sensation of Kaveh sinking into him with your guidance.

“M-Move please…!” Alhaitham groans out when Kaveh doesn’t seem to do anything when he bottoms out inside of him. The lewd heat that surrounds his length overloads his mind, bliss coursing through every vein in his body.

The erotic sight of your two sweethearts under you, the one who’s supposed to be the incubus pleading for sweet salvation from the once-pure, clueless lamb laying above him who’s finally had a taste of the forbidden fruit. Both of them dewy-eyed and left greedily wanting more. It’s easily all too tempting.

You remove your fingers from Kaveh with a wet shlick! before replacing it with your tip at his entrance. As you push into him, the pressure causes him to reach deeper into Alhaitham, resulting in a lascivious harmony of wanton moans in the room.

And when your tip brushes past his prostate for the first time, he can’t help but mewl, “O-Oh God!”

“Rude to call out someone else’s name when- ugh! -you have two incubi pleasuring you right here, Father Kaveh!” Punctuating this with a sharp thrust, you wring a drawn-out cry from Kaveh.

“S-Sorry! For- hng!! -forgive me!” Pitifully sobbing out, he rocks his hips clumsily back against yours, urging you to fully sheathe yourself in him. With his motions, Alhaitham finally gets the stimulation he’s yearned for, as Kaveh moves in time with your thrusts.

Your tail wraps itself around Kaveh’s thigh when you encircle your hands around his slim waist.

“I’ll fuck you so good that you’ll be worshipping me when I’m done with you.”

Pulling out until just your tip is left in him, you position your mouth at his shoulder and when you bite down on his pristine untainted skin, it’s the only warning he gets before you sink your length back into him, all the way down to the hilt.

You’ve left your mark on him, marred him, sullied him, defiled him for all of eternity in the eyes of the church. But Kaveh can’t find it in himself to care, too fucked out from the carnal pleasures he’s wrapped up in right now. The way you pound into him, the way Haitham’s walls squeeze down on him. Who is he to say that this isn’t heaven on earth? Who is he to say that this is damnation?

Perhaps he’s found his God in you.

“Hah! God, please! I’m close- ah! -so so close!” He’s delirious and Alhaitham swears he can almost see the hearts in Kaveh’s eyes.

“Calling me your god now, Father Kaveh?”

“Yesss! Please, I’m s-so close, let me- hng! -finish, God, I beg of you!” Kaveh quivers under you as both him and Alhaitham approach their climax. Their breaths come out in ragged pants as you speed up your pace, also chasing your own peak.

“Then take all I give unto you, Kaveh,” you bury yourself as deep as possible as his walls clamp down on you, his head thrown back in ecstasy as the three of you cum together. The searing rapture rips through him as you fill him up, eyes wrenched shut with him seeing stars behind his eyelids. His lower abdomen feels hot as he cums into Alhaitham, whose eyes have rolled back into his sockets, breath hitching at his orgasm.

You complete it with short shallow thrusts, helping the both of them through the fading waves of pleasure, wringing out the last of their debauched noises. When you pull out of Kaveh, a raspy whine rips from him. Manoeuvring his spent body to lie on his back, you’re pleased to see that the session took, evident from the glowing fuchsia tattoo on his lower abdomen.

Pressing a kiss against it, Kaveh shakes at the increased stimulation. Curious, he peers down at it, ghosting his fingers over it as he watches the tattoo’s glow intensity slowly fade and settle into a faint pink outline.

“The three of us have been unified, we’re bound together now, my dearest lamb.”

Alhaitham lazily rolls over to leave a kiss on Kaveh’s cheek before you pull him in by his clerical collar for a chaste kiss on the edge of his lips.

And suddenly, his Sunday mornings don’t seem so dull anymore. 

[> You add a clerical collar to your collection.]

Thank you kindly for reading. Consider supporting on kofi if you enjoyed this or visit the other doors.

