𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

༝ = nsfw

َjujutsu kaisen

َsatoru gojo

grooming

َchoso kamo

jealousy

َtoji fushiguro

sensitive kitty :( ༝༝༝

َmulti

so needy :p ༝༝༝

َnanami kento (tbc)

َryomen sukuna

mornings with kuna ༝༝༝

َmegumi fushiguro (tbc)

َyuji itadori (tbc)

َtwt links (tbc)

َattack on titan

َeren jaeger (tbc)

َarmin arlert (tbc)

َjean kirstein (tbc)

َlevi ackerman (tbc)

the first thing you feel is the warmth, a heavy, radiating heat that pins you deep into the mattress. then comes the sensation of soft, insistent pressure against your skin. it starts with a lingering kiss on your temple, the scratch of his stubble grazing your cheek, followed by a slow, wet trail of kisses moving down your jawline. you stir, your consciousness drifting up from a deep sleep, feeling the rhythmic puff of hot breath against your ear.

as your eyes flutter open, the first thing you see is him. sukuna is hovering over you, his massive frame blocking out the morning light, his four eyes blinking down at you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. he’s braced on his elbows, his muscles rippling under his tattooed skin, his weight pressing you down just enough to feel the hard line of his thighs against yours. he doesn't stop, his lips finding the corner of your mouth, nipping lightly, tasting you with a hunger that feels timeless.

you blink, looking up into those crimson eyes, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips. "morning," you mutter, your voice thick and raspy from sleep, the sound vibrating in your chest.

“morning," he rumbles back, his voice a low, guttural vibration that you feel more than hear. he looks satisfied, watching the way you wake up beneath him, his gaze roaming over your flushed face and messy hair.

you aren't fully awake yet, but the feeling of him on top of you—the sheer size and power of him—stirs something deep in your gut. you reach up, your hand sliding up his chest to cup his jaw. your thumb prods at his bottom lip, pulling it down slightly to reveal the sharp edge of his teeth. you don't stop there; you slide two fingers into his mouth, feeling the heat of his tongue swirl around them, the wet slide of his saliva coating your skin.

you lock eyes with him, your voice dropping to a needy whisper. "eat me out," you breathe, the request blunt and demanding.

sukuna pauses, his tongue flicking against your fingers. he lets out a huff of a laugh, a smirk playing on his lips as he pulls your fingers out of his mouth with a slow, wet pop. "you've just woken up," he grunts, his tone teasing, almost hesitant. "you're barely conscious and you're already demanding this? have some patience."

you arch your back, rubbing your hips against the sheets, the friction sending a spark of heat straight to your clit. you look up at him, your eyes clouded with desire. "i'm horny, ryo."

the admission does it. the hesitation in his eyes vanishes, replaced by a dark, predatory hunger. he loves it when you're greedy for him. he lets out a low growl, shifting his weight. he slides down your body, his chest dragging over your breasts, his hands gripping your thighs and shoving them wide apart.

you gasp as the cool morning air hits your wetness, but it's quickly replaced by the scorching heat of his breath. he doesn't hesitate now. he dives in, his tongue making a broad, sweeping stroke from your entrance all the way up to your clit, leaving you drenched in his saliva. you cry out, your fingers digging into the sheets, your hips bucking instinctively.

he is relentless. he uses his tongue like a weapon, swirling it around your nub with a precision that makes your vision blur. he sucks your clit deep into his mouth, creating a vacuum that pulls every nerve ending to the surface. you can hear the wet, sloppy sounds of his tongue slapping against your folds, the rhythmic slurp and lap filling the quiet room.

every time you think you're about to peak, he slows down, teasing you, swirling his tongue in slow circles until you're whimpering, begging him to go faster. he chuckles against your skin, the vibration sending shivers through your thighs. then, he plunges back in, his tongue flicking rapidly, hammering against your clit with a force that shatters your composure.

