#only that the cat would be a leopard

[berokind]

YU XIAOQING AND LONG WENZHANG | MY CHIEF AND MY REGIMENT (2009)

[sage-nebula]

my toxic trait is that I get annoyed when people refuse to acknowledge that a Japanese game series made by Japanese people has references to Japanese culture, religion, and mythology in it.

[nostomannia]

She's muttering to herself, scheming.

She may be figuring out how to sneak in a snow leopard again.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

A/N: My comms are discounted for a limited time for Black Friday btw. This is a kofi request, so if you want more then send me a Kofi~ it’s a snow leopard hybrid ^^

Being abandoned by your owner in the middle of winter was already not ideal, but being caught in a record breaking blizzard was definitely worse.

You could sense it coming. Being a cat hybrid had its perks, but you almost wished you were blissfully unaware of your imminent demise.

It had been a few hours since your owner drove off, leaving you in a torn hoodie and your thin pajama pants. He hadn’t known the risks of owning a cat hybrid such as yourself, and when you went into heat and started rubbing your scent on everything and biting him to try and claim his as your mate, he abandoned you.

It really hurt. You adored your owner, thinking he was different from other humans who simply saw you as a pet.

But you were wrong. He tossed you away without a second thought, leaving you to die. Had you really meant that little to him?

Despite your sadness, you curled up under a bench, shivering as you tried to keep yourself warm. Even being in heat wasn’t helping much, the ache in your belly only adding to the discomfort and pain you were feeling.

You wanted to be warm, to nest and be properly bred by a kind male. Maybe that was too much for a house cat hybrid such as yourself to ask. Thinking you were worth something led you here after all…

As the snow only continued to fall, you tried your best to stay warm. It was only to try and find the most comfort you could while waiting for your death.

You weren’t accustomed to taking care of yourself. Ever since your birth, food had been handed to you, beautiful clothes and jewelry adorning your body when it came time for you to be presented before humans for sale.

Before this, you had never worried about warmth or sustenance, simply relying on your owner.

What else could you do?

As you thought all hope was loss, a scent other than the cold and wet smell of snow wafted through the air, a familiar yet strange one.

It an instant the bench was ripped from its foundation, a figure bending down to examine you.

Your vision was a bit blurry, but you could smell it.

This was a wild hybrid.

In the past you heard tales of such beasts, hybrids that fled to the wild to escape human subjugation, but because you were a pampered house cat hybrid, you had yet to encounter one.

“Lost, little one?”

Your tail puffed out as you let out a weak hiss, watching as the hybrid’s face got closer to yours. He smelled like blood, perhaps he had just procured a fresh kill and was looking to add to his winter stockpile.

At least if he killed you, it would be a quicker death than freezing. Perhaps this was some kind of twisted mercy…

But you never felt his fangs puncture your throat, instead your hoodie was being bitten, your body lifted and carried by his strong jaws.

He was taking you somewhere. Where? You could only guess back to his den. It would be easier to kill your there instead of risking the scent of blood being left on the snow, leading back to his home.

Although you were afraid, the big cat was warm. His breath fanned against your neck, and your body reacted against your will, producing enticing pheromones that told any hybrid nearby that you were in heat.

He was soft, and for some reason you felt something being wrapped around you… some kind of furs from one of his hunts. Why would he bother to keep you warm? Did he prefer his prey fresh and didn’t want you to freeze to death?

None of this really mattered to you. You were cold, hungry, and exhausted. If you slept now, perhaps you would be unconscious when the time came and pass on in your sleep.

So you passed out, too tired to even notice how his pheromones responded to yours.

When you awoke, you were in bed. Your owner had never allowed you to sleep with him, so this was the first time you had been in a human bed and not one for pets.

The blankets were made of the same furs you had been cloaked in before. You sat up slowly, still processing what led you to this.

Being abandoned right before a blizzard… nearly freezing to death… a wolf hybrid taking you with him…

It was a lot to think about, and even with a now well rested mind your head was still spinning. Maybe a meal would help you make sense of this…

“You’re awake…”

You stiffened at the voice, your blood running cold. When you finally found the courage to turn and look at the source of it, you nearly passed out again.

In the doorway was a snow leopard hybrid, his cat ears flicking as he stared down at you. He was nearly twice your size, and thoughts of you beating him in a fight went down the drain immediately.

“Thought you were a goner for a bit. Tougher than you look.”

He spoke slowly, his eyes on your plump form. You weren't sure what he was thinking, and before you could respond your belly rumbled.

“Hungry, huh?”

His long, thick tail swayed behind him as he approached. Although he was tall, he was thin and lean, not the same type of terrifying a lion or tiger hybrid would be, but still holding the same predatory glint in his eye.

“Kittens in heat such as yourself have to eat.”

You felt your cheeks warm. Of course he could tell you were in season, your scent was probably overwhelming at this distance.

He tilted his head. “Not wild, are you? What’s a little thing such as yourself doing all the way out here?”

Your lip wobbled. All the pain, all the anger and confusion came bubbling to the surface.

“My owner… he just… he left me all alone… a-and it was scary, I…”

The snow leopard stared at you, letting you cry before he leaned down to lick away you tears before beginning to groom you.

This calmed you significantly, a soft purr rumbling in your chest. This was a comfort you had been denied since you had been separated from your litter as a kitten, and you couldn’t help but lean in as he licked back your hair.

“It’ll be alright. You’re mine now, my property. You won’t be cold or scared anymore.”

He rubbed his cheek against yours, moving his face to your neck and giving a harsh bite to your sensitive flesh, a clear marking of his territory.

While you ate, it was clear he was holding himself back from something. His golden eyes followed your every move, his tail swaying behind him almost sending you into a trance like state.

You usually ate whatever your owner did, even if it made you sick or upset your sensitive belly, but tonight you had stew, made with cat hybrids in mind.

Once you had your fill, your body was able to recover enough to start producing more pheromones. It was well aware there was a male nearby and that you were fertile, so it made your cunt grow wet and hot, ensuring you’d be easy for the average male to penetrate.

But unfortunately your stupid body didn’t understand the male before you was twice your size. He could sense your heat, knew that your body was trying to stir him forward.

He sniffed at you. This was the scent that had interested him. It wasn’t like he was cruel, if a female such as yourself was in need he wouldn’t just abandon you in the cold, but the fact you were plump and in heat certainly made taking you in much more enticing.

You let out a startled mew when he approached, his face burying itself into your neck. His tongue lapped softly at the scent gland there, his hands moving to hold onto your hips.

From the moment he saw you, he knew that you would be his mate. The bond had been formed before you even noticed he was there, and the snow leopard was eager to confirm it.

You smelled like heaven, a mix of your natural musk and some kind of sweet perfume your owner had you wear. Tearing off your clothes was child’s play for his sharp claws, and his body vibrated with purrs once he laid eyes on your naked form.

Already he was imagining your belly heavy and swollen with his kits, his hand gently pressing against the fat of your tummy. Being fat and plump was good for surveying the harsh climate where he lived, and it was important for females to be fed fresh meat throughout the winter.

His cock hardened, it wasn’t going to be easy fitting into such a small cat hybrid. Compared to him you were like a mouse, easily positioned however he wanted.

His fingers dipped into you, making you mewl and arch your back. You had already been bucking your hips like a needy little thing, your body desperate to be mated before your heat was over.

His cock stretched you out. It was unpleasant at best, almost painful as you struggled to take in something too big for you.

Even though he was being gentle, nothing would help when you were never meant to be bred by a big cat such as himself.

Despite this, your heat ridden body made it work, beat pooling into your abdomen as your gushed around his fat cock. Your tail twitched as he slowly pulled out and pushed back in without warning, a bulge forming in your belly from the sheer size of him.

The feeling of being ravished by him was… exhilarating. You were too small, too weak to do anything besides moan and writhe underneath him, letting the snow leopard use you as a living flesh light to be filled with his seed.

Even though it felt like you were being torn apart at first, his finger slowly rubbing at your clit and his tip hitting your special spot over and over has your cunt clenching around him before you could even think.

If you hadn’t been in heat, you most likely would have died during the mating session, but while you were in season your body produced so much more lubricant and pheromones that helped you take him inside of you.

You felt so warm when he came inside, thick ropes of hot and sticky cum filling your little womb. Your heat eased a bit as you were thoroughly bred. You knew that this would ensure pregnancy, even if all you had to go off of was instinct alone.

“Little one…”

He purred into your ear, keeping his cock inside of you to make sure none of his cum leaked out. His tongue licked at your neck and hair again, grooming you out of affection now.

“My mate, my sweetheart… I’ll take care of you, alright?”

And that was enough for you. Now all you wanted was a mate and somewhere warm to sleep with three meals a day. It was clear that he could provide that.

So you slept without worry, curled up with your mate, your new provider.

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko

[rawjutsu]

chapter three.

pairing: snow leopard hybrid!gojo x bunny hybrid!femreader

keep up here

the days leading up to your heat have been nothing short of torture. you’re hot—constantly. even with the apartment’s a/c blasting like it’s mid-winter, you keep swiping sweat from your hairline and upper lip, burning from the inside out. your fur-lined ears twitch in irritation, and your fluffy tail keeps flicking like it’s trying to shake off the tension simmering under your skin.

the worst part? satoru offered to stay over at nanami’s earlier than planned.

“y’know, i don’t mind crashing with nanamin if you want some time… alone.”

alone.

you both knew "alone" meant you, probably failing miserably, trying not to hump everything in sight.

neither of you has brought up what happened after the grocery trip. not the quiet tension. not the way you’d shuffled off to bed and turned on your vibrator like you weren’t absolutely feral. but he knew. his ears were massive—fluffy snow-leopard things that twitched at the slightest sound. and with the way he kept sneaking glances at you the next morning? yeah. he definitely knew.

at least he didn’t know that he was the one on your mind during it. and you intended to keep it that way.

“it’s okay,” you huffed, waving off his offer. “i’ll be fine.”

satoru just nodded and dove back into his rare ribeye steak like it was the most natural thing in the world.

and that was that.

to say it’s been tense between you two would be a criminal understatement. you're constantly tiptoeing around each other—him, surprisingly, not wanting to cross any lines, and you desperately trying not to pounce. your instincts are going haywire. bunny brain going brrrrr. you’re practically vibrating.

not that you’re attracted to him. no. definitely not.

…it’s just that your brain goes rogue when heat’s coming. all you can see is a tall—very tall—muscular predator hybrid who oozes sex appeal even when he’s sweaty and half-asleep. especially when he’s sweaty and half-asleep.

and the way he refuses to wear real clothes at home isn’t helping.

you were getting ready for work one morning when he wandered out of his room, freshly woken, arms stretching high over his head. your gaze trailed along the fuzzy white happy trail that peeked out above his pajama pants—and you nearly buckled from the sheer wave of arousal that hit.

your ears shot straight up. tail twitched. whole body stiff.

satoru noticed. of course he did. his own snowy ears gave the slightest flick—like a radar catching prey movement.

he didn’t say anything, but you know he was dying to make a teasing comment.

you didn’t let him.

“you look like shit,” you blurted, and bolted for the door.

work? that was its own hell. you were practically shoving scent blockers down your throat and drowning yourself in perfume. the idea of some sleazy customer catching even a whiff of your pre-heat state? immediate homicide. you were already sensitive to touch, jumpy at loud noises, constantly fidgeting with your ears. and your tail? it refused to cooperate. kept twitching and fluffing up in defense like a pissed-off little pompom.

your manager, utahime—a black cat hybrid—shot you a sympathetic look once as you popped in yet another blocker.

you’d only asked for one week off, even though she said you could take more. but you didn’t want to lose any more pay. you were already living off rice and frozen dumplings.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

when you get home, the apartment’s quiet. satoru’s gone—doing god knows what. you’ve never even asked what he does for work. something late at night that pays him enough to splurge on imported wagyu and fancy sake. whatever.

not really hungry, you decide to knock out some laundry instead.

you gather your basket and head for the door, only to curse under your breath when you remember—satoru still hasn’t made you a copy of the building laundry room key. you huff, drop the basket by the door, and head into his room to look for it.

the second you open the door, your ears flatten.

his scent hits you like a freight train—heavy, rich, and pure. the whole apartment always smells like him a little, but this? this is different. there’s nothing mixed in. just him. raw and undiluted. a snow-leopard hybrid’s natural musk, tinged with power and danger, makes your instincts go haywire.

you take shallow breaths and tiptoe to his desk, trying not to drown in it. eyes scanning for keys. focus, dammit.

but then—your gaze catches on the pile of laundry near his dresser.

it’s stronger there. heavier. muskier.

your ears twitch. your nose flares. your thighs press together.

you whimper, barely.

you stand there, locked in place, chewing your lip—and before your brain can yell bad idea, your hand darts out and snatches up a plain white tee.

you bury your face in it. inhale deeply. moan, just barely.

his cologne. his sweat. his natural scent. it floods you. fills your lungs. swirls in your brain like smoke. your tail curls in tight, and your ears tremble from the stimulation.

you don’t know how long you stand there, just breathing him in—until a sudden, humiliating warmth drips down your inner thigh, seeping through your shorts.

you gasp. ears shoot upright. eyes go wide.

fuck.

you yank yourself away from the shirt like it burned you, grab the keys from his desk, and bolt—nearly faceplanting as you stumble out of the room, body aching and slick and mortified.

he comes home around 1 a.m., kicking the door shut quietly behind him. he blinks at your laundry basket still by the door, confused. you’re usually a laundry-and-bed-by-midnight type.

then he walks into his room.

stops.

sniffs.

and freezes.

you were in here. he knows that scent. knows how it smells when it’s just barely starting to shift toward heat. knows it’s you. his tail swishes once—slow and deliberate.

you’re still awake. you’ve been staying up until nearly 3 a.m. lately. he knocks on your door twice.

“you alright?”

no answer.

he cracks it open and peeks in.

you’re sitting on your bed, dazed, holding something white. he moves closer to sit next to you.

“…that’s my shirt,” he says softly.

you don’t respond at first. then your lips move on their own.

“i took it.”

satoru raises a brow, waiting for more. you don’t give it. so he asks gently,

“uh huh. can i know why? i mean—i don’t mind, but… why?”

you finally look at him. and he nearly chokes.

you look wrecked. flushed. pupils blown wide. ears drooping low and twitching. mouth parted like you forgot how to speak.

“i don’t know…” you whisper.

satoru’s throat works hard. his snow-leopard tail flicks once. fuck.

“y/n… did your heat start already?”

you shake your head no.