[shaylogic]

In the video, Revri and Rexstrew spotlight Episode 7, “The Case of the Very Long Stairway.” But there’s history leading up to that moment throughout Season 1. Specifically in Episode 6, “The Case of the Creeping Forest,” when Edwin changes his outfit for the first time — ghosts don’t really take the time to switch up their wardrobes in Dead Boy Detectives. He’s wearing a cozy green sweater and tells Charles that he has feelings for men. Charles puts both his hands on Edwin’s shoulders, facing him, as a sign of his unconditional love and support for Edwin’s sexuality. “For me, I always knew that Charles was the only one that can get through to Edwin through touch,” says Revri. “Edwin wouldn’t want anyone else to really touch him.”   It’s an important moment for their friendship, signifying that Edwin is starting to open up about his feelings and his attire reflects this. “To change Edwin is a big deal because Edwin doesn’t like change,” costume designer Kelli Dunsmore tells Tudum. “He had no collar. He had no bow tie.” Up until Episode 6, Edwin is always buttoned-up and closed off, protected in his tailor-made suit. “Hiding everything,” says Dunsmore.  It was Rexstrew’s pitch to have Edwin wear something different for that episode. “I just thought it could be an interesting way to get Charles’ attention,” says Rexstrew. “It’s like this really innocent and desperate little attempt.” In the scene, Revri chose to add in a line acknowledging the fashion statement. “It felt right for Charles to notice that Edwin dressed up nice,” he says. 

But in Episode 7, Edwin specifically confesses his feelings for Charles, after his best mate descends to the depths of hell to save him. When the boys hug at the end of Episode 5, “The Case of the Two Dead Dragons,” the meaning of Charles’ touch changes for Edwin. “He starts to crave it,” says Rexstrew. “It’s been unlocked by the Cat King (Lukas Gage), and then Monty (Joshua Colley) is more of a teenage crush kind of connection. But it’s all leading up to this.”  While Charles can’t fully reciprocate Edwin’s feelings now, he completely embraces and accepts him. He’s Edwin’s first true love, and he doesn’t push it away. “You kind of leave it open,” says Rexstrew. “Definitely,” adds Revri. Together, they rehearsed over and over again in Rexstrew’s room before filming. They spoke a lot about levels, as Charles is physically higher up on the stairs and Edwin is below, which adds to the vulnerable nature of the scene. “We really wanted to make sure that it was perfect, right?” remembers Revri.  When filming came around, Revri was blown away by Rexstrew’s ability to bring out so much emotion after seemingly holding back in rehearsals. “Well, it was hard. It’s very difficult being in love with you. What can I say?” jokes Rexstrew. The scene also comes after Edwin finds his old bully Simon (Gabriel Drake), who was responsible for Edwin being sent to hell back in 1916. But he learns that Simon was also a closeted boy who was scared of his feelings. “Edwin realizes in that moment, ‘You can’t live your life with regret,’ ” says Rexstrew. “ ‘You can’t live your life not saying what you feel.’ ”   Both actors hope that fans find comfort in Edwin and Charles’ relationship as chosen family. “Even if you’re born into a scenario where those around you don’t accept you for who you are, there are people out there for you,” says Rexstrew. Stream Dead Boy Detectives now, only on Netflix.

Everybody say "Thank you, George & Jayden"

[Colors and bolds mine]

[cambion-companion]

Tail Talk

Based on this anon ask:

I would love to see more smut with raphael and a Tiefling tav- Some tail to tail action !! And stuff involving horns..

AND inspired by the art piece where the Tiefling OC has a "heart tail" position around Rolan because I love the idea of Tieflings having tail language.

Especially if our Tiefling Tav is unaware they're doing it.

Raphael x gn!reader

Your tail flicked like an agitated cat. "I'm working on it, Korilla. I was close to success when you whisked me back here." You gestured to the familiar lavish dining hall, the grand fireplace crackling behind where you stood upon the marble floor.

"Our master wishes to speak with you." Korilla raised a preemptive hand to ward off your questions. "Don't ask me why, you know how he is."

"Hmm." You did indeed. You had been his warlock for a shorter time than Korilla, yet his theatrical and often contradictory nature still kept you on your toes.

