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tobegiggledat · 7 months

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The World Should be Cats

Ch. 1: The Mouse Caught Between Teeth

18+ CONTENT AHEAD MINORS DNI

✦pairing: Yandere!Tiger x afab!reader (no pronouns)

✦word count: 4.7k

✦summary: “It’s been a week since your friend reappeared after going missing, but whatever's returned, disguised in the suit of skin that was once her’s, is too woozy, too sweet—too overly-enthralled in daydreaming, to be the mellow woman you used to know.”

✦warnings: noncon, drugging, kidnapping, cults, orgasm control/denial, bondage, exhibitionism/voyeurism, humiliation, master/servant, aphrodisiacs, begging, fucking machines, fingering, mild pet play, lots of cat comparisons, AU where Kota lives with his grandparents instead (I forgot he existed while writing this)

✦a/n: Might write more parts, but eh it depends. What do you think?

Read Ch. 2 here!

It’s been a week since your friend reappeared after going missing, but whatever's returned, disguised in the suit of skin that was once her’s, is too woozy, too sweet—too overly-enthralled in daydreaming, to be the mellow woman you used to know.

Contact with her went cold over a month ago, leaving you to take on double the shifts at your shared jobs at a local convenience store. And while the extra workload may have taken your mind off her temporarily, when the hours ended and you were left alone in the stifling silence of your solo apartment complex, you soothed yourself to sleep with tears.

It was on day 46, she showed up for work as if nothing happened, brushing aside any concerns and instead fawning over her newfound obsession.

“Sorry, it’s Ryuko”, she’d shriek whenever she got a text, her hand cupping her phone as if a dying flame, her only source of warmth and vitality resting in her palms. It's as if nothing outside of it mattered to her, not even you.

When you gathered enough courage to ask about her whereabouts during that same month, she’d coo “Oh don't worry, Ryuko took care of me.” or “You’ll meet her soon. You’ll love her.”

Your first suspicion was that she was weaved into the sinister webs of some cult or pyramid scheme, but she’s yet to preach about her sudden change in faith, or give you a sales pitch on the benefits of using skincare products with essential oils. A month’s time away from friends and family is definitely enough to make one vulnerable, so who knows?

Either way, you meet the “Ryuko” in question later today. You’re annoyed, and not just because remnants of your year-long crush on your bestie still stir to life within you from time to time, but because Ryuko is giving you major red flags.

Beaming lights cut through the passenger window of your best friend’s sedan, casting a cool white glow over the newspaper you pocketed from a Juzo News vending machine. The number of disappearing people in this area has been on the rise recently. By a stroke of luck, your friend's disappearance only resulted in brief, mild disorientation and withdrawal, but it could've easily been more tragic.

Your head snaps to the front counter of the gas mart you’re parked outside of, observing your friend as her head bobs in agreement with the cashier. You glance over the face of the stranger she speaks with and look over any other customers beside her to imprint them in your memory. She finally leaves and your stare follows after her until she reaches you.

“Sorry about the wait”, she says upon entering, amusement evident in her frantic mannerisms. “The lady at the counter was asking about my mascara”, she turns to give you a few bags then straps herself to the driver's seat. “Now, off to Ryuko’s—”

“You won’t let her get between us, will you?” you ask abruptly.

She meets your eyes, searching along the weariness of your expression before she beams. “Oh, I’ve missed you, Kitty”, she swipes her fingers across your cheek in endearment, cold from the condensation of the drinks she brought. “Even when you get all jealous.”

Kitty. Even repeating it in a murmur makes you want to claw at your mouth until the leftover syllables dissolve from your tongue. She wasn't like this before, and she certainly didn't ooze enough sappiness to be palpable when she was around weeks ago. You can't say the change is terrible, but that won't get you to stop devising sinister theories about what could've caused it.

“Quit calling me that, it’s weird.” You turn toward the window, twitching with embarrassment.

“Why not? You’re cute like one”, you hear a smile creeping in her voice despite occupying your vision with the morphing landscape around you. “All you need is a pair of cute ears, and you’ve already got the territorial personality to match.

“Whatever. I’ll be sure to hiss at Ryuko when we meet her.” She laughs at the thought but you don't join her.

“You’re not upset, are you?” She shifts her gaze from the road for a moment, her warm eyes flickering over your unwavering profile.

“No, I’m glad you're back. You’re just…different”, the words scoop into the palm you use to rest your chin, muffling them into pointless vibrations.

She hears you anyway. “In a good way, right?”

“Sure, it just takes some getting used to.”

“Great. Now, drink some of that water I got you. I haven’t seen you touch a bottle all day.”

You look into the bag to find it. The bottle cap has been loosened and a few ounces of liquid are missing, but you shrug it off, suspecting your friend has already helped herself to some of it. Each sip moistens your palate and quells the jittering of your nerves.

“With the way you gush about Ryuko, she must be a supermodel”, you say between gulps. “What about her caught your eye? You're usually not one for romance, unless it's a hookup or something.”

“She sure looks like one, but it’s not about that. Her beauty is only a small part of her many qualities. She's lively. She’s confident, She’s…”, her voice trails into something wispy and desperate. “She’s powerful.”

“Look at you, you're a mess just thinking about her.”

“Everything about her is…”, she shifts in her seat as if suppressing a nagging ache. “Amazing, I mean everything.”

“Even the sex?”, you prod with impishness.

She takes a hand off the wheel to slap you playfully. “I knew you’d ask me that.”

“Well?”

“It’s great of course, but like I said it’s not as important as the other things.”

“Mhmm. Well, lucky you”, you do your best to hide the bitterness of your tone, secretly lamenting the idea that she could've been trying to hide this from you. Everyone always leaves you, romantic relations or otherwise. For a moment, it seemed that your friend was like the rest but you can't say that her return has put aside any doubts. The last month proves she can still leave at any second, so what makes you think she'll stay?

“But seriously, I’m glad you're back, and you're happy”, you say with a hint of distrust.

“You know I’d never really leave you, right”, your friend replies.

“I'm just saying, a heads up would've been nice.”

“I know, but things didn’t work out the way I wanted them to. I never expected to meet someone while trying to find myself.”

“If you felt lost you could’ve come to me about it. You never tell me anything these days.”

“It’s best to do soul searching alone.” She drops a hand into her lap, bracing herself with the fabric of her babydoll dress. “There've been many times in my life, before I met you, where I’ve gone off the grid to push myself away from distractions. I’m getting older, and it’s time for me to finally decide what I’m going to do for the rest of my life. Going on retreats never worked those other times, but working in general hasn't ever been for me, especially at that store. I want out, Kitty, and I’ll take any chance to get away from it.”

You'll never mean as much to her as she does to you.

“I always thought working there wasn’t so bad as long as I was with you”, you hold back a sigh. “It feels like I’ve known you far longer than a year.”

“I get that”, she briefly pulls her eyes from the road, a cheeky smile making its way onto her lips. “It was the same way with my Ryuko too.”

“Okay, now you’ve ruined it.”

Bubbles of laughter find their way out her chest. “You’ll understand when you find love, I promise.”

I've already found love, you wish to refute, but you can't gather the strength to argue as fatigue takes hold of you in a vice grip. You shut your eyes to welcome sleep.

Darkness, then bright, then bleary. Upon awakening, your throbbing eyelids flicker at the change in scenery, but something rough and tight pulls against your wrists as you move to rub them clear. Your hands are roped behind your back while your feet are strapped to the legs of a hospital bed at the center of what looks to be a repurposed doctor's office.

The room's scent of rubber and sterile substances intrudes your nostrils. The linoleum floor below your feet is patterned to look like authentic wood, but you can't walk along it. What was once a chilling, dense atmosphere, is penetrated by heat from intense gazes whisking you to turn about awkwardly to meet them.

Three women and a man, eccentrically dressed in cutesy, feline themed attire surround you a few feet away, sitting on stools and scanning your body as if you're about to go under the knife. Pink accents adorn their cheeks in faux whiskers, patterned in lines of three to give a questionable imitation of a cat that unnerves you.

Since when were you so tired? You couldn't have fainted and been brought to a hospital, because although the environment reeks of professionalism, there's a jarring display you catch notice of that says otherwise.

The one with a blonde updo and blue eyes has her skirt lifted and legs splayed open in the far left corner of the room, her exposed skin dimpled in red blotches as a nude, leashed woman nests her face between her legs, servicing her.

A sliver of her face can be seen between some of her movements but it’s difficult to make out as a blurry sheen coats your eyes, caked in what you assume is sleepiness.

As if sensing your intense concentration, the exhibitionist’s eyes snap up to you. “Did you enjoy your nap, kitten?”she smiles, her aura feasting hungrily upon you.

“Ya sure you don't need another one?” The one beside her shrieks. “You’ve got drool all over your lap!” She yelps with laughter and waves of emerald green strands whip freely when she tosses her head back from the force of it.

“W-Whaat’s going onn?” you slur as the vertiginous effects of fatigue continue to lay heavy on your tongue. Everything's too foggy. “Who are youuu?”

“I'm Ragdoll”, the giddy woman chirps. “This is Pixie-Bob”, she points to the blonde one. “Tiger”, the man to the right. “And that’s Mandalay”, the last one opposite of her. “These are technically our hero names, but It’s not like you’ll be needing them for much.”

“You still haven’t told me why I’ve been brought here.”

