brought to you by my cats who don't understand 'no' or personal space. I'm gonna bake a cake now.
No one was safe when resident cat hybrid reader decided they wanted closeness and warmth
If price lays down in any way, you will somehow know. You'll find him, lay on or around him and trap him with you.
The lads have to rescue the captain hours later, contorted around you but unable to get up. Kyle has the phone ready to take pictures in seconds, Soap wheezing on the floor and Ghost locked in a staring contest with you.
Flicking your tail, you only huffed and lay your head square on prices chest. The man looked mildly exasperated, with his plans on halt.
They'd have to pick you up but after the last impromptu piercing session, they weren't keen on that. Which left the Captain to get some much needed rest.
Kyle was gracious enough to get a blanket for them.
Cat Hybrid Pet (2 werewolves x fem!cat!hybrid!reader!2ndPOV)
Warnings: MDNI, NSFW, non-con, dub con, captivity, double penetration (anal/vaginal), knotting, size difference, painplay, marking/biting, degradation, praise kink, belly bulging, semi-public sex. This is a work of fiction with extreme and unrealistic supernatural dynamics. If these triggers make you feel sensitive, stop reading.
Summary: Life as a cat hybrid in a territory ruled by werewolves is dangerous. When two powerful pack males decide you belong to them, resistance is futile. Your life now revolves around them. You are theirs and they prove it daily.
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The sun was a weak, grey smear behind the trees when you woke.
The air in the den was thick with the smell of wet earth, pine, and them… musky, wild, a scent that lived in your fur now. You were curled on a pile of furs, yourtail tucked against your belly. A heavy, furred arm was draped over your waist, claws, blunted now curled against your skin.
Wolnar was behind you, his broad, fully lupine chest rising and falling against your back. His snout was buried in the space between your neck and shoulder, each warm, slow breath ruffling your hair. Ridok was on your other side, flat on his back, one massive paw resting on his own chest, the other flung out toward you.
Even asleep, they surrounded you.
You shifted, a tiny movement.
The chain around your ankle shifted with a sound. It wasn’t long, just enough to let you reach the mouth of the den and the small, roped-off clearing outside. A tether, not a cage. They called it a precaution. A way to keep you safe from the rest of the pack, from things that wandered in the deep woods.
You knew it was a lie. They were too possessive.
Your movement woke Wolnar. A rumbling growl vibrated through his chest and into your bones. His arm tightened, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the dense, coarse fur of his belly against your lower back, the alarming, hard heat of his semi-erect cock already pressing against the cleft of your ass.
Werewolves woke up ready. Always.
“Morning, little cat,” he grumbled, his voice a gravelly distortion, shaped by a mouth full of fangs. His tongue, wide and rough, dragged a wet stripe from your shoulder to your ear.
You shivered. “Morning, Wolnar.”
The sound of your voice, sleep-thick and small, seemed to wake Ridok next. He rolled onto his side, facing you. His eyes, amber and intelligent in his wolfish face, blinked open. He didn’t speak. He just looked at you, his gaze traveling from your face, down your body under the thin blanket, to where Wolnar held you. A different kind of rumble started in his chest, deeper, more alert.
“She’s awake,” Wolnar said, stating the obvious, his claws tracing idle patterns on your stomach.
“I see her,” Ridok replied. His paw came out, the back of his knuckles brushing over your cheek, then down over your collarbone. He hooked a single, careful claw under the edge of the blanket and pulled it down, exposing you to the cool den air.
Your nipples tightened instantly, pebbling against the slight chill. Ridok’s eyes fixed on them. You had small breasts, a human shape but dusted with a fine, downy layer of fur that matched the color of your ears and tail. Your nipples were a dark pink, now hard and aching.
“So pretty,” Ridok muttered. He leaned in and his tongue, even broader than Wolnar’s, lapped over one breast, soaking it, his rough taste buds scraping your sensitive flesh. You gasped, back arching, pushing yourself into Wolnar behind you and toward Ridok’s mouth at the same time.
A low chuckle came from Wolnar.“Eager already. Good.”
Ridok sucked your nipple into his mouth, the pressure firm, his fangs a thrilling proximity to your skin. He nursed at it, his tongue working, while his big paw cupped your other breast, squeezing, thumb pad rubbing over the other nipple. Pleasure shot down to your clit.
You were wet already. You always were for them. Your body had given up resisting months ago. It knew what it was for.
Wolnar’s hand slid down from your stomach, through the patch of curls between your legs. His fingers, thick and clever despite their clawed tips, found your pussy. He grunted, pleased. “Soaked for us. Always so ready.”
He pushed two fingers inside you without preamble. You moaned. You were loose from their constant attention, but they were always so big. Your inner muscles fluttered around the intrusion. He pumped his fingers slowly, the wet, squelching sound obscenely loud in the quiet den. His other hand kept you pinned against him.
Ridok released your breast with a pop, a string of saliva connecting his mouth to your reddened nipple. He nuzzled between your breasts, then lower, his snout pushing at Wolnar’s hand. “My turn to taste.”