"And do try to keep that tail of yours in check this time, yes?" Korilla gave you her trademark smirk. "I think he's beginning to notice."

"Notice what?" You were quite puzzled but the Dwarven woman just waved you off and sauntered back to the archive, leaving you alone to wait. "Notice what?" You asked a little louder at the empty doorway she'd disappeared through.

"Hells it's hot." You tugged at the collar of your shirt uncomfortably, familiar with the stifling heat, yet never as comfortable as you were in biting cold climates.

"Indeed." Raphael's voice made you turn, his leathery wings and red skin glowing in the flame light. "This is hell, my dear."

Your tail immediately stilled from its nervous swishing, the blood rushing to your cheeks as it always did when he caught you by surprise.

"I asked you to have an update on your progress." Raphael cocked an eyebrow as he slowly circled around you. He clasped his hands behind his back, observing your comparatively diminutive form. "Two months ago. Perhaps I've been too lenient with you."

"No." You quickly protested.

"I am not one to coddle my servants." Raphael looked you up and down and smiled, looking for all the world like the cat who got the cream.

"No, I know." You said, wanting to turn to face him but hearing the edge in his pleasant tone. "I was almost there when Korilla-"

Your words broke off in a short gasp as you felt a large hand press hot against the small of your back. Raphael leaned over your shoulder, his breath tickling your ear. "Your words paint an idyllic picture, yet the rest of you is quite beyond your control. Is that not so?"

Genuinely confused, you furrowed your brows, your heart hammering in your chest. "I don't know what you mean."

Raphael chuckled and the sound alone sent a shock of feeling to your core. "You truly aren't aware." He slowly withdrew and circled back around until you were chest to chest. "For such a precocious flower, I expected more."

His glowing eyes roved your puzzled expression, self-satisfaction practically oozing from him. His long devil's tail whipped around and tangled with yours. You let out a small squeak of surprise.

"Your tail, my dear." Raphael explained, his tail continuing to twist and pull with your own. "It betrays you."

With a wave of his hand, a large standing mirror was conjured beside you, the reflection of the hearth fire nearly blinding you for a moment. His tail trailed down your leg to wrap around your ankle and Raphael gestured broadly for you to look at yourself. He watched you closely as you turned your face to the shining mirror.

"Oh." You said, your cheeks burning.

"Eloquent as ever." Raphael sounded amused, though something simmered below the surface.

Your tail had been curving in the shape of half a heart, slightly raised at the base in a universal signal of wishing to mate. You quickly let it fall to a normal position, unwilling to look back at your master.

Long fingers tucked beneath your chin and coaxed your face back to his. Raphael's tail slithered slowly up to your thigh, you thought for a moment you were going to succumb to the heat and faint, but his fingers beneath your jaw grounded you.

"I do not mind." Once sure you would not turn away, Raphael released you. "For the present, we have other matters to attend to. Do not think I will forget this revelation, however."

[sporadicthingcollection]

La faccia infarina (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which Buggy swears at a child, draws on his face, and experiences a revelation. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Semi-explicit. Word Count: ~1.4k. Warnings: Pregnancy mention, childbirth mention, a lot of swearing.

A/N: i'm ovulating so please enjoy an episode of what i like to call Reproducing With Men Who Should Not Be Trusted With Children.

Doing his makeup is much easier when there's no distractions to occupy him. Unfortunately, he's got a big one today and, for once, it isn't you trying to get into his pants.

Though that exact scenario is definitely what resulted in this new distraction. It was either that or the time after the party.

"Don't even think about it," Buggy says firmly.

Keeda grabs a drawer and tries to yank it open. A disembodied foot gently nudges him away. The boy stares at him in indignation, then blows a raspberry. He reaches again, whining when the foot still bars his way.

Buggy raises a brow at him. "Getting fresh, huh?" Another raspberry. "Floor privileges revoked."

He picks the boy up by the collar and plops him in his lap. He squeaks and squeals, trying to squirm away, but Buggy holds him tight.