“You've been brought here because you're special”, says Mandalay. Her voice is a soft lull, urging you to return to your comatose slumber.

“You’ve been scouted, kit-kat!” Ragdoll agrees loudly, almost with a purpose to snap you out of your fading daze.

“What?”

“It means someone you know very well thinks you're worthy to be rescued from your unfulfilling past. It's an endorsement of sorts. You’ll spend the rest of your life serving us instead”, Pixie-Bob adds, but it does little to aid your confusion.

They can't think you'd agree to this, right?

“What?” you question again as if your mind has been wiped of any other vocabulary.

“Cat got your tongue?” Ragdoll screeches another grating giggle that sets your nerves alight. “You’ve been leashed now, kit, so you best put those claws away and submit to your new owner.”

“I've got no owner, freak”, you spill like a cup boiling over. “You must've taken too much catnip.”

Mandalay jerks in her seat. “What makes you think—”

Tiger places a hand across Mandalay as if to bring her back down. His domineering presence washes over the room in a volatile wave. “Stubbornness is nothing new to me”, he finally speaks and his stern tone unwillingly commands your body to full attention. “We’ve already had our fair share of spouting brats who don’t know a modicum of what's best for them, and the result is the same each time. They fold. They inevitably realize where they fall in the dichotomy of cat and owner, and they learn to accept the joys of submitting.”

“These aren't the actions of a hero”, you snap, meeting his dour stare with one of your own.

“A hero saves, and that's what we're attempting to do when we take in a helpless stray like you. We're only trying to create a family. The relationship between cat and owner is mutually beneficial. Your friend here is the perfect example.” He gestures to the far left end, at the woman curled up at Pixie-Bob’s feet and you gasp.

How have you not seen it this entire time?

Even with the striped cat ears and butt plug tail, you recognize that form and the scars and birthmarks along it. Your heart lurches beneath your ribs as your breathing escalates to ravenous panting.

Amidst the eerie silence, Tiger strikes a bizarre pose; his balled fists raised on both sides to rest at the top of his head as his wrists are bent slightly forward to make faux cat ears much like the pair already on his head.

“The World Should be Cats”, Tiger chants proudly. Your mind reels at the sudden nature of it.

As if the start of a domino chain, everyone else in the room follows suit. Pixie-Bob, then Ragdoll, then Mandalay, and finally your friend.

“The World Should be Cats”, they all repeat in unison.

Ragdoll laughs and laughs and laughs.Your friend smiles, a deep crescent moon—eyes blank and docile yet fulfilled.

What the fuck? Your hairs poke from your flesh like needles.

Their hands drop as if the ritual never occurred but your friend remains blissed as if high from the words emitted from her own lips.

“Kitty”, Pixie-Bob tugs at the chain leash in her palm.

“Yes, Mistress”, your friend looks toward the end of her collar with puppy-like adoration.

“Show your dear bestie what I own”, Pixie-Bob orders.

“Right away, Mistress”, your friend turns your direction and you gawk as she stands to pose, knees slightly bent and legs spread in all her humiliating glory. The lower half of her face still glistens with Pixie-Bob's juices while her cunt is stuffed and slicked with arousal.

Your head shakes on its own. “No, you're forcing her.” That isn’t her, it can’t be! “You’re full of shit! She’d never agree to something like this!”

An epiphany, piercing and unshakable, breaches the depths of your psyche, even in its disordered state; That water bottle from earlier must’ve had drugs in it—it’s the only sensible way I could’ve been brought here.

As if your thoughts were transcribed before her, Pixie-Bob smiles at your realization, and if it can grow any wider, she’d split her face in half. “Really?” she runs her hand over the inside of your friend’s thigh and her features scrunch together in bliss as her body chases Pixie-Bob’s touch. “I’m sure she’s told you all about her new girlfriend.”

A chill rolls over you. “You’re Ryuko?”

Pixie-Bob nods. “And I’m pleased to meet the darling mouse in the flesh”, her tongue pokes out to dampen her lips, ready to pounce at the sight of you before her focus goes back to your friend, shifting the dildo poking from her drooling hole. “That feels real good, doesn't it, slut? You must be so pent up from keeping it in all day, and not coming unless I ask you to.”

“Yes, Mistress”, your friend moans, thighs snapping around Ryuko’s wrist.

It's like nothing else matters to her.

Ragdoll begins to join in on the teasing, inspecting the damp trail between your friend’s legs. “Wow, Koko”, she taps her clit like a small, wet drum. “I think she deserves a reward for that.”

“Hmm, she did bring in some awfully interesting goods today”, Ryuko looks to her ‘kitten’ for the answer. “What do you think, kitten? Do you deserve to cum?”

“I deserve whatever you think I deserve”, she squeals softly while tensing her fists.

You were never that important.

Ryuko mulls it over for a second, tapping her lip with her unoccupied hand before shaking her head. “Sweet, but lazy answer. Finish up down there and maybe I'll think about letting you cum this time.”

Your friend's head droops in defeat yet she falls obediently to her knees, still shuddering as she complies with what must be an agonizing request.

“What happened to you?” you can only whisper to yourself as you’re certain your friend is too far gone to hear it. What she's wrapped up in is worse than any cult you could've possibly imagined.

“She was just like you, y'know.” Ryuko says, snarkily. “I have a special touch. I made this one all by myself.”

The bolts keeping your peace of mind at bay are slowly lubed loose with Ryuko's words looping on repeat, slipping the final welds out of place until there's nothing left.

“I'll kill you!” Your limbs flail at your sides, powered by the strength of your vitriol until the ropes around you hiss from the friction. “What did you do to her!”

The two giddy women appear to be unaffected by your outburst as they continue to give condescending grins, and although the Mandalay was riled up earlier, she doesn't seem to take any offense to it either.

“You'll find out soon enough”, Mandalay watches you, her pupils blown as deep as wells with intrigue. She’s stone-faced as she views you with detached cruelty, like a photographer watching a lion maul a zebra through the lense of their camera.

“The yelling is totally ruining this for me. What a bore.” Ryuko fake yawns and you wish the ropes would loosen just a little so that at least the ghost of your fist can meet her face. “Tell her this is your place now so we can get going.”

“I love Ryuko and I love being here, so please don't be worried”, the ‘kitten’ says meekly and it's difficult not to be swayed by those eyes brimming with a contentment you can't understand. "The World Should be Cats, it is what people like you and I are made to do. You'll see this soon enough."

Cats? You abhor the thought. How can we be something we're not?

“You heard her, she's happy here”, Ryuko pulls the leash upward to bring your friend to her feet. “I'll see you later, have fun training your new toy”, she says to Tiger, making her way to the door as the others follow behind her.

“See ya, Tiger!” Ragdoll chimes on the way out. “Good luck with that.”

Mandalay only casts you a glare.

“I'll get you out of here!” you shout to the husk of your friend, hoping there’s a part of her still alive enough to acknowledge it.

“You should be more worried about yourself.” Tiger towers over you, a glower scrunching his face. “You don't even know what's in store for you.”

“I don't care, none of it will break me as long as she's here”, you spit. As silence instills, your prior contempt evolves into deep sorrow for your friend's circumstances, a growing hopelessness that maybe she actually wants this.

“Your determination is admirable, but if you were truly a good friend you'd realize she's never been more in her element. Soon you too will know the joys of such simplicity.”

“You think you're some kind of savior for capturing innocent people? You do it for your own pleasure.”

“Of course I do enjoy the process, but I also love to give. When I devote someone to me, I too am devoted to them. I free them from the cruel realities of hero society and allow them to occupy their mind with only love and servitude.” He grins at the sight of your body unconsciously cowering away. “You desire security, don't you? You want someone you know will never leave nor betray you. Am I correct?”

“How would you—”

“It's written all over your face. You're a wounded cat, trying to play lion. You bare your claws whenever someone tries to enter your heart because you're scared they're only using you.”

“As if I'd ever welcome someone like you.”

“We’ll see, pet.” He paces outside your vision. “Hina”, he makes a call to whatever or whoever's behind you.

A woman in a lab coat appears at his side, but before you could wonder how long she’s been there, you recoil at the sight of a syringe filled with a mysterious beige liquid.

“No-No!” you thrash, ignoring the burning of the ropes against your skin. “Get the fuck away from me!” you holler some more, although your squirming is useless as the pin prick of the needle strickens you with fear instantly. Once emptied, the woman leaves just as quickly as she appears.

Sharp pressure runs through the circuits of your right arm, a much warmer sensation soon takes it place—much like the unhinged flames of arousal.

At the strange feeling, you instinctually move your thighs only to realize Tiger has freed them while your attention was drawn to the needle.

This is your chance. You repeatedly shove your feet into his abdomen, sinking your heels deep into his gut, but he's an unwavering mass of muscle, enduring the brunt of each kick with not even a grimace contorting the zealous gleam of eyes.

“C’mon, is that all you've got!” Tiger yells with eerie encouragement. “You'll never make it out of here with those love taps”, he guffaws before putting an end to your struggle by grabbing your waist to lift you onto his lap as he moves into the reclining seat you were once laying on.

Despite his unrelenting grip on your thighs, you attempt to shift away from him, but what couples your movements is a whip of throttling pleasure as grinding against him stimulates you in a way you never want to feel before him.

“Save your energy for what comes next, pet”, he runs a thumb along your cheek and smirks when you pull away. “Or don't, I love pushing unruly kittens beyond their limits.”