Wolnar withdrew his fingers, now shiny with your slick, and held them up. Ridok licked them clean, his amber eyes locked on yours. Then he pushed his head between your legs. His tongue was a broad, hot, rasping thing. It didn’t flick or tease; it lapped, like he was drinking from you. Covered your entire vulva in one pass, pushing against your clit, sliding through your folds, even prodding briefly at your asshole. You cried out, your hands flying to tangle in the fur on his head. Your tail puffed out, twitching wildly.
“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you begged, hips lifting.
He ate you with single-minded intensity. His nose pressed against your clit, his tongue delving inside your pussy, fucking you with it. You could feel his hot breath, hear his low grunts of satisfaction. Wolnar held you, one arm across your chest, his other hand playing with your nipples, pinching and rolling them.
“Gonna come on his tongue, little cat?” Wolnar growled in your ear. “Do it. Let me feel you shake.”
The coil in your belly wound tight, too fast, always too fast with them. Your orgasm ripped through you, a blunt force that made your toes curl and your back bow. You screamed, your channel clenching around nothing, around Ridok’s tongue. He didn’t stop, lapping up every pulse of your release, prolonging the sensations until they edged into overstimulation. You whimpered, pushing weakly at his head.
He pulled back, his muzzle glistening. “Sweet,” he declared. “Always so sweet.”
“My turn now,” Wolnar said, his voice thick. He manhandled you, turning you onto your hands and knees. The furs bunched under your palms. The chain on your ankle clinked. He positioned himself behind you, his big, clawed paws gripping your hips. You felt the blunt, hot head of his cock nudge against your pussy. He was already fully hard, his length thick and heavy, the base swollen with the beginning of his knot.
“Please,” you whispered, pushing your ass back toward him.
He slammed into you in one deep thrust.
The air punched out of your lungs. He was so big, stretching you so wide you felt split open. A choked sob caught in your throat. It was pain and fullness and a terrible, right feeling. He was home inside you.
“Fuck, take it,” he grunted, pulling back and slamming in again. His fur brushed against the backs of your thighs. His balls, heavy and tight, slapped against your clit with every drive.
Ridok moved in front of you. He was hard too, his cock a dark, angry red, jutting from its sheath. The tip leaked clear pre-come. He put a paw on your shoulder, moving you so your face was level with it.
You knew what he wanted. You opened your mouth, tongue out. He fed his cock into your mouth, not slowly. It hit the back of your throat. You gagged, tears springing to your eyes. Saliva dripped from your stretched lips.
“Good girl,” Ridok rumbled, his paw cradling the back of your head. He didn’t fuck your face, not yet. He just held it there, letting you get used to the stretch, the musky taste of him. You breathed hard through your nose, drool slicking your chin.
Wolnar set a steady pace behind you, his hips pistoning, driving you forward onto Ridok’s cock with every thrust. The den filled with the sounds: the slap of flesh and fur, Wolnar’s ragged growls, the wet, rhythmic squelch of your pussy taking him, your own choked gags around Ridok’s length.
“Look at her,” Wolnar panted. “Taking us both. Our perfect little cat pet.”
Ridok’s claws prickled your scalp. “You love this, don’t you? Being our pet. Being full of us.”
You couldn’t speak, couldn’t nod.
You just moaned around the cock in your mouth, the vibration making Ridok snarl. He began to move then, pulling his hips back and pushing forward, fucking your throat in time with Wolnar fucking your pussy.
The dual penetration, being filled at both ends, sent your mind spiraling. There was no thought, only sensation: the brutal fullness below, the choking pressure above, the smell of them, the heat of their bodies surrounding you.
Wolnar’s thrusts became erratic, harder. You could feel his knot swelling, bigger than your fist, bumping against your stretched entrance with every plunge.
“Gonna knot you,” he growled. “Gonna pump this cunt so full of my seed you’ll leak it for days.”
The threat, the promise, made your climax detonate without warning. It was a silent, shattering thing, your vision whiting out, your pussy convulsing in spasms around Wolnar’s driving cock. Your body shook, a weak, mewling sound escaping around Ridok’s shaft.
Your orgasm tipped Wolnar over the edge. With a roar that echoed off the den walls, he shoved forward, and his knot forced its way inside you.
You screamed, the sound muffled by Ridok’s cock. The stretch was unbelievable, a burning, tearing fullness that transcended pain. It locked him inside you, a thick, pulsing bulb that sealed his come inside.
And he was coming, hot jets of it flooding your depths, pump after pump. You could feel it, hot and abundant, filling you up. Your stomach, already taut, began to swell outward, a visible, rounded bulge just below your navel.
Wolnar collapsed over your back, his full weight pressing you down, his teeth gently gripping the nape of your neck in a final, claiming bite. He panted, his come still pulsing into you.
Ridok watched, his eyes blazing. He pulled his cock from your mouth, a strand of saliva and pre-come connecting it to your lips. You gasped for air, coughing.
“My turn in her cunt,” Ridok said, his voice husky. “But it’s plugged. Knotted and full.”
Wolnar, still lodged inside you, grabbed your tail and tugged. “Other hole’s free.”