you scream his name, your body tightening into a bow as a violent orgasm rips through you. you shake uncontrollably, your muscles pulsing around the sensation of his tongue still working you, milking every last drop of pleasure from your body. he doesn't stop until you're completely spent, your breathing ragged and shallow.

he eventually pulls back, licking his lips with a smug expression, a stray thread of your juices clinging to his chin. he crawls back up your body, pinning your wrists above your head and looking down at you with a triumphant glint in his eyes.

you look up at him, your chest heaving, your body still humming from the aftershocks. you reach up, tracing the tattoos on his arm, your voice a needy, breathless whisper.

“again."

warning: all links contain nsfw content, mdni.

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choso kamo

such a needy pup ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶꒱ྀི১

mommy’s good boy (˶>⩊<˶)

toji fushiguro

he luvs slapping your pretty ass >.<

stuffing you sooo full :p

satoru gojo

he wishes it was your pussy ˙◠˙

not because he encouraged it. not because he flirted. not because he ever gave anyone a reason to think they had a chance.

the problem was that choso was naturally the kind of person people gravitated toward. he was quiet, gentle, handsome without trying to be, and kind in a way that seemed almost old-fashioned.

he held doors open for people. he remembered small details about conversations. he helped classmates when they struggled. he listened when people talked. he smiled softly whenever someone thanked him. it was impossible not to like him.

you knew that.

everybody knew that. which was exactly why it drove you insane. every time a girl laughed too hard at one of his comments, every time someone found an excuse to sit next to him, every time you caught a pair of eyes lingering on him for a second too long, something ugly twisted in your chest.

you couldn’t help it. rationally, you knew choso would never betray your trust. he was probably the most loyal boyfriend on the planet. but your jealousy was never about him. it was about everyone else. because everybody wanted something from him, whether they admitted it or not, and you noticed things choso didn’t. the way girls fixed their hair before speaking to him. the way they smiled differently around him.

the way they found reasons to touch his arm or lean closer than necessary. choso never noticed. you noticed everything.

one afternoon, you were sitting together in the courtyard during lunch. choso was beside you, quietly eating while scrolling through something on his phone. the day was warm, students scattered across the campus in little groups, conversations blending together into a dull background hum.

you were resting your head against choso’s shoulder when a girl approached.

she was pretty.

of course she was.

it was always the pretty ones. she smiled nervously before asking if choso could help her with an assignment after school because she’d heard he understood the material better than anyone else. the request itself was harmless. innocent, even. but you immediately caught the way her eyes lit up when she looked at him.

you caught the slight blush on her cheeks. you caught the way she tucked her hair behind her ear before speaking. choso simply looked up and opened his mouth to answer, but before he could get a word out, your head slowly lifted from his shoulder and you looked directly at her. the girl visibly faltered. the confidence she’d approached with disappeared almost instantly.

you didn’t even say anything at first. you just stared. long enough to make her uncomfortable. long enough to make her shift awkwardly on her feet.

long enough for choso to realize exactly what was happening. by the time you finally asked, “why him?” the poor girl looked like she’d rather throw herself into traffic than continue the conversation.

the thing was, choso always knew when you were getting possessive. he could tell from the way your jaw tightened. from the way your fingers wrapped around his sleeve.

from the look in your eyes that made everybody else immediately back away. so before the girl could answer, choso sighed quietly and closed his phone.

“sorry,” he said gently. “i can’t today.” the relief on the girl’s face was immediate. she practically apologized three times before hurrying away. the second she disappeared, you relaxed against him again as if nothing had happened.

choso stared at you for a moment. then another. then another. “you scared her.”

you didn’t even look guilty. “good.” choso rubbed his forehead. “she just needed help with homework.” “she wanted more than homework.”

