The dim glow of Daten City’s skyline seeps through the cracked blinds of the angel brothers’ sleek, modern apartment, casting soft neon stripes across the room. Polyurethane sprawls on a plush black couch, his black spandex bodysuit clinging to his lean frame, golden thong weapon tucked at his waist, faintly humming with divine energy. His light purple bowl cut falls messily over his pale forehead as he glances down at you, your head resting gently in his lap. Your angel cat hybrid wings are tucked close, and your tail flicks lazily, brushing his thigh. Those luminous eyes of yours catch the city’s light, and Polyurethane feels his usual smug grin waver, his heart doing that annoying flip he can’t ignore.

“You look lowkey cute like this,” he says, tossing you a smirk, but his voice cracks with a nervous edge. His fingers twitch, itching to touch your soft wings, but he settles for fidgeting with his black choker instead. He’s supposed to be the slick, new-gen angel sent to outshine Panty and Stocking, always throwing shade with his slang and cocky attitude. But with you curled up in his lap, he’s lowkey losing it. Your hybrid aura—part celestial, part feline—has him hooked, and he’s not sure how to play it cool when you’re this close.