“no. but… i’m close. really close.”

silence.

he can hear your heartbeat hammering through the room. your scent is getting sweeter. thicker.

he stands abruptly, nervous laugh spilling out as he runs a hand through his hair. his ears keep twitching like he’s trying to shake off a very dangerous idea.

“okay. i’m gonna go to nanami’s. like, now. doubt he’ll be thrilled about me showing up in the middle of the night, but—oh well.”

as he turns to flee, your hand shoots out and grabs his.

he jolts. like you’ve burned him.

you try to speak. but your voice doesn’t come. only a whisper of breath.

“i—…”

he stares at you, jaw tight, terrified of what he might do if he lets his guard drop. his tail lashes once behind him—his whole body tense and alert.

then, after a beat, he gently brushes his thumb over your hand.

“you can keep that,” he murmurs. “and… you can go to my room.”

your head snaps up.

“if you need,” he adds, voice strained, refusing to meet your eyes.

and then he’s gone.

you’re left in your room, sweaty and dizzy and clutching his shirt. your ears droop as your body shudders.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

you don’t sleep.

you can’t.

you try. curling up under your own covers, burying your face into the shirt you stole—his shirt. it still smells like him. not quite as strong now, but enough to soothe your instincts just a little. your tail stops twitching. your breathing slows.

but then… it starts again.

the throbbing low in your belly. the ache crawling under your skin. your inner thighs are sticky again, your body pulsing like it’s warming up for something devastating.

you flip your pillow over, trying to find a cool spot. tug the blankets off. press your palms to your burning cheeks.

nothing helps.

you’re not in heat yet—but you can feel it coming, like a wave swelling just offshore. building. creeping up.

it’s too much. you’re too aware of your body. your scent. the way your ears droop and flick. the way your tail can’t stay still. the way your thighs keep clenching.

you’ve done this before. you should be used to it by now. should be able to handle it like a normal person.

but this time is different.

this time, there’s a scent curled up in your lungs. him. satoru.

snow leopard hybrid. apex predator. the very last person your poor bunny brain should be obsessed with right now.

and yet…

your eyes flick toward your bedroom door.

“just five minutes,” you whisper, already lying to yourself.

you tiptoe down the hall. quiet. hesitant. every nerve buzzing.

his door creaks open, and the scent hits you all over again—warm and deep and dizzying. your knees go weak. you step inside anyway.

his bed is massive. big enough for two people and then some. the blankets are a mess. pillows everywhere. the soft hum of his scent makes your mouth water. you don't even try to fight it anymore.

you climb in.

carefully.

slowly.

just to lay down. just for a moment. that’s all.

the sheets are warm. heavy. safe.

you curl up on his side of the bed, bury your face into his pillow, and breathe. a soft sound escapes your throat—half-sigh, half-whimper. your body starts to relax.

and for a few minutes… it works.

the ache dulls. your nerves settle.

you finally close your eyes.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

you don’t know how long you’re out.

but you know exactly what wakes you.

it hits like a truck.

a white-hot bolt of pain-pleasure straight through your spine, knocking the wind from your lungs. you jerk upright with a gasp, clutching the sheets, heart hammering.

your ears snap up. your tiny tail—short, soft, and fluffy —twitches hard against the sheets, like your body’s trying to work out the overwhelming pressure building inside you..

your body is on fire.

there’s no gentle lead-up this time. no warning. your heat crashes into you full-force, primal and unrelenting. you feel soaked—panties clinging to you like wet fabric, your thighs trembling. everything hurts. you’re throbbing. aching.

your nipples are stiff, sensitive against your tank top. your skin feels too tight. you’re panting like you just ran a marathon.

“no no no—fuck—”

you press your legs together, trying to soothe it, trying to breathe, but that just makes it worse. the pressure between your legs flares white-hot. your hips twitch. your cunt pulses helplessly, slick drooling onto satoru’s bedsheets.

his bed. his scent.

your body wants him. no—it needs him. desperately. mindlessly.

you bury your face in his pillow and sob.

tears bead in your lashes as your hips roll against the mattress—your body chasing friction all on its own. you’re too far gone. there’s no turning this off. you can’t wait this out anymore. you’re a mess of slick and sweat and want.

“satoru,” you whimper, voice cracking. “need—fuck, i need…”

you clench the sheets in your fists, nose still buried in his scent, body wracked with wave after wave of need.

you know you should get up. call someone. do something responsible.

but all you can think about is how warm this bed is.

how big it is.

how easy it would be for him to pin you here and take you apart.

your plush little tail twitches again. your ears press flat against your head. you're mewling now, gasping into his pillow like it’s the only thing keeping you sane.

“please…”

the word slips out before you can stop it.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

a/n: *rubs hands together very very evily*

[elodieunderglass]

Horses are often referred to as prey animals, but what are their natural predators?

Any large grassland predator in the biome, including humans! This is an interesting question, though, because it takes in the axes of time and space. "Wild" horses, the ancestor of domestic horses, are currently extremely rare. The only existing ones in a wild state are Przewalski's horses, also called the Takhi or Mongolian Wild Horses, which live on the Mongolian steppe. Their "natural predators" in that environment would include wolves and snow leopards (which are themselves endangered). However, it isn't an entirely natural setup; they were reintroduced to their native habitat after becoming essentially extinct, through an incredibly complex and fascinating recovery project. In the spacetime pocket in which Earth has wild horses, that's the current state of play: wild horses live in Mongolia and are occasionally eaten by wolves, but are being preserved fiercely for the benefit of humanity.

Meanwhile, we do have things like Dartmoor ponies in England and mustangs in North America and Brumbies in Australia. Dartmoor ponies aren't eaten by anything and are considered feral in the sense that they're domestic animals that live wild, but more or less on purpose, with the moor being treated as a common for keeping ponies on, and the nominal owners can just grab one if they want one at any time. Mustangs are accidental colonists of the American West. They are preyed on by wolves, cougars, and other local large predators, but are not wild. they are feral because they're all descendants of European horses and honestly, if we aren't being sentimental about it, they're invasive.

North America has not had a native population of horses since humans arrived on the continent. The facts are often associated. It is commonly held that humans, upon arriving in America, ate the native horses all up. The typical line goes that "when the first humans populated North America, they were so greedy and invasive that they overhunted most of the local large mammals to extinction". but I personally - and in an unhinged I'm-allowed-to-randomly-hold-ONE-fringe-belief-that-I-Made-up-Myself way - don't like that narrative, and there might be evidence in oral myths indicating that First Nations people at least remembered contact with horses prior to European colonisation. At any rate, there aren't wild horses on that side of the planet any more. The mustang - the most classic "wild horse" in imagination - is not wild, but is currently preyed on by everything that WOULD have eaten the OG native horses of America, minus the large predators that have gone extinct since then (sabre-toothed tigers). Whether mustangs are a nice reintroduction that adds a missing element of Horf to the landscape, or agents of ecological devastation, is kind of up in the air. But they are regularly and routinely preyed upon by the same "natural predators" as the wild cousins would have been, albeit in lower numbers. Take-home message: to visualise how interactions of wild horses with predators and the environment would have looked, mustangs are a very good model.

Going back to the "time" element, human interaction has really decreased a lot of the "natural predators" of horses; they were once preyed on by a larger variety, diversity, and number of animals. In the pocket of spacetime when wild horses were common and had a large range, there also used to be a lot more things like hyenas in Europe and Asia. Here's a diagram showing the "prey animals" and "predators" of Pleistocene Europe. Horses are on the bottom shelf on the far right, at a lower opacity, to show they're "prey animals". You can see that there was a greater diversity of predator types, while today there are usually just Your Local Wolf and Your Local Big Cat.

But this diagram puts "people" as "prey animals" - and humans are traditionally The Natural Predators of horses. Looking at that diagram, you can see that the common, smallish-but-not-too-small herd animal, whose defenses are Having Friends and Being Fast, is a delicious-looking proposition. The spectacular depictions of cave horses in Lascaux are showing our kin, but they're also showing our food.

There is a very important Middle Pleistocene site at a lake in Germany called Schöningen 13II-4, with hominin remains dating back to 300,000 years ago (!!!!!) and it's called the Spear Horizon (for the incredibly well-preserved evidence of spears) but a common nickname is the Horse Butchery Site. One of the most ancient preservations of hominin behaviour, culture, skill, tool-making - their/our priorities, their/our methodology, their/our view of the world - is a narrative of eating horse meat. And the hominins at the Horse Butchery Site did it in a way that seems quite rapacious. Entire family groups of horses, coming to the lake to drink, would be butchered at once: Persistent predators: Zooarchaeological evidence for specialized horse hunting at Schöningen 13II-4 - ScienceDirect It seems like the hominins were killing a lot of horses and not using a lot of the meat, because they wanted fat, and horses don't have much of that.

At any rate, human-shaped people and horse-shaped horses have a very, VERY long history of us eating them. WE are their natural predators. And it makes sense. Humans and Equines are all social animals of relatively small sizes and have interacted with each other for an extremely long time. We have observed them, we know them, we grew up together. For quite a lot of that history, we had a simple relationship; we ate them. Now we much prefer to ride them.

Horses have not entirely forgotten this, but appear to have largely forgiven it.

[xazse]

not rlly a request but it can be if uw??

I can't stop thinking abt kitty hybrid user and some big cat hybrid gojo (snow leopard, tiger, lion, etc). Suguru originally had hybrid Gojo as a pet, but then found kitty reader and decided to adopt them, and the moment Gojo sees them, he instantly decides that reader is his mate, and just follows them around like a dumb puppy. He'll cling onto reader and groom them all day, licking their fur and their face and not stopping even when reader complains or when Suguru tries to step in. Gojo is super super possesive of reader, and insists on eating, sleeping and bathing with reader, and will start shredding cushions or other things if denied. He's a big cat, so his claws do some serious damage to furniture, so Suguru has no choice but to give in if he doesn't want to spend everything in his bank account to repair the damage. I'd imagine Gojo and reader would have a similar dynamic to your puppygirl and wolf Gojo fics, but Gojo is the one teasing and getting all over reader. Reader's just too innocent to realise what's going on, so they just let Gojo do whatever. Thanks for reading my little blurb, I just needed to get it out!! Hope u have a nice day ❤️

The Preakness in this needs to be studied omg

I want to expand.

KittyHybrid !reader x Tigerhybrid!Gojo

Satoru really thinks he owns you like literally thinks you were bought just for him when that’s not the case, well yeah you were bought for companionship but Suguru also got you because he felt the house was too manly? It would be nice to have a girl around. So he got ur little cute self, at the hybrid facility you were the sweetest thing ever, you’d lay yourself all over Suguru in a ploy to go home with him, he of course gave in.

The first few days he has to keep you separated from Satoru for obvious reasons, Satoru is extremely protective over the house, Suguru can’t have any company over besides Shoko who he tolerates in his space. When he first smelt you he was angry, he couldn’t tell you what you were so he was on edge, the thing is he had only smelled you not seen you.

Suguru has you in another room letting you get familiar with Gojos scent and also letting him get familiar with yours, Gojo really won’t leave the locked door you’re behind alone he’s constantly coming near it to sniff and try to unlock it, Suguru has to guide him to get away from it every single time.

When he does meet you a warmth blooms within his chest, women are such a rarity for Satoru especially other hybrids, you don’t come from the same family as him but he’s so obsessed.

He insists that he have an hour licking session of him using his slimy tongue to clean you even though you really don’t need it! Everytime you try to pry him off in a whiny tone he’s hearing none of it. It gets to the point where you have to whine for a suguru to help you: he does but Satoru has the meanest fucking expression on his face when you’re pried from his arms. He goes on to have an attitude for the rest of the day.

You’re so right about Gojo scratching couches with his sharp claws in retailiation, he gets soo clingy with you, so angry when Suguru separates you it’s so bad that like you said Suguru doesn’t want to deal with him ruining expensive things around the house, that doesn’t mean he’ll let Satoru do whatever he wants with you there are some limits.

Most of the time you’re nice and pliant in Satoru’s lap, you don’t fight back when he carries you around the house simply just letting the huge tiger do what he pleases.

You don’t seem to mind when he rubs himself all over you, purring so loudly because he’s just that obsessed with the docile kitty.

Tiger!Satoru loves your little cunt just as much as he loves the rest of you, he’s only gotten to feel your warm insides once because that’s where Suguru drew the line hard. It was the best day of his life, all you did was mewl below him while he stuffed you full of his fat cock, he came so quickly that night.

He craves to feel you again but Suguru stood his ground, he’d get rid of you if it came to that again (not that he wanted to, Suguru really loved having you around the house it was just an empty threat that seemed to work)

Tiger!Satoru will settle for licking and giving you nasty slippery kisses!

[rexhya]

thinking about hybrid satosugu living in your mansion.

snow leopard satoru who is the most territorial, as soon as you get home from work he's all over you, re-scenting and making sure you smell exactly like you're supposed to, him and geto.

black jaguar suguru is more quite about his protectiveness of you, but he still had his obligatory scenting and cuddle process.

"okay, is that really necessary, i'm already so sweaty suguru." suguru was currently strapped to your left, licking stripes slowly up your neck, claws trapping you.

"v' necessary, and you don't smell bad. you smell like heaven, stop moving so i can clean you properly."

you roll your eyes and resist the heat in your face, it was worse that satoru insisted on being as close to you as possible.

hands up you shirt, cool hands on your warm tummy, tail wrapped around your thigh, nuzzingly and whispering on and on about how much he missed you.

"it's hot satoru," but the big cat doesnt move an inch, only mumbling something about you and snuggling closer.

it had been over and hour, you were in your office clothes still, and no reason at all, you had a feeling i'd be much longer before you would be let go.

[darkmatilda]

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐲 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: knock knock knock in the middle of the night — two suitcases (plus a vanity case and a handbag) at the door, and not a request, but an announcement—you're moving in. when your dumb neighbor floods your apartment and the renovation will take at least two weeks, you find a very effective way to make it spencer reid’s problem.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, flatmates yay, lots of domestic scenes with them just watching movies etc, but they also talk about murdering each other once (just once, impressive for them), teasing so hard im not sure a single sentence goes by without it, reference to them getting married in vegas, CAT, reader wearing make up, spencer being a weirdo in one scene, spencer and nightmares...hope y'all not bored with one bed trope

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6k

𝐚/𝐧: request | this has a chance to be my favorite fic from this WHOLE series PERIOD masterlist

Spencer wasn’t asleep when the sound of the doorbell rang.

