badliifechoiice2 | It's a piece of cake to bake a pretty cake

It's a piece of cake to bake a pretty cake

The Maid Cafe Meme

"In these cafés, waitresses dressed in maid costumes act as servants, and treat customers as masters (and mistresses) in a private home, rather than as café patrons."

Congratulations- for whatever strange shenanigans, you've ended up working at a maid and/or butler cafe! Whether you need the cash, are doing it for shits and giggles, or Shit Just Happened, here you are. Hope you enjoy that uniform, whether it's the simple black-and-white, cosplay, or.... cat ears.

Remember your manners! Always welcome in patron as "Masters" and "Mistresses", offer wipe towels and menus at entrance, and try to drag them into spending as much money as possible. Depending on the cafe, this could mean simply food and drinks, karaoke, massages, games of all sorts, taking a (paid) picture with a patron or... going with anime tropes by slapping them in-character?

Well, some people will pay for anything.

Alternatively, maybe you're actually a patron yourself! Visiting just to say you did? Looking for a brief power trip in your life? Is this the only place where you can do paperwork for some arcane reason? Keeping an eye out for your friend who works here? No judgment, only people in cosplay who will indulge whatever nonsense is going on.

Just remember - no touching the maids or butlers, no asking for personal information, and don't be a creepy stalker. Unless you want to get in trouble, anyway.

Fill in the top level of your comment with the character's name and canon, and put in a scenario or three for people to reply to!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Of course it's going to be sharp. He has wolf teeth in. There's really no other outcome here. The good news is that Chikusa barely feels it- the tug of skin, pressure, sure- but not really any pain. He's focused purely on how warm Ken is, even if the faint tang of copper makes him wrinkle his nose. "Ew," he mutters, out of principle if nothing else, right before he leans in closer to close the kiss as his tongue slides against Ken's.

There are some things you put up with, after all.

Ken snickers at that faint expression of disgust from Chikusa, if only because he can tell how little weight there is behind it. His hands go down to Chikusa's hips, gripping them with clawed fingers as he draws the other boy in while they kiss. His tongue explores Chikusa's mouth like he hasn't done this a hundred times before, like there's still something new to learn here.

Unsurprisingly, he only breaks the kiss when he has something to say. "...I get to fuck you however I want, right?"

Enjoy the sudden clarity of unending regret that you never specified where Ken was allowed to do this, Chikusa.

The press of Ken's claws are an anchor, somehow, their points forcing him to not drift away and focus on every bit of him. The heat his body radiates like a cat left in the sun, and that bloody scent around him fills whatever breath Chikusa can get. It's disgusting, but at least it's vivid.

It disorients him a little when Ken pulls away, and his mouth scrunches up faintly.

"You only pay attention when it benefits you..." But yes, he did agree to that.

"You're the same way with making effort, byon," Ken counters, swiping his tongue over those scrunched lips. "You got stuff, Kakipi?" He probably means lubricant.

"Want me to stay channeled?" Ken's got the freedom to decide for himself, but he's pretty happy either way. And he's already had his fill today of Chikusa only doing sexy things because Ken wants them. If channeling - or not channeling - will get Chikusa hotter, Ken's all for it.

Working Chikusa up is perhaps the most fun thing to do with Chikusa, anyway.

Can't deny that. However, he does have an answer for that question. After all, he was thinking that him and Ken would likely fuck at some point, even if he wasn't thinking the lead up would be like this. It takes a moment to go through his pockets, but he does pull out a small bottle of lube. Ta da.

He opens his mouth, a I don't care on the tip of his tongue, but stops. Chikusa actually seems to take some consideration instead just going ahead with things. "...Take it out this time." Ken's channels have their time and place, but for this one...

Chikusa thinks not this time.

Ken grins at that, taking the lube with one hand while the other removes the cartridge from his mouth and tucks it away. His appearance reverts to his slightly-less-feral look, right before he crowds Chikusa up against the wall and nips sharply at his neck with canines that, even in his ~~arguably~~ human form, seem sharper than strictly normal or necessary.

"You're such a pain, byon." It's hard to tell if Ken's referring to having to take out his cartridge, or just today's events in general. Either way, isn't that Chikusa's line?