Ridok’s gaze dropped to your ass, presented and vulnerable. You felt a fresh trickle of fear, of anticipation. That hole was always tighter, always a fight. Before you could protest, you were manipulated. Wolnar twisted your body, rolling his knot and your body so you were now riding him.
You hugged him for dear life, knowing what was coming.
Ridok curled behind you, looking at where Wolnar held your tail up, bearing your tight little hole. He spat onto your pucker and positioned his shaft, next to where Wolnar was still tied to your pussy. The head of his cock pressed against your tight, wrinkled asshole.
“Relax for me, pet,” Ridok murmured, but it wasn’t a request. He pushed.
It was a sharper pain. You cried out, your claws extending and digging into Wolnar’s back. Ridok was too big; it was too much. But he didn’t stop. He pushed, and then with a burning shove, the head popped past your ring of muscle.
You sobbed. Wolnar licked your shoulder. “Take it. You can take it. Made for us.”
Ridok sank deeper, inch by torturous inch, until his pelvis met your ass. You were impossibly full. Your belly, already rounded with Wolnar’s come, distended further. You looked pregnant. You felt owned, used, completed in the most degrading way.
Ridok began to move, short, deep strokes that made you feel every inch of both of them. Your body jerked between their twin anchors. The sounds were different now; a wet slosh from your front, a tighter, slicker noise from behind.
“Feel us,” Ridok grunted, his pace increasing. “Every part of you is ours. Your cunt. Your ass. Your mouth. Your life.”
He fucked your ass in an animalistic rhythm. The stimulation on your already-overwhelmed nerves, the feel of Wolnar’s knot still pulsing inside your pussy, the sight of your own distorted belly… it drove you to another orgasm, a weaker, rolling shockwave that left you trembling and boneless.
Ridok felt your inner muscles fluttering around his cock in your ass and lost his control. With a final, deep grind, his own knot began to swell.
“No, no, please,” you whimpered. Your ass couldn’t possibly take it.
It did, but just barely.
With a pained moan from you and a triumphant roar from him, Ridok’s knot forced its way into your ass, locking him inside you alongside his pack-brother. You were utterly, completely impaled. The stretch was mind-breaking. His release was hot and deep inside your bowels, adding to the feeling of fullness.
They both collapsed over you, a mountain of fur and muscle and heat. You were trapped, knotted front and back, a sandwich of werewolf cum slowly cooking inside you. Your belly was a round curve. You could only lie there, panting, tears drying on your cheeks, a wrecked doll between them.
A long time passed. Their knots went down. Wolnar slipped out of you first, a gush of his seed following, dripping down your thighs. Ridok pulled out a few minutes later, a similar, messier result.
They didn’t let you clean up. They pulled you, limp and dripping, between them, licking your face, your neck, the mess between your legs. Their tongues were rough, cleaning but also re-marking.
“Our good girl,” Wolnar mumbled, nuzzling you.
“The best,” Ridok agreed, his arm thrown over you both.
You lay there in the mess and the smell of sex and wolf. The chain was still on your ankle. Your belly was tender and full. Their cum was inside you.
“Love you,” you whispered, the words automatic, true in a twisted way you didn’t care to examine.
They both stilled, then rumbled, the sound pure happiness.
“We know, little cat,” Wolnar said. “We love you too. Ours.”
The sun was higher now, but the den was dark. You closed your eyes. There would be more, later. There was always more.
And in the animal core of you, the part that had accepted the chain and the knots and the claiming, you craved it.
Price showing innocent hybrid!reader what condoms are and how they work?🙏 (They have probably never seen them before lol) The worms in my brain are telling me to include in more hybrid content
Adopting a cat hybrid hadn't really been in John's life plans. It was either get an emotional support hybrid or retirement. He couldn't deny that you were a perfect fit in his life.
Deep pressure therapy when he started to spiral, purring him to sleep when the nights got quiet, kneeding his back whenever his muscles cramped and flared. One thing he noticed early on was that you didn't know how to take care of yourself very well.
You couldn't clean up after yourself, and John had to show you how to wash yourself properly. You were so incredibly curious about the world around you. Even traffic seemed interesting to you, watching the cars driving around outside. After only a few months of living with him, he felt comfortable leaving you at home when he had to work instead of bringing you in.
"John! John, what's this thing!? Is it candy?" You barely waited for the door to shut behind Price before pouncing on him. He chuckles, holding up a hand to slow you down as he takes off his boots.
"Woah, kitty. What's going on? What do you have?" He asks as he takes the crinkling package from your hand. You let him take the small foil package, your tail swishing with excitement. "Where did you get this, Y/N?" Price hums quietly, eyes flicking to your face.
"From the bed table! Is it candy?" You ask again, licking over your fangs hungrily. John chuckles at that, shaking his head as he meets your eyes.
"No, not candy. You've never seen a condom before?" You shake your head a little, furrowing your eyebrows at him. "Mm, I thought not. Come on, kitty. Let's go to the bedroom." He coos, dropping his bags at the front door. You follow him to the bedroom, watching as Price sits on the bed and pats his lap.