"Y'know, I liked you better when you were a prop," he says. He swipes his lipstick along his cheeks. "You'd just lay there and make noises and shit yourself. None of this 'trying to kill yourself when I'm not looking' shtick."

Keeda resigns himself to his prison and is now pouting, making little huffs. He glances up with big, pleading eyes, lower lip quivering.

Buggy scoffs. "Don't try that pathos crap on me. I know what you look like when you're about to cry."

A long, low whine makes Buggy falter. Uh oh. He glances down.

Keeda lunges upwards, trying to grab the lipstick. Buggy pops his hand off just out of reach -- this is the expensive stuff. Can't have a baby eating it. Again.

"What's gotten into you today?" Keeda lunges again. Buggy pops his second hand off to cap the lipstick and stick it back in the drawer. "Sheesh, kid. Cool it."

"Bappo," Keeda says with a glare. Baby for pay attention to me, asshole, I'm right here.

A lightbulb goes off. He pulls a bag of pigment sticks from the drawer and dumps them onto the table. "You want your face done like Daddy's?" He spins the boy around to face the vanity. "Pick your war paint."

Keeda scans the selection and, with short chubby fingers, he selects a blue pigment stick. He then tries to shove it in his mouth, but Buggy grabs it before he can chomp it.

Buggy smiles as he regards the color. He was wearing this when he met you -- diamonds over his eyes as he tried to kill you. From hating his guts to fucking him stupid to bearing his child. How times change.

He takes the boy's cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. He can't believe he's still so damn small. A year in and he figured he'd be more... child-sized. Buggy's still afraid a strong breeze will shatter the kid like glass.

With gentle hands, he draws. Short strokes are best on soft, chubby skin with a lot of give. Keeda gazes at him all the while. He's got your eyes, warm and dark as charcoal.

Buggy licks his thumb and smooths out the edges. Keeda presses into his touch like a cat and gives him a smile, one that he can't help but return.

The idea of fatherhood terrified him. Horrified him. He thought about turning himself into the Marines right then and there. If his old captain couldn't do it, how could he be expected to do it? He's not half as competent as everyone seems to believe and you know he's a buffoon. Why would you want to have his kid?

Buggy finishes the diamonds and spins the boy to face the mirror. "Well?"

Keeda squints at himself. He touches his reflection. After a moment of contemplation, he speaks. "Fsshala."

He's been saying that a lot lately. You keep telling him that it's just nonsense babbling, but Buggy knows the truth.

"I agree," he says. "Let's make it flashy!"

He spins the boy back around, making him giggle. Truly the world's most remarkable sound.

He still doesn't have an answer for why you put yourself through nine months of pure terror. Was it your selfish desire for a family? Or did you see a truth hidden deep in his soul, so deep that he had no idea it existed until he held his son for the first time, still bright pink and howling?

Carefully, he traces two long lines up from the tips of the diamonds. He crosses them at the middle of his forehead, curls them into a heart, and adorns it with dots.

As is, Keeda looks more like you. Your dark hair, your dark eyes... and your nose, thank fucking god. He couldn't live with himself if his monstrosity was inheritable.

He was worried at first. How could he be sure that he's your son's father? He trusts you, but there was always that doubt gnawing at the back of his head until a few months in, when Keeda started getting expressive. In every giggle, in every glower, in every grin, there was Buggy the Clown.

Speaking of smiles, his mouth looks a little bare. A nice golden yellow would suit him.

Buggy picks up the pigment stick in one hand and smushes the boy's cheeks together with the other. "Pucker up, buttercup."

Keeda squirms a bit as he paints his mouth, swirling the corners up into cute little spirals. He licks his lips and sputters. "Pfeh!"

Buggy chuckles. "Weren't like that last week. You loved the stuff." He lifts the boy and spins him around to see his reflection. "Now you're lookin' more like your old man."

Keeda stares at himself. He tips his head one way, then the other. His eyes narrow and his brows furrow. He lets out a low, pensive whine.

Oh no. Does he not like it? Is he going to cry? Please don't cry. "Wait wait wait." He turns him around and lifts him to stand on his lap. "Don't get upset--"

A little spark flashes in the boy's eyes. The frown vanishes and he reaches up, tiny fingers grabbing for something.