“Fuck y—” you sink your teeth into your bottom lip before you can finish as a moan nearly escapes you. “W-What did you give me?”

“You won't be fighting for long.” He laughs airily against your neck, close enough for each breath to kiss every cell along it. “You'll be begging.” His lips part to take your throbbing skin between them, you hiss as his teeth poke and scrape across you bruisingly yet deliciously.

He suckles the expanse of your collarbones, his mouth singing unspoken praises into your flesh, each a persuasive croon dictating the sways of your body even though no words are formed between his teeth.

You hate him. You hate how your pliant form joins his hymns in a sickening, yet pleasurable duet you can’t imagine stopping. Your thoughts shun the symphony enchanting your every move but your body refuses an encore.

“Nothing to say?” He asks and you hear the faint traces of cockiness spoiling his tone. “Don’t hold back your fight, I can take it.”

“Oh, screw you”, your head tumbles to his neck to try to sink your jaws into him but he stops you. “Y-Youre the most pathetic fuuuck I've had in a while.”

“Is that so?” The rough pads of his fingers tickle your senses as they move to caress your breasts, only to tear the fabric off of them once he realizes he can’t feel them in their entirety.

“Mhmmm, I've gotten better lays from a…c-cucumber.”

“Your body says otherwise, even though I’ve yet to really take you.” He takes a nipple into his mouth and you choke on air. Your eyes weld shut as your limbs surrender to the warmth molding around them, reaching deep into your bones and settling over them in fiery passion.

Every sensation is enhanced, a string of hair could stroke your heightened flesh and it’d feel like a million ants traveled along the plane of your skin, stamping their feet with each step.

It’s smothering. Paralyzing. Maddening. You can't help but feel the war is over before it’s even begun.

He retreats from you and you can only stare, glassy-eyed and shivering with your mouth making small o’s of disbelief, too resistant to the idea of pleading for his hands again.

“Is there something you want?” He asks, exposing your sex to the cool air.

“N-No”, you whimper, falling into him to try to hide each wail that’s sucked out of you in his chest, but he pulls you back. Wafts of spicy wood cologne mix with his musk to form a dizzying concoction, spurring on the clamping of your thighs.

“Look”, he guides your chin so that you can view the sticky, dripping mess between your legs. “Watch how your cunt purrs for me even from the slightest brush of my fingers.” He rubs lightly along your folds, caressing them in tantalizing lines, and like clockwork, your hole flexes and flutters, begging for his entry in puckering morse code. He presses a thumb to your peeking nub, ripe to be picked and prodded. “Should I touch you here too?”

You shake your head, too weak to utter any more cracking syllables and shaky words. But—oh—that stimulation is exactly what you need to feel complete.

How much longer can you withstand being suspended at the pinnacle of orgasm, tethering between wanting him to stop and wanting more?

“I can give you what you desire.”, he coos directly into your ear, his index breaching your walls, and running over the ridges with a humbling familiarity as if a map of your body exists in his very DNA. “Ask nicely, pet. This is your last chance.”

“Don’t want anything.” You refuse, and you’ll continue to do so even if you forget what it is you’re refusing. It’s becoming torturous. The continued denial of your cravings makes you lose sight of what’s beyond the strumming and winding of your sex, you fear you won’t remember what it is you're fighting for.

It's not enough, but who cares, you shouldn't crave anything more because it would mean becoming another success of his wicked practices and abandoning your friend.

She doesn't love you anyways, no one does. You thrash your head in refusal of the thought. Save her. It's the only way.

Whatever toxin that’s invading your system nearly forces you to go against your better judgment as it makes each thrust so wonderfully sweet and intense, until the growing haze of pleasure can't be ignored.

The flexing muscles of his wrist are hypnotic, twirling about inside you, you’re enamored by the veins that run along them, up, up his forearm to meet his sculpted biceps. In any other scenario, you’d have jumped at the chance to worship them, but his pride sickens you.

It’s better to look there, at his hands, than at his eyes, you think as something primitive inside you warns that making contact with them would dwindle the lackluster resolve you have left.

A gasp leaves you slack-jawed as his thumb toys with your clit, despite your wishes. Nothing coherent can be made out between your cacophony of sobs and pants, your teeth carve cuts into your lips to hinder them.

The slow rocking of your hips to meet the rhythm of his strokes marks the beginning of defeat in hard fought but pointless battle. You were his the moment a mere kiss was enough to torment your flesh with tingles.

Tears pierce your eyes, cooling the unhinged flame roiling beneath your skin as they trail down your cheek. You're going to cum—and you're going to cum now at this rate.

“Such beautiful sounds”, he says, noting the squelching pop of your fluids rolling around his hands. You're close, so searingly close. “But…”, he removes his hand from your cunt. “You’ve had your fill.” He swiftly takes your limp form into his arms, strapping you back to the chair with little resistance.

You begin to sigh with relief that it's over yet disappointment that you're unfulfilled, but then he moves away to fetch something that makes you wish you'd have begged like you should.

A sex machine gun is applied to the base of your bed. He adjusts the angle of it, positioning the dildo inside your cunt as you tremble wildly on your back. With a flick of a switch, the machine begins to piston inside you deep, but languid.

“No, wait!”, you howl as he makes his way toward the exit, leaving you to the whims of the thrusting device. “P-Please, I need you!”, you bemoan to deaf ears as the shaft knicks your sweet spots without providing the relief you need. “Please-Please, I’ll be good, sir. I need you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s too late for that, my dear pet”, Tiger smiles madly, hand already reaching for the knob. “Besides, I don’t think you understand the implications of your actions just yet.” The sight of his back and the eventual slam of the door shutting behind has you screeching in an attempt to sway your captor’s return.

But no else can hear your hoarse cries except you, and it's evident things will remain this way for a while.

#Yawara Chatora x reader #tiger x reader #wwp x reader #wild wild pussycats #wild wild pussycats x reader #tiger mha #Chatora Yawara x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #mha tiger #bnha tiger #kinktober 2023

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bluecookies02 · 2 years

Text

PRESENT MIC X TIGER nsfw; mdni

summary: Yawara and Hizashi have been flirting for months now, and after a rough fight they choose to act up on their feelings

cw: fingering, creampie, usage of daddy once teasingly, pinning, Tiger's phat pussy

word count: 2.5k

a/n: commission done for @the-cookie-guy

"Have I been here before?" Mic talks to himself, looking at the same shades of green for the past 10 minutes. His wounds were starting to tingle and burn quite a bit, and he knew that if he didn't find his way out soon he'll have to resort to yelling again. His vocal cords wouldn't appreciate that right now so he does his best to wake up his inner instinct that he abso-fucking-lutely doesn't have. But that doesn't stop him from convincing himself that he "feels the exit 'this way' " for the third time that night.

Despite having a long ranged quirk he always somehow got his fair share of injuries and he was once again left to drag his ass home.

It's what his job comes with and he wouldn't have it any other way, yet he hates the moment when he has to go to an empty home and scrap himself back together. Even someone as cheerful as him can have their spirit broken up sometimes, battles pick no favorites.

The adrenaline was still rushing through his body, and he was hyper-aware of his surroundings. Tall trees and thick bushes didn't give him any sense of security, terrain like this being his weakness, that's why he didn't let himself relax just yet. Soon he'll be out in the clear, and he can get all of the rest he deserved.

His mind recalls the fights, moments where he could've done better. He doesn't loathe it but he wants to make a great effort to improve. Since his quirk isn't as advanced in hand-to-hand combats he relies heavily on other people's protection sometimes. He replays the scene of his close colleague jumping in to fend off a handful of villains off his back, one after the other as he just stood there, caught by surprise. He didn't even see any of them, and he didn't pick up on any movements or sounds.

Finally, street lights shine from the end of the woods, making him sigh in relief.

He feels disoriented, the fight started while the sun was still out, and now he can see the moon through the leaves, shining down on him. He's not particularly tired physically, but his mind craves some deserved rest. Maybe he'll grab a drink or two with his friends or go and indulge in a late-night coffee with someone on the way.

He hears chatter, a familiar crowd of people sticking out on an empty street. He's immediately a bit better, soaking up in their liveliness. Some have bandages all around their limbs, ice packs pressed to their bruises yet they are still as cheerful as they were before. Not everyone had a spirit like theirs, if he could pick, he would always choose to go on missions with them.

As soon as someone can spot him, they are yelling his name, relieved and happy to see that he's okay.

He speeds up to the sidewalk, eager to join in.

"I'm sooo glad all of you are okay, that was a rough one out there" he gleams, rushing to greet everyone. He's a tad bit too loud, the control over his voice not worth the effort but thankfully no one seems to mind.

"Mhm! They scattered us around pretty well, it took ages to regroup! But with you, we have everyone here" Pixie chimed in, giving him a bottle of water and a first aid kit. He chose to sit on a bench, spraying some water on his surface injuries before deciding which ones are worth the bother of patching up.

"We have to go and assess the damage and give that boring report, but we believe Tiger can help patch you up and you both can join us for dinner later if you're not too exhausted!" Pixie urged, a wink sneaked in after she glanced at Tiger.

They were quick to leave, a bit too quick and Mic knew there was something suspicious. Well, he also knew what that "something" was, and he didn't mind. Being a wingman himself he saw right through the wingladies cheeky tactic.

