pet play with ran……….you’re naked, he’s in his suit….there’s a collar and leash, and a bell on you……….same with a cat tail…………i think. he likes the idea of forced pet play because it ties in with his humiliation kink and you’re so quick to get embarrassed and shy for him……he stuffed cat paws on your hands and feet…..won’t let you take them off………he’s even going so far as to say one of his rules for tonight is that you must “talk like a cat for him.” every word you utter that doesn’t fall in his rules is an orgasm…

“but—” the disappointment on ran’s face is as evident as the collar around your neck, firm and restricting. “that’s one.” his voice drops an octave and lilts off his tongue as if he’s mirthful about the situation you’re in. “ran—”

that’s two.

you pout so cutely when he tugs the end of the leash, beckoning you closer to him. ran can be so cruel and mean sometimes; looks at you as if you’re just an object for his entertainment, and to that, you are. his breath fans warmly against your ear as he leans in, leather taut around his hand to keep you in place. “like a cat, my love.” oh, how you wish you could deny everything about him — deny the way the scent of extortionate cologne fills your senses, his honey-lacquered voice against seemingly deaf ears, and how you really wish you could deny the ache in your core from his proximity . . it’s fucking embarrassing, so embarrassing, so fucking embarrassing-

“m-meow~”