Buggy's gotten enough hair ripped out to jerk away on impulse. "Something on my face?"

A tiny hand baps him on the nose. Buggy flinches. Fuckin' thing in the way again.

He angles his head, waiting for Keeda to tap what he was really aiming for. And again, he gets bapped right on the nose.

...no. There's no way.

Another bap, this time with an impatient glower. "Isso," Keeda says firmly. Baby talk for this.

Buggy's heart is in his throat as he picks up the red pigment stick. With shaky hands, he outlines the boy's nose -- a cute little button -- and draws a circle.

He swallows thickly. He clenches his jaw. He turns him around.

Keeda's eyes widen, then scrunch into crescents as he lets out a delighted squeal. "Papa!" he says, grinning up at Buggy. He flops backwards back into his lap, giggling and wiggling. "Papa!"

He's not sure how long he sits there at the vanity, listening to his baby chatter happily, but it must be awhile because you eventually come calling.

"Oh, there you guys are,” you say. "You chuckleheads having fun without me?"

"Amama!" Keeda stands in Buggy's lap and waves at you. He points at the mirror. "Issoooooo."

You appear at Buggy's shoulder, grinning brilliantly. "Aw, look at you," you croon. "Did Daddy do your makeup? Or did you get into his shit when he wasn't looking?"

Buggy's voice comes out in a tight croak. "I did it."

"Well, damn, it looks great! You never do my makeup that well--" Your gaze flickers to him in the mirror, and your smile vanishes. "...Are you crying?"

He sniffles. Loudly. "No."

You give him one of your do-you-need-a-psych-eval looks. "Bugs, your mascara's running."

Something hot and wet rolls down to his chin. "No, it's not."

You look at his reflection in the mirror, then back to him. "Either smile or cry. Doing both is freaking me out."

He wraps his arms around Keeda, pulling him close and squeezing him tight. "Fuckin' love you so much, you little shit," he murmurs into his hair.

Keeda squeals and giggles.

---

To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar

[midnight-bay-if]

What would be the reaction of the ROs if a package arrived and the MC said it was an accessory they bought for the RO to wear because they think it would be nice on them. But when the RO open the package they see a dog/cat collar due to a misdelivery? The ROs don't know that it's a misdelivery and MC didn't see it bacause they are washing the dishes or something like that.

(I see you, anon. I see you. Retconning the 90s setting so you can get a collar for your RO. I understand. Also, sorry about the wait!)

S: Their brow raises into a sharp arch as they pluck the collar from the box, holding it up by the tip of their finger. “Are you certain this was for me, darling?” They ask a hint of amusement in their voice. “Because I rather think this would suit you much better.”

Rain: Rain’s face burns red at the sight of the collar in the box. Suddenly, they are re-evaluating their whole existence. “I didn’t realise that this kind of thing was your taste.” Biting their lip nervously, they reach into the box and pull the collar out. They hold it in their hands, assessing it, before testing it around their neck. They turn to look at their reflection in a nearby mirror, and somehow, their skin turns redder. “But… I suppose it doesn’t look bad.”

Taj: Taj growls at the sight of it. They pluck it out with their forefinger and thumb, holding outwards as far as possible as if at risk of catching something from it. “Is this supposed to be funny, Koel?”

The anger in Taj’s voice makes you stop dead in your tracks. When you turn to face the fire in their eyes, your mouth drops open. “N-No, that’s not what I ordered, I swear!”

The sincerity in your voice wipes away some of the anger. Taj drops the collar back into the box as if burned. “I am definitely buying you a cage, little bird.” You are grateful for the jab when you see the corner of Taj’s mouth inch upwards. "I need somewhere to put you when you've been bad."

N: "Oh, my," N utters, an excited lilt to their voice. "I never knew you were the type, my dear." N pulls the collar out of the box, holding it against their against their skin.

