[18+ Yandere Meowscarada x Reader] I'll Make Them All Disappear!

8 | Insanity's Scent

"Meowscarada!! My clothes!!"

You swiftly shield your privates with your hands. Paying for your actions, Meowscarada has taken your clothes. Yeah. All of them in the snap of a finger. It's been some time since she did that, and the last times were certainly not as bad as right now. Right now she's not trying to seduce you or peek at your special parts. She's forcefully trying to wash you. The scent of Cinderace on you drives her insane.

"My damn clothes!" you repeat. She ignores you and pushes you harshly into the shower. "Ugh!" You hit the wall, willing yourself to move out of here. But it's already too late. The feline snaps her fingers, summoning thick vines that coil around your limbs. Before you can register your imprisonment, both your legs, arms, and even your neck are all tied to the wall.

You struggle to no avail. Meowscarada has the tightest hold on you and she isn't letting you go until you don't smell like that slut bunny anymore. The scariest part is, she's deathly silent. Everyone knows the worst kind of anger comes in the form of dead silence. Only then does this emotion blossom into something much more terrifying than obnoxious outbursts of rage.

"I swear it isn't what you think!!" you cry. "You don't have to manhandle me, damn!!"

A vine shoots out from your binds and smacks you across the face as if telling you to shut up. And it's quite effective. You zip your lips and let Meowscarada do as she pleases with your body. The only problem is that you're totally open, unable to cover yourself up. You feel so exposed. So vulnerable.

Washing like a madman, Meowscarada cleans every inch of your body with your loofah. Every nook and cranny. Every minuscule crevice in your skin. Every. Single. Inch.

You're squirming uncontrollably as she does so, but it's useless. Resisting makes the grassy binds further tighten around your limbs. Making noises receives no response from the furious feline. Telling her to cut it out makes her scrub your body faster.

And pretty soon, she's about done with most of your body. All that's left are your privates. You realize what she must be thinking. No hesitation. Her eyes catch onto your lower half, her frantic bathing paused. Meowscarada looks into your eyes. You return the gaze, yours desperate and pleading, hers determined and far too resilient for your safety.

"Don't even think about it," you whisper.

Never, out of all the times Meowscarada snuck into the shower with you, have you let her near your crotch. Aside from the last time she managed to push her rear into you, she has never laid a finger on your no-no square. And you have never laid a finger on hers. She's a cat. She cleans herself. And she modestly respects the notion that you can wash your own crotch.

Unfortunate for you, that concept and understanding has been thrown out the window. Right now, Meowscarada doesn't care what you're capable of. She doesn't care what you think or feel or prefer because all she can see is red. All she can envision is the body of that ugly Cinderace taking advantage of you.