The time on the clock showed such a late hour that he could almost, without any blame directed at himself, ignore it. He didn’t do that, though, because of a passing thought that it might be one of his friends. Maybe in trouble, maybe wanting to share some sudden terrible news (said his fatal side), or on the contrary, something truly wonderful (a weak trembling voice of optimism).

He put the book aside, got up from the bed, and after a moment, suspiciously yet inquisitively looked through the peephole. He held his eye to it for four seconds, then pulled his head back.  A disbelieving snort from his mouth.

He was dreaming, and this dream was really starting to approach the border of absurdity. Lately, nightmares had been happening to him more and more often—that is, they had always accompanied him, but sometimes their frequency was rare, and sometimes they celebrated their renaissance in a truly sick and twisted form. He was currently in the era of such a renaissance, and he had plenty of reasons to suspect that the moment he opened that door, the woman standing behind it would grow fangs, turn into a monster-woman, and push him against one of the walls, in which he would grow like mold into a fresh fruit and remain in it forever, screaming for someone to free him, but no words would come out of his mouth, because it would turn out he didn’t have one.

He stepped a pace away from the door, ready to return to his bedroom.

That was a very sober thought for someone in the middle of a dream, right? Usually, one doesn’t have that much awareness in them — in most cases, one has none at all, is a video game character controlled by fears, but experiencing everything vividly.

He opposed the nightmare. Cool. But why, then, was something so strongly pushing him toward that door and making it impossible to walk away? The doorbell rang once more, and then again in short intervals, and Spencer already knew — this wasn’t a dream. With a heavy sigh, he rubbed his face and opened the door—only to come face to face with the woman’s fist, which had been just about to (firmly) knock on it. When his person appeared in the doorway, her hand froze in mid-air, then dropped onto the handle of one of the two suitcases with a leopard print.

And then, unfazed—despite the fact that she had just nearly punched him in the face—she spoke in an overly cheerful voice.

“Oh, you’re not asleep. How wonderful.”

Spencer briefly clenched his eyelids shut. Her facial expression, her tone of voice, and literally the suitcases at her feet made it obvious what this was about. A favor. One he would either agree to right away, feeling small about it, or agree to after several (dozen) minutes of her persuasive game, which he somehow never managed to resist despite being a profiler. Feeling even smaller in the process.

“I’m not asleep because someone is pounding on my door. There’s nothing wonderful about that.”

“Me visiting you at night. What about that isn’t wonderful?”

Spencer looked at her from under raised eyebrows, but she bore it with dignity. Silence had never been the cure for her brazen behavior—he had to approach it differently. He slightly relaxed his posture and nodded toward her suitcases.

“Quite a bit of luggage for a one-night visit,” he observed.

She shrugged.

“Just the essentials. What I managed to grab after my entire apartment got completely flooded by my stupid neighbor and now needs a deep renovation.”

He nodded with exaggerated, fake sympathy. He already knew what she was doing at his place at this hour, which didn’t mean he intended to be all meek about it. Besides, with people like her, sometimes it’s healthy to show them, to remind them, that you’re not at their beck and call.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “What are you planning to do now?”

She gave the handle of her suitcase a casual pat.

“Stay in the home of my generous friend,” she said, giving him a meaningful look. “Who doesn’t mind me disturbing him just a tiny bit for the next…hmm, not sure, let’s say two weeks.”

With those words, she confidently stepped forward, as if he had at least invited her in. As if he had said go ahead, make yourself at home. But Spencer didn’t move an inch, still blocking the entrance with his body, causing her to bump into him and take a half-step back. Frustration flickered across her face, but she swallowed it quickly, looking at him with fake confusion, continuing their little silly game.

“Your friend,” Reid pointed out, now standing about half as close to her as before, which forced him to clear his throat slightly so that his voice would remain steady. “Sounds like a really nice guy.”

The corners of her lips really wanted to lift. Instead, she nodded with full agreement.

“He is a nice guy,” she confirmed, looking straight at his face, directly into his eyes. “Although, if I had to list his flaws, we’d probably be standing here for at least another fifteen minutes—which of course we don’t want. But deep down, he is a nice guy. And besides…”

She paused for a moment, leaning her face a little closer to his.

“He’s my husband. And it’s his civic duty to let me in.”

He didn’t blink under the force of her gaze, surprised she even chose that weapon in their argument. Their marriage which—oh, man—should’ve been annulled ages ago, but at this point they’d both kind of forgotten about it.

Anyway, focused on her lips as they slowly and precisely pronounced the word husband, he completely missed the moment she slipped swiftly under the arm he had resting against the doorframe, leaving all her luggage in the hallway.

The thought crossed his mind to leave it there, just to make a point. But then he remembered he’d never really trusted his neighbors, so with a loud sigh of protest he grabbed her two suitcases, what turned out to be a small trunk behind them, and a handbag resting on top—so tiny he genuinely wondered what could fit in there besides lipstick.

Even the plastic evidence bags from crime scenes were way more spacious.

He carried the bags inside—her silhouette had already vanished somewhere deep into the apartment, which was a little weird considering she’d never (okay, except for that one time ages ago) actually been here before. His brain slowed for a second as he felt the weight of her suitcases in his hands. There was no way she was settling in here for the next two weeks! The fact that they were a pair of idiots who’d gotten married in Vegas didn’t obligate him to anything!  He had to find a way to get rid of her. He’d let her stay the night, sure, but after that…

“Oh, and my baby is here!” Her high, delighted voice rang out, and a moment later he found her in his living room, clutching a black cat tightly to her chest. “Mommy. Missed. You. So. Much.”

With each word, she planted a kiss on Marie’s tiny head.

Spencer generally avoided anthropomorphizing animals or assigning them emotions, but he could not shake the impression that the cat was staring at him in full-blown panic. And yet she stayed in her arms, even curling her tail up in contentment.

He shook his head, realizing he’d been standing still for too long, just staring at the scene. He cleared his throat to get her attention—not that it worked even in the slightest.She was still fully immersed in kissing their cat. Still, he decided to assume she was listening.

“How exactly do you see this playing out?” he asked, more seriously this time. “You’re planning to live on my couch for two weeks?”

She raised her brows at him, like he’d just said something worthy of divine punishment.

“Who said anything about the couch? You have a bed.”

“Just one.”

She sighed, like the whole conversation was exhausting.

“You know, I think savoir vivre has some thoughts about offering your bed to a guest.”

“Maybe it does. But a guest is usually someone you invite. Not someone who invites themselves.”

“I always thought you were a gentleman, Spencer. Don’t ruin that image.”

“Wait, seriously, you thought I—No. No, I’m not falling for that. You can call me whatever you want, I’m not giving up my bed. Listen, I’m tall, you have no idea how much my neck hurts after just one night on that couch…”

“In that case, we can take turns,” she said finally, with open displeasure in her voice. Spencer paused, genuinely surprised at the offer—and even more surprised it came from her. Then his eyes fell on her clothes, clearly the same ones she’d worn all day, and her makeup, still in place, suggesting she’d had a long—very long—day and probably just wanted to crash, no matter the terms. “My eternal need for comfort will be halfway satisfied. Your neck will be equally safe. Thoughts?”

He ran it through his head for a moment. He wasn’t used to compromising with her. Wow, sleep deprivation really did do unimaginable things to a (wo)man. Finally, he nodded—just a little. It actually sounded pretty fair. Besides, the idea of her sleeping on his couch for two weeks didn’t sit right with him.And it had nothing to do with her calling him a gentleman…

“But as for tonight… rock, paper, scissors?”

She shook her head quickly.

 “No. No way. Not with you. You probably know the exact probability of me throwing paper and you’ll use it against me. So—no.” 

Spencer stared at her for a beat, silently urging her to come up with a better tie-breaker. Not that they had straws in the apartment to draw from. Suddenly, the corner of her mouth tugged upward. 

At first, he agreed—hesitantly, but he did. She was already about to set the cat down at the far end of the room when a warning light suddenly went off in his brain.

 “Marie will decide,” she announced, shifting her gaze to the cat in her arms.

“Whichever one of us she walks up to gets the bed tonight.”

“You’re not, by any chance, hiding cat treats in your pockets, don’t you?” he asked, suspicious.

He wasn’t teasing. He was genuinely considering the possibility.

She let out a disbelieving huff.

“I barely even have pockets in this outfit,” she declared.

Spencer didn’t change his expression. To him, that sounded suspiciously like a deflection.

She closed her eyes for a second, visibly holding herself back from yelling at him—then suddenly threw her arms out wide.

“You don’t believe me? Fine. Be my guest. You can search me. FBI style. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice with that, don’t you?”

For a moment, he looked into her eyes—challenging, teasing.Then his gaze slid over her clothes, tightly clinging to her body, and the body itself—every curve highlighted by the fabric. Admittedly, there weren’t many places to hide anything in that outfit.

They managed to convince Marie to stay in one place while they both crouched on opposite sides of the room, each calling the cat to themselves. Her black paws went tap tap tap (a moment of hesitation) then tap tap tap ended in her arms. Spencer sighed, but he didn’t really have a reason to be annoyed, since he had agreed to the terms himself. The couch wasn’t that bad anyway, not as bad as he always claimed.

“Let’s not be ridiculous,” he suggested, finding it unexpectedly difficult to swallow.

He caught the mocking glint in her eyes and ignored it—just like he ignored the brief flicker of embarrassment that washed over him. “It’s late. Just…put Marie down and let’s see what happens.”

“That’s only because you haven’t seen each other in a while and she missed you,” he justified it.

What hurt him the most was the betrayal from his own child.

How could he have raised a Brutus?

“Mhm,” she nodded dismissively and adjusted the cat in her arms the way you’d shift a child on your hip, and a genuine smile, not part of any game, appeared on her lips. “Or maybe she just loves her mama more.”

🐾

That night when she decided to show up at his apartment and disturb him just a tiny bit for the next… hmm, not sure, let’s say two weeks, Spencer had assumed her moving in would be a lot more invasive. But somehow, they quickly fell into a rhythm that allowed them to mostly stay out of each other’s way.

The biggest differences were the chaos that overtook the bathroom (but more on that later), and the fact that every other night, he was forced to sleep on the couch. In that regard, when he agreed to her arrangement, he completely overlooked one surprisingly obvious thing. After just one night of her sleeping in his bed, it completely absorbed her scent.

He should’ve predicted it—it was pleasant, a blend of body lotion and other cosmetics, with a trace of her tying it all together. Because of his germophobia, he had always been a little more sensitive to smells than most, but this wasn’t germophobic Spencer talking, repulsed by her scent and finding it disruptive to the point of sleeplessness.

This was a different kind of Spencer. One who felt under some strange spell every time he laid his head on the pillow, his thoughts drifting in a direction he had no intention of exploring.

He couldn’t change the sheets every single night—she would notice, and he wouldn’t be able to explain himself. Not without completely combusting from embarrassment, assuming he even told her the truth.

So on the second night of her stay, when he was supposed to sleep in the bed marked by her presence and it all became too overwhelming…he accidentally spilled coffee on it, just to have an excuse to change the bedding.

He never drank coffee in bed. But they had never lived together before—she didn’t know his habits—so it went unnoticed. Still, just to make it more believable, he actually started drinking coffee in bed, even though he hated it.

But of course, he couldn’t keep doing that every time.

So eventually, he just forced himself to get used to it as quickly as possible.

It was a bit like the first time he let the cat sleep in his bed—foreign and strange at first, but over time, he even started to appreciate it. Especially when it began to ease his nightmares.

🐾

That night, it was his turn on the couch again, but he decided to delay falling asleep. Seriously delay it, dedicating the entire time to binge-watching several episodes of Doctor Who.

She was a bit of a night owl—it wasn’t unusual for her to come home very late—but that evening, she was around and constantly moving about the apartment.

He didn’t mind the sound of her footsteps (in fact, he found it rather endearing, especially when it was followed by a tap tap tap… the sound of tiny paws). He’d already gotten used to not living alone anymore, and besides, he was far too absorbed in the show.

He was pulled out of his absorption by a scoff from behind him. He turned around to see his flatmate, dressed in a satin pajama set with short shorts and a short-sleeved top. Her hair was freshly washed, and she was leaning on his kitchen island with her elbows, eyes fixed on the TV with a not-very-convinced expression.

“What is this supposed to be?” she asked.

“Doctor Who,” he replied shortly, not intending to get into a discussion about his favorite show—which was his favorite for reasons that were not up for debate.

“Easy there, Reid. I was just asking.”

“I can now subconsciously sense when one of your snide remarks is approaching. Thank yourself for moving in.”

“Snide remark right away? Maybe I just wanted to share my constructive criticism.”

“In your dictionary snide remark and constructive criticism are synonyms.”

“That all depends on your sensitivity level. For example, to me, saying this show is lame isn’t mean at all. It’s just how I feel.”

He rolled his eyes. She thought Doctor Who was lame, yet she kept cutting through the living room surprisingly often—just as often as she glanced toward the screen. And she was even engaged enough to form an opinion. Interesting.

He shook his head mockingly. “Good thing no one’s forcing you to watch. You have free will and can just…” he made a little walking-man gesture with his fingers.

She made a face that landed somewhere between a cynical smile and a grimace nonverbal way to say very funny. Then she pointed at the box of tea sitting right beneath her hand, which she must have forgotten about, so not at all focused on his lame show.

“There’s no other place I can make tea. So, in a way, I am being forced to watch and I can’t just…” She mimicked his earlier gesture to cap off her far-fetched explanation.

Spencer let out a dismissive laugh and turned back to watching. But it was hard to focus—there were constant noises coming from behind him: a mug being taken out, water being boiled. He caught himself glancing back discreetly more than once. Only to catch her staring at the TV screen.

Their eyes would usually meet then, and instead of looking away bashfully, she would just nod, as if doubling down on her opinion.

Uhm, lame.

Her large mug of green tea was ready, and he wondered what she would do next. Whether she would just head to her room or...

“I bought ice cream,” she announced, pulling a liter-sized tub from the freezer. She grabbed two spoons and walked over to the couch, handing him one over the backrest.

“No, I’ll pass,” he said. 

She shoved the spoon into his hand and took a seat beside him on the couch, close enough that their shoulders brushed with each unsynced breath, and sharing one tub of ice cream became easier.

“You said you wouldn’t watch my show,” he noted, turning the spoon in his hands.

The surface of the ice cream was so frozen she had to stab it with force to get the spoon in.

“I’m not watching,” she said with a shrug. “I’m just enjoying my tea. And sharing ice cream with you, like a good flatmate should. Give me some blanket, I’m freezing ‘cause of that ice creams” 

She lifted the tub slightly, giving him room to throw the blanket over her bare legs and smooth it down around her waist to keep the warmth in.