Once you were snuggled into his lap, he opened the condom and took it out of the package. "This is a condom, Y/N. If I have sex with someone, I will put this over my penis to keep my sperm inside it." He explains as he opens up the condom, guiding your hand so you can feel the lubricant on it.
You giggle a little at the feeling as you rub your fingers together. "Why do you want to keep sperm in there? What does that do?" You ask as you shift to get comfortable on his lap.
"Mm, could get a woman pregnant." Price explains, patting your lower tummy. "Sometimes, people get sick, so their genitals are sick too. If you wear a condom, that can keep someone else from getting sick." He continues to explain while watching you stretch the condom between your hands.
"Can you show me how it works!?" You ask, whipping around in his lap with the biggest grin. "Please, John!? I wanna see!" Price chokes on a laugh at your eager eyes, tail swishing happily. He smiles down at you, tossing the drying condom into the trash can by the bed.
"Alright, kitty. Lay down, let me get a new one."
By the time Price sunk inside of you, your tail was fluffed with overstimulation, mewling in pleasure as he stretched you open. You thought that his fingers were thick enough to prep you, but now that you felt his heavy cock pushing into you? You yowl into the pillows he bottoms out, ears flickering like crazy.
"That's it, kitty... I'm all the way in now." He huffs into your ear, kissing your neck. "How's that feel, huh?"
"It's deep! John, please..." You gasp, not even sure what you were begging for. Price chuckles at the desperate need in your voice, rocking his hips into you slowly.
"That's it, kitty. You can take it." Price huffs against your neck, thrusting a little faster once you started moaning louder. You clench tight around his cock, turning your head and giving his face eager little licks. You couldn't help but groom at him, sinking your teeth into his neck with a loud purr.
The coil in your belly starts to tighten, but Price had already assured you it was okay. You liked how it felt when the coil snaps, your thighs trembling as Price presses his weight onto your back. Price groans in pleasure as he cums, wishing he was spilling inside of you instead of the condom.
With the way you rock your hips back against his, nibbling his neck happily, he's sure he'll get his chance soon.
cat hybrid reader who sometimes will find the 141/konig laying on their front and your instincts scream at you to sit on their back if they’re legs and make cookies on their ass because those cheeks are so fucking full and soft you need to knead the muscle
ghost almost punched you in the face (could probably have done it? might’ve done it, yeah)
johnny yelps and snaps his head to the back to look at you and then enjoys the time
kyle startles, a “what the f-“ falling from his lips before he understands what you’re doing
price honestly has read about it, wasn’t expecting you to do it to him but apparently his ass has enough fat for you to enjoy
könig is definitely startled, probably hits you unconsciously with his elbow when turning around
Over a decade since the war, you struggle to find intimacy amongst any man or woman who isn't Bakugou Katsuki. There was no harsh break up or ill parting, in fact you're sure the two of you only kissed once or twice for a dare. So why were you haunted by a living, breathing man?
tw you're a cat hybrid, any and all hybrids are humanoid, have the ears and tail, and some features of their animal type. Ie. personality, claws, slits, or fangs etc. Sexual themes and light gore mention.
Having sex shouldn't be this hard.
But it is, especially since you're a cat hybrid.
Aggressive when scared, never skittish. Clawing or biting to draw blood without warning, even to yourself.
It was hard to even find a guy you wanted to make out with, at least when it finally came down to it.
Flirting, over the clothes touching, wasn't hard at all.
But when it got to where you were undressed, suddenly your ears were pinned back, your tail puffed to make you seem larger and a heavy swipe of your razor sharp claws.
Most guys didn't bother coming back after that.
You knew the exact reason why you couldn't commit to the act despite your pussy dripping for them without even being touched.
The furthest you've gotten is right now, the lights down low, his blonde hair reflecting in the moon and candle light. Your fingers itching to card through his hair but you resist, for now.
Because you know it won't feel the same. It won't be as soft, or as light in color, you're ignoring that part. You're trying to enjoy the way he huffs over your cunt like a salivating dog.
Which makes sense, he is a golden retriever hybrid after all.
Floppy ears blending in with his messy hair, his big brown eyes staring up at you as he waits for the command to devour.
If you squint, those brown eyes could just be a dark shade of red. Oh how you lie to yourself.
Tentatively you nod and his body lurches forward. A big long swipe of his tongue from your hole to your clit makes you shudder.
“Fuck.” He whines, taking more and more tastes, faster and much less savoring as he eats.
It feels good, makes you arch your back nicely, lift your hips towards his face that his arms wrap around to keep in place.
Strong, thick fingers digging into the fat and bone there as you tear up another set of sheets with your claws.
But the feeling doesn't last long, not because he was bad, no not by any means.
One of his hands moving up to press on your soft stomach to add pressure, the action making you hostile.
The hands once clutching at the sheets as you let out soft moans, now sink claws deep into his shoulders. Not in a fun, rough way either.
They sink in warning, one the golden receives well.
Yelping from the sudden pain, sitting up straight, big brown eyes worried as he pulls your hips close to his so he can see your face better.
“Ya okay?” His dick resting in your wet folds and now he has claws in his thighs.
“M sorry.” Pushing you back to leave some space between your wet heat and his heavy dick, “Push too far? Was it me pinning your hips?”
