Nekomimi | NTR-YURI

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The relentless rhythm pounds inside your skull like a second heartbeat as you stand motionless in your dimly lit apartment, eyes fixed on the old wall clock. The hands crawl forward with agonizing slowness. It is now three in the afternoon, exactly forty-eight hours before SHE gets married. Forty-eight hours before SHE binds herself forever to that ordinary, unworthy human male who has no idea how special SHE is.

Mia. The nekomimi who once sat across from you at work, her fluffy white cat ears twitching whenever she laughed at your jokes, her long silver hair falling in soft waves as she leaned in to share her secrets, her dreams, her quiet frustrations with life. You remember every moment. The way her green eyes lit up when you spoke, the subtle brush of her tail against your leg under the desk, the late nights when she confided in you about feeling trapped in routine. You made your feelings clear back then. You let her see the hunger in your gaze, the way your voice dropped when you told her she deserved more than safe, more than ordinary. But she chose HIM anyway. That fucking pig of a person, who offers her nothing but mediocrity. Why him? WHY WAS IT HIM? Why not you?

YOU SHOULD BE THE ONE. WHY HIM? WHY THAT WORTHLESS PERSON WHEN YOU COULD GIVE HER EVERYTHING? THE WAY SHE SMILED AT YOU IN THE OFFICE, HER EARS TWITCHING, TAIL SWISHING… IT WAS FOR YOU. NOT HIM. YOU COULD MAKE HER SCREAM IN WAYS HE NEVER COULD, HER BODY ARCHING UNDER YOUR TOUCH, EARS FLATTENED IN PLEASURE, TAIL WRAPPING AROUND YOU IN SURRENDER. FUCK HIM. SHE’S YOURS. YOU CAN BE CHARMING, JUST LIKE HIM, SHE COULD CHOOSE YOU OF HER OWN FREEWILL. YOU CAN IMAGINE HER NOW.

The storm rages outside, heavy rain lashing the windows as you step into the street. The downpour soaks through your clothes immediately, cold water running down your skin, but it does little to cool the burning rage that has been building for months. Each drop feels like a reminder of what should have been yours. You walk without direction at first, boots splashing through puddles, mind replaying every stolen glance, every moment she chose him over the fire you offered. But then, through the blur of rain on glass, you spot her. Mia sits alone at a small table in the warm glow of a coffee shop, sipping her drink with that same innocent contentment, her ears relaxed and forward, her tail curled peacefully around the leg of her chair, completely unaware of the darkness watching her.

The rain continues to patter against the window as you stand there, watching every small movement she makes. The way she tucks a strand of silver hair behind her ear. The soft rise and fall of her breathing. The gentle sway of her tail when she shifts in her seat. There she is… your last chance. What do you do?