“Are you gaslighting me into thinking you’re not watching Doctor Who when you clearly haven’t taken your eyes off the screen since the episode started?” he asked, glancing up at her.

She didn’t answer—too focused on the screen, spoon resting against her bottom lip in total concentration. She might not have even heard him.

Spencer shook his head in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”

He watched her for a moment longer, trying to figure out whether the faint trace of a smile was truly forming on her lips or if he was just imagining it.

Two episodes of Doctor Who later, the ice cream tub was empty, so was her mug of tea, and her shoulder wasn’t just brushing against his anymore—it had fully settled there. His teasing about her hidden nerdy side and her totally-not-real fondness for the show had been met with the kind of patient silence only she could pull off, but that didn’t stop him from indulging in it with growing—by now no longer internal—satisfaction. Another episode ended and Spencer held off on starting the next one, the living room fell into a brief silence, broken only by his roommate’s yawn.

Sleepiness didn’t keep her from throwing him an expectant look toward the remote in his hand.

He raised an eyebrow.

“You’re out of tea and ice cream. What’s your excuse this time?”

Right on cue, their black cat jumped up onto her lap, curling into a nest. He gave the creature a look of betrayal. The woman let out a theatrical sigh and sank deeper into both the couch and his arm, sliding just slightly against them both. “I’m not heartless. I’m not going to make her move.”

"I’d argue with that," he muttered, referring to the first part of her statement. He reached for his traitorous cat, scratching behind her ear, only to find something else besides soft black fur—her fingers, brushing against his. His hand froze for a moment before he pulled it back, deciding that two people petting the cat at once might be a bit much. “All this just to avoid admitting that Doctor Who is actually a captivating show.”

“Oh my sweet baby loves when mama rubs her belly?” preoccupied with showering the cat with affection, she completely ignored his words.

“Pretending you don’t hear me, huh?”

In the meantime, the next episode had already begun, and her eyelids looked heavy, lazily half-closed.

“But I think it’s time to clip those claws, look at yourself Marie, when was your last little mani-pedi?”

"A bit hypocritical, don’t you think?" he remarked, nodding toward her own long nails. He realized he wasn’t paying any attention to the episode that had just started and was barely aware a few minutes had already passed. What he was very aware of was how late it had gotten—and how much heavier her temple was pressing against his shoulder.

"Well, I’ve never accidentally scratched anyone, unlike this little missy. On purpose, once or twice, I’ll admit. Be a dear and lean further into the corner of the couch, I’m figuring out how to get comfy here..."

Spencer let out a quiet sigh.

"I don’t get it. You fought so hard for my bed, and now that it’s your turn, you’d rather fall asleep on me?"

Her gaze slowly settled on him, and there was something searching in it. And that’s when it hit Spencer—their closeness, the position they had somehow ended up in, and the surprising comfort that came with it, one neither of them had questioned for even a second. He swallowed nervously, and she nodded thoughtfully.

 “You know what, you’re right,” she said slowly. “It would be a shame to waste my turn in the bed. Enjoy the episode.”

She kept her eyes on his face for a moment longer before setting the blanket aside, her bare feet carrying her toward his bedroom. Soft paw steps followed behind her, leaving him alone on the couch.

Spencer watched her go before fixing his gaze on his lame show. This was what he wanted, technically—catching up on a few episodes in peace. And yet, deep down, he really regretted not just keeping his mouth shut and letting her fall asleep.

🐾

A small excerpt from the bathroom chronicles.

It was the one room where Spencer always managed to maintain the greatest order, a near-sterile state. Mostly because he didn’t store books or documents there, and toilet paper and a toothbrush didn’t change their place on their own. Since she had moved in, the cosmetics cabinet looked more confusing than an overfilled bookshelf. Every morning he wondered how those shelves managed to withstand their weight. Once, he made a calculation in his head, added up the estimated weight of each of those cosmetics, assumed a certain shelf durability. He concluded that if he ever made a mistake and put the soap there instead of on the sink, everything would collapse.

A small assumption he had also made at the very beginning of their living together was that the woman would get up earlier than him. After all, she had to get the time to use all those cosmetics from somewhere, right? It turned out to be the opposite. They got out of bed at roughly the same time, and it always came down to an exciting race to the bathroom door, which she often won by resorting to tactics like grabbing the fabric of his shirt.

That morning, both of them had a solid chance of being late, so in response to one of his increasingly impatient knocks, she simply opened the bathroom door, letting him in while she finished doing her makeup.

The focus on her face as she traced the shape of her lips with a lip liner seemed sacred. While brushing his teeth, Spencer watched the process from the corner of his eye, considering two things in his mind. Why they hadn’t previously thought of simply sharing the bathroom instead of fighting over it, and why she even did that, since the shape of her lips was already so pretty. Then a silly comparison came to his mind — that as an occasional consumer who valued factory settings, he should only appreciate any enhancements.

Her fingers slowly lifted the lipstick and gently pressed its active side to her lower lip, spreading it. Oh, and now he probably understood the purpose of the lip liner — the two cosmetics created a very fitting combination on her bottom lip. Her eyes, focused on her reflection and her face, completely unexpectedly caught his, in the mirror.

Caught in such an inelegant act of staring, Spencer wanted to return to brushing his teeth, but he was doing that already, so he tried to do it more — which only resulted in his long arm with its long elbow knocking against the shelf and sending two creams tumbling down.

She smudged the lipstick outside the edge of her lips and turned toward him, ready to scream. Spencer was prepared to take a defensive stance and shift the blame onto—well, he didn’t know what yet—but it turned out the containers had landed on the floor intact. He quickly bent down to pick them up and set them back on the shelf, straightening up and raising a calming (yet simultaneously nervous) hand in her direction.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it, it’s fine…”

“You’re lucky. You and your big clumsy paws are very lucky.”

“There’s no need to overreact, seriously.”

“Oh, I’m overreacting?” she raised her eyebrows at him, hands on her hips, and her serious expression looked absurd with that red lipstick going well beyond the edge of her lips. He tried to point it out to her somehow, but she silenced him with a look, so he gave up. “Should I remind you how you reacted when I almost broke your mug?” she asked.

He shook his head side to side, smoothly deflecting the argument.

“It had sentimental value. Did your cream?”

She just looked at him in silence, for a long moment.

“It cost $300.”

Spencer blinked. Okay, a totally justified crash out. He really should control his clumsiness better… he leapt back suddenly when both her hands moved toward his neck.

“What are you doing?” he almost squeaked.

She widened her eyes at him like he was a complete lunatic, even shook her head in disbelief.

“I was going to tie your tie, you idiot,” she snorted. He looked down, stunned. Sure enough, his tie was hanging loosely around his neck.“You thought what? That I was going to strangle you right away?”

“Well…yes?”

She shook her head again. In fact, she hadn’t really stopped.

 “And I’m the one who overreacts,” she muttered to herself. Louder, she added, “This job is seriously messing with your head, you realize that, right?”

Still pulling himself together, he shrugged. It wasn’t exactly a new opinion. Before he could get any kind of response out, her hands — this time slower, more controlled — reached for the two ends of his tie hanging loosely on either side of his neck.

That required a step in his direction; her elbows brushed his chest once or twice in the process, and on her face, in her lowered gaze, Spencer saw the same concentration she’d had while putting on her lipstick.

”We literally spent two weeks on a case where a wife strangled her husband,” he offered. He just needed to say something — anything — to break the silence that had fallen over the bathroom and cover the intrusive sound of him swallowing a bit too loudly.

Her gaze lifted to meet his, eyebrows raised.

“I’d be tying my husband’s tie if I planned to kill him?” she asked. Her fingers were just now folding one end of the tie over the other; looking up at him made the knot uneven. Spencer noticed, but said nothing.

Instead, he gave a small shrug.

 “Lulling him into a false sense of security?”

“First the tie, then cyanide in the coffee?”

“Exactly. Though, for future reference, maybe don’t say your plans out loud. Especially not around an FBI agent.”

“And the husband in question, while you’re at it. You can’t leave that part second.”

Spencer couldn’t stop the reply that slipped from his mouth.

 “I’m starting to suspect you really enjoy bringing that up.”

“I do. ’Cause it’s funny,” she said, giving his tie a pat with something that looked suspiciously like pride. “Done.”

He’d almost forgotten she was tying it at all. She stepped back, watching his reaction as he finally looked down at the tie. He frowned. Moving past her to stand closer to the mirror, he checked his reflection, just in case his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Only then did he let out a short laugh.

 “This is the worst tied tie I’ve ever seen.”

She crossed her arms with an offended scoff. “What exactly is wrong with it?”

“What’s wrong with it?” He turned to her, pointing at the crooked knot like it was offensive. “Just look at it.”

Spencer just huffed at her stubbornness and started undoing it. He hadn’t said it to be cruel—the knot really was terrible. She watched him retie it properly, something close to wounded pride flickering in her eyes.

She shook her head, completely unbothered.

“It’s a decently tied tie.”

“You should let me try again, then,” she said.

“I’d like to remind you we’re almost late.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

His fingers were still on the tie, about to let it fall loosely back against his shirt when her words made them pause. He glanced at her expression—no teasing this time. The first few sounds he made barely qualified as speech; he had to clear his throat to make the words come out properly.

“Tomorrow, then.”

🐾

He opened the door slowly, careful not to make too much noise. Not just because it was the middle of the night—or really, the early hours of the morning by now—but also to spare his aching, exhausted head from any sound that might make it throb harder. The apartment, of course, was silent and dark. Spencer turned on only as many lights as necessary to find his way to the bed.

First, though, he headed to the bathroom. He didn’t have the energy for a full shower—he’d take one after at least a short nap—but he had to wash his hands. He needed to rinse the entire day off them. The last few days, really. The whole case they’d finally managed to close. He had to make sure that none of it lingered on his skin or fingers when he touched his blankets, when he reached into the cupboard for his favorite mug to make coffee, or when he scratched the cat behind the ear.

Only after that small ritual drag his body to the bedroom. On autopilot, he approached the bed and was even ready to lie down when he suddenly froze in place.

There was already someone in his bed. And it wasn’t just his cat, who was normally curled up on the pillow like a single mom who works two jobs.

Spencer was so sleepy that he forgot he had a flatmate for almost two weeks now. A flatmate who first turned restlessly in her sleep, then her eyes lit up in the darkness, awakened. It didn’t have to be bright for him to notice that she flinched.

“God, you scared me,” she said. Her voice still sleepy, hoarse. There was a chance that if he had left without a word, she would’ve fallen asleep again and wouldn’t remember the interaction in the morning, or that she had even been woken up. “I didn’t expect you guys to be back so soon,” she added.

Spencer nodded slightly, barely able to make any use of his mouth and form a sentence. He wiped his face with his hand, trying to shake himself out of that state.

“Me neither,” he mumbled.

Silence between them. He realized he’d have to go to the couch. That wasn’t a problem for him, all he cared about was sleep.

“I-I’ll move Marie, okay? I just want to take the pillow and go to the couch.”

She shook her head.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.

Confused, he didn’t understand what she meant, and silently watched as she moved the cat to her side of the bed and pulled the blanket back on the other side.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch tonight,” her voice, though quiet and gentle, had a lot of command in it.

“I’m not?” he repeated uncertainly.

Only then did it register, and he scratched his nose, shaking his head.

“No, seriously. Just give me the pillow—”

“Just lie down.”

He was probably too tired to insist, so he just sighed softly and rolled onto the mattress. He didn’t even manage to grab the edge of the blanket to cover himself when her hand did it for him, pushing it up almost to his nose.

A quiet snort escaped Spencer, and he adjusted the fabric so it ended just below his ribs.

There was a soft sound of impact — he recognized it instantly as the thump of cat paws hitting the floor as she jumped off the bed.

“She’s probably mad I took her spot,” he muttered.

“Mhm, likely. But her sulks don’t last long. You’ll wake up with her tail on your face,” she said, and Spencer liked how her voice adapted to the surroundings and the quiet. Even though she was lying right next to him, on her side, he didn’t feel like she was speaking directly into his ear. She fell silent for a moment, but didn’t fall asleep. “What kind of case was it?”

In the way he immediately shook his head, there was a surprising amount of force.

“Not something you’d want to hear about right now,” he assured her. “At night. In bed. Before sleep. Trust me on this one.”

She exhaled through her nose.

“Maybe you’re right,” she murmured in agreement. “Goodnight then.”

He replied, but without even a hint of conviction in the words. Suddenly, slides of all the nightmares that had been keeping him company the past few nights flashed through his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to push them away, but it only made them more vivid. Suddenly, it felt like something was pressing down on his chest, making it harder to take the next breath.

“Goodnight,” he repeated, though it felt a little strange.

Just to say something. The words left his mouth, so did the air, at least partially imitating a regular, healthy breath. It didn’t help lift the weight off his chest, but at least he didn’t look like his whole body was slowly being flattened.

He squeezed his eyelids shut too tightly, then tried to relax them, ready to fall asleep with that unpleasant feeling. I mean, it wasn’t like he hadn’t done that before.

Only then did he feel a certain weight actually settle on his chest. Not imagined, not vague, and not ominous.It was real, in the shape of a hand, resting on him softly— connecting him to the person lying next to him, and making him aware of her presence, and of her calm—unlike his—breathing.

Both the sound and the feeling were grounding in their own way, making him relax his tightly shut eyelids.

He woke up with a cat’s tail on his face and the slow realization dawning on him that he hadn’t had a nightmare that night.

[sa1ntn3k0]

Snow Leopard Gojo - part 2 (∩˃o˂∩) ♡ nsfw!

Shoving a six-foot-something hybrid into a closet was… not your finest moment.  

“Get in,” you hissed, palms pressed uselessly against Satoru’s bare chest, a chest that felt more like marble than flesh, all hard planes and warmth. He loomed over you, grinning like a cat who’d not only found the cream but also knocked it over for fun.  

“Aw, but it’s cozy in here,” he purred, peering past you at the mountain of laundry and half-empty shoeboxes cluttering your closet. His tail swished lazily, brushing your ankle. “Smells like you, too. Cute.”  

“Satoru-”  

“Shh, your mom’s gonna hear~,” he sing-songed, bending down until his breath ghosted your ear. “Unless you want her to find us like this?”  

Your face flamed. “Don’t be dumb.”  

With a theatrical, yet awfully bratty sigh, he finally stepped backward, folding himself onto the floor like a contortionist. The Hello Kitty towel around his hips rode up dangerously, and you swore he did it on purpose. “Don’t miss me too much,” he whispered, wiggling his big, calloused fingers in a mocking wave.  