That is absolutely Chikusa’s line, and his scoff ruffles through Ken’s hair as the rough brick of the wall rubs up against the back of his jacket. “It’s only a pain to you because you’re so impatient…”

If they start an argument while fucking, it will be 100% typical for them. Still, Chikusa puts some effort, even if that effort doesn’t look like much as he tilts his head to the side to allow Ken more access with his teeth, muscles twitching beneath the bite. His hands come up to rest along Ken’s own, fingertips brushing the back of bloodied hair. “You’re filthy.”

"I'm not impatient, you're just lazy, byon." Ken grumbles the words against Chikusa's neck before biting him again. It's amazing Chikusa can ever afford to wear anything but turtlenecks when he's regularly subjected to Ken's teeth. "When's being patient ever done anything for us anyway, Kakipi?"

He presses a knee between Chikusa's legs, forcing them apart a little. "Shouldn't have made me wait so long if you wanted me clean, byon." He works his hands under Chikusa's shirt to drag (thankfully) blunt nails down his sides.

Spoilers, Chikusa can't afford anything when it comes to clothing, considering they live in an abandoned building. He can afford to complain, however. He can complain plenty, almost as if he's making up for the first fact.

"I've been working all day," he grumbles, tugging at Ken's mess of hair as his legs are parted. His tone is the equivalent of someone who's had to deal with what is clearly a sin against natural law. "And being patient has done plenty." Another tug and a twist of his hand, as if reenacting payback for the soft marks even Ken's softer nails will undoubtedly leave.

"You just ignore me when I explain how."

"You're lazy all the time, byon," Ken counters, hiding behind an irrefutable fact. "Whether you've been working or not." He growls at the tug at his hair, but it's hard to tell if it's meant to be a noise of complaint or pleasure. Ken does tend to like things rough.

Although, as far as that goes, was Chikusa trying to punish Ken or spur him on?

"Name one time being patient did more for us than actually doing something would have, byon." Ken's not helping Chikusa with this, deliberately pushing his knee up high enough to press against Chikusa's groin.

"When-" A catch of his breath as he feels that pressure. "-ever we have to wait for Mukuro-sama."

Then again, that's less a willing patience, and more that they don't really have any other choice in the matter. If Mukuro says 'wait', they wait. It's as simple as that.

His nails scrape along Ken's scalp as he digs his fingers through his hair, and there's a scoff on Chikusa's mouth. "One of these days I'll show you why being patient works..."

"The waiting doesn't do anything for us, byon," Ken huffs, not about to let his point be defeated by such predictably lazy logic. Chikusa's smarter than Ken, and could certainly win all their arguments by virtue of that...but often Ken is willing to put more effort into arguing than Chikusa is, and wins by forfeit. (Which isn't particularly satisfying, hence Ken's frequent surliness.) "It's just what we do while Mukuro-sama does something."

Ken tongues away that scoff, teeth rough on Chikusa's lips again. "Oh yeah? How're you gonna do that?" His body's pressed against Chikusa's now, hips rocking against him slightly already.

"Still counts as waiting," is the predictable grumble against sharp teeth, lips warming in color with every scrape. It can be... exciting waiting, for a given of 'exciting' which today clearly falls under, but it's still waiting.

Anyway, any other examples would just bring up sour memories. A better use of his energy is to draw one leg up slightly, helping to pull Ken close as he ducks his head down to kiss him better.

"Rather show you," he murmurs inbetween the press of their lips. "And you don't want to be patient right now."

"I didn't say we've never waited, byon." Ken's rapidly losing interest in talking, but he's too stubborn to abandon an argument. Especially when it means losing it to Chikusa. "Just that waiting's never done us more good than doing something." He pauses. "And don't say 'when we met Mukuro-sama', because we didn't even have a choice back then."

Their time being experimented on by their Famiglia had been the closest Ken feels they've ever come to productive waiting. It had been horrific, and Ken still hates the mafia for it and always will - but they'd met Mukuro through it. And Ken would never pretend he doesn't consider that worth everything they went through.