“It's cause I'm belly up.”
“Oh right, right. For cats its look don't touch.” He gingerly runs his hands down your sides, not even letting his thumbs touch your exposed stomach, “Wanna try you on top?”
He flops onto his back easily, his tail wagging when he sees you get up, your little cat smiles on your face. He's learned quickly you curl and uncurl your tail when you're curious.
He's been very patient through all of this, your boyfriend, not boyfriend, Inumaru. Some golden retriever that was funny enough to take you home a few times, a man who suffered more and more claw marks each time he saw you.
Still his display of friendly submission piques your curiosity.
“Mmmrr?” He loves when you make that sound, when your eyes turn to slits as you look him over like he's something to bat around.
You crawl closer to sit between his legs, crawling over his heavy dick to sit on his abdomen. Slowly, oh so slowly his hands come to rest on your hips.
“Better?” He asks as you splay your hands on his bare stomach. His tail brushes against your soft sheets as he waits for your answer. You're hard to read, especially for him.
“Kinda.” You blink but it's not slow. Inumaru knows that isn't entirely good or entirely bad.
“Hmm. Maybe it's the eye contact?” He sits up, moves you onto his thighs. He's careful not to let his eyes meet yours for too long, “Let's try another position.”
He waits for your tail to curl and uncurl before he moves you. Putting you on all fours facing away from him, touching your hip but keeping his distance.
“Better?” His voice husks as he enjoys the view, the sound he makes has your back arching.
“Yea.” A purr to your voice that has him coming closer, pressing himself against you. Coating himself in your slick without moving, letting you get used to him.
Yet still, even waiting on baited breath, something feels off to you.
You claw away quickly, flipping yourself around to face him, swiping out of habit.
“You're okay, you're okay.” He keeps his hands up, blood drips onto the sheets.
Your tail is bristled, your ears pinned, your anger not even aimed at him at this point.
It's all aimed at yourself, haunted by a living ghost, with ash blonde hair and red eyes.
A ghost you made. Because you got too close, because you were over protective.
Because you were more feral than you'd ever been even when you were forced to live on the streets at such a young age.
Nothing was wrong with Inumaru except to your body everything was.
He didn't smell right.
He didn't look right.
He didn't fucking sound right.
You can hear Inumaru’s heart and it's not a rhythm you like solely because it isn't his.
You memorized his heart beat long before he died and came back to life.
Steady, always so steady, even when he fought. It only beat rapidly when his ears turned pink, when a heavy emotion was involved.
When he saw you quirk collared, or mittens because of your sharp claws getting you into trouble at school.
The few times you preferred to linger by Izuku when normally it was the ashen blond despite the hostility the two of you held towards one another.
As he climbed up the tree you were stuck in to get you down, steadying only when he had you in his arms. Racing again when he squatted down so your feet could touch the ground.
Beating faster when it's pointed out, “Only you can get her down, Kaachan. She doesn't let anyone else.”
How it sounded when it ripped apart.
You cover your ears at the memory, hissing at the thought as if that would scare it away, if anything it just makes Inumaru move backward on his knees.
After the sound of tender flesh and bone shrapnel hitting the ground in a wet thud, a part of you snapped.
It would take you weeks to process the sound of flesh being ripped from flesh, of crunching bones. Of that metallic smell and rancid innards torn away from what should have been a long since dead body, over and over and over again.
All drowned out under a deafening silence, as much as you hated to admit, your heart died with his.
Even after it beat to life again, a part of yourself was gone. Lost to your animalistic nature of angry stray cat. Hovering over his body when he fell a second fucking time.
Glued to him as the smell of bleach bleach and bloody gauze burned your nose, his hand at the back of your skull soothing you, cooing at you, “Nurses gotta do their job, princess.”
The nickname so different now that he'd come back from the dead, it was used to tease, to poke or prod, to evoke a reaction but now.
Now he used it as comfort.
Another thing that won't register until he's less bandaged, until his scarred right arm was no longer his weak side you subtly protected.
Until after graduation, where everything worked out and Dynamight was officially registered at an agency.
It was then you ran away to hide nestled in a district made for rejected hybrids.
Inumaru settles into a more comfortable kneeling position, he wants to reach out even if he knows it's a bad idea. His arm already had a nasty gash, his back filled with claw marks, scars and scabs.
A deep sigh, not disappointment, never, more like defeat. He watches how the sound makes you curl your silky tail around you protectively.
“Do you wanna try to cuddle?”
He isn't sure why he tries so hard, cats and dogs never did get along.
“No!” Hissed out immediately. A grit of your teeth, your eyes clenched shut, most likely to stop the tears.
It didn't help that he was stuck in another man's shadow either.
He knew he could never hold a flame to Bakugou Katsuki.
How would the dispatch boys react to waking up to their cat hybrid bf kneading their chest while the bf is still asleep and purring?
All of them will refuse to get up and hush anyone who dares make too much noise while asking them to.
Flambae would heat himself up the second you start to lean on him, coaxing you into fully resting on his chest. He will grunt and hold back tears if you have claws that poke out when kneading, reminding himself he may have to help you trim them later. But for now, he'll happily suffer.