You slammed the door, heart thundering.  

The next thirty minutes were agony. Your mother, bless her, had arrived with tupperwares of veggie gyoza and white chocolate chip cookies, her smile soft as she fussed over your “tired eyes” and “skinny arms.” But every creak of the floorboards made you twitch. Your gaze kept darting to the bedroom door, half-expecting Satoru to waltz out, towel dropped, declaring, “Surprise! I’m her new roommate!”  

Somehow, he stayed put.  

Once your mom left, you flung the closet open, only to freeze.  

Satoru sat cross-legged amidst your soft sweaters, his snow-white hair mussed adorably. The towel remained (thank heavens), but clutched in his hands was…  

“Are those my-SATORU!”  

He blinked up at you, your cotton, strawberry-print panties dangling from his teeth like a hunter’s prize. “Mmrf?”

His pupils were blown wide, blue barely peeking from black. Your heart dropped to your bum as you saw that those were the panties you wore yesterday… As in, not washed, dried, faint slick still clung to the middle.

What?!

“You-you pervert!” You lunged, snatching the fabric away. His plush lips quirked into a smirk, and you knew he’d been waiting for this. “Why would you- how even- ?!”  

“They smell like you,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. Before you could die, he leaned forward and licked a stripe up your tiny neck. His pink, rough tongue scraping your pulse point.  

“Eep!” You reeled back, clutching your throat. “Warn a girl!”  

“But where’s the fun in that?” He unfolded himself, tail curling around your waist to steady you. “C’mon, I’m starving… Especially after smelling you. Feed me!”  

You didn’t acknowledge the “smelling you” part, merely walking to the kitchen with your tummy in swirls, heart beating faster than a spooked bunny’s. 

Dinner was a spectacle. You’d cooked the lamb chops thoroughly, plating them with rice and veggies, a meal fit for, well, a person. Satoru took one look at the knife and fork, snorted, and dug in with his hands, tearing into the meat like it owed him fresh ibex.  

“You’re supposed to chew, not inhale,” you muttered, nibbling one of the cookies your mom brought. Your dinner was… weird most of the time. You had warm milk with chocolate in your miffy cup, getting curious side eyes from Satoru. 

He paused, a glob of sauce on his cheek. “Want me to lick the plate next?”  

“No.” 

“You’re no fun.” Still, he let you drag him to the sink afterward, pouting as you scrubbed his hands with citrus-scented soap. “Y’know, my tongue’s self-cleaning.”  

“And I’m self-respecting. Keep your icky germs to yourself.”  

As night fell, Satoru’s true origin spilled out between stolen bites of your cookies. The Himalayas. Poachers. A wealthy owner who’d treated him like a trophy. “Boring lady,” he grumbled, tail thumping the couch. “All she did was take pics for her shitty Instagram. No belly rubs or cuddles. No fun.”  

Your chest ached. “So you… ran?”  

“Duh.” He flicked your nose. “Best decision ever. Led me to you.”  

You busied yourself with dishes to hide your blush. Satoru saw it, though. His tail swished in quiet victory, more like self-satisfaction.  

Bedtime brought a fresh battle.  

You had just finished a relaxing shower, your room smelled of lavender, the lingering scent of your body wash. Changing was meh. You changed in your tiny closet, worried Satoru might walk in and see you naked, but once done, and in your small, soft, very lacy nightgown, you felt more than ready to sleep.

But just as you lay down, you saw Satoru peeking through your cracked open door, his expression beyond cute, just as annoying. It was obvious where his eyes were, trailing your pert body. You felt his pretty blue’s burn harshly on your perky breasts, on your hips, put on display by your little nightgown.

“Bad kitty,” you said, tossing a miffy plushie at Satoru’s smug face. Your cheeks turned rosy, bothered that a mere look from the man could make you so… shy. “You’re sleeping on the couch.”  

He’d changed into your brother’s old sweatpants (too short, clinging to his calves) and a Hello Kitty tee that stretched obscenely over his pecs, the hem riding up to reveal a sliver of toned stomach. “But it’s cold,” he whined, flopping onto your pink bed like an overpowered little prince with the caught plush in hand, well, not little. “And lonely. And scary.”  

“You’re a snow leopard. You are scary.”  

“Please?” He rolled onto his back, paws (hands? Hands.) clasped under his chin. Moonlight gilded his white, thick lashes, his eyes shimmering like twin lagoons. “I’ll be a good boy. Promise.”  

You lasted ten seconds.  

“Fine. But no funny business.”  

He celebrated by rolling himself into a burrito with your Hello Kitty quilts, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth with his ridiculously strong arms. His purr rumbled through you, low and steady, his nose nuzzling your hair.  

“Hey,” you whispered, fingers brushing the collar still snug around his throat. “Why don’t you take this off?”  

He stiffened, then sighed. “…It’s a reminder. That I’m mine now. Not hers.”  

Your heart squeezed. “You are.”  

“Yours too, maybe,” he murmured, so quietly you almost missed it.  

You fell asleep like that, his tail draped over your hip, his breath soft in your ear, his strong heartbeat like a gentle lullaby, and the strangest, sweetest sense that this jerk wasn’t that much of a jerk.  

The rhythm you’d carved out with Satoru was… peculiar, but precious. Mornings began with him sprawled across your chest like a living weighted blanket, his tail flicking your chin until you groaned awake, just like how he was in his cub form. He’d trail you to the kitchen, stealing bites of your buttered, honeyed toast (despite his carnivorous hate for carbs) and sipping your orange juice straight from the carton, just to watch you squawk. Afternoons were for sunbeams, he’d claim the best patches of light, melting into a puddle of purrs near the TV, while you tackled textbooks at the table. Evenings? Those belonged to his obsession with your bathtub. He’d soak for far too long, clouding the water with lavender bubbles, his ears peeking over the rim like misbehaving marshmallows.  

When you’d come in to scold him, he’d pout and dry off, mumbling about how “mean” his owner is. 

But today, something was off.  

You’d returned from class bone-tired, your brain still buzzing with equations, only to freeze in the genkan. The air hummed with a sticky sweetness, honey drizzled over sea salt, floral but feral. Your stomach flipped. “Satoru…?”  

No answer.  

The apartment was eerily tidy. No half-eaten steak abandoned on the counter, no trail of shed fur leading to the couch. No Digimon reruns on TV… Just silence, thick and syrupy. Your pulse spiked as you crept toward the bedroom.  

There, curled in a shivering heap on your rumpled sheets, was Satoru.  

“Oh my god-” You rushed to him, knees hitting the mattress. He clutched your pillow to his face, his knuckles white, breath ragged. His usual alabaster skin was flushed rose-pink, sweat glistening at his temples. The scent intensified here, heady, intoxicating, like orchids dipped in musk.  

“Satoru, look at me,” you pleaded, cupping his jaw. His eyes cracked open, pupils blown so wide his irises were mere slivers of Arctic blue. They glowed faintly, fever-bright. “What’s wrong? Are you sick? Do you need-?”  

“Heat,” he rasped, voice shredded. His claws snagged the pillowcase, threads snapping. “It’s- hah- not… not your problem. Just… go.”  

“Go? You’re burning up!” You pressed a cold, tiny palm to his forehead; he whimpered, nuzzling into your touch like a starved kitten. “Why didn’t you tell me this could happen?!”  

“‘Cause it’s embarrassing,” he hissed, though the effect was ruined by how he arched into your hand, chasing your fingers as you brushed his hair back. “Snow leopards don’t- nngh- don’t do this every year. Just… when we…” His throat bobbed. “…find a mate.”  

Your breath hitched. “Oh.”  

“Not that I’m- ah- proposing,” he gritted out, tail lashing. “Just… biology being a dick. I’ll be fine. Go.”  

But his body betrayed him. He shuddered violently, a broken whine escaping as he rutted against the mattress, hips stuttering. You saw the way his stiff cock pushed against the cotton of his pajamas, the way there was a tiny patch of wetness… pre cum staining the fabric. The motion sent a bolt of heat straight to your cheeks, but not more than the way the bed shook faintly, just a mere glimpse of how strong he is.  

“Stop being stubborn,” you whispered, climbing onto the bed. Your pink sundress rode up to your pretty thighs as you settled against the headboard, legs folded. “C’mere.”  

Satoru stared at you, conflicted, pride warring with desperation. Then, with a tiny wounded noise, he crawled into your lap, his face buried in the crook of your neck. He was trembling, his skin scorching through your clothes.  

“Shh, it’s okay,” you murmured, cradling his head. His ears flattened, velvety against your palms. “You’re okay.”  

“Not okay,” he choked out, fingers clawing the sheets instead of your hips- oh, never mind, his fingers started to knead your hips, like dough. “You’re too… soft. Smell too good. Hate this.”  

“I know,” you soothed, rocking gently. “Just breathe.” Funny thing is, your heart was racing, you should breathe too, but the way Satoru touched you went straight to your core, making you sticky, your panties clinging to the fluid. 

You traced idle patterns over his back, avoiding the dip of his spine where his tail met skin, yet that didn’t change a thing. He jerked, a guttural purr rattling his chest. You felt his lips on your neck, his fangs grazing your skin, begging to sink in, bite you as he fucked you senseless. “Fuck, baby- don’t- please- ”  

“Does this help?” you asked softly, skimming your nails up his nape. Your cheeks burned as you saw the damp spot on his pajamas grow, like he was a leaking faucet of need. 

“Yes. No. Stop.” He gasped, hips rolling helplessly, uselessly. “Don’t… don’t tease me.”  

You weren’t, but hell, it felt like it. Your free hand rested on his tummy, shifting him a little to be comfier. Eyes trying to not stray to his weeping, cotton covered cock, the way it twitched, the way your core oozed more warm slick.

Satoru obviously caught on, having a sharp nose, but he just whined, feeling frustrated. He didn’t want to hurt you, in any way, so he tried to avoid the thought of rutting into you, feeling your tight, warm, gummy insides hug his thick length tight, how he’d fill you with his warm, salty release, maybe watch it flow out as he fingered it back in…

Fuck, this wasn’t helping. 

“I’m not,” you promised, heart aching. His anguish was palpable, a storm of need and restraint. “Tell me what you need.”  

“You,” he keened, the word raw. “But I can’t- won’t- hngh- ”  

“Shh.” You pressed a soft kiss to his temple, tasting salt. “I’ve got you.”  

Slowly, so slowly, you palmed his tummy, the muscles quivering beneath your touch. His breath hitched, a broken sound, but he didn’t pull away. You mapped the planes of his abdomen, going lower despite your heart beating too fast, your body feeling warm, gentling him like a spooked kitten. His purr stuttered, deepened, until the bed vibrated with it.  

Satoru’s breath hitched when your tiny hand brushed the very bottom of his tummy, near his pubic bone. His eyes widened, up on yours as his hands clung to your dress, unintentionally pulling it down, revealing your baby-pink lace-covered, pert breasts.

Your hand hesitantly ran over his stiff cock, lips parting at the sheer size of him, how girthy and long- was his dick curved? You almost fainted, but Satoru’s whine, paired with his puffy lips clinging to your now released nipple, brought you back.

What?

Your panties flooded, and you mewled softly, palming his aching cock as you watched him suckle on your nipple like a hungry baby. His eyes shut a little, and his ears- oh, his cute ears twitched with each suck. His hips jerked up desperately, whimpering nonsense onto your breasts. His sharp little fangs brush the sensitive skin, leaving you a mess.

You couldn’t say no to him anymore. But you hadn’t a clue how to please a man… Sure, you saw a few videos before, a girl jerking her hand up and down the length, the man groaning before he came, but was it the same to every man? You saw the way Satoru was almost crying as he suckled, basking in your palming, but far too needy, far too eager for more.

Who were you to deny him?

You gently pulled his pajamas down, eliciting a whimper from his pink lips, still stubbornly latched onto your nipple. His other hand now kneads your other breast, eyes up on you, looking far too innocent for the situation. 

“Shh, I got you, kitty. Let me take care of you.” Once his throbbing, girthy, long cock bobbed out from his pajamas, your eyes widened, pupils shifting to phantom hearts.

Holy shit.

Satoru was pure fantasy. His weeping dick, and swollen balls aching. His pinkish-red tip dribbled small amounts of milky release, his length covered in faint veins, curved faintly upwards, like a hook. Aroused was an understatement; you had the urge to sink down on him, despite your shy self, to feel his fat tip kiss your soft cervix…

Satoru suckled harder, nipping on your nipple, massaging the other until pliant. You glanced down at him, softly whimpering along to him as you began to follow pure instinct, jerking him off.

“There you go, kitty,” you whispered. “Just let go.”  

He went boneless against you, limbs heavy, face barely hidden, his saliva bathing your now puffy nipple. His tail coiled around your ankle, an anchor. 

Sweet thing hadn’t uttered a coherent word the entire time; that’s how gone he was. Your fingers grazed his swollen tip, adding more pressure to the length as you went up and down. Satoru’s whimper, alongside the jerk of his hips, with the hard nibble of your nipple, told you he was close.

So when his release fell like a waterfall, sticky white fluid spurting from his tip to his clenching tummy, all over your tiny hand, he trembled, ears twitching, tail shaking faintly. His lips didn’t leave your nipple, though, saliva strand staying intact as he looked up to you half lidded, whining softly.

“That’s it, baby… Such a good boy, hm?” You cooed softly, cheeks rosy, matching his. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, hands trembling softly. But when your sticky hand left his relaxed cock, he suckled more, almost begging to have some kind of physicality with you. Your hand cradling his head to your chest allowed him to, feeling your own arousal grow tenfold worse.

After a quick wipe of your sticky hand on his already messy pajamas, you let your hand rub his chest, noticing his sensitive spots far too easily. He whimpered quietly when your fingers lightly ran over his pink nipples, and when your nails brushed his collarbones. 

By the time his breathing evened out, the room smelled of nothing but lavender, sticky release, and sleep.  

His sleep. 

Poor baby was worn out, overwhelmed from the pleasure, rightfully exhausted. 

You didn’t move until moonlight spilled through the curtains. Slipping away only to first get a warm, wet cloth to clean his tummy, then you changed into your coziest Miffy pajamas, pulling a new pair out for him too. You returned to find him sprawled on his back, one arm flung over his eyes. The collar glinted in the dark, like his release.

You gently cleaned his saliva-ridden lips and chin, then his tummy, making sure to get his snowy happy trail clean from release. After removing his dirty pajamas and pulling his new ones up, you threw the cloth and pants in the laundry hamper, settling beside him with burning cheeks and a full heart.

