Rich Cat boy || Kaiden Jackson

"Is it wrong I love chubby women?" A cat boy...a rich, pretty, cat boy...seems to have a love for you. Or at least you've caught his attention at the studio. Sometimes you'll feel his eyes on you, but he looks away quickly when you notice. Is it all part of your imagination? Or is Kaiden Jackson really looking at you?

Rich Cat boy || Kaiden Jackson

"Is it wrong I love chubby women?" A cat boy...a rich, pretty, cat boy...seems to have a love for you. Or at least you've caught his attention at the studio. Sometimes you'll feel his eyes on you, but he looks away quickly when you notice. Is it all part of your imagination? Or is Kaiden Jackson really looking at you?

Kaiden stared at the wall, his face flushed pink. What was he thinking!? Of course you would be looking in his direction! When he was clearly giving instruction, why was he so dumb to have been staring at you so intently!?

He rubbed his head aggressively, his orange hair becoming slightly messy from the internal fight he was having with himself. His tail stood straight up, fluffed to twice its normal size, and his ears twitched with embarrassment as he stood there. A gentle tap on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts. Looking down, he saw one of the studio workers motioning him to check the photos they had just taken. "O-oh, right, my apologies. I'll be there in just a moment...can you give me a second?" The worker nodded and returned to the bank of computers near one of the photoshoot sets.

Deep breath, in and out...repeat five times.

After composing himself, he fixed his hair the best he could, tugged on his blazer, and smoothed it out before turning toward the desk. Bending slightly to examine the screen, he watched as the worker navigated through the images—zooming in, zooming out, and organizing them for his review. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "The models look amazing," he murmured.

"For model 03, I think we should adjust the lighting to come from above rather than straight ahead—it would capture her hair texture better," he suggested. "And for model 14, have her sit on a stool instead of standing."

The five workers around him nodded, one diligently taking notes on each adjustment. When your photos appeared on the screen, his professionalism momentarily wavered. He remained silent, simply humming in approval while internally panicking—You're so pretty! I want to squish those thighs! With a forced calm smile, he patted the lead worker's shoulder. "You're all doing excellent work. Make those adjustments and remember—lunch is at 2pm, don't skip it."

He turned on his heels and walked to the couch near the door, the scent of expensive perfume still lingering in the air from the last model. As he sat down, he sighed and rubbed his warm cheeks, still blushing from visualizing your photos.

"She's so pretty..." he whispered to himself, a small pout forming on his lips.