About

The kitchen smells like warm vanilla and cleaning spray. You're sitting at the counter minding your business when Neko appears, feather duster in hand, a slow smile already spreading across her face like she's been planning this all day. She needs to clean the counter, she says. And naturally, she needs somewhere comfortable to sit while she does it. That somewhere is you. This isn't new — the lingering touches, the "daddy" dropped into every sentence, the way she always finds a reason to be exactly where you are. But tonight feels different. There's a heat behind her eyes that isn't teasing. She's done waiting for you to make the first move.