Sensing that N was strangely excited. You turn, and your mouth drops. "Wait, no that's not--"

N waves you off. "It's okay, MC. Everyone has their vices. I'm happy to fulfil any fantasy you might have. All I ask is that I see you in this collar... just once."

Umbra: Umbra raises a sceptical brow at the collar, packaged neatly inside the box. Did you get a pet? But you said it was specifically for them, right? Well, you know them better than anybody, so if you believe this would suit them, then it probably will.

Without a second thought, Umbra takes the collar to a mirror. They awkwardly use the reflection to try to wrap the collar around their neck and poke the prong through the holes. Once it's in place, Umbra stares at their reflection for a moment. Well, as long as MC is happy.

"MC. I've tried it on. Do you like it?"

Your bright red face is answer enough.

[koisuko]

Pov: You are a cat (pt3)

how the mk1 characters react to you as a stray cat, one with an oddly familiar/fitting name

part 1, part 2, part 4, bonus

ft: Kuai Liang, Bi-han, Tomas, Johnny, Kenshi

TW: none, cute kitty stuff, fluffy, gn, this took way longer than the others

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang often took leisurely strolls around the tranquil grounds of the Lin Kuei Temple during his moments of respite. The temple's surroundings were often blanketed in a soft, soothing layer of snow, but for the pyromancer, the icy chill of winter held no sway over him. His very essence exuded an inner warmth that countered the cold embrace of the environment.

On this particular day, as the delicate snowflakes gracefully descended from the heavens to blanket the earth, Kuai Liang found himself taking a deep breath, observing the intricate dance of the snowflakes as they twirled and twined their way to the ground. It was a serene sight, the aftermath of a recent snowstorm that had bestowed its wintry bounty upon the landscape. However, amidst this serene vista, something unexpected caught his eye. A small, light brown figure, in stark contrast to the snowy surroundings, lay curled in a vulnerable ball. Kuai's curiosity piqued, he approached cautiously, his steps leaving deep impressions in the pristine snow.

As he drew near, he realized the figure was not what he initially thought. It wasn't a person but a small, shivering cat, its fur glistening with frost, the cold wind nipping at its exposed form. You were too weak to flee, your fragile body barely holding onto the last vestiges of warmth.

Without hesitation, Kuai Liang swiftly but gently scooped the trembling feline into his arms. His inherent pyromantic abilities were brought into play, the heat radiating from his body increasing to provide solace to the freezing creature. He cradled you tenderly against his chest, his protective embrace serving as a barrier against the frigid elements. Quickly, he turned on his heel and made his way back to the warmth and safety of his quarters. The small cat, now in the care of the compassionate Lin Kuei warrior, was wrapped in a cozy blanket, offering a respite from the merciless cold that had threatened your life.

Kuai Liang settled onto the edge of his bed, you still nestled in his arms. His deep brown eyes reflected a mixture of relief and concern as he gazed down at your small form. "Feeling better, little one?" he asked softly, his voice a gentle whisper. In response, you emitted a delicate meow, your purrs growing in intensity as you basked in the newfound warmth and safety. With a fond smile, Kuai adjusted the blanket to ensure your comfort. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your head as he noticed a collar, the word 'Flame' etched onto it. It was a fitting name, considering the circumstances of you and his meeting. He held you a bit closer, and with a sense of contentment washing over you both, you drifted into a peaceful slumber within Kuai Liang's reassuring embrace.

Bi-han

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, its rays beating down on the earth in relentless waves. This summer was a scorching anomaly around the Lin Kuei temple, typically shrouded in snow or rain. Yet today, the weather was unforgiving, the heat making the air thick and uncomfortable. Bi-han, the cryomancer, remained unfazed, his naturally colder body shielding him from the oppressive warmth.

Returning from a brief mission, he noticed an odd mass slightly off the path, its black color stark against the dusty road. It might have gone unnoticed, but something about it drew his attention. As he drew near, the figure became clearer—a small feline, lying almost motionless and panting. Though Bi-han's expression remained stoic, a flicker of concern crossed his features. Kneeling down, he observed you, barely clinging to life as the heat threatened to consume you.

