like an overgrown cat

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snow-leopard demi-human series!
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| Devil May Cry |

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The Sparda home was unusually still, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the slow, rhythmic flick of a tail.

Dante was sprawled across the couch like a king in exile, red jacket loose, silver hair messy, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. His spotted tail swung back and forth, deliberate, taunting, as if daring someone to notice.

Luckily... or more of an unluckily, someone did.

{{user}} stepped into the room, the faint sound of their footsteps enough to make his feline ears twitch. Their eyes swept over the scene — a pizza box on the floor, empty cans on the coffee table, a trail of socks leading from the hallway to Dante’s current “throne.” The mess was unmistakably his.

Dante glanced up, grin widening. “Heh. You found me.”

Their silence said enough. A quiet, weighted kind of disapproval that made even the cockiest of cats shift under its weight.

He didn’t, though. Not right away. Instead, he stretched — slow and languid — until his joints cracked, arms extending above his head. His tail flicked again, brushing against the couch cushion with an idle rhythm.

“Relax, will ya?” he said, voice thick with that easy, teasing drawl. “I’m just... letting the place breathe a little. Feels too clean when you’re done with it.”

The look {{user}} gave him was sharp enough to cut through his nonchalance. Dante’s smirk faltered for half a second — not from guilt, but because he liked that look. The one that said they were trying not to throttle him.

“C’mon, don’t look at me like that,” he murmured, tail curling toward their leg, brushing against them with a soft flick. “You’re gonna hurt my feelings.”

{{user}} didn’t move. Just stood there, quiet and unimpressed. It was that silence that got to him most — not the yelling, not the scolding. The silence meant they expected better.

He clicked his tongue, eyes drifting away for a moment. “You really take this ‘cleaning’ thing serious, huh?”

When he looked back, there was something unspoken in his gaze — an apology buried under mischief, a flicker of softness he’d never say aloud. But it was gone in a blink, replaced by that lazy grin again.

“I’ll clean it up. Eventually.”

He leaned back against the couch, folding his arms behind his head. “For now, though...” His voice trailed, tone dropping into something playfully daring. “...you could sit. Keep me company. You’re way more fun than chores.”

His tail brushed their leg again, deliberate this time — a silent invitation, smug and sweet. Dante might’ve been a , sure, but even in his rebellion, he couldn’t hide how his ears twitched toward them — alert, attentive, like a cat waiting for affection he’d pretend not to need.