"What took you so long" a teasing voice came above him, accompanying him on the bench.

"Sorry, not all of us are as familiar with this area as you, Tiger" he teased back, looking him up and down.

He barely had a scratch on him, the only telling sign that he was in any kind of fight would be the torn thigh highs and the mud on his skirt.

"Those look better that way anyway" Mic muses, watching as Tiger takes hold of the gauze, looking around to see if anyone was still close enough to hear.

"You're impossible" he comments, grinning like an utter fool.

"Aha, and you obviously can't resist my charms, at leasI try to hide it" Mic hikes up his shirt, showing the wound on his ribs.

"I'm pretty sure I just need this one taken care of, the other ones are child's play!" he pulls the shirt up a bit more than necessary, extremely bold with his efforts. It's been going on for months now and he was eager to finally push it in a more serious direction.

"Be gentle~" his muscles flex, and he's sucking in his stomach when the cold water hits his injury, trailing down to his belly button before Tiger secures everything with gauze and bandages. He lingers with his palm on his stomach, admiring how small Mic was compared to his large fingers.

Mic's face is flushed, embarrassed by the way his body shook and trembled at the cold, and he's ready to lower his shirt but he takes note of his colleague, his cheeks painted dark crimson and his lips tugged beneath his teeth.

"Don't tell me you're blushing...ah~ how unprofessional of you!" Mic tugs his shirt up further, watching Tiger's every move.

"I might have a nasty scratch somewhere here, why don't you take a look?" and he thinks it might've been too far when Tiger forces his shirt down, leaning dangerously close to his face.

"We don't want to end up on the cover of some tabloid now, don't we?" he pulls Mic up by his wrist, straightening himself out.

"My place is two blocks from here...I would assume-"

"Oh shit, yeah uhm, sure" Mic fails to hide his excitement as he's being pulled (more so dragged down the street). He passed out and this is all inside his head. He's positive.

He suddenly feels none of his injuries, adrenaline ringing in his ears. They're quick to fumble inside the apartment, and Tiger has him pinned against the door, his breath hot against his cheek.

It's not unusual for heroes to get tangled in various sexual relationships with each other. Work came with an awful lot of stress and responsibility so blowing off some steam was necessary once in a while. Mic sure put a ton of effort to get him this riled up, it wouldn't be a shame if this night was fleeting.

"You're vile, Hizashi, just asking me out on a date would've been fine" Tiger guides them to his room, messily kissing Mic and almost having him trip over all of his toys. Hizashi doesn't comment on it, but he finds it so painfully adorable, keeping the topic locked up for now until he wants to mess with him again.

"Well, a date would be too simple? No?" He mumbles, careful not to bump into something as he grabs Tiger by his forearms, pushing him back a bit.

The older man fights the whine threatening to spill past his lips, watching tentatively as Mic discards his headpiece, placing it on the bedside table.

"Don't tell me you didn't like all of the attention? The buildup? I'm the number one romantic in this town!!" He questions, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, kissing him once again, inching them towards the bed. His leg is propped between Yawara's thighs, his body weight leaning against the muscular man.

Tiger's heart thumps in his throat as his knees hit the bed, Hizashi following him right when his back hits the mattress.

Mic's lips crash into Tiger's and his touch is urgent, confident, already ghosting over any exposed patch of skin he can reach. He's barely letting himself breathe, holding the back of Yawara’s head as he mewls against his mouth. His boney fingers dip into the plush of his exposed thighs, the skirt he was wearing riding up to his hips.

They're soft now, the muscles he wore with confidence melting due to his quirk.

If they weren't so pent up, they could take their sweet time, but tonight, it would be agonizing. Months worth of courting each other caused them to act desperate and hungry, and in addition, they couldn't foresee that today would be the day it would all snap.

"You want this so bad don't you daddy? Someone to take care of you? Don't be shy!" It's not a real question, it's a sarcastic and playful remark, yet Yawara still nods, spreading his legs further apart. He already accepted that nickname from how often Mic used it, might aswell be a brat and ignore it out of spite.

Mic drags his tongue over his teeth, inching his fingers to his hips like he's contemplating if taking everything off is worth it. He looks so pretty like this, Hizashi wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't get a chance to see that skirt bouncing as he fucks the man, his dick throbbing at the thought. His fingertips slip over the wet patch of his panties, cooing at how warm it is, dipping further between his legs.

"I'm just playing nice 'Zashi, don't think I'll let you have your way every time" Tiger keens, his hand reaching down to push his underwear to the side.

And despite being so turned on right now, Mic's heart flutters at that last part, not being able to linger on the topic for longer now that he gets a glimpse of Yawara's pussy.

He makes an oath to have a good taste whenever that 'next time' happens. He might act tough now but if he got any more riled up than he already was, he might as well cream his own pants. That's definitely not a great first impression, right?

"What if you like it so much, you can't resist having me in charge again and again and again~..."

Slowly he works him open, stretching him out with care, showing him that he knows his body like the back of his hand despite touching it for the first time ever. That weird feeling of having your first night with someone and everything just slots into place.

Yawara struggles in his hold, grabbing ahold of his forearm, urging him to go deeper, even though his knuckles are fully pressed in, two fingers pumping in and out of his cunt.

"And what if I think that you're not that good?" he bites back when Mic's palm presses flush against his clit, deep, fast strokes of his fingers causing it to rub against the overly sensitive nub.

Mic hums, plastering his free hand over Tiger's crop top, his nails poking at the hardened nipples, flicking them gently as they become more and more prominent under the fabric. In contrast, his chest is soft to touch, tits jiggling with every violent thrust of his hand.

There's a hiss that leaves Yawara's lips, followed by a rough growl, thrusts of his hips becoming erratic and rushed.

Tiger drools, stealing glimpses of Mic's pants, the smell of him filling his senses. And maybe he doesn't even know it, but the subconscious sway of his hips against thin air gives out exactly how impatient he's getting.

"You anxious about fucking me properly?" Tiger urges, pulling Mic down for another long, sloppy kiss.

With a low groan, he unbuttons his belt, pulling Yawara's body to the edge of the bed so that he can line up with his hole, his clothed cock pressed flush against him, where his fingers were mere moments ago.

Tiger feels empty, and he's dangerously close to begging, the feeling in his tummy familiar, nearing his high.

Mic isn't as chatty anymore, his witty comments fading away when he takes his dick out of his boxers, sinking it inside Tiger's waiting pussy in one swift motion.

His cock twitched as soon as he bottomed out, his hips jerking into him out of instinct.

Mic was the only man Yawara knew, who could pound his pussy so ruthlessly while his hands still explored his body so sweetly. It was intoxicating, addictive and he needed more. He needed him. Despite him holding his hips down, he managed to sway his hips just right, meeting Mic's thrusts one by one. Mic's strong hands tangled in his skirt, using it as leverage as he fucked into the older man.

He admired the way his pussy took him so well, his cock disappearing all the way in and then coming back out. He was hazed, forgetting how much time passed as he plowed in and out of Yawara, the intoxicating rhythm putting a strain on his muscles as he couldn't have it in him to slow down.

Tiger was a mess, whines and cries coming from his sore throat as he begged for him to make him cum.

With a hard grip on his ass and more praise for the way he took him so well...that was it. He couldn't take it anymore. He was pounding that spot just right and his hands were sending shivers through him. He couldn't hold back anymore and Mic could tell. He was clenching down on him as he continued to slide in and out, eager to keep him inside or get him deeper.

Hizashi leaned over him, his body propped on his strong chest, hands sneaking under the small of Yawara's back.

He somehow became lighter, easier for Mic to raise up, until Mic noticed the structure of his body going slack, partially limp in his hold as Yawara stretched and tried to hold onto Hizashi.

His pace was deep and more meaningful, his cock dragging along the velvety walls that were squeezing him of every drop he had. The feeling of him throbbing as his warm cum painted his insides white threw Yawara over the edge, his legs shaking as he continued with small ruts into his shivering cunt. A particularly load moan came from Hizashi, the control on his quirk faltering. Yawara squeezed his legs tight around his torso, his back arching into the other man's grip.

Hizashi can now practically wrap his palms around his waist, his fingertips almost touching.

He curses himself for finding it hot, and amongst many kink, this might be the most unique one he's gonna develop.

Mic moves to pull his dick out slowly, smearing the cum that threatened to spill onto the sheets with the tip of his cock.

"So...can I take you out on a date?" Mic mumbled, letting out an airy laugh.

"Only if I get to make it even for this first." Yawa grins, adjusting his underwear back in place.

They are kinda awkward for a while until Tiger pulls Mic to his chest, letting him rest there until both of them are ready to get up. His limbs are somewhat normal now but he's soft enough for Mic’s head to sink comfortably into the plush skin.

“I probably should've warned you about my quirk…I'm sorry that you had to see that. I never managed to control it” Yawara sighs, ears turning red in embarrassment.

“...I'm gonna be honest, If I wasn't hard in the first place, that would make me pop a boner on the spot”

Mic moves to drape his arms over him, adjusting himself on his breasts. “Don't worry about it okay, I very much don't mind” he mumbles, his cheeks squished against his chest as he sinks deeper, exhaustion catching up. Yawara only hums in response, cuddling into him.

And if Yawara kept his end of the promise that same morning, he's to have a very uncomfortable few encounters with his neighbors.