Uncertain how to handle the situation, he extended an ice-covered hand, hovering it near your limp body. The cooling sensation permeated your fur, offering brief relief from the oppressive heat. After a moment's hesitation, he scooped you into his arms, a determination in his gaze as he decided not to walk away from this. He navigated through the temple, giving a cold stare to anyone inquiring about the cat in his arms.

Reaching his quarters, he gently placed you on his bed, quickly fetching water in a small dish. Your weakened state required assistance, and he patiently helped you drink. Fearful of accidentally harming you, he handled you with care, holding you against his cold chest. A rare smile adorned his face as he stroked your back with a frigid hand. Your panting ceased, replaced by a soft purr. A collar around your neck bore the name 'Snow,' a subtle amusement crossing his expression, a chuckle leaving his lips at the contrast between your name and your black fur. "A brave little warrior, welcome to the Lin Kuei."

Tomas Vrbada

Tomas often found solace in Madam Bo's tea house, sharing his troubles with her during tough times. Today, however, a different kind of task awaited him and his brothers. Lord Liu Kang had assigned them the responsibility of testing two new recruits. The plan involved a staged "thug attack" on Madam Bo, with Tomas taking the lead to set the scene for his brothers, Bi-han and Kuai Liang. He stood at a distance, karambit twirling between his fingers, awaiting the orchestrated chaos.

As he stared up at the night sky, Tomas couldn't shake off the unease that Bi-han's recent behavior had planted in his mind. The Grandmaster had become colder, distant, and more callous since his promotion, leaving Tomas worried about the clan's future. The unknown intentions of Bi-han lingered in his thoughts like an unspoken threat.

His contemplation was interrupted by a sudden pressure on his lower leg. Looking down, he was met with the amber eyes of a small grey feline. A soft 'brrr' escaped your lips as you gazed at him, offering a momentary distraction from his concerns. Tomas' masked face softened into a smile, and he cooed, "Well, hello there, little one. Are you lost?" Kneeling down, he gently caressed the fur on your back, occasionally reaching up to scratch behind your ears. You purred, rubbing your body against his leg with your tail held high.

Tomas chuckled at the affectionate display, lifting you into his arms. As he petted your head, you playfully swatted at his mask. "You're so cute," he chuckled, noticing a shiny piece of metal around your neck with the name 'Smokey' engraved on it. "Seems like it was meant to be, mini smoke!" Tomas nuzzled his masked face against you before gently setting you back on the ground. With a loving tone, he said, "I must go. I'll see you after, little Smokey." Walking towards the tea house, he left behind the furry distraction and headed into the impending test.

Johnny Cage

The cold marble floor beneath your padded paws echoed your every step as you navigated the expansive mansion. Your tail swayed low, the anticipation evident as you sought out your human companion. The distant murmur of a familiar voice led you to the main living room, where Johnny, engrossed in a phone call with a client, occupied the elegant white couch. With a soft meow, you made your presence known, gracefully leaping into his lap. Johnny, unfazed by the interruption, allowed a warm smile to grace his lips, his hand gently stroking the top of your head. The white fluffy fur responded, obediently flattening against your small frame.

"Alright, yea, yea, I'll talk to you soon, bye," Johnny concluded his conversation, placing the phone down. He pulled you closer to his chest, addressing you with affection, "Princess, my sweet baby, what do you say we watch one of daddy's movies, hm?" Your enthusiastic, raspy meow signaled your approval, earning a chuckle from Johnny.

The two of you found yourselves engrossed in the second movie, your petite form peacefully curled up in his lap. Johnny continued to caress your fur, eliciting soft purrs that harmonized with the ambient soundtrack of the film. As a tender moment unfolded, Johnny couldn't help but gaze down at you, a genuine smile playing on his lips. An idea sparked in his mind.

A subtle 'psspss' sound reached your ears, causing them to twitch before lifting your head inquisitively, "brr?" The next instant, a pair of oversized human sunglasses adorned your feline face, prompting a slight recoil in surprise. Johnny, undeterred, exclaimed, "Look at you, Princess, now you're just like me!" You playfully wiggled your head, the sunglasses perched on your nose, gazing up at Johnny with a mix of curiosity and kitty confusion.