“Stay,” he mumbled, hoarse but lucid, as you slid under the covers.  

“Where else would I go? Silly kitty.” You curled into his side, head on his chest. His heartbeat soothed you, a steady drum beneath your ear.

Pleasuring him was scary at first, but… Now in bed, all comfy and warm with him, you felt far more confident, less shy about it. Sure, your panties were slick, messy with what he caused, but you’d deal with it later; now it was all about Satoru, your baby.

He hesitated, then wrapped around you, his nose in your hair. “…Thanks… ‘M sorry for-”  

“Be quiet, ‘Toru, don’t say dumb stuff,” you teased.  

He huffed a laugh, his ears burning pink, feeling surprisingly shy about being jerked off by his cute little owner. “Shut up.”  

But his big, warm arms tightened, his purr resuming, softer now, a lullaby. You kissed the hollow of his strong throat, just above the collar.  

“Next time,” you whispered, “don’t suffer alone. Please.”  

He didn’t answer. Just nuzzled closer, his tail swathing your legs like the world’s fluffiest blanket. 

But when you slept and felt his cheek nuzzle into your breasts, you knew the answer already.

Silly kitty.

End. 

Whoa! That was a lot, but I hope you truly enjoyed :) I wrote 90% of this half awake, since that's when my brain just locks in and spills the best writing I could ever pull out. I absolutely adore this little munchkin, so I will be making silly little drabbles, both sfw and nsfw, when I have the time. Btw, all my nsfw content is NOT for minors, and please do note I have this written in my intro, which is pinned. Take care of yourselves, lovelies :P

[susiephone]

i am so fascinated by the world of "flow" because like. it doesn't look like the humans have been gone that long. the house isn't that dusty, the city is submerged but not crumbling apart, the boats are mostly in good condition, and the cat returning to his house makes me think that on some level he still expects someone will come back. but there are no bodies.

now, this could be because showing an actual human corpse would be too dark for what the filmmakers are going for, but there are ways they could've implied it if they'd wanted to - think tarzan's parents' being shown on the floor after the leopard attacks them, but you only see their feet. there are also no signs of, say, a nuclear winter, or a major natural disaster (until the flood happens), or something that would've caused a mass evacuation or a mass death. it really seems like they all just disappeared one day. between that, the secretarybird's "ascension" (as i think of it), and the whale that doesn't look like any real whale and also miraculously survived being beached as we see in the post-credits scene, it absolutely seems like there's some form of magic or divine intervention going on in this world. (plus you know. animals smart enough to steer boats.)

so like... was this the rapture? just some weird universal 'reset' where all the humans blinked out of existence and the animals were left to inherit the earth? or did humans die off a long time ago, but something kept their artifacts miraculously intact?

[marksbear2]

Can i request Kraven x male reader headcanons? 🤭 also seen you were sick, hope you’re feeling better. 💗

Kraven the hunter x male reader

Dear anon you probably don’t even remember requesting this from how long it took for me to post this 💔💔. I hope you don’t mind and enjoy the fic.

1. Wilderness Dates – Instead of typical dates, Kraven takes you on hunting trips, teaching you how to track, set traps, and survive in the wild.

2. Protective Instincts – He’s fiercely protective of you, always keeping a watchful eye when you’re in dangerous areas, even if you insist you can handle yourself.

3. Animal Affection – Kraven’s pets, especially his lions and leopards, are unusually affectionate toward you. He says it’s because they recognize you as his mate.

4. Trophy Gifts – Instead of flowers or jewelry, he brings you trophies from his hunts—like a beautifully carved bone knife or a rare pelt he insists would make a good cloak for you.

5. His urge for dominance – He treats you like his equal but has a deeply ingrained need to prove himself as the strongest, often challenging you to arm wrestling matches or sparring sessions.

6. Soft for You – He may be a ruthless hunter, but when he’s alone with you, he becomes oddly tender, brushing his fingers through your hair and pressing soft kisses against your temple.

7. Cooking Experiments – He insists on cooking meat he hunted himself, sometimes with questionable seasoning choices. You once had to pretend to enjoy an overly spicy jungle stew.

8. Jealousy Issues – Kraven doesn’t handle jealousy well. If someone flirts with you, he looms behind them like a predator, silently daring them to back off.

9. Old-School Romance – He believes in grand, dramatic gestures, like carrying you bridal-style over a river or slaying a beast in your honor.

10. Hunting Together – If you show any interest in hunting, he takes great pride in teaching you, even letting you lead small hunts to boost your confidence.

11. Battle Couple Energy – If you’re a fighter, he adores the idea of battling side by side, reveling in the thrill of combat together.

12. Survival Training – He believes you should be able to survive in the wild without him, so he occasionally tests you by disappearing for a few hours and watching from afar to see how you handle yourself.

13. Affectionate Nicknames – He calls you things like "Little Wolf," "My Lion," or "Prey-Turned-Predator" depending on his mood.

14. Body Worship – Kraven is a man who appreciates strength, whether it’s his own or yours. If you work out, expect a lot of lingering hands and admiring glances.

15. Animal-Like Comfort – He’s not above curling around you like a big cat when you’re resting together, nuzzling into your neck as he dozes off.

16. Tattoos and Scars – If you have scars, he traces them with fascination, praising you for being strong enough to earn them. If you have tattoos, he asks about their meaning and if he can add one to your collection.

17. Loyal to the End – Once Kraven has claimed you as his, he is unshakably devoted. Betrayal is unthinkable, and he would cross the world to find you if you were taken from him.

18. Drunken Boasting – After a few drinks, he brags loudly about your strength, intelligence, or cunning to anyone who will listen, making sure the world knows you’re worthy of standing beside him.

19. Traditional Courting – He has an old-fashioned view of romance and might insist on proving himself to you through trials, like hunting a beast in your name or bringing home an impressive prize.

20. Predator and Prey Dynamic – Sometimes, just to mess with you, he’ll playfully “hunt” you in the jungle or around your home, only to catch you in his arms and whisper, “You are mine.”

THE END

[amourluvie]

◟✿ Twst Housewardens as animals . . .ᐟᅟ

Synopsis . . .ᐟ basically the housewardens as your pets muhehehe also sorry if it's ooc for some of them I wrote this to get rid of my writers block 😭

notes . . .ᐟ i will finish all the homicipher rqs today trust me gang

characters . . .ᐟ riddle rosehearts,Leona kingscholar, idia shroud, malleus draconia, Azul ashengrotto, kalim al asim,vil schoenheit.

Click here for this but with the vice housewardens!

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS as a munchkin cat -

riddle is a very sassy and picky kitty,only wanting to savour the finest quality of cat food and expected princess treatment from you,it's beloved owner ofcourse- always wanting your eyes and attention on him and only him otherwise he would knead at your belly painfully because how can such a cute cat like him can't have attention? He's can get grumpy too at times- hissing at you as you try to pet or hold him. Don't worry he's just having mood swings- or he's jelly over the fact he smelled other cat's nasty smell on you. How can you even think of petting other cat's when he's much cuter than him? Hmph! If he could talk he would definitely gave you a scolding and taunt with a "off with your head!", Other than that,he's a very obedient and calm kitty at most times who just wants your love and affection. Come on you can't say no to his big grey eyes,a pleading look on his face as he wants to be pet.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR - a lion, obviously.

how the hell did you even managed to adopt him!? Who knows and who cares. What matters most is that Leona is a very lazy feline,a demanding one too- he's like riddle,wanting to be spoiled aswell while he's just sleeping 24/7! he's supposed to be a lion for crying out loud! Not a lazy cat! Anyways the good part is that he protects you from any danger,who would want to mess with someone who has a lion for a pet anyways ! He enjoys affection too,him resting in his bed that was made just for him as he enjoys you petting him,soft purrs leaving his mouth. Lions are just like cats but just bigger aren't they?

IDIA SHROUD - as a ragdoll cat

idia is a very shy and nervous kitty- who likes to be left alone at times. He has terrible separation anxiety too at that,poor baby. Idia loves getting affection from you- his blazing blue fur slowly turning into a light shade of pink as he leans into your touch- he always also monitored how you used your electronics, especially when you played games on your pc. He would be very interested and climb into your lap as he watched you play, being very concentrated.

VIL SCHOENHEIT as a bunny

Just like riddle and Leona,vil also demands princess treatment from you. For how ephemeral his beauty that's the least he deserves! a very judgemental bunny at that too. You know you look terrific when your bunny side eyed you,your makeup and outfit was well something else so can you blame him? He wishes he could talk so he would give Beauty advice and tips on how to become as pretty as him! He still loves you,as his owner no matter what though.

MALLEUS DRACONIA as a leopard gecko

malleus was a absolutely stunning pet for you- both looks wise and personality wise. the way he smiles at you when you hold him is too die for! he was so sweet too! Always rubbing it's face across your cheek as affection,his slitted pupils dilating as you pat him on his tiny head. Hes always sitting on the top of your head though,and it's hard to get him off.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO as a flapjack octopus

Azul would always stare at you from his big aquarium with his beady eyes,as you feed him and dipped your hand in the water to touch his head,he kinda flinched at first but leaned into your touch in no time,quickly getting used to it and demanded more. He just wishes he can plop out of the tank and crawl towards you to give you a hug for being such a good owner to him. He would literally beam when you said he was the cutest octopus in the entire universe!

KALIM AL- ASIM as a golden retriever

Kalim is the most brightest,most cuddly dog you have ever had! He was so fluffy too with his silky white mane. He would always follow you to everywhere possible - he cant help it! He's just wants to explore all the fun and adventurous places the world has to offer,with his amazing owner! He's a very curious one at that too,often analysing how things worked,also he loved when you walk him to his favourite park to meet his cobra friend- Jamil!

[calebsdog]

"You're the one who insisted we play kitty cards after hours. Why am I the one they cursed?" Reaching up, Caleb fiddles with the tan cat ears poking from the top of his head. The twitch away from his touch, moving with a mind of their own.

"It's probably because you kept making me lose. The kitties pitied me. I guess they wanted to give me a helping hand with my revenge."

Harmless, adorable, and just inconvenient enough to annoy him. Cursing Caleb with cat ears and a tail was the universe's perfect gift of karma. You didn't even have to lift a finger.

"Pfft." Snorting, Caleb flicks his tail in your direction. The furry tip lightly grazes the underside of your nose, tickling your soft skin.

"How did I make you lose? Do you know how many times I watched you swipe an extra card out of the deck when it was my turn? Besides, those kitties only felt bad for you because they can't tell when you're crying crocodile tears."

His tail swishes back and forth in your face, tickling you all over. Out of all the ways those kitties could have punished him, this wasn't that bad. Seeing the way your eyes lit up when you first caught sight of his fluffy ears had already made it worth it. Pestering you with his tail whenever you tease him was just a small bonus.

"Hmph." After a few attempts, nearly moving faster than you can keep up with, you manage to catch Caleb's wriggling tail in both of your hands. You study the dark brown lines circling around the nub.

"Still, I wonder why the kitties made you a leopard," you muse aloud, brushing his fur. Leopards were adaptable, powerful, territorial, all traits you associate with Caleb. But there was one thing bugging you.

"Leopards don't mate for life."

"Huh?"

"Leopards don't mate for life," you repeat, clutching his tail tighter now. It's no longer trying to squirm out of your grasp, laying docile in your palms.

"Leopards only mate during heat. Then they stick to theirself until their next heat. They're solitary and never settle down." The longer you go on, the more you pout.

"So why are you a leopard, Caleb?"

"... Really? That's the thing about leopards that you singled out?" Sighing through his nose, takes your cheek between his finger and thumb. He jostles your cheek, jiggling your face affectionately.

"Just because I have a leopard print on my tail doesn't mean I would ever move on from you. I'm the same Caleb as before. Don't make weird assumptions about me like that, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

[arbitrarykiwi]

Track 3: Hella Good

Nam-Gyu (Player 124) x Fem!Reader

── .✦ Part of Kiwi's 1k Album Event

Warnings: 18+ , drug usage, mixing substances mentioned , club activities , otherwise sfw

You would think that working at a club would mean having the time of your life and partying your ass off. And it sort of is…but for Nam-Gyu? He was tired of it.

It was the same old, same old. Drinks, promotion, drugs, more promoting, and women- over and over and over. Thanos of course kept shit somewhat exciting- the purple haired rapper was so unpredictable that Nam-Gyu was guaranteed at least some entertainment through out the night.

Thanos also told Nam-Gyu that he would have a much better time if he took one of the many women in the club to one of the bathrooms to blow off steam but any of the interactions he’s had with women were so superficial it made his skin crawl thinking about having a ‘fun time’ with any of the women he found frequenting Club Pentagon.

So, on a random Saturday in the middle of May when Nam-Gyu found himself working at the bustling club- he expected nothing other than the same routine as every other night he had to be on the clock.

He’s already turned down three or so women that Thanos has ushered to their death by pointing out his ‘cute friend’ to them. Nam-Gyu just wasn’t feeling it, brushing off the women and turning back to the mass of people in the club, just watching.

He told himself he might as well act like he’s doing his job- look like he’s scouting people out to try and scam them with the over priced drink packages or VIP privileges. He didn’t intend to do a good job, Nam-Gyu wasn’t focused. The mass of people was nothing but a blurred blob of shiny clothes and sweaty bodies, no real club promotion was gonna happen.

“Come on mannn!!” Thanos yells, clapping the silent male on the shoulder, “You gotta get into the vibes Nam-Suuuu!!! Take another shot or do another line or something!!”

“Gyu. Nam-Gyu.” He corrects the obnoxious rapper, eyes still flicking anxiously across the dance floor and bar.

He wasn’t even looking- focused on absolutely nothing, just looking like he was working in hopes of getting Thanos to leave him alone, but as his eyes continue to look anywhere but at the rapper next to him, Nam-Gyu finds something worth focusing on.

In a sea of black, blue and red dancing bodies, Nam-Gyu spots a leopard.

Obviously, Nam-Gyu doesn’t spot a large preadator cat on the dance floor, but something as equally jaw dropping- you.

You had the smallest shorts on, a leopard print shirt that clung to your sides like a glove and cute little red heels to match. Nam-Gyu watches as you maneuver across the club floor, shoulders back and head high. Each flicker of the club lights has shadows dancing across your face that only emphasize the glittery eyeshadow you had that was just the right amount of smudged.

You’re walking past multiple people who try and talk to you, brushing them off with a kind smile and making your way to your destination- the bar.