You can see my commission info here! 💕

Tip Yar ☕️

#bnha #mha #present mic #tiger mha #tiger x present mic #yawara chatora #hizashi yamada smut #hizashi yamada x tiger #bnha present mic #hizashi yamada x yawara chatora #rare pair #present mic x reader #yawara chatora x reader #trans character #present mic x reader smut #bnha smut #mha smut #yawara chatora smut

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moron-hassaikai-and-more · 2 years

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On the Hero group chat

Present Mic: *posts a super low-quality image to the group chat*

Pixie-Bob: if I had a dollar for every pixel in this image I'd have 15 cents.

Present Mic: If I had a dollar for every ounce of rage I felt in my body after I read that text, I would have enough money to buy a cannon to fire at you

Mandalay: Actually I did the math. Pixie would have $255, not $0.15

Ragdoll: If I had a dollar i would by a can of soda =)

Present Mic: While you're there, could you buy me an appley juice please?

Ragdoll: Sorry Mic, I only have a dollar

Mandalay: Hey I fact checked with Tiger, Pixie would have $22,500 because it's a dollar for every pixel, not a cent.

Ragdoll: if I had $22,500, I would by a can of soda and an appley juice!

Mt Lady: you can buy anything you want with $22,500

Present Mic: yeah and she wants soda and apply juice!

Mt Lady: Apply Juice to what?

Tiger: Directly to the forehead.

Eraserhead: Great chat, everyone.

#mha incorrect quotes #pro heroes #eraserhead mha #aizawa mha #wild wild pussycats #ragdoll mha #Mandalay mha #tiger mha #pixie bob mha #present mic #yamada hizashi #mt lady

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chederick · 2 years

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#mha #sir x tiger #mcdonald’s #tiger mha #wild wild pussy cats #mha sir nighteye #im sorry #i thought it would be funny #crack ship

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rotting-creation · 2 years

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i was watching my hero and i noticed smth

see that 20XX at the end?

and here too

now i haven’t fully learned Japanese to the point that I can fully understand this but after using a reference from this reddit post, this sorta confirms mha is set BEFORE 2100 like many people believe.

Now, also considering the fact that they phones they use are like this this

AND tech isn’t hyper more advanced than now, plus the fashion is pretty similar to now, as is most culture and stuff (i.e. Mineta’s pervy stuff not really being seen as ok but also neither being stopped, girls being assumed weaker than men, see ep 22, but also no blatant misogyny, homophobia or transphobia, i.e. no one really questions Tiger from the wild wild pussycats or Magne, toga crushing on Uraraka and Midoriya is seen as normal, while it’s assumed that a guy shouldn’t go full force on a girl because they’re stronger, though that doesn’t matter in fighting, trust me i do kickboxing, it is very applicable for other things, the girls aren’t really ever subjected to actual misogyny) i think it’s relatively safe to assume that they’re only about 20-40 years into the future, maybe less as quirks might’ve rapidly sped up society evolving in technological advancement.

#mha #bnha #izuku midoriya #uraraka ochako #midoriya izuku #ochako uraraka #theories #mha theory #analysing #transgender #trans #magne mha #tiger mha #listen i was watching and i noticed this #i had to make a post ok?#send help #toga himiko #himiko toga

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habken · 1 year

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kung fu panda x bnha crossover doodles

+ panda!deku cause I couldn’t decide what I wanted him to be

#mha #bnha #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #deku #bkdk #bakudeku #dkbk #kacchan #my hero academia #boku no hero acedamia #kung fu panda #kfp #I hope the tiger reads as bakugou haha when I posted him before I think a few people were confused? maybe shouldve coloured him differently #I had a lot of fun posing them and trying to draw a little bit in the kfp style !! and love drawing bears so much the best animal #didn't want to board the whole thing but the last image before the panda art I was imagining this whole fight scene #w/ deku v kacchan vibes but like... when we were kids we both wanted to be dragon warrior.. but only I had the potential for kung fu #'I wanna know what made master all might choose you' lmao I just think it would be super funny like dramatic and then also just.... kfp...#habs art #doodles

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epickiya722 · 2 months

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I just think they would be friends. I just think they deserve happiness. I just think they're amazing.

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dailyfigures · 3 months

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Mirko ; My Hero Academia ☆ Bell Fine

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cryoverkiltmilk · 8 months

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mhabirthdays · 1 year

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Happy Birthday

Yawara Chatora (Tiger) – February 29th

#my hero academia #mha #mha yawara #mha chatora #mha yawara chatora #mha tiger #tiger mha #mha birthday #yawara chatora #chatora yawara #pro hero #pro hero tiger #february #february 29th

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myheromedia · 5 months

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The Pros! (Volume 22)

#bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #boku no hero manga #bnha manga #ryukyu #mha mirko #ms joke #mha gang orca #mha mandalay #mha ragdoll #mha tiger #mha pixie-Bob #rumi usagiyama #taishiro toyomitsu #mha pro heroes #bnha pro heroes

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tobegiggledat · 4 months

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The World Should be Cats

Ch. 2: The Cat Who Lost Its Claws

18+ CONTENT AHEAD MINORS DNI

✦pairing: Yandere!Tiger x afab!reader (no pronouns or physical descriptors)

✦word count: 6.3k

✦summary: You’ve been taken where “cats” go to be declawed. Everyone who leaves there knows nothing other than piously serving the evil hands that feed them, groom them and punish them—your friend is no exception. You want to save her from whatever sinister ideals infect her psyche, but you’re afraid it’s too late. What makes things worse is you’re afraid they might be corrupting you too…

✦warnings: noncon, drugging, kidnapping, cults, orgasm control/denial, bondage, exhibitionism/voyeurism, humiliation, master/servant, aphrodisiacs, begging, collaring, fingering, clit torture, pussy spanking, furniture play, sex toys, vibrators, objectification, over-stimulation, mind break, oral sex, Tiger has a pussy, questionable quirk use

✦a/n: *purrs at you* (I lost my mind while writing this)

Read Ch.1 here!

Around a few hours must have passed since the fucking machine was first attached to you. Your legs continue to sting from the stretch of the spreader while your cunt has almost, almost managed to tune out the monotonous thrusting that afflicts it. A throbbing ball of flesh rests where your clit used to be, twitching and pulsing as if it’s a separate organism taking its own desperate breaths for a relief it’ll never receive. You’re certain you could drench several sponges with the fluids of your arousal alone. Not to mention your sweat, which coats your skin in a damp sheen as the air is heavy with moisture thick enough to make a small cloud.

The door to your torture chamber parts to reveal a wiry woman with glasses; “Hina” they called her. You survey her every movement, fingers blanched from being pulled into a stiff fist.

“Get away from me, bitch”, you hiss, although your words slip off her like oil.

She approaches you with a calm sway in her hips before she reaches to jam her nails into your cheeks. Once your lips are parted, you howl in pain as a cocktail of pills is forced down your throat, followed by a hefty stream of water you have no choice but to sloppily gulp to avoid choking. It’d be a terrible demise to suffocate at the hands of your captors, but when the main villain inevitably enters the room, you begin to think it wouldn’t be that bad.

“Bitch?” Tiger questions in his annoyingly cocky tone. “You're mistaken, we have no dogs here. Cats don't take too kindly to them.”

You scoff at that. “If you’re here to torture me, you’re going to have to do better than a bit of edging”, you goad. “I’ve gone months without cumming when I was with my shitty ex, so this is nothing.”

He smirks as he drops on the stool beside your restraints then cups your jaw. “Such a pretty mouth, it begged so nicely just before.” His thumb sweeps over your lips. “Although, I can hardly appreciate it when it’s always moving to say unsavory things.”

You part your mouth to let the warmth of the digit settle on your tongue, lathering the surface with saliva and drawing it further in. Your eyes betray the venom of your intent as you sink your teeth into his thumb, hard enough to cringe at the feel of your molars meeting bone.

A long chuckle crawls from his lungs, so deep and revertebrating you shudder. “I’ll try to cherish every moment of breaking you. Your type never tends to last long.”

You spit him out. “And I’ll cherish every moment of stomping your neck beneath my heel.”

“You’ve got fangs but they’re no match for mine.” The damp finger crosses the planes of your stomach before settling over the mess between your thighs.

He views your state in poised bliss, prodding your sore folds and pinching your pulsing nub in a clinical manner—a mad scientist stalking over his wretched creation.

“Fuck”, you hiss as he tugs at your clit and snaps it back like a meaty rubber band.

Tug and snap. Tug and snap. His fingers regurgitate the motion like the programming for his other movements have been hijacked.

His hand slashes up through the air, raising toward the luminous overhead lights then stretching and thinning, from the use of some sort of pliability quirk, into the shape of a riding crop. With pinpoint accuracy, the whip shaped digit collides with your clit in a throttling smack. You groan through the gritting of your teeth. A shameful bloom of arousal blossoms from the site, curdling with the burning sensation sautéing beneath your skin.

He presses firmly over the aching region. “Should I make this easier for you—”

Smack.

“A smart cat doesn’t expose their belly to just anyone as it's a sign of trust—”

Smack. Smack. Smack.

“Why? Because having your most vulnerable spots on display puts you at risk”, he continues as he winds your clit. “Consider your position, pet. It is more than just your belly on display before me.”