Sonar will turn Big Bat just to give you more room and fluff to work with. He'll nuzzle into the top of your head once you finally settle down onto him, happily wrapping his wings around you, keeping you safe. He smiles in his sleep once your purring starts up, obviously he would drawn towards vibrations (being a bat and all).
Waterboy is overjoyed and will always treat it like it's the first and only time you'll lay on him. He's used to cats not really enjoying his touch, so if you like it, he may actually cry. Don't look at his face, because he is tearing up when you start purring. He can't help but be hesitant with petting your head, that's usually when cats will run away from him. But if you nuzzle into his touch, he can't help but make a goofy smile along with his overblown pupils, barely able to hold back a small squeal.
Royd, as always, gets crazy cuteness aggression. The second you start even making your way over to him, he has his arms out stretch, which will encompass you as soon as you are close enough. This man will never stop petting you as you curl up onto his chest, a smile with tears in his eyes as you claw it up while kneading. But if he really does have to get up, it's no problem because he'll just wrap his arms around you to keep you secure and move to where ever he needs to go.
Robert is more used to dogs, so cat like affection is a little different for him. He'll awkwardly lay there as you get comfortable on top of him, then once you finally settle, he'll slowly move his hand to your head. His petting is a bit awkward at first, but once you start purring, he starts to relax into it.
now playing ⋆˚࿔ : kitty hybrid reader and your fav toy. oh and your owner is there too you guessss
in this play ⟡ (cw) : 18+ mdni, no smut :p , pet play, d/s dynamic, older man, reader is 21+, kitty!reader, reader uses chew toys, nipple touch (one time), petnames (sugar, sweet thing, baby, kittycat), no use of y/n, character insert
word count: 1.9k
director's note: ive been very blah lately and just want an older man to take care of everything n call me kittycat ughh.
While sitting back on the sofa–busy watching a movie, a feeling of something fuzzy dances across the lower half of your owner's leg, startling him slightly. A tail. He hadn't heard you come in.
You're crawling around on the hardwood floor, getting dust all over your palms and knees, tail flicking behind you in an annoyed fashion. He hears you grumbling to yourself near his feet while you're pressing your body lower to the floor; checking under the sofa for something.
"Somethin' wrong?" he asks, eyes glancing your way and then back to the tv. You let out a grumpy huff in response which amuses him, but he holds in the chuckle, humming instead.
"Words, kitty. Can't help 'less you say something."
With a little sigh, you sit up, ears ticked back atop your head. "Lost my toy." It comes out like a mumble but he still hears it over the tv.
"Mm." he sets his hands atop his knees, pushing off to stand over you. "I'll get it for you, baby," he says, tone plain despite the roughness. He's looking down at where you sit. "Scoot."
Another huff escapes you. "I wanna get it myself." You're already starting to pout, tail still flicking with impatience mixed with frustration.
His head tilts. Then he's setting his broad hand atop your head, rubbing between your ears. "'S okay to need help sometimes."
Instead of answering, you turn your head away from him, choosing to stare at the sofa.
He hums noncommittally. "Alright. How about I just help look?"
"That's fine." You're already crawling back down on all fours, much to his dismay. He'll have to remember to sweep more thoroughly later.
Stretching a bit beforehand, he starts to bend and twist while checking in between the couch cushions. His large frame makes the sofa creak under his weight, brows furrowed while he focuses on the task at hand.
Eventually he grabs hold of something small lodged between the love seat. Pulling it out reveals the fated chew toy you've been searching for—a small, ribbed ring now covered in couch fibers.
He holds the light colored toy between two fingers, turning it over to check for any damage.
"Found it."
You quickly turn your head his way, fuzzy ears on high alert. Once you see the pastel plastic dangling from his fingers, you start to crawl closer on instinct. His eyes crinkle in amusement at your expression before he moves past, headed to the kitchen. "Has to be washed, baby." His words are calm but has a lingering authority to it. "Can't let my sweet thing get sick."
He's setting the thick ring aside while looking through the cabinets. You pause, pout returning to your face. "And how long will that be?"
He finds a small pot, turning to the sink to fill it. The pot is carefully pushed onto the stove eye and he turns the temperature on high. "Hmm… shouldn't be too long."
Next, the little thing gets plopped into the boiling water with a small 'bloop' sound.
While waiting for the water, he finally realizes how quiet you've been. He looks over his shoulder, feeling eyes on him. Sure enough, there you stand, lingering by his side and staring down at the stove with a blank expression. He can tell by the constant tail flicks that you're still upset.
His eyes then drift to the dust still clinging to your legs and fingers. "How 'bout y'get cleaned up in the meantime," he asks quietly, reaching out to gently rub your cheek with his knuckle. It's a small attempt to soothe your growing attitude.
Despite your annoyance, you lean into his touch, frown just a little less prominent. "Maybe.." you murmur, avoiding his gaze. You really wanted your toy sooner than later.
His fingers unfold to pet your face more in slow, gentle strokes. "Maybe, hm?" Your chin ends up in between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your face to see the amusement in his eyes. "Need me to wash you then?"