Even as you dismiss maybe 10 some odd people who reach out to try and get your attention, as you walk by the man with a bored expression, long black hair and crumpled promotion waivers in hand- you’re sending a wink and a coy wave Nam-Gyu’s way.

“Come on bro, if you’re not gonna party with me can you at least spot me some money so I can get some shots?” Thanos says, gripping at Nam-Gyu’s shirt and trying to get a rise out of him.

The second Nam-Gyu catches your lil’ wink and wicked smile, he’s fishing into his pocket for a crumpled 20 that he got as a tip earlier in the night and pushing it towards Thanos’s chest. Nam-Gyu is pushing off the wall and following you like a dog with an invisible leash before Thanos can even thank him.

When you lean against the bar and order your drink, Nam-Gyu finally makes it to your side. Admittedly, when he gets there and falls into the space next to you- he fumbles. He can’t think of anything to say. In some sort of trance, he just stands there drinking you in like a finely aged wine.

“You didn’t look like you were having much fun.”

Nam-Gyu is shocked you speak first, like you knew he was going to follow you and like you knew he wouldn’t even know what to say to you when he got the chance. For some reason, the realization made his heart race more.

“Mm..nah, hard to when ‘m working.” He responds, rather coolly for how nervous you seemed to make him.

“Can’t have any fun when you work?” You pout and turn to face him completely now, “that’s so boring…working at a club and not being able to enjoy it.” Looking up at him with mascara clumped lashes, you’re taking a sip of the drink you ordered and licking the remaining liquid off your lips.

Dear god. You had to have been a succubus sent straight from one of his fantasies.

“Yeah I suppose so…” he mutters, leaning on the bar and propping his chin up on his hand, “just haven’t found good company to keep me entertained.” Nam-Gyu says, eyes shamelessly drinking you in like your a drink at the bar just served up to him.

“The purple haired one, he’s not good company?” You tease with a coy grin.

“Mmm, can be.” Nam-Gyu shrugs, “Tired of him tonight though. Someone else has been keeping me good enough company, not sure I need him right now.”

He grins down at you like a Cheshire Cat. Reaching out a hand, he’s brushing a straigh of hair behind your ear and off your shoulder, fingers ghosting over the column of your neck.

“Names’ Nam-Gyu.” He says his name with a flash of his pearly canines in an addicting grin.

Tilting your head, your smile is widening to match his, you say your name- it instantly is sticking in his mind and he’s reciting it over and over like a prayer.

“This better not be some weird way to get me to sign up for VIP.” You’re taking one of the crumpled club flyers out of his hand and holding it up between you two before folding it and tucking it right into your cleavage.

Pretty and quick witted. God, Nam-Gyu won the lottery tonight.

“Not some weird sales pitch, promise you that.” He’s letting his eyes linger far too long on where you just slotted the flyer, “You, ah, well- you caught my eye.” He says, it comes out a bit awkward- you can tell he’s not used to talking up women like this.

“Caught your eye?” You muse, reaching a hand up to straighten out the collar of his undershirt, “Well then you gonna do something ‘bout it?”

He freezes. Nam-Gyu did NOT think he’d get this far. He knew following you he had no plan, he just had to follow you- trailing behind you like some begging dog who is chasing the lingering scent of your perfume that clouds behind you.

You can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs and his eyes begin to flick nervously, “What do you wan’ me to do?”

If he could punch himself right now he would- why the fuck would he say that as a response to what you just said.

You laugh, it’s a light, silvery sound that could make any suitor drop to their knees. Nam-Gyu hopes he doesn’t fuck this up just so he could get to hear you laugh more. The idea of getting his dick wet is so far out of his head now. He just wants you, in your entirety, the part of you that’s so docile and gentle that only the person closest to you would get to see.

Was it the drugs? It had to be the drugs kicking in.

You’re standing up tall, on your tippy-toes and leaning in so close to him, your lips dance along his is feather light movements as you speak, “I want you to….” You drawl it out into a soft smoky toner that’s sending a rapid chill up his spine.

Nam-Gyu is holding his breath, his heart beating a million miles per minute. Fuck, he was so far out of his league.

“Dance with me.”

“What?!” He’s genuinely taken aback, that was not what he’d thought you ask.

“Yeah!! C’mon dance with me!! I want you to have at least some fun on your shift!” You’re dropping back down to your regular height, reaching out to grab his hands, “You’d dance with me right?”

When you’re looking up at him and batting your thick eyelashes, he physically can’t say no.

“Yeah, I-i can do that for you, pretty girl.” He says the pet name like a trial, as if you’d flee away from him like a doe if he said anything too risky. Normally he wouldn’t care, if the interaction went sideways Nam-Gyu would go on about his life and forget about it. Not you. The excitement he gets from being around you is the best high he’s ever had.

Your smile is contagious, the second you get his affirmative answer, you’re rocking excitedly on your heels and squeezing his hands, “Yay!! Let’s go!!”

And like a sailor following a sirens call into the deep sea, he’s letting you lead him by his hand into the mass of dancing bodies. He wasn’t used to this. Never in his time at Club Pentagon did he ‘dance’. It wasn’t for him, the idea of it was obnoxious to him. For some unknown reason, for you, it seemed doable.

In the middle of the dance floor, Nam-Gyu is instantly wanting to leave- how could anyone like this!? He’s shoulder to shoulder with other sweaty people who had no sense of personal space.

“Hey, eyes on me.”

Your arms are looping themselves up around his shoulders, hands placing themselves on the back of his neck. Your fingers lace into black strands of hair at the base of his neck, making him focus on you.

Sliding your hands over his shoulders and down his arms your placing his hands on your hips, “I said dance with me. Not stand there like I’ve forced you here.”

Then you giggle again, god that sound, it rushes through him at the exact time the trip hits from the pill he took at the beginning of his shift and fuck, it’s euphoric.

Ringed hands grab as your waist, digging into the fat, body beginning to loosen up. Yeah, the dance floor wasn’t so bad. “You did kinda force me here.” Nam-Gyu chuckles, pulling your front flush with his.

“Mmmm, nope I did not.” You say, playing coy and acting like you were really thinking it over, your arms looping back around his neck to their previous position, “I simply just offered you a promise of having some fun on your oh-so boring shift.”

Nam-Gyu raises his eyebrow, matching your playfulness, “Well…maybe ya’ didn’t force me…but not accepting your offer surely would have been some sort of crime and I don’t need another charge on my record, sweetheart.”

He’s bolder now, confidence rising with every second you’re pressed against him. You can see it, hear it, feel it. Timed perfectly with the music, you’re swaying your hips, rocking your body to the organ-shaking thrum of the music.

“Ooooo~~” You coo, tilting your neck a little further to keep eye contact with him, “You’re a bad boy?? I dunno if an innocent girl like me could hang out with someone like youuu.” You’re drawling your words in a sickly sweet lilt that has Nam-Gyu letting out a deep groan that’s lost under the thrumming music.

You were driving him insane. The way you move your hips against his had his mind going dizzy. The way you moved effortlessly to the music, kept him entertained and on the edge of his seat and were the embodiment of ethereal beauty- Nam-Gyu was sure you had to have some drug laced within your skin because he couldn’t get enough of you.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes and removing a hand from your hip. He moves to hold your chin, pointer finger hooking under while his thumb was pressed on your lower lip. Forcing your neck back more, he’s lowering his face down closer to yours.

“I don’t think innocent girls usually have pupils so big I can’t tell what color their eyes are.”

You suck your teeth and mirror him in rolling your eyes, “No idea whatchu are talkin’ about.”

Both of you break out into laughter, the sound fading into the music of the club. Nam-Gyu could be told he was in some wild trip right now and he’d believe it- you couldn’t be real.

The loud thrum of the bass that guided your hips was going to be the death of Nam-Gyu. You knew exactly what to do, moving against him in ways he could have never thought was possible. He could also feel the high of whatever substance he took reaching a peak, every flash of the lights and second of the music was ten times intense. He felt so, unbelievably, good.

“Y’look real cute with your pupils all blow out…” Nam-Gyu muses, keeping his grip on your chin as your bodies move in tandem, “…and all red- ohhhh you’re bad, mixing substances.”

You stick your tongue out at him, moving so one of his legs is slotted between yours, moving with him with the fluidity of water. Nam-Gyu wasn’t even sure how he knew how to dance like this- he was never on the dance floor at the club.

The lights flashed around your face, shadowing it in purple, blue and pink lights-illuminating the glitter over your eyes and scattered around chest. He could see the small beads of sweat that dripped down your neck and collected at the swell of your breasts. You were an angel dressed in sin.

Bodies moving in tandem, Nam-Gyu is entranced. Pressed tightly against him he can feel every inch of you. It’s oddly more intimate than taking you back to his home and sinking balls deep inside you.

“You gonna keep staring at me like a love sick puppy or are ya’ gonna kiss me?”

Your lips are right by his ear. Standing up on your tip-toes you’re whispering low and sweet into his ear to make sure he hears it. It’s bringing him back out of the trance of you that he seems to keep falling into.

Nam-Gyu stares blankly for a moment as you drop back down to your normal height and pull away from him, arms still hooked around his neck.

You cock your head to the side, eyes flicking to his lips then back to meet his frozen gaze, “staring like a puppy it is I guess-“

Teasing words are cut off by Nam-Gyu wrapping his arms fully around your back. Hand sliding up your spine he’s grabbing at the back of your neck and kissing you. Shutting you right up.

It’s mind numbing, your lips work against his in a wet and messy mix of lips and tongue. Large wandering hands slid up and down your back and waist, needing to feel all of it, all of you.

Bass thrumming, lights flashing, your lips molded to his in a filthy kiss- Nam-Gyu feels like he’s on cloud nine. He doesn’t even know the song that’s playing but he decides in that moment it’s his favorite now.

Oxygen needed, you both pull away breathless. Nam-Gyu doesn’t let you go far, his hand is back on the back of your head and pressing his forehead to yours.

You can feel his heaving breaths fan your face, his lips glistening with a mix of your lipgloss and spit.

“I’m gonna get your number right? I wanna see you again.”

It comes out way more desperate than Nam-Gyu wants, but as he hears the song beginning to fade into the next one- he needs to know. This can’t end. He needs more of you and the excitement that you ignite within him.

“When do you get off?”

“When we close.”

“I’ll give you my number but why don’t we do something afterwards?”

Nam-Gyu is nodding without even thinking.

“Perfect, I’ll wait at the bar ‘n when your off we can go to Waffle House.”

Now he’s seriously thrown off, you wanted to go out to eat at 3am? He did not think that’s where you were going with that.

You laugh, seeing his shock “What?! You think you’re gonna break my back in on an empty stomach. Won’t have much energy.” Looking up at him with a pout, you’re scratching at the back of his neck, tugging playfully at the dark hairs.

“You realize you might actually kill me, right?” Nam-Gyu says in a half laugh, his eyes drinking you in just like he did when he was first at the bar with you- like you’re a mythic goddess that has appeared before him in a dream.

With a tilt of your head and a cheeky grin, you’re lifting yourself back up and placing a kiss on his jaw, “Go do your closing duties and maybe we can get out of here earlier, hm?”

He looks at you, nodding with a lazy smile before he seems to mull something over, his flittering eyes widen when he thinks of the possibility of not being able to find you when his shifts up.

Somehow reading his mind, you’re speaking again, yelling over the music, “I’ll wait at the bar for you, I promise.”

And then you’re extending your pinky out to him. Nam-Gyu can’t help but to chuckle, someone like you- a personification of sin- extending your pinky out to him like a child making a promise in a sandbox on the playground.

“Alright. I’ll hold you to it.” He’s hooking his pinky around yours.

Now it was time for Nam-Gyu to see how fast he can finish the closing tasks of 4 people just so he can get out of work even a minute earlier.

Taglist: @namsgyu @nuttybeans @namgyucat @g1rlonthe3internet @reilapse @yuuumeee @thanosspills @thequeenbmulan @infinetlyforgotten @gothinlove @seaweef @lov3lycosmos @lunaryoongie @thecryingangei @dennsfz @pugh-bug @ykmeoryoudont @mari-18s-world @corrdelia @skinstickets @burningburningburnt

[another-random-fanfic-blog]

Saving them, Saved me

Warnings: 18 plus (future chapters may have smut, unknown), swearing, violence, blood, gore, torture.

Masterlist

“Enjoy your time,” the man chuckled as he locked the door behind you, leaving you to stare at the six hybrids on their knees, mouths gagged, heads bowed, and arms behind their backs.

You throw your bag on the chair by the door and kick your heels off, stalking towards the hybrids, examining their features as you walk. Each was dressed differently, some type of gimmick, what you assume to be a dog hybrid, probably Doberman given the ears, dressed almost like a fairy. Make up was used to make his skin lighter, yet the birthmark near his left eye remained uncovered. He had delicate features and just by staring at his physical appearance, it was easy to see why he was a fairy, chin length black hair pinned back made a striking contrast to the pale makeup on his face, his body draped with fake flowers and white see-through cloth, and shimmering highlights on the apples of his cheeks made his look otherworldly. Next to him must have been a big cat, you couldn’t tell if he was a jaguar or leopard, but he had black ear letting you know he was born with a melanistic version, a ‘black panther,’ a rare animal to find in hybrids. He was extremely regal, draped in cream cloth and gold adornments and chains, making him look like a prince you would see in fantasy games. He too had long black hair, chin length that contrasted the stark white makeup on his face, though looking further down his body, you could see the honey colored skin that suited him, glancing at the other hybrids, they were in similar situations regarding the make-up. The next hybrid was built more muscular than the others, he was dressed as a boxer, with bruises and cuts on his face and body, it didn’t take a keen eye to tell those injuries were real and not painted on. He had cat like eyes that kept glancing at you before looking away. The ears on his head were similar to the prince hybrid, which meant he was a ‘black panther’ as well, you just couldn’t tell the species.

Next came another canine hybrid. This time, it was easy to see he was a wolf, his ears pointed and at attention. This hybrid was tall, taller than the rest, probably about 6”1, he was dressed in oversized clothes that pulled away far enough to show glimpses of the muscles underneath. He looked like a boyfriend type, the kind of person you'd cuddle with, in hybrid form. Following him was a fox hybrid, smaller than the others he too had feline like eyes despite being a canine hybrid, dressed in all black it matched his black hair, making his orange ears stand out brightly. His black clothes were sheer, making him look like a stripper or 'entertainer' for hire. He kept his eyes down but squirmed against his restraints as you moved past him. The last in the room was the smallest in stature but seemed to have the biggest presence. This was a squirrel hybrid, dressed like a pirate, even though he wasn’t looking at you, you could see the anger and defiance in his eyes, his muscles taunt as he waited for what was to come. It was interesting seeing a prey hybrid mixed with predators, something you didn’t see outside of fighting rings. He had a sharp nose and plump lips that weren’t just wrapped around the ball gag in his mouth, but were held in a type of snarl, the only way he could really show his feelings without being hurt. He was also the only one without his hands tied behind him.