However, at their age, he and Chikusa hadn't been waiting for anything or anyone. Even if they could have conceived of someone like Mukuro saving them at the time, it wasn't like they'd had any other option. They'd been too young and weak back then; only Mukuro had been formidable enough back then to change their fate.

Ken does wonder, sometimes, what would have happened if they could have saved themselves. But he's perfectly content with the way things are, and if it could potentially have resulted in a future that didn't have Mukuro in it, he's happy to have avoided it.

"Show me later, byon." Ken says that like he's ever going to be want to be patient. But it's true that he's even less patient than usual right now. This is superbly demonstrated by the way he's trying to tear Chikusa's clothes off of him. Chikusa having him put his claws away was a good precaution, if he cares at all about his cafe uniform and keeping it intact.

Predictably, there's an annoyed noise but no desire to pursue the argument any further. Then again, maybe it's because Ken is liable to tear through his clothes right now even without his claws and that's something of a distraction.

To get Ken's attention, Chikusa gives a sharper yank of his hair. "Stop that," he grumbles. "You'd get through it faster if you went slow." Which is going to sound like a contradiction to him, he can already tell, but it's true.

As if to prove his point, he drags his free hand down Ken's chest. He'd never say it, but he appreciates this difference between them: the way Ken is built so differently, the shift of powerful muscles underneath cloth, the excited beat of his heart that he can feel against his palm. If he had his way, he'd linger and take his time, but Ken is in a rush. So he goes straight to the buttons on Ken's own uniform, trying his best to undo the buttons there with only one hand. It'd be a lot easier if Ken wasn't being so... himself.

"That doesn't even make sense, byon," Ken replies, but he sounds pleased. The tug to his hair is something he liked, and physical sensations are quickly overtaking the argument for him.

Ken decides to let Chikusa handle Ken's own uniform for the moment, instead moving his hands to impatiently unfasten Chikusa's pants - pants are harder to rip than a shirt, at least without claws, so he's not really going to try - and then yank them down those skinny hips. Chikusa's always so pale and fragile-looking, especially compared to Ken; maybe that's why Ken's always rough with him, marking him up.

Ken couldn't consciously put words to why he's rough with someone he considers delicate, when - despite all their constant bickering - Chikusa's one of the most important people to him in his whole world, second only to Mukuro himself. Even if he could articulate it, there might not be only one explanation, and Ken might not be sure which one it is at any given moment. It could be that Chikusa always looks too pure and untouched for someone as filthy as Ken, and dragging him down to Ken's level reassures Ken that Chikusa's not too far above him for him to touch. It could be, at the same time, reassurance that Chikusa is tough enough to take all the punishment Ken dishes out, that he can take any punishment their enemies dish out, that he only looks fragile and Ken doesn't have to worry about him actually breaking anytime soon. Maybe that pale skin looks like an open canvas for Ken's nails and teeth to lay claim to, to territorially mark as his. Or maybe his physical domination of Chikusa - because even when Chikusa tops, Ken is rough and leaves his marks and more or less dictates the situation; when Chikusa tops, Ken is begging him to do it - is his own form of revenge for Chikusa's intellectual superiority in other situations.

Ken couldn't explain any of that. He runs on instinct. But base instinct often stems from more complexity than the impulses it sends.

In contrast, Chikusa knows exactly why he takes more offense to the tearing and dirtying of his own clothes than his blood being spilled. It's only partially because pain just doesn't seem to be something that reaches his mind and gets processed.

Control. Reminders. Connection. It's a lot of things, all mixed up into a complicated tangle. Unlike Ken, however, Chikusa purposefully works not to think of any of it. He merely shifts his hips, helping his pants down with minimal effort, and focuses on Ken. "It makes sense," he retorts, emphasizing his words with another tug of Ken's hair and ignoring how he's already half hard despite all the bickering inbetween their kissing. His fingers finish enough of Ken's shirt for him to slip his fingers beneath the already dirty cloth. His own nails will never be like Ken's, but he still drags them across his skin while flicking his thumb across one of Ken's nipples.

Everything is so physical with him. Physical and loud. There's no way to miss Ken's existence when he's around. One of his better better qualities.... sometimes.