Warmth rises to your cheeks at the offer–embarrassed, though you're secretly interested. "Don't need… can do it myself." Your words sound hushed now, clearly affected by his touch and forced eye contact. " 'm a big cat."
He grins ever so faintly and looks into your eyes while thinking something over, pot still boiling behind him, swiping his finger across your jaw.
"Need me to help you get undressed?" he asks it quieter, tone still rumbly and protective. You blink slowly at him, letting out a low, barely audible purr, before giving a short nod.
His lips curl into the faintest of smiles, pleased with your compliance. "Lift up," he says, guiding his hands to the hem of your nightgown. You quietly obey, watching as the fabric climbs up over your torso and chest, then your head, and lastly your raised arms. You give your ears a flick, tickled from the undressing movements.
He sets the nightgown into your hands, eyes following the path of soft skin and fuzzy fur. "Pretty thing," he hums, reaching out to lightly thumb your nipple. It's barely touching, another gentle pet amongst many that he places against your skin. A careful reminder of his closeness to you.
Your eyes flutter and lips fall open slightly, a spark of pleasure running down your frame. "Thank you…" you whisper in response to the compliment, your mind a mushy mess now.
He grins. "So polite too." He's leaning down to kiss your forehead, lingering an extra second to feel your warmth, before pulling away.
Blinking at him with a certain expectant look–wanting his fingers to poke your body some more, you stare a while longer, before reluctantly leaving to go down the hall into the bathroom.
He wonders just what exactly goes on in your fuzzy head.
Leaning against the kitchen island with his hands in his pockets, he taps his foot idly as he waits for the toy to finish sterilizing.
After well over ten minutes, he's using tongs to fish it out, setting it down on a paper towel to dry. While pouring out the hot water he hears your pittering footsteps down the hall, heading his direction.
You stop right where the kitchen doorway meets the hall, peering at him through wet bangs. He's got his hands busy with a soapy dish rag and pot. You can't help imagining taking the pot's place, being thoroughly squeaky clean from his hands alone. But you're already washed now. And you turned down the earlier offer. Pity.
He rolls his shoulders, readjusting his grip on the dish. "See ya' didn' dry off too well, baby." His tone is flat, disapproving. Words breaking you out of your daydream. He hardly has to glance over at you to see how damp you still are, dripping water droplets in some spots right onto the floor. "Go on and finish."
You stay in the doorway, more focused on the paper towel housing your toy than anything else. You're starting to step a foot into the kitchen when his words start up again.
"Kitty." Its a quiet warning. His washing has paused, head now turned just slightly to face you. "Y'heard me speakin', right?"
Embarrassed, your tail starts to curl around your leg. Then you're tucking your hesitating foot back into the hallway. You give him a little nod which is instantly met with a tut.
"Words. You a big cat, right? Use 'em."
You bite the inside of your cheek. But reluctantly answer him. "Yes, sir. I heard you."
He hums, pretending to be lost in thought. "Towels not in here. You must've got lost, hm? Must be it."
Sheepishly, you stare at the floor, contemplating wether to bicker with him. Must he tease you? "Mhm.." You agree to get it over with, damp fur standing up.
"Mm-mm, poor thing." His eyes linger on you a moment longer before he turns back to washing the pot. Huffing out a sigh, you head back down the hall to your bedroom to finish drying off.
⋆˚꩜｡
The sound of some old action movie you don't recognize echoes from the tv speakers, bouncing off the living room and kitchen walls. Now fully dry, you're at the fridge, sticking your nose in whatever smells fruity. You want something sweet before using your chew toy.
Sitting on the sofa with an arm behind his head, his focus is on the movie playing in front of him but he still regards you. "Lemonades behind the milk." Your eyes flick over to him, narrowing a little. Somehow he already knows what you want without you saying anything.
After grabbing a cup and pouring some strawberry lemonade for yourself, you take a slow sip. The juice is tart but sweet, the sourness rolling along your tastebuds and making them water. Just what you needed.
Then you're making the short way over to the opposite counter, grabbing the paper towel from earlier to take your ring out from it. Lifting it under the kitchen light, you turn it and sniff at it curiously, before–finally, setting it between your lips.
You're humming contentedly–quietly, enjoying the instant comforting feeling of having something just right to chew on again, unaware of the pair of eyes on you watching from the couch.
"Sugar," he says, softer than usual, making your ears quickly flick in that direction. He sees the way you slowly turn your head, chew toy between your lips and ears still on alert. It makes his lips curl up. "Can you c'mere, baby?" He sits up to flip the station to something less… battle heavy–a nature station. Deep sea squids drifting through the ocean play on the tv.
You set your empty cup on the island and head over to him, staring at his face the whole time. "You can blink, kitty." He knows you're just curious but teases anyway, causing your eyes to narrow. 'Cute,' he thinks.
Standing between his spread thighs, you're looking down at him while nibbling that pastel ring, tail already starting to flick in irritation. Your owner's large hands reach out, just barely petting your wrists. "C'mon. Haven't even done anything yet." He lowers his voice further, trying to calm you before you try pulling away.