Misty tears glitter your eyelashes at the searing pain. “D-Doesn’t matter, I’m human”, you sniffle. Your walls flex around the toy of the machine still thrusting inside you with each of his rough passes. Feral desire builds in your nethers, licking the sides of your sex and broiling in your gut, but to call it a proper orgasm wouldn’t be quite right.

“To be a cat is a philosophy and way of life, the two aren’t mutually exclusive.” He rubs your pearl in harsh swirls but it’s already too raw for it to be pleasurable. “I’m trying to help you. If you can be broken by me—which I’m most certain you can be—then you're no match for the real world. You are meant to be domesticated by someone worthy enough. Is that not what you want most out of life, to fall in the hands of a loyal protector?”

“I can’t take you seriously with my pussy being slapped—”

Smack. Smack.

“You know the circumstances prevent me from going easy on you, but I’m willing to talk.”

“I don’t need any therapeutic talk, especially—ouch—coming from the likes of you”, you fight a shriek. “I don't think you’re actually trying to change any minds here. You intend on forcing your ideals on me eventually. Plus, it’s not like you can give me what I truly want out of life anyways.”

“What is it you want?”

“I want my friend back. She’s the only thing that matters to me.”

“And why is that?

“I don't need to answer youuaugh”, you groan as his touches become fleeting and teasing.

“You'll find that answering me can be rewarding. So what is it, pet?” He gives more soothing swipes to your clit, attempting to coax your compliance but you don’t utter a word.

The silent refusal cues another cycle of slaps, each wet thwap alighting you with a pounding throb.

The conflicting sensations of arousal and agony seem to border one another as pressure builds in your core, threatening escape—but what should’ve been an orgasm never arrives, it sizzles away like a defused bomb even with the attention given to your clit.

“If you’re trying to cum, you can’t—not with the added serotonin to your system”, he says. Your disappointment must be palpable.

Smack. Smack.

“V-Very sciency—mmm—didn’t know there was a thing for that.” Your throat concocts a strained moan, eyelids fluttering at the weight of the pain.

He hums in agreement. “I can be quite imaginative with my punishments.”

Smack. Smack. Tug. Snap. Smack. Tug. Snap. He fiddles with your pussy like a meaty bongo.

Twistedly, you can’t help but ponder if he’s just as creative with his rewards. The thought shouldn’t please you but it thoroughly does. You’re grinding wildly against his hand, tongue lolling and dampening your tearing lips as you chase a high you’ll never get but can’t fight against trying to obtain.

Please. Please. Please. You recite within the confines of your head, desperate to keep it from escaping.

“Your dear friend insisted you'd need the cruelest of punishments to get you to convert to our ways. I thank her for the warning because it makes planning all too easy.”

“Y-You got into her head just like you're trying to do to me. She had no choice.”

“She was the one who suggested you for recruitment, not the other way around.”

Your thoughts are plagued with the memory of her tranquil expression as she recounted events that sound like horrors to the normal person. Doubt reawakens in your gut.

“It doesn't matter, either way. I forgive her for it”, the lie slips from you easily. “I'll stop at nothing to save her regardless of what she’s caused me.”

“Admirable effort, but you should see things from where I stand.” His hand swipes at your features before he displays his glistening palm. “It’s as if a river current passed over your face.” He smirks in satisfaction as his eyes begin to trail over your form. “And you’re trembling like a newborn fawn. Your body has already begged for you, why can’t your head do the same.”

When your muscles start to fight against you, with your lips beginning to shape into the syllables needed to make a small plea, he calls for Hina.

“Don’t get your hopes up. This is only the beginning”, he hastily adds.

When Hina arrives, a needle is jammed into your arm, and you all but graciously welcome the comfort of sleep.

In a bedroom void of windows, your eyes part to the warm white lighting of an arrangement of bulbs poking from the ceiling.

Your muscles remain blighted from hours of immobility, yet the hospital bed was swapped for the plush mattress beneath you as deep fuchsia covers tangle around your limbs and a cat-eared headboard holds a silk pillow beneath your neck.

You're never given that moment of clarity one would usually possess upon waking up. The pain tormenting your lower lips is instant and debilitating, in fact, it seems to grow with each movement.

Fruity tones of perfume swamp your senses as you slip throughout the room, noting the other tacky feline-themed embellishments that line the walls. True to its style, an elaborate scratching post that extends from roof to floor lies at the center of it all. Knitted balls on string tassel the thick, glittery-green yarn that adorns the pole while a shelf curves down around it from top to base. Whether the piece exists for design purposes or not is unknown, but the idea of being expected to use it makes you want to gnaw your lips to slivers.

Your skin is clear of yesterday’s stickiness, and while the smooth cleanliness brings you comfort, you tremble as it suggests someone else has bathed you while you were incapacitated. This discomfort is heightened further upon glimpsing at the ridiculous cheetah patterned shorts encasing your thighs to match the fluffy-edged crop top and red bow on your chest. You feel a gust of wind against your buttcrack and when you swiftly trail your fingers along the back of your pants to meet the source, your index snags on a neatly cut opening.

Fuck no.

You make a dash toward the closet at the opposite end of the room, nearly throwing the sliding doors off their hinges to look for something else to wear, but there’s no suitable replacement. Every piece is tailored to be tight and revealing. There isn’t a single neon leotard, polka-dot bow or stretchy v-neck that doesn’t make your stomach toss.

Before you’re able to brew with any more disgust, anger settles over your nerves at the sight of pink-lined, piercing yellow eyes.

“Mornin’, kit kat!” Ragdoll chirps, food tray in hand as she enters with your friend tucked at her side. “Hope you had a good cat nap. Mar Mar here will be your guide as you make your transition here. Once you’ve settled, she'll take you to meet the rest of the clowder today.”

Mar Mar?

“Here’s brunch since you already missed your first two meals.” Ragdoll paces your direction. Wafts of smokiness hit your nostrils as a tray of succulent grilled river-fish, fluffy rice and tender vegetables is handed to you.

“Also, you’re free to try to escape as you please…”she adds. Eyes dark and lips curved mischievously, she bares her talons. “But it's not like you’ll get very far.” She threatens before she struts away with a feline-esque pounce in each of her steps, leaving you to shift in the silence of an awkward reunion with your friend.

“I love Ryuko and I love being here, so please don't be worried.” The chords of your most unwanted memory are struck at the sight of her.

“Morning! Shall I begin with the house rules?” your friend says, cheerfully. If she’s aware of any tension, she doesn’t mention it.

You nearly choke on a hefty gulp. “About the other day—”

“Excellent!” she says while humming with misplaced excitement. “Since it's your first day, you were allowed to sleep in, but tomorrow you must be awake by at least 09:00 for breakfast. There is no set time for sleep so you’ll be fine to go to bed at any hour as long as you wake up on time. Naps are also permitted.”

You can’t listen as closely as you’d like to with the jarring way she recites the very rules that corrupted her. Every bite of food tastes bland on your palate despite the use of rich seasonings.

“You're to refer to the other cats by the names given to them by their owners or some variation of ‘kitty’”, she continues. “So you’d call me Mar or Margay.”

Despite her instruction, you recite her old name once more, breathy and soft, almost like a plea.

“No-No-No”, she wags her head. “It's M-aar-gaay. Or M-aar”. Her tongue flips dramatically with each syllable. “You haven't been formally named yet so I'll just call you kitten for now. However, our owners are to be addressed with a title, like sir, master, etc.”

“I’m not responding to anything other than my actual name”, you bark.

“You have to, silly. It’s the rules.”, she scolds you as if you’re a child. “Anyways, onto the next; You’re not allowed to touch yourself or others in a sexual manner unless given explicit permission to do so by your owner. Failure to comply with house rules will result in punishment followed by a week's shunning.”

“What’s a shunning?”

“When a cat is shunned, all the other cats must avoid interacting with them. Their owner may visit them from time to time, but contact is limited. Failure to participate in shunning another cat will result in two weeks shunning for you as well.”

“Have you ever been punished?”

Her eyes glaze over as her blinks slow to a stop. She pouts her lips slightly before tugging it back into a taut grin.

“Cats must not leave their rooms without wearing their tail and ears”, she continues like she was never interrupted. She shifts to retrieve a suede, circular box from the silvery nightstand beside your bed. “Shall I help you dress? The first time can be tricky—”

You snatch the box, internally cringing as you’re met with the sight of a butt plug upon opening it. “Absolutely not. I’ll do it myself.” You’ll begrudgingly comply with these debauching tasks if it means finding a way of escape—but first, you’ll need to get an idea of what the other cats are like.

Her unwavering smile grows tighter. “You are allowed to roam the mansion freely, although the doors leading outside can only be opened with a fingerprint. Access to them is given to those who gain the trust of the Owners.”

She lists off a few other rules about getting along with the other cats and the scheduled times for meals. Food is accessible at all times, but you’ll have to show up during designated meal hours even if you don't eat.

“More rules may be given to you by your Owner, but you'll be expected to follow the basic ones before the day is up. It can be hard to remember all of them at first, so I got you a pamphlet so you don't forget.” She hands you a silky, folded paper reminiscent of a cult brochure.

“Once you get dressed I can take you to meet the other cats.”

I am dressed. You wish to refute but it’d be wasted breath.

“Fine, just give me a moment.” Box in hand, you shuffle to the bathroom in your fuzzy slippers that have their own whiskers.