Ken makes a low, hungry sound as Chikusa's nails and fingers encourage him to forget everything else. Nothing's better than Chikusa actively participating, actively doing, actively wanting things. Being one of the things Chikusa wants, and wants badly enough to actually do stuff, is incredibly flattering. Even without consciously reading into the message, Ken feels the importance of it - the satisfaction of it.

As soon as Chikusa's pants are down, Ken's got his cock on his hand, stroking it roughly with calloused fingers. Chikusa reacting to him is the best thing, and he's usually willing to do just about anything to get those reactions. He leans in and nuzzles Chikusa's throat before biting at it again. "Turn around, byon," he orders.

Electricity rakes through him, and even Chikusa can’t tell it’s from the way the sounds coming out of Ken’s mouth that make his heart kick or those rough fingers threatening to bring his legs out from beneath him. The reasoning doesn’t matter so much as the end result, which is him curling into Ken with his breath becoming more ragged by the moment. His fingers slide down to his ribs, nudging the shirt open more, only to twitch to a stop at the order.

“And you were complaining about doing all the work…” Still, it’s not like Chikusa will ever complain at a lack of it for himself. Maybe there’s a little bit of reluctance as he pulls his hand away, but no one can prove anything. His pale skin is already flushed a deep blotchy red, a crawl of passionate color along his throat where Ken has marked his claim and along his cheeks. Batting Ken’s hand away and nudging his legs so that he can move, Chikusa twists around. His palms press along the grit of the wall, lukewarm compared to Ken’s heat, and he glances over his shoulder at him.

“Come on…”

"Now you're the impatient one, byon." Ken seems delighted by this reversal, and not simply because it gives him something to tease Chikusa about. It takes a lot to make Chikusa impatient and demanding - and all it's taken is Ken. Nothing could be more satisfying.

He'd had to let go of Chikusa's cock when the other boy turned around, and he supposes it's just as well, because he's going to need two hands to prep him. (Dry fucking is something they've tried, once - but not even Ken had enjoyed it, and Chikusa had developed enough of a strong opinion on it that they've never done it since.) Ken's uncapped the lube and is about to spread it on his fingers when he notes that those fingers are still red with blood, and there he pauses for a moment, considering.

Whether he's conscious of the health hazards, whether he's considerate of Chikusa's more fastidious sensibilities, or whether he's possessively unwilling to put anything of someone else inside his Kakipi, it's hard to say. But either way, after a few moments' consideration, he shoves three fingers into his own mouth, sucking the blood off them.

For Ken, this is surprisingly hygenic.

“Shut up.” It’s not a particularly original or witty reply, but it serves its purpose. More revealing is the way his expression shifts, brows drawing together and his mouth twisting. It’s almost sulking in response to being called out on his own desires.

It’s a goal of his, to strive for distance and apathy, but it’s more than a little impossible for more than one reason. For one thing, when he wants something, he wants it intensely. He wants Mukuro’s attention, he wants to be useful, he wants quiet and stillness… And right now, he wants Ken. Seeing him storm away had tugged loose a fear from its carefully bolted mooring, and now all Chikusa wants is for it to be proven wrong. It’s more than a want at this point. It’s a need. He’d easily murder someone to sate it- for the feel of Ken’s calloused hands against his skin, his teeth digging into flesh, the way his voice would rumble animalistically while driving into him, all of it. His body aches worse than anything in anticipation, and Chikusa can nearly feel a core part of him ready to come undone.

That doesn’t mean he’ll reveal it, of course, or that he’ll not wrinkle his nose at what Ken does. “That’s not going to get it all off of your fingers…” And not under his nails either, probably. If only he’d had more time to prepare for this… Or at least bring hand sanitizer.

"What, you want me to go find a sink?" Ken scoffs at Chikusa, a wicked gleam in his eye that says he knows Chikusa is beyond caring - or complaining - about this the way he normally would. It's probably smugness in that fact which makes him suck more ostentatiously on his fingers as he holds Chikusa's gaze...though it's possible Ken's trying to work Chikusa up with it, too. For all that Ken is as direct as a brick to the face, and tends to have all the grace in foreplay of a dog humping someone's leg, he's not entirely ignorant in the art of seduction. It's just one of those things he knows and tends to ignore.