His eyes look softer from this angle, not the regular tired and authoritative look. There's warmth dancing in his gaze. "Just wanna hold my kittycat." His thumbs trace your pulse point with a gentleness that rivals his size. "Won't tease anymore. Promise."
You only hesitate for a short moment, contemplating it, before decidedly turning to sit down in his lap. Resting your head on his shoulder with a little puff of air from your nose. He spreads his thighs wide to give you more room, lightly running a hand up your back to settle you, thick fingers gliding over your fuzzy tail. He murmurs a 'thank you', tucking your soft body closer to his.
He turns his head to give your forehead a soft kiss with his stubble tickling your skin in the process. Despite the little bit of grumpiness that started to brew, it disappears once you're snuggled in his warmth. Carefully breathing in his scent–aftershave and musk, listening to his slow breathing, enjoying his gentle pets while the tv plays an ocean documentary. You could fall asleep like this.
And soon, you do. Listening to his quiet hums with heavy eyes and slowing down with nibbling your toy, you're lulled to sleep.
Can i request blade, sampo and feixiao (separately) with a cat-hybrid gn reader? (Its just catgirl but make it gn lol) thank uu ^^
Back to the kitty, 'cause they're kinda pretty
Tags: Blade x Reader, Feixiao x Reader, Sampo x Reader, Cat-Hybrid Reader, Fluff, Mild Teasing, Lighthearted Interactions, Sparring (Feixiao), Banter (Sampo), Hints of Angst (Blade), Comfort.
The Stellaron Hunter’s base was eerily quiet as you padded through the dimly lit halls, your tail swaying behind you. Blade had summoned you for a mission, though he hadn’t provided any details. You found him in his room, sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed, as if meditating.
“Could you knock next time?” he muttered without opening his eyes.
“I did.” you replied, crossing your arms and flicking an ear. He opened his eyes, one eyebrow arched in amusement.
“Did you now? I didn’t hear a thing.”
You rolled your eyes and sat next to him. “So, what’s the mission?”
“There’s no mission.” His gaze softened ever so slightly. “I called you here… because I wanted to talk.”
Your ears perked up, curiosity winning over. Blade wasn’t exactly one for casual conversation. “About?”
“I was wondering,” he started, his gaze flickering to the tips of your ears, “how you manage to find calm so easily. You seem… at peace, while I struggle to find it.”
You smiled, stretching out and curling your tail around yourself. “It’s easier when you stop fighting yourself. I accept my instincts, even if they’re different.” You flicked his bandaged hand playfully. “Maybe you should do the same. There’s a balance you haven’t found yet.”
His eyes narrowed, yet he didn’t pull his hand back. “Balance, huh? Maybe one day…” He trailed off, but the look in his eyes told you that perhaps, for the first time, he was willing to try.
The Xianzhou Yaoqing’s training grounds were empty, save for the rustle of your tail as you crouched, preparing for a sparring match with Feixiao. She stood across from you, her hands on her hips, a smirk playing on her lips.
“Think you can keep up with a General, kitty?” she teased, flicking her fox ears.
You narrowed your eyes, playful determination sparking in your gaze. “Only one way to find out, General.”
The sparring session started with a rush of speed. Feixiao was fast—faster than anyone you’d trained with—but your natural agility as a cat hybrid gave you an edge. Dodging her strikes, you twirled around her, even managing a quick swipe at her coat.
“Impressive!” she laughed, sounding genuinely delighted. “Didn’t think you had it in you.” She moved with ferocity, her eyes focused entirely on you.
You felt a sense of pride bubbling up as you narrowly avoided another strike, purring softly despite the intensity of the match. In one daring move, you swerved and managed to knock her slightly off-balance. She chuckled as she stumbled, finally calling a truce.
“Not bad. If we weren’t sparring, I’d be considering you for the Cloud Knights,” she said, offering a hand to pull you up. “Though next time, don’t hold back.”
Your grin widened. “Only if you promise not to either, General.”
It was a quiet night in Belobog’s Underworld when you found yourself wandering into Sampo’s hideout. You’d just slipped in silently when he called out, “Is that my favorite cat?” His voice held a teasing lilt, and he looked up with a wide grin.
“How did you know I was here?” you asked, tail flicking in surprise.
“Please, I always know when there’s a silent visitor,” he laughed, stepping closer with that ever-charming smirk. “Besides, you practically smell of curiosity.”
You rolled your eyes. “Or maybe you just can’t resist sneaking up on everyone.”
He chuckled, reaching out to scratch behind your ear. To your surprise, it actually felt… nice. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting out a soft purr.
“See? I’ve got the magic touch,” he said, clearly delighted. You playfully swatted his hand away, and he pretended to look hurt. “Alright, alright, no need to claw me.”
His voice dropped, taking on a softer tone as he met your eyes. “Hey, thanks for stopping by, though. It's been a while since I’ve had good company that wasn’t trying to rob me or arrest me.”
A warmth filled you at his words, and you smirked, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “Guess even Sampo Koski has his soft spots.”
“Only for the right company,” he replied, giving you a wink that made your ears twitch as your heart skipped a beat.