You ogle the puffy striped-tail, resting neatly in the box on your bathroom’s marble countertop, for a while before you steel yourself enough to attempt inserting. You place a dollop of lube around the head of it, gritting your teeth as you thread the slippery bulb through the hole in your shorts before shivering at the cold gel slicking your walls.

You waddle out the bathroom penguin style, pointy ears on head and flinching with each stuffy step. Your friend seems to be delighted at the sight of you.

“You look purrrfect!”, “Mar” squeals. “Now, let's start the tour!” You fight against your blaring instincts to bolt as you trail after her, silently.

“These hallways contain the cats’ bedrooms, but they’re hardly occupied because our Owners prefer it if we sleep with them”, she explains just outside your door. “Their rooms are in the wing opposite of this one.”

As you traverse along the porcelain tile, you notice the rest of the decor is surprisingly tasteful with a olive-green coat and curled borders lavishing the living room walls and traditional art pieces lining most of the interior. Large windows allow you to overlook the backyard’s neatly-trimmed meadow as it sits beneath the warm smudges of orange and turquoise that paint the evening sky. And while you can’t see anything beyond flowery pastures, your heart seizes beneath your ribs imagining the possibilities.

I can break that glass, you plot to yourself before turning to follow your friend to see what else awaits.

The next stop is behind a set of wooden double doors, and upon opening them, you’re greeted with a barrage of flashing strobe lights and the ticking and grunting of arcade machines.

“This is the game room”, Mar says amidst the click-clacking of balls being struck repeatedly.

They’re two others occupying the room, the one with white and black cat ears hooked over a pinball machine catches your glance.

“Hey, you’re the new kitty I’ve been dying to rub noses with”, he says loopily as he approaches.

“Not literally, of course”, he clarifies upon seeing the dismay you fail to conceal. “I’m Lyon by the way.” When he smiles, his skin looks as if it’s melting. He points back to the “cat” behind him whose right arm repeats a propelling motion, preparing to aim a dart. “The one ever there is Lynx and we’re both owned by Ragdoll. They’re the real quiet type, but they’re goofy once you get to know them.”

Lynx gives a polite wave before firing to hit the triple ring on the dart board.

You give a small smirk. “Nice to meet you”, you say, outstretching a hand toward Lyon which he takes firmly.

“Mar’s been really excited about you coming. She’s gone on and on about how you’d be a good fit, but what do you think? Have you gotten settled in yet?”

You opt for telling the truth put nicely. “It’s certainly a lifestyle I’ve never considered before…I’m not sure if settling is something I’ll ever do.”

“Sounds a lot like my first time, but the Owners were very thorough in their methods. I came around eventually, and I love it here.” His droopy grin returns and the eeriness of it is certain to be imprinted on your synapses for the rest of the day.

What is it about this place that makes everyone’s eyes so vacant?

After you’ve finished your greetings, the tour begins anew, although the only promising bit you’ve gathered is that access can potentially be granted to the outside, even if the process is lengthy. Any rooms that can be used for escape, such as the tech room and the garden also utilize the fingerprint system.

Chants of hazy sighs and moans echo off the walls, and as you follow Mar further into the mansion, you twist every direction to determine whether they’re genuine or hallucinations.

Turning a corner, you snag on the sight of Mandalay pressing a man against a wall, his hunched form grinding into her as his head rests against her shoulder. One of her hands rhythmically stroke at his cock while the other tugs at a leash around his collar.

“Don't be too surprised, that’s a typical occurrence”, Mar nearly bops heads with you to murmur into your ear. “Our Owners can be insatiable, but I don’t mind it.” She giggles like a schoolgirl.

“Anyways, that over there is Munchkin. I think you’ll like him, everyone does.” She points to the man glossy with sweat.

He meets your eyes and his lips curve, impishly. You have a full-body shiver.

When dinner time arrives, the crew gathers to sit at a long dining table, each person seating themselves in a leather chair shaded a hue of red. A wispy, spider-like chandelier illuminates the paw print wallpaper and speckles shadows across the frilly placemats and tablecloth.

Your attention flits around the large selection of foods, salivating at the crisp tempura and gyoza, the warm, savory curry and the soft, silky tofu. A sweet vanilla aroma hovers before you as a bowl of taiyaki is slid in your direction, which you help yourself to with the plastic utensils you’ve been given (everyone else has metal ones). The waffle-like exterior crunches with each bite while the sugary bean paste coats your tongue and sticks to your teeth.

You’re seated across from Munchkin whose peculiar mannerisms extend to the dining table as he probes a sliver of beef before inspecting his fork.

You’re desperate for conversation with him, but as you attempt to reach out, his focus shifts to the opposite end of the table, and following his gaze there gives you the reason why.

Standing at the head, is Tiger and Mandalay. Mandalay raises a champagne glass to tap the edge of it three times with a knife like a bell.

“The World Should be Cats”, the group hymns, but your lips remain sealed.

You’ll never grow used to that creepy Pavlov shit.

Mandalay looks at Tiger expectantly then returns to her seat.

“Good evening, cats and companions”, Tiger greets, a plastic smile gracing his features. “As you all know, tonight’s dinner is a very special one with our latest addition to the house, who I’d like to formally introduce.” He locks gazes with you. “Can you come over here for a moment?”

Your throat knots, but you nod, walking over to cement yourself the closest to him you can muster. You’re keenly aware of his warmth as he’s beside you.

“I’d like you all to meet the latest addition to our family—the fierce yet lovable; Pallas!”

You feel like a circus animal standing amongst the blaring round of applause, but you reject the idea of putting on a show they’ll actually enjoy. You’re more of a Tiger than the man beside you, you think. If you’re a cat, you’re a wild, deadly one. You’ll roar and claw at any tamer who opposes you, enduring every harsh thrash of the whip meant to keep you in line.

Cool metal meets your skin as a collar with the dreaded name, Pallas etched in calligraphy is placed around your neck.

You swat at Tiger’s fingers before the chain can be secured. “Like hell my name is Pallas”, you snarl.

All eyes widen as they snap to meet you, a few gasps tumble from gaping lips, but your resolve is unwavering.

“I’m meant for far greater than serving you creeps—we all are.” You turn to meet the stare of the other cats but they’re still enlarged with suspicion. “I’m going to save the rest of you”, you say, brimming with conviction. “And you.” You peer at your friend. “You’re not Margay because that’s not who I fell in love with.”

Her gaze hastily falls to her lap. “Pallas, please, not now”, she says softly.

To hear such a debasing name emit from the voice of someone you care about makes your stomach pit, icy-hot anger lashing through your veins.

It's all his fault!

You dash for the nearest plate, hurling it on the ground then bending to clench the largest broken shard in your palm. “My name’s not fucking Pallas!” You point the piece at Tiger, waving it near his lashes, panickedly.

“Careful, Pallas. If you keep this up you'll be punished”, Munchkin intervenes, and for some reason he grins here as well. Your breath catches in your throat. The feeling of something dizzying penetrates your skull and makes your determination wane, but you're hasty to shake it off.

“Living here is already punishment enough!” You shake with each word. “I just want to know why I’m here. There are plenty of other people like your fans or whoever who’d do this willingly, so why me?”

“Because I chose you”, Tiger says calmly. He steadily approaches as if you’re a feral creature, arms splayed and inviting, but you begin to step away. “Once I’ve set my sights on something, I’ll do anything to have it.”

“Well, I’m not yours to keep!” You lurch for Tiger, tempted to take him down even with all his muscle and the history of heroic feats he’s gained as a result of them.

I’m the fucking Tiger!

A hand is stretched out to wrap around your body, securing your torso in a rope of Tiger’s flesh. Your world is tossed every which way as you tumble toward the ground from the brunt of his shove in retaliation. You thrash around like a cat in the bath as he plucks the shard from your palm with ease.

It’s not over. “I-I’ll make a deal with you”, you pant against his features as they hover above you. “Let my friend go and I’ll—I’ll stop trying to put up a fight.” There’s still a chance.

His face crinkles into a grimace. “I don’t need you to hand over your cooperation when I can simply take it”, he says, haughtily. “Do you really think you can bargain with the likes of me?” He flips you so that your stomach is pinned to the ground as his knee finds the dent of your back to keep you there. Like clockwork, Hina arrives out of thin air to provide the proper ropes needed to secure your hands behind your back before you’re brought up to your knees. “Bring me the rest of my tools; tray, gag, everything”, Tiger orders.

Hina nods, swiftly retreating towards the storage room while you’re dragged across the mansion by the throat for what feels like a mile.

Your body is flung onto the expensive, wool carpet of his bedroom and stripped completely.

“Let this be another lesson for an unruly kitten like you”, he says as he obtains a spreader to place between your kneeling legs. The assortment of random objects that Hina arrives with has your mind reeling at how they’ll all connect.

“Another?” You question. “What makes you think this one will be any different? You’re clearly not skilled enough to get it right the first time.”

He doesn’t answer as he continues to strap you up with urgency. You can’t tell whether to be satisfied you’ve put an end to his remarks or terrified at what awaits.

A tray neckpiece akin to a beverage hawker is placed around your upper body as a wearable vibrator is secured to your sex with the leather straps meeting at your backside.

One by one, he methodically places the gold-accented liquors and shot glasses from his cherry-oak desk onto the tray.

A slurry of humiliation and arousal churns your system when the vibrator thrums to life and you’re forced to wobble awkwardly to prevent yourself from keeling over.