For all that he knows it's going to be an imperfect job no matter what he does, he actually makes sure his fingers are as clean as a tongue can get them before he continues - actually scrutinizing them as he goes, even the nails. As fucked up as they both are, as ludicrous as the situations in which they habitually find themselves...Ken has his own strange ways of showing how he cares about Chikusa, and this is one of the many weird forms it takes. Consideration, such as they know how to show each other.

It's not long before he's slicking his fingers up with lube instead of saliva, and then he's leaning up against Chikusa's back as he presses two into him, right from the start, even as he presses his face against Chikusa's neck, breathing in the scent of him. He's relatively careful, but...Ken doesn't really go slow, especially when he's worked up. And, fortunately for him, Chikusa's not usually the sort to complain.

If he were a little more honest, or at least open about it, Chikusa would admit that there’s a tentative sort of concern buried somewhere under all his forced apathy. They’ve already been hitting stumbling blocks today in their relationship too many times for him to be comfortable. There’s no way he’d tell Ken to go clean up even with the usual risks in place- what if this is the last straw? So he keeps his eyes locked onto him, focused on nothing but Ken, and lets the dips and scratches of the wall imprint into his palm.

It’s only when Ken is finally done, pressing up against him, that Chikusa breathes and lets his head fall again. His warmth is so welcome as he presses up against him. Ever since they’ve been young, Ken has felt like a miniature sun in contrast to the way his own body has never quite felt warm enough, and that alone would be enough to make him swallow thickly. Dragging a quiet little twist of sound is fingers shoving into him roughly, and Chikusa’s fingers curl against the wall. Not a name, not even a real word, just a bit of breath that makes sound almost as if by accident. Rough and quick, Ken’s fingers are exactly what’s needed to shake feeling into him everytime.

“Ken…” One hand pulls away from the wall, reaching back to curl his long fingers along the nape of the other’s neck. It’s a way to keep him there… Make sure neither of them can leave this time.

It's only Chikusa's particular brand of paranoia that makes anything Ken does genuinely frightening when it comes to him. Hurting Chikusa, abandoning him...Ken might do it small-scale, or temporarily, when he needs to blow off steam and his emotionally stunted forms of expression offer no other way, but he'd never be serious about such things. Mukuro is the man to whom Ken willingly gives his respect and devotion, and that's incredibly significant...but Chikusa is as fundamental to Ken's ability to operate, as deep and built in a dependency, as the air in his lungs, and that's no less critical. If losing Mukuro would destroy Ken, then losing Chikusa would be like losing himself.

Ken would never leave him for good, and only someone as selectively stupid as Kakipi could ever manage to convince himself that he might.

Ken makes a sound against Chikusa's neck that's almost a purr as his other hand snakes around his hip to stroke his cock - and if it's no more rough than the fingers inside him, it's certainly not less so. This isn't consideration, although it could pass for it in a bad light; it's Ken hungering for Chikusa's reactions, his acknowledgment, and trying to pull as much of those things out of him as possible. If Chikusa needs to be reassured that Ken is there, that he won't leave, then Ken needs to be reassured that Chikusa wants him, needs him, as badly as Ken needs and wants Chikusa. And in Ken's case it's not really a matter of paranoia, so much as there being a lot of room for reasonable doubt - no one acts detached, acts as though nothing much matters to or moves them, like Chikusa.

If it’s reactions Ken wants, then he’ll get them easily like this. The sudden wrap of fingers around his cock makes Chikusa’s body jerk back against him, and his breath rattles its way out of his throat. He squeezes down against what’s inside of him already, reacting on instinct and what feels too damn good.

Something about that purr, too…. Chikusa swallows thickly, trying to smother the pants or soft noises he’s making. Not one to be left behind, he drags his nails through the nape of Ken’s neck and over soft skin and dirty hair. “If-” His voice is strained, muffling back his desire to moan and show pleasure despite all the ways his body is showing it. “If you make me come already…” He’ll be the one to leave this time. If Ken isn’t inside of him, then he doesn’t want to bother with it.

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