“You,” you say, stopping in front of the squirrel hybrid, “on the bed now.”

His jaw clenched under the gag as he stood up and walked over to the bed, sitting on it carefully, still not looking at you.

“Scoot up towards the headboard,” you order, watching as he moves up, “arms out to the side so I can cuff them.”

He moves without a sound, defeat in his eyes and body posture as you cuff his one hand to the bed post, climbing on the bed to do his other, seeing his ears moving with as you move away. You position yourself over his hips, holding yourself just high enough that you don’t touch him, but low enough that no one could tell if they came to look. Leaning closer to the squirrel, you remove his gag and move your head so it looks like you are kissing him.

“I’m here to help you,” you whisper, seeing his eyes move to yours, “can they hear anything on these cameras? Nod or shake your head just barely.” He shakes his head with such imperceptible movement you almost miss it. Moving your head to make it look like you are biting his neck you speak again. “Do they come to check on what’s happening in here?” Another small shake, “a rescue team is incoming, just another minute. How do you usually act when you are in here with someone?”

“I don’t…this is our first time put in here. Normally, we are in the punishment room,” the squirrel whispers to you.

“Then I need you to try to tug your arms in a way that no one will notice they aren’t really cuffed, but make it look like you are struggling against me, you are a defiant hybrid, they expect you to struggle.” You mutter, the squirrel nods his head carefully and pulls on his restraints gently. Just as you open your mouth again, he speaks.

“Jongho ‘n Mingi.”

“What?”

“They took Jongho and Mingi, leave me here and find them, please,” he pleads looking in your eyes.

“Closing in,” you hear in your ear.

“I’m going to help all of you, and I will find Jongho and Mingi for you,” you state sitting up, just as the door bursts open.

“Room clear, continue checking the others.” Someone yells as you climb off the squirrel.

“Get these ones to medical,” you order the people remaining in the room while the squirrel sits up on the bed, looking around with a mix of fear, anger, and hope. “What kind of hybrids are they?”

“Bear and rabbit.” You nod in reply.

“Keep them together; I’m going to find their friends.”

You walk out of the room and continue down the hall, radioing to everyone that you were looking for a bear hybrid named Jongho and a rabbit named Mingi. You look in every room you pass, and the revulsion inside of you grows as you see abused hybrid after abused hybrid.

“Found the hybrids you were looking for,” a voice says through your earpiece, “the bear is in the fighting ring…it’s not looking good, but medical is on the way, the other hybrid was in some type of torture room, same status as the bear, maybe worse.”

“I’ll be there in 2.” You reply as you continue down the hallway, remembering the layout of the facility from the blueprints you looked at before coming here.

When you arrive at the fighting ring, you see a bloody lump lying in the center of the arena. Medical teams approaching the hybrid that’s barely able to open his eyes. He has round cheeks and short red hair, though it’d hard to tell the real color with all the blood soaking it. There isn’t an inch of his body that doesn’t have cuts or bruise on it from your point of view. Ignoring the others around you, you approach the hybrid.

“Jongho,” you call out as you enter his line of sight, seeing his eyes barely make it to yours as they fight to stay open, “your friends are safe, and you’ll be seeing them soon.”

With that message, any strength and bravery that he was attempting to hold on to left his body as he let out a sob before passing out from pain, blood loss, or both.

“Once we stabilize him, we will be moving him to the hospital. He will be needing surgery,” the medic states, not taking his eyes off his patient.

“The hybrids from the room I was in and one other named Mingi are his pack, they get placed in the same room for recovery, no arguments,” you reply, walking away so no one can try to argue with you on your orders.

Continuing down the hall, you head towards the punishment rooms. Honestly, none of these hybrids have done anything that would justify punishment, especially these types of punishments, but torture room doesn’t sound as appealing to customers. Some hybrids are sent to these places for crying too much, breathing too loud, looking too pretty, or just existing at the wrong time. What you wouldn’t give for the law to allow you to force these ‘customers’ to endure the same thing the hybrids did, eye for an eye punishment. When you walk in, the scene in front of you is heartbreaking. The rabbit hybrids, who is probably 6”0 is sobbing for them to ‘stop’ and ‘not touch him.' His back looks like ribbons from the whips that were used on him as he hangs from the ceiling by his arms.

“Let him down slowly, don’t just drop his arms,” you say to the people untying the rope. They nod and slowly lower him so his feet touch the ground, then stop, knowing that if they don’t gradually lower his arms, he will be in even more pain from the sudden change in position of his muscles.

“Mingi,” you say, standing in front of the hybrid, getting his attention instantly. You want to reach up and wipe his tears away, but you know you can’t touch him. “Your friends asked me to look for you, a squirrel hybrid, he-“

“Hongjoong!” Mingi cries out, trying to look around for his friend.

“Hongjoong? Is that the name of the squirrel?” You ask, gaining Mingi’s attention once more and earning a nod. You watch as his arms lower a little more and he winces, so you decide to take his mind off the pain coming towards him. “I met Jongho as well, he’s getting treatment as we speak, and you’ll see him soon.”

“He’s our maknae,” Mingi sniffs.

“Hmm, I met some others, can you tell me their names as well?” He nods in response, “Great, what about the fox?”

“Wooyoung.”

“And the wolf?”

“Yunho, my best friend.”

“That’s fantastic, he’s okay as well. How about, the Doberman? I think he’s a Doberman.”

“Yeosang.”

“There were two panther hybrids, one has long black hair-”

“Seonghwa, jaguar hybrid, the other is San a leopard hybrid.”

“Great,” you nod as you steady Mingi on his feet, his arms having been lowered to his side during your conversation. “We are going to get you help, then get you to your friends ok, the medics here will take care of you.”

You motion for the medics to come over, and when you look back at Mingi, he’s staring at you with the biggest, saddest eye’s you’ve ever seen. He watches as you walk away from him to the people who found him in the room, the ones that were talking to the medics. He doesn’t want to move his eyes from you even as he’s taken out on a stretcher. Once he’s out of sight, you turn to the others.

“How was he still conscious?” You ask, thinking of the various other wounds on his body.

“When we came in the bastards had just finished giving him a shot of adrenaline. I don’t think he will be conscious much longer, but hopefully, he’ll hold out to the hospital.” Samuel answers through clenched teeth. Samuel was raised with a hybrid as a brother, then one day when they were 16, his brother was kidnapped, when the police finally found his the poor hybrid, he’d literally been torn to pieces for ‘humans’ amusement. Samuel was your first employee when you started this organization. Nodding, you walk away to oversee the rescue of the other hybrids.

You started this organization when you were 18. Your parents wanted to teach you the value of money when you were young, so they gave you a few hundred dollars to do what you wanted. You asked around about what you should do with it, and everyone gave suggestions on what you could buy. It wasn’t until you asked your elderly neighbor that you received sound advice. He told you to invest it. If you invested at this young age, by the time you became an adult, you could have much more. Mr. Edwards had no family and no one to talk to, so he made you an offer. If you visited him once a week, he would give you investment advice, and you did. Eventually, you began seeing him more than once a week because you liked his company. He was a crotchedy old man, who said what he wanted and did what he wanted, he was blunt, could hold a grudge, and loved to trick people, but he was also kind, caring, and in need of friends, so that is what you became.

When your parents died, Mr. Edwards took you in, and when you received the estate and whatever was left of your parents, he helped you sort out what to keep, what to sell, and what to hold on to until the value went high enough to sell, like their house. He stopped you from throwing things out that you thought you’d never need, like photos, jewelry, old baking pans. He knew that some of these things had sentimental value that you weren’t factoring in and wanted you to keep them, you’re happy he did that. You invested every penny that you made from your family, and when Mr. Edwards died when you were 18, he left you everything of his as well. Turns out the old man was a billionaire, and with his money, combined with what you invested with your parent’s money, you had a billion dollars. Both your parents and Mr. Edwards taught you about hybrids and the unfair treatment that they received. While you never owned one, Mr. Edwards did, and he loved her, but she passed away due to an illness caused by the abuse she endured before he saved her. You could have lived a life of comfort and never worked, but you got bored real fast.

That was when you started a small information organization. You were kind of like a private investigator, but you also liked collecting information for your own use in the beginning. You would gather information on the rich, politicians, influential families and people, anyone in positions of power, and businesses. This came in handy, occasionally you would use the information to get something you wanted, but mostly you used the information to expose some asshole of some crime that they were trying to deny doing. That was how you met Samuel. No one was arrested for killing his brother, and with his help, you found the people responsible, and they paid for their crime. That was when you decided to start another division of your company that focused on hybrid rights. You and Samuel fought hard to change law to protect hybrids, and you also managed to get your organization the same powers of authority as the police, so essentially, you were an organization that operated like the police to protect hybrids. Over the years your company expanded to include hybrid hospitals, better than human hospitals, adoption centers, independence centers, education centers that gave better educations than human schools, and protection shelters for those that were abused and ran away from their homes. Humans could attend these places as well, so long as they did not look down on a hybrid. Unfortunately, these were the only places hybrids were treated as humans. The law still had a long way to go, but everyone was working hard to change them. The company became so big that you couldn’t handle everything yourself. Therefore, each division had its own director. They answered to you, but they were able to proceed without asking you every little question needed to function.

“What do you mean?” You ask angrily, glancing at the six hybrids encircling the injured seventh and eighth in the bed, hooked up to wires. “You can’t separate them, they are a pack.”

“No one wants eight hybrids,” Jimmy sighed out, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The only way to get them adopted is if we separate the pack, I’m sorry.”

“Then we get them registered in the independence system.”

“It’s overcrowded, we have so many hybrids vying to for independence for themselves or their pack that it’s almost a year long wait, and we don’t have any more housing. The builders can’t go as fast as we need them to, not if we want these places to be safe. This will be the first time we split up a pack, but we may have to start doing this in the future as we rescue more hybrids.”

You look back at the hybrids and see them crying, some harder than you think they did the night they were saved, and you realized that the hybrids heard everything being said. They knew they would be forcibly separated and it was breaking their hearts.

“I’ll take them,” you say, not realizing what was coming out of your mouth before you said it.

“What?”

“What? Shit! I’ll take them, all eight of them. Go get the paperwork.” You sigh leaning against the windowsill staring at the hybrids as they begin to comfort each other. “And come up with a solution or proposal to ensure no pack can be separated. This does not get to happen.”

“You’re adopting them?” Samuel asks, walking up from behind you.

“I can’t let them be separated.”

“I agree with that, I also agree that they would probably do well with you. You need someone in your life outside of work.”

“You’re one to talk,” you scoff, staring at the group in their room. “When was the last time you went on a date?”

“It was more recent than you.”

“Asshole.”

“I’m serious, other than some one night stands and what you do at that club, you haven’t dated anyone or even hung out with anyone outside of work since...ever. I've literally never seen you with anyone or leave your home for nonwork things,” Samuel comments.

“What about-“

“That was work.”

“Okay, or,”

“Work.”

“But-“

“It’s always work.”

“You’re a dick,” you grumble.

“Because I’m right?”

“Yes,” you reply pushing away from the wall and walking away.

“Where you goin?” Sam yells after you.

“To get 8 beds and…8 of everything I can think of,” you yell back looking slightly stunned at the prospect of having 8 hybrids living with you. “Get some rollaway beds put in that room so they can sleep there tonight. See you tomorrow.”

With that you wave your hand in the air at him and continue out the door. Technically it was only 9 pm and the stores were still open. At first you want to run and buy some things, but then you stop. Each hybrid will have their own sense of self, their own personality, style, likes, dislikes, should you really go buy 8 of the same bedroom sets. After thinking for a few minutes, you decide you will. You call Darlene at the hybrid housing and ask if they have 8 spare bedroom sets, giving her permission to replace everything with your private bank card tomorrow and have it shipped to the rescue. Once the 8 determine what they like and what they want, you will allow them to buy new furniture to fit them individually. With that, you head home to wait for the delivery and installation of the sets. One good thing is this will let you know if the sets are worth the money you spend on them. Once you got home, ate dinner, showered, and oversaw the set's installation, you collapse in bed, letting out a deep sigh and collapsing into darkness.

Your phone starts blaring at you at the asscrack of dawn…not really, it was noon, but it felt like that. When you answer, you're informed that your new hybrids had to be removed from the hospital to make room for others. The two that were injured were stable enough that the hospital could set up makeshift rooms in your house and have a doctor and nurse come check on them. You offered home care to hybrids so they wouldn’t feel tense in the sterile surroundings of the hospital, while you knew this was good, you were somewhat regretting that now, just wanting a few more hours of sleep. Groaning, you woke up, showered, and got ready for the hybrids to be delivered, looking for the best rooms for Jongho and Mingi to recover. You chose a large room with a sliding door in the middle. That way, if they wanted, they could have peace, but also be with each other if they chose not to shut the door. There were large windows for sunlight, but nice curtains for when they wanted to block them out. TVs, stereo, books, and bathrooms completed the room, as well as a beautiful view of the large yard and woods behind your house. The glass doors also opened to a patio. That way, once they healed a little more, they could sit outside and get fresh air.

Just as you sat on the couch in the living room, the door rang. Standing up you knew this was it, either you kept these 8 for the rest of their lives, or they applied for their independence. Opening the door you were met with the doctors and nurses, pushing their way through with the medical equipment needed for Jongho and Mingi, following the poorly drawn arrows you pinned to the wall for them and leaving 6 scared hybrids standing in the entryway of your home.

“Well, come in,” you say, making a large sweeping gesture with your arm and moving to the side to give them room.

Slowly, each hybrid enters, and you clock each one thanks to Mingi, who was being unloaded from the ambulance. Looking back to the six in front of you, they all seem too scared to meet your eyes until Hongjoong managed to look up at you.

“Thankk you,” he whispers with a slight stutter, “for everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Each of you have a room upstairs, the furniture is temporary, and you can pick out your permanent furniture when you settle in. You are more than welcome to sleep in the room with Jongho and Mingi until they heal, but at least claim a room.” You move back some more as both Jongho and Mingi are wheeled in on stretchers and taken to their rooms. “Once those two heal, we will all go clothes shopping. Until then you can buy your necessities online…I figured you wouldn’t want to be too far from them and I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving them alone while they heal. So…Welcome home.”