A vision of a perfect photo opportunity struck Johnny, and he swiftly retrieved his phone. "They will love you, Princess, say cheese for the fans!" he enthused. Clicking away, he captured the moment, immortalizing your adorable feline fashion statement. "So cute! Okay, one more," he declared, adjusting you on his shoulder for a different perspective. Setting up his phone again, he turned on the recording feature, transforming your lazy demeanor into an amusing cat dance routine. Your unamused expression didn't escape Johnny's notice, but the love between you two prevailed.

As he maneuvered your limbs in a playful imitation of a human dance, you yawned, the epitome of relaxed indifference. The entire scene painted a heartwarming picture of companionship and the quirky antics that made your bond with Johnny truly special.

Kenshi Takahashi

Restless, Kenshi tossed and turned in his sheets, his mind burdened with worries for his family and the constant pressure to break free from the clutches of the Yakuza. Blind, but keenly attuned to his surroundings, every other sense heightened to compensate for the absence of sight, Kenshi found himself unable to find solace in sleep. With a deep sigh of defeat, he kicked the blankets off, acknowledging that tonight, sleep was not his ally.

Deciding to channel his restless energy, he ventured outside into the cool night air. A thin sheen of sweat coated his skin, offering a stark contrast to the refreshing breeze that greeted him. A smile tugged at his lips as the temperature shift cleared his mind. Sento, his faithful sword, in hand, he stood on the grass, adopting a steady stance. Fluid movements followed, the dance of a man determined to regain control over his life. Each breath he took seemed to ground him, the rhythmic motions of his sword a manifestation of both skill and frustration.

Blindness had taken away his ability to see the world in all its vibrancy. Now, dependent on Sento and those around him, Kenshi grappled with the loss of independence. The dance with his sword was not just a physical exercise; it was a defiance against the constraints that bound him.

His movements grew more vigorous, muscles flexing, as Sento seemingly came alive, mirroring his every move. The dance reached its zenith, Sento flowing out of the blade, a spectral swordsman beside him. To an onlooker, it would be a mesmerizing spectacle, a testament to the bond between man and sword. Abruptly, the dance ceased, Sento returning to its sheath in a stream of ethereal blue.

Sensing eyes upon him, Kenshi pointed his sword in the direction of the unseen observer. "Who's there?" his voice, usually calm, now carried a commanding tone. "Show yourself!" Silence greeted him, the stillness almost convincing him that his heightened senses were playing tricks on him. Frustration etched across his face as he cursed the loss of his sight.

As he stood there, a small calico cat emerged from the shadows. Your presence surprised him, and he scowled, trying to discern if it was a figment of his imagination. You, undeterred, approached Kenshi, a silent companion in the night. His scowl softened into a smile as he bent down to pet you, his sword now sheathed on his back.

Unexpectedly, he felt something on your collar. Using his fingers, he traced the lines, realizing it spelled out "Sento." Kenshi's fingers lingered on the collar, feeling the cold metal inscribed with the name of his sword. "Sento," he whispered, more to himself than to you, a note of disbelief in his voice. You, seemingly unperturbed, purred under his touch, rubbing your head against his hand.

A soft chuckle escaped Kenshi as he continued to stroke your calico fur. "Well, Sento, it seems we have a namesake here. What brings you to my midnight training session?" he mused, as if expecting you to respond. You, of course, remained silent, but your presence was oddly comforting.

The night air carried a hint of mystery, and Kenshi, guided by instincts honed through years of combat, couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter held significance beyond the surface. "Perhaps you're a guardian spirit, watching over me," he mused, half-jokingly, yet a flicker of curiosity danced in his sightless sockets.

As if in response, you nudged his hand affectionately, a silent reassurance. Kenshi's lips curved into a genuine smile, a rare expression that spoke of a connection forged in the quietude of the night.

"Maybe I'm not as alone as I thought," he muttered, more to himself than to you.