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

✿ No Nut November | Winter is Coming, and So Am I

Flashback Chapter 07.

"Yeah, anyway, once I saw a lil' Floragato and her trainer walking down the street, and the cat was looking up at him like he'd told her tonight's dinner would be dick. The way she was lookin'... naw, they fuckin'."
- Some guy from Mesagoza

Two years ago...

November 1st

It's a joke. The gimmick is a big joke, and you're not sure why exactly you told Avery you'd go along with it this year. Until now, you've never dreamt of partaking in "No Nut November," because what in reality are you getting out of it besides a pair of horribly neglected balls and pressure in your crotch every time you sit down? You don't have any male friends (that you stay in contact with) but you can take a good guess at how awful it is, and you've seen the tales online—tales of strangers losing it during November, and for what? Internet karma? Some extra brownie points for cooking up a funny story about how they didn't beat their meat for a whopping thirty days?

It's a joke, just a joke, but a joke you're willing to roll with to prove to Avery you can control yourself. You don't need to reach in those pants, ever. Pleasure can be found elsewhere. Like in video games or bingeing YouTube videos, or dreams. Yeah, dreams—you can dream about whatever you want, given you actually manage to get into a dream, and that can be your source of nightly pleasure. Sex is for the weak. Jerking off is for the weaker. You are of the strong! The unbreakable! Not even your silly cat can break you! Not—

Oh. Oh, man. How could you almost forget about your cat, who isn't silly, per se, but rather dangerously active in the sheets? Last year's December had been hell on earth. That was the second year she had started getting on her heat cycles, and by then you figured December and January had to be the annual strike of twelve on the heat clock.

Last year, Flora left you with no pillowcases anywhere in the house. She had humped them all. And then she had the audacity to throw them all behind the couch. You only managed to find them because the smell of horny feline crotch still lingered on the material, and soon became too pungent to ignore. You pulled the couch out, and Flora watched, blushing madly, as you reached into her pile of discarded pillowcases. That night, you washed your hands three times over because reaching directly into the pile had left your fingers wet and sticky.

You try not to think any further back on it, such a repulsive memory. This year will be different. This year, you'll get her some hormone pills. Eradicate the horny before she can hump everything in the house, including you, who will be next on the list if you're not quick enough. You shudder. Don't think about it. You continue carrying your groceries home, just wanting to be out of the cold morning air. Overhead, the screen of blue is vaguely turning gray, and every cloud in eyeshot merges into a sea of dirty-gray.

Right on cue, you feel a little bit of water come dipping down on your forehead. You walk faster. You will not be caught out here in this.

Upon returning home, Flora hops right into your arms. You drop your bags instinctively and scoop her up, almost stumbling back into the door as she starts kissing all up and down your cheeks and neck.