#ask request

You’re on your knees in the center of the rug, back arched, tail high and trembling, calico fur fluffed out. You’ve already come twice today—once on Price’s thick fingers, once on Kyle’s clever tongue—and it’s still not enough.

Price kneels first. His hands are steady as he strokes down your spine, thumb pressing the base of your tail until you keen.

“Easy, love,” he murmurs, brows drawn in single-minded focus. “We’ve got you. All of us.”

And he’s the first to take you.

He eases your thighs apart, lines himself up, and slides in slow, stretching you wide. You yowl, nails sinking into the rug, tail wrapping tight around his hairy forearm like you’re afraid he’ll pull away. John fucks you deep and deliberate, hips rolling in a rhythm that makes your whole body rock forward with every thrust. When he finally comes, it’s with a low groan, spilling hot and thick inside you, holding you still while you shudder through your own release.

He kisses the back of your neck, voice rough with satisfaction. “First one’s mine, princess.”

Kyle goes next. He’s gentler, hands everywhere—scratching behind your ears, stroking under your chin, whispering filthy praise while he sinks into you.

You’re still dripping from Price, slick and open, and he groans at how easy you take him. He fucks you fast and playful, nipping your shoulder until you arch and beg. When he finishes, he laughs breathlessly against your ear, “Gonna give me a pretty little spotted kitten, yeah?”

You nod with a whimper, drooling onto the rug, too far gone to speak.

Johnny’s third. He’s eager, impatient, practically vibrating out of his skin.

He flips you onto your back so he can watch your face, so he can kiss you sloppy and deep while he thrusts. His cock is fat and slightly curved, relentless, and he drives into you until you’re clawing his shoulders bloody, tail thrashing against the floor. He comes with a shout, flooding you until it leaks down your thighs, and growls against your mouth, “Fuckin’ hell, lass. Feels like fuckin’ heaven.”

Simon is last; loves you cockdrunk and throughly prepped.

And he waits until the others retreat to the couch, watching with lazy, possessive eyes, stroking their half‐hard cocks to the sight of you.

He’s the biggest, the quietest. When he finally moves, it’s slow. He lifts you into his lap, arranges you facing the others so they can see how well you take him. His cock is long, heavy, and he sinks in inch by inch, letting you feel every ridge, every vein and piercing. You’re whimpering, overstimulated, but he just rumbles low in his chest, one massive hand splayed over your soft belly.

“Been waitin’ for this,” he murmurs gruffly. “Waitin’ to fill ya up proper.”

He fucks you like he’s claiming territory—deep, relentless, hips snapping until you’re crying, tail thrashing, ears swivelling and pinning back submissively.

When he comes, it’s with a low, broken groan, spilling deep inside you and adding to the seed already filling your sopping cunt, holding you against his massive chest with strong arms while you shudder through the aftershocks.

“Mine,” he murmurs into your ear, so soft the others almost don’t hear. “Ours.”

You’re a wreck when it’s over—fur matted with sweat and cum, thighs trembling, belly feeling all heavy and warm. They clean you gently, one at a time. Price with a warm cloth, Kyle with soft kisses, Johnny with teasing licks along your jaw, Simon just holding you while you continue to purr even in your sleep.

Nine months later, the litter arrives.

Four perfect, squirming babies; each one a perfect resembling their sire. Smaller than humans yet twice as resilient.

They’re all yours. All theirs.

And your mates spend the next months rotating night feeds, changing tiny diapers, and arguing over who gets to hold the kittens longest while you spend it sprawled in the biggest bed they could find, purring loud enough to rattle the windows, tail curled around four tiny bodies that smell like home.

Their princess.

Their queen.

The mother of their future.

simon's never seen a forest before. at first, he thinks it has to be another hallucination. it looks like the pictures in books he saw as a child. it looks like the maple tree on eden. he thinks about his sapling. about the last tree. how could this many trees be in one place? how can they just... live?

you grab your tweezers, derma-planing razor, and your small clip on light for your phone from your vanity all while keeping the smile on your face and call rafe’s name as you bound the stairs.

“yeah, baby.” he calls to you. he comes from his home office, clad in sweats and a too-tight black tshirt that is really just clinging to every muscle and vein. you shake your head twice from ogling your boyfriend, grab his hand, and lead him to the living room.

“lemme do your brows,” you instruct. you motion for him to lay fully on the way too expensive couch. “i wanna take a before and after photo too, so i can show sarah and kie.”

he shakes his head playfully and gives a soft chuckle, but obeying your command. he lays easily on the couch while you sit comfortably on your knees on the floor next to him.

you set your tools out because you do actually plan on cleaning up his brows a bit. you clip the small light to your phone and rafe closes his eyes as you take a picture, but also start recording your actions in small clips. just so he doesn’t get any ideas. you’ve also done his brows before, so nothing is out of the ordinary.

you start brushing one brow with your eyebrow spoolie and tweeze, then switching to your razor, all while taking silent video shorts of your progress and funny clips of your face to edit it all together in the aftermath.

and rafe seems very relaxed, actually. his chest rises and falls easily and he hums when your fingertips touch his skin. your heart swells at him. but your stomach starts to fill with adrenaline for what’s to come.

“i remember when you used to whine the first couple of times i started doing this,” you break the silence while working on his other brow, but to also buy some time to sell the bit. “honest to god tears.” you tease.

his eyes move under his closed lids, knowing he just rolled his eyes. one corner of his mouth lifts up in a smirk. “that shit hurt like a motherfucker. still does sometimes, but.” he shrugs, but doesn’t continue.

it takes a total of maybe fifteen minutes to do his brows, getting rid of the stray hairs and shaping them a bit more for his facial structure. you run your eyes over his face and you gulp. he looks so good. you mentally pat yourself on the back.

you put your tools down and turn your phone on quickly, opening the camera and finding the filter. then, you press record. “alright,” you say, trying not to make your voice waver with nerves. “take a look. i think this is the best I’ve done.”

you have your phone in rafe’s face and he opens his eyes. he blinks a few times to get used to the lighting in the room and looks at his reflection. you can tell it takes him a second to register exactly what the fuck he’s looking at because he furrows his newly groomed brows and moves closer to the camera.

you bite your bottom lip to keep from bursting out laughing as he just looks at himself. he doesn’t say anything, his eyes keep squinting a bit, both of his fingers tracing over his brows to make sense as to what he’s seeing.

“what the hell,” he mutters. his lips curve into a smile. “i can’t lie, i think you fucked my shit up… i thought they were gonna be thicker.” he raises his eyebrows, wrinkles in his forehead showing.

“they look good, right?” you say, moving the camera closer. he removes his hands from his face and moves his head a bit from side to side. and rafe gives you a full blown side eye. it happens in slow motion, the camera catching it all. it causes you to belly laugh so hard that you drop your phone. you recover it quickly before pressing record for the last time and spitting out a measly, “it’s a prank, it’s uh — it’s a face filter thing.”

rafe takes your phone from you and wraps his arms around you, bringing you down onto him so you’re laying on top. your body rattles with giggles before pulling up a bit to speak.

“i actually did them though. they look normal, i promise,” you place your thumbs on his brows and rub them gently. “you can look, see?” you pull out your phone once more, but he slaps it away playfully.

“oh, hell no. i’m not looking at shit through your phone again,” he says. he moves his hands quickly and starts tickling your sides. you yelp in a fit of laughs and screams. “just wait. your day is coming soon, i swear to god.” he warns. and you shiver. his mouth is mere inches from your ear and his voice is low, rough.