“Listen carefully, pet.” He holds your chin. “You are to stay put until I deem you too weak to be a proper cup holder. It may take 3 hours, 8, who knows, but you’ll hold still throughout it. Move too much and spill my drinks, it'll only last longer. Is that clear?”

You nod but his hand finds your neck.

“Y-Yes, Sir”, you gasp as sharp arousal begins to stir in your cunt.

Even with every mental brigade you’ve set, your mind unconsciously tumbles to the idea of what lengths he’d go to reward you instead of punish you. Your walls abruptly clench as you’re propelled over the cusp of your first of what will be many climaxes.

And like a masochist, you reluctantly recall how his fingers stretch, thinking of how they could mold to the shape of your insides despite your cunt accelerating toward overstimulation. You cum much quicker than before from the heightened sensitivity, a brazen cry parts your lips.

It feels rejuvenating to climax after being denied for so long, but deep down you know you’ll come to regret it.

You feel the weight of something slide across the tray and you clumsily lean backward to stop a bottle from falling in the nick of time.

Tiger laughs at your franticness, you furrow your brows and bare your teeth.

“Take it all in.” He looks over your weeping form. “And remember how easily I can make your pleasure a never ending pain.”

A scowl forms easily on your features despite the throbbing of your nethers, but he ignores it, opting to leave you alone and basking under the glow of the lamplight.

He claims this is all for your benefit yet you’ve seen firsthand how it has drained your friend to a subservient husk.

That won’t be you. You’ll save her, right? You’ll save—

You succumb to your third climax. Then the fourth. Then the fifth. Then the sixth.

Your entire lower half is sweltering throughout the duration of an unintentional kegel workout as your walls contract rapidly around hollowness. Your pussy has its own rhythm, seizing and puckering from the unwanted stimulation, that rivals the beat of a hummingbird's wings.

The bottles begin to clink and jolt across the tray from the magnitude of your trembling thighs. Hot globs of tears soak your chin, caking from the waves of sobs that wash over you in increments. Your back aches at the weight sitting across your chest while your knees threaten to snap close with them pushing so heavily against the spreaders you’re afraid it might fold like a tin can.

You don’t know where one orgasm ends and another begins.

Your insides feel like scorching glass on a stove, with the heat in your body gradually rising and rising at the tormenting of your folds until you shatter—squirt trickles down your leg from your nth climax. The bulb in your ass presses against your most sensitive parts, aiding the extension of your pleasure fits.

You begin to familiarize yourself with the furniture of his room; cumming with each Victorian picture frame and music poster you count. Your limbs long to stretch across his pillowy canopy bed as much as your pussy craves a moment of clarity.

Amidst the silence, your thoughts drift to “Mar”, after all, she marks the very beginning of your circumstances.

“I’ve already found love”, she said after abandoning you. “I love Ryuko”, she said after pumping you with drugs. “I love being here, stop worrying about everything”, she said after you attempt to save her despite it all.

What’s the point of fighting if you're doing it for someone who doesn’t want to be saved?—No, that's not—

Hushh. That piercing feeling from before returns with a vengeance, liquefying your brain into a spasming glob of pudding.

He can save you. You can be a part of this family and permanently reunited with your friend once more.

He’ll love you, he’ll take care of you. An Owner loves his cat more than anything else in the world, right?

You cum harder than before.

After at least a few hours of brutal assault against your clit, Tiger wordlessly returns, shaking you as he dents the edge of the mattress you’re pressed against. He reaches over you without regard to swipe up a bottle of burgundy liquid before filling one of the glasses and pressing it to his lips.

“S-Sir”, you sob, not recognizing the strained, throaty voice that comes out of you.

He mirthfully chuckles, the sharp lines of his face creasing deeply when he goes to stroke your cheek.

His fingers drag down your skin to tap at your lips and you unhinge them to accept the silent order. “Furniture doesn’t talk.” His voice rustles you from your dream-like state. The light from behind him shines around his head like a halo and for a moment you can briefly accept him as your angel.

“So docile, and only after a few hours.” He makes a sound of disapproval. “Might be a new record.”

You should be humiliated at your compliance, but instead you’re only betrayed at the thought of there being others before you.

He’ll love you, he'll take care of you. You’ll be the best he’s ever had, you’ll be special to someone.

You take his fingers further into your mouth, peering up at him all glassy-eyed and desperate to please.

In an odd display of softness, he allows you the mercy of resting your head across his lap, but he pays you no mind.

You moan against him, careful not to grind your teeth into his fingers, even against the brunt of your orgasms.

“Not biting this time, are you?” He asks almost mockingly. His fingers retreat from your mouth and you fight a whine at the loss.

“It pains me too when I have to do this to you.” His wet fingers caress your cheek. “My dear Pallas. You’ve been so strong for me, haven’t you?”

Amidst the daze of your perpetual bliss, you unconsciously nod against his lap, no longer twitching at the repulsiveness of the nickname.

You think his mercy has been extinguished when he swiftly reaches for the vibrator wrapped around you, but he only removes it along with the bottles and neck piece.

“ ‘m sorry, Sir”, the words are yanked from your trembling lips as if it were life or death. “ ‘m sorry. I—”, more broken apologies tumble from you and coagulate the rigid air.

“You did well, Pallas.” The milky pools in his eyes melt you as his praise warmly settles over your skin.

Pallas. He whispers it so breathily, delicately picking apart each syllable as if it’s fragile.

Why were you ashamed of such a beautiful name?

“I only pick the strongest among the pack to mold, you mustn't feel shame in being mine. Feel pride, feel fortunate that you’ve found someone who can make use of you in ways no one else could.”

His encouragement makes you wonder how his praise would feel in a situation in which you were truly worthy of it.

Of course, he’d never leave you—not after all he’s done to mold you into his perfect companion. Why hadn’t you seen this from the start?

With potent arousal still circulating your nerves, you find yourself mouthing at the fabric of his skirt and soaking it with drool. As your enthusiastic ministrations near his sex, he holds your head still, taking in the sight of your puckering lips.

“Please, Sir. I want to”. You paw at him lovingly.

In a swift motion, he tears his garments away with a mere curl of his index. “Show me how badly.”

You shift your thighs together while your eyes are blown with want. Your lips latch on the apex between his thighs, fervently going at the pebble with long licks then curling teasingly at his opening below it.

The smoothness of skin melding with your own washes away the belief that you belong anywhere other than on your knees before him.

Your nose nuzzles into the lightly cut patch along his slit, your tongue flicking tenderly across, becoming familiar with the textured planes of his skin.

He releases a low grumble and hot dampness begins to spread in your lower half as the affectionate sound reignites your pleasure. The tight pressure of his thighs against your head fills you with a sense of security while his thick musk stuffs your head, suffocating and thick like cotton.

The feel of his palms on your scalp, stroking you encouragingly has your eyes twitching shut, and lashes fanning like a parasol to bathe in the gentleness of his touch.

His juices glaze your lips, the taste an elixir to the ailment of your desire. With each of his soft sighs, your nerves buzz erratically in harmony with them as you purr into his cunt.

“Thisss is what you’re meant for”, he says breathily, his fingers burrowing deeper into you. “Your mouth should be for sucking my cunt and nothing else. It feels better around your lips than words, doesn’t it?”

You devoutly nod into him, too reluctant to pull away from his sopping folds.

The curved expanse of your back, head bobbing happily between his legs and hole plugged with a pretty tail is the ideal form, he thinks. He cums at the view of your submissive presentation, more of his fluids trickling down your chin which you eagerly lap up.

You blink up at him through your lashes in awe of the rise and fall of his chest and the flushing of his tan features.

He pulls you up on your wobbling legs to place you onto his lap before capturing your lips with his own, bitter with the taste of alcohol, and creating a wet, sticky and warm tunnel between you. His tongue grows to suit every divot of your mouth, letting not even an atom escape past the choking intrusion as it sucks and curls along your teeth. He expands a bit more until he's touching the back of your throat and you shakily slurp around him as if breathing were an inconvenience.

It is only when dots speckle your vision that the heat of him disappears to leave your lips damp and desperate. “Meow for me, my Pallas”, he whispers, breath brushing over you.

Your fingers delve into the stretchy fabric of his hero costume, brushing against the hardness beneath it while your head tilts to meet chiseled black diamonds.

“Meooww”, you comply, skin prickling with goosebumps. When you go to tuck your head against him to hide your embarrassment he tugs at your neck.

“Don’t hide from me, pet. You make such pleasant sounds.”

His approval sends spine-tingling ripples through you.

Something warm and textured swipes at your aching nub in tantalizing motions, the stroke of it which you recognize as the unmistakable curve of of his perfect, stretched fingers as they begin to stimulate each dent in your walls. You think this feeling is a distant, falsified memory and that the very idea of such a touch could’ve never been granted to you after being denied it for so long.

When he graciously throttles you over the summit, a long whine is strung from your diaphragm, shaking and boisterous. Cumming from his touch is far different from the feel of the toy; it’s calculated as it manages to convince your overworked parts to eagerly comply.

It was agonizing to go so long without the feel of him, you’d forgotten that it was what you needed most.

“Who are you?” He asks as if sensing the drastic shift in your demeanor.

You’re a stranger to your past self.

You swell with satisfaction. “I’m Pallas, Sir. And I am yours forever.”

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