#spoiledxkitten

[inlupineways]

@spoiledxkitten | liked for a Glen starter

That scent was unmistakable. No, Glen wasn’t imagining it.

The woman was a cat. Feline. 

Definitely not the strangest thing, but not what he was expecting today. “Why?” he asked, questioning the general nature of her presence. 

[betterluckwithabeer]

@spoiledxkitten || from [ this ]

To be fair, Whiskey had a strange relationship with Murphy, too. It was something that he never really could place, between curiosity and a strange aversion -- but the kind that you just keep poking at, like a bruise. Though, seeing her light up in a smile was rather nice, he had to admit it, and he easily maneuvered a one arm hug in return, as to keep the smoke away from her.

"Aye, well, y'know." It was a shit answer. But, it was all he really could give her, given who he was, and what he did for a living. "An' ye?"

[inlupineways]

@spoiledxkitten | cont.

He’d always had trouble sleeping, even before the rival pack had destroyed his strongly rooted sense of security, leaving him with nightmares and worries. This time of night--or morning, more accurately--it was fairly common to find Glen out in the woods near the home he and Vivian shared. Not always in wolf form, no. Sometimes, he just liked to walk.

There were dozens of creatures out--smaller prey animals that fled immediately when the scented a big bad wolf. Glen wasn’t hunting tonight, he was just walking to clear his head. Breathing in the cool air, he smelled the other critters and moved on to avoid them. They’d be safe tonight.

As he neared the road that would lead to the house, he smelled something different--another kind of creature, a familiar creature. He halted in his steps, sniffing the air again. 

Whiskey. It was undeniably her. But--why was she here?

Something was wrong.

Glen moved quickly, breaking through the brush. He saw her, disheveled and crying. The scent of fear and distress was strong. He didn’t question any more how she got there, but moved toward her. When he reached out to take her shoulders--but he stopped, hesitated, not sure if she would want or let him. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice quiet, even, so much more calmer outwardly than inwardly. “It’s okay. You’re not lost.” 

[sendshisreguards]

@spoiledxkitten || from this [x]

"To say I'm sorry." His voice was quiet as stepped closer to the grieving woman, kneeling down so the moment between the pair of them was drawn in, shutting out the gruesome scene around them. She'd seen enough. Eric knew well about reliving something so desperately painful again and again, these were not the memories that she needed to hold onto.

He had done his best to bring an end to the reckless behavior of the men that had caused this tragic becoming. Having been brought back to keep something like this from happening again. To spare as many lives from the grips of those who otherwise couldn't be bothered to care. But this had been too much for him to stop before these two had been caught in the crossfire of it all. He had tried. God, he had. But he had failed, and now she would forever carry that weight with her. Eric wanted to tell her that the grief would settle, the heart would heal... but that was a lie, it'd been over a year since Shelly, and her death still tore at him, still left his heart bruised and driving him to feel anything more than that kind of pain.

[trustmeimawitch]

@spoiledxkitten | liked for a Charlie starter

“Please stop. For fuck’s sake.” This was exactly why he was a dog person.

[incubabe]

@spoiledxkitten

   How to deal with having a familiar? Unfortunately, Google offered no real answers to the question: mostly sites that advised having quite a lot of ‘crystals’ and ‘jars’ around to keep away evil spirits. And sure, maybe that worked for them, but she’d stick to her proper wards. That left only one real source of information easily at hand: the aforementioned blonde currently lounging on her sofa. 

   It wasn’t really how Riley had expected to spend her Thursday morning.

   No sense putting off the inevitable. With two cups in hand, the cambion rejoined her living room, seating herself in her favorite armchair. She put one cup -- milk, nice and cold -- on the coffee table, and kept the other for herself. “So! Let’s talk this one out, real quick. I’m not a particularly good magician, or even a particularly well-versed one. Mostly, I try to keep things on the down-low; no real,” and here Riley wiggled her fingers into the air, in emulation of old-style stage musicians, “witchcraft. Is that gonna be a problem?”

[incubabe]

@spoiledxkitten: [x]

It has escalated rather quickly. In a matter of moments, clothes were off and Whiskey was on her knees. Riley gently ran her fingers through Whiskey’s hair as she assessed the woman. For a moment, she wanted to be surprised, but knowing what Riley was made the surprise easier to process. She placed a gentle kiss first at the base, then on the shaft, before taking the whole thing in her mouth. She hummed a bit as she worked her mouth around Riley. As she got to work, her eyes flickered up to Riley’s face, gauging her new owner’s reaction.

   And as the blonde slid down to her knees, it was all Riley could do but to bask in the sensuality of it, offer distracted pets in queer echo of their supposed relationship. She was big down there, as befitted her heritage, but loosed a breathy moan as sure as a virgin might as the delightful sensation of those soft pink petals brush against her head. Lust, pearly and sweet, dripped from her tip, anointed Whiskey’s tongue with it, drooled down her throat. “Very good,” she breathed, an understatement when faced with just how much the familiar had taken at once. “You’re good at this, ‘Key.”

[incubabe]

@spoiledxkitten

   Of course she had a boyfriend. They always had boyfriend. Not only a strikeout, but a strikeout after having burnt through a little bit of her charm felt doubly the waste. Yeah, Riley could’ve just muscled through her little moment of morality, but...she didn’t. Didn’t want to. Wasn’t going to force people to cheat. Ignoring the hunger gnawing at her gut, she signaled to the bartender to order the first actual drink of the night, and glanced into the throng. 

   One girl was giving her eyes -- by the look of it, had been. So when Riley invited herself to the seat beside, she began with: “My gaydar? Second to none. But my relationship-a-dar, ‘s less great. If you promise you’re not waiting for anyone, I’ll buy you a drink.”