“no, she didn’t.” “yes, she did.” “you don’t know that.” “i do.”

choso looked at your completely serious expression and realized there was absolutely no point arguing. there never was.

your favorite pastime was going through choso’s instagram following. not occasionally. constantly. whenever you were bored, whenever you were sitting together, whenever his phone happened to be within reach, you’d unlock it and start scrolling.

choso didn’t even try stopping you anymore. one evening, you were sprawled across his bed while he folded laundry nearby. the room was quiet except for the occasional rustle of fabric. everything was peaceful until suddenly it wasn’t. choso didn’t even need to look up when the silence changed. he had learned the warning signs months ago.

the moment you stopped scrolling and became completely still, he knew somebody was about to get unfollowed. sure enough, a few seconds later, you slowly held his phone up.

“who’s this?”

choso glanced over. a random girl stared back at him from the screen. somebody he’d probably followed years ago and completely forgotten about.

“i don’t know.”

“you follow her.”

“i follow hundreds of people.”

“why?”

choso stared at you. you stared back. the atmosphere immediately became tense. not because he was angry. not because he felt guilty. simply because he knew exactly where this was going. finally, after a long pause, he sighed and held out his hand.

“give me the phone.”

you handed it over immediately.

three taps later, he unfollowed her.

then another girl you pointed out.

then another one.

choso handed the phone back.

“happy?”

you checked. actually checked. then your expression brightened immediately.

“much.”

choso shook his head. most people would’ve fought you on it. most people would’ve argued. choso simply decided the random girls meant absolutely nothing to him while your happiness meant everything.

everybody at school was afraid of you.

not because you were loud.

not because you started drama.

because you were quiet about it.

the rumors surrounding you were worse than anything people could prove. stories passed from person to person in hushed voices. people claimed you’d made girls cry in bathrooms.

claimed you’d threatened people after class. claimed you’d somehow always find out whenever somebody expressed interest in choso. nobody had evidence. nobody had proof. but the stories never stopped. choso tried not to listen to them.

he really did.

then one morning he walked into class and immediately noticed a familiar girl sitting near the back. she had a dark bruise beneath her eye. the sight made his stomach sink instantly because he recognized her.

a few days earlier she’d approached him after class. she’d asked for his number. politely. respectfully. he’d told her he had a girlfriend. she’d apologized and walked away. that should’ve been the end of it.

but now she had a black eye.

choso slowly turned toward you.

you were sitting at your desk scrolling through your phone, looking completely unbothered by life.

when your eyes met his, you smiled.

not a guilty smile.

not a nervous smile.

just a normal smile.

somehow that made it worse.

during lunch, choso finally brought it up.

“the girl from class.”

you looked up from your food.

“what about her?”

“the black eye.”

you blinked.

“what black eye?”

choso groaned immediately.

you were such a terrible liar.

honestly, it would’ve been easier if you’d just admitted things.

instead, you always pretended innocence despite being completely incapable of acting innocent.

“you know exactly what i’m talking about.”

“no idea.”

“you’re impossible.”

“thank you.”

choso dropped his head into his hands while you continued eating like nothing had happened.

the strangest thing about your relationship was how different you were with choso when nobody else was around. people saw the possessiveness.

the jealousy.

the sharp tongue.

the attitude. what they didn’t see was how soft you became when it was just the two of you. they didn’t see the way your entire expression changed the moment choso looked tired. they didn’t see how you immediately noticed when he skipped meals.

they didn’t see you memorizing his favorite snacks or reminding him to sleep. they didn’t see you sitting beside him on the couch late at night, absentmindedly playing with his fingers while he talked about his day. they didn’t see the way your anger disappeared whenever he smiled at you.

one night, choso came home exhausted after a particularly long day. the second he stepped through your apartment door, you knew. his shoulders were slumped. his eyes looked heavy. his movements seemed slower than usual. without even asking, you took his bag from him and pushed him toward the couch. choso tried protesting.

you ignored him.

he tried insisting he was fine. you ignored that too. within minutes he’d been forced under a blanket with a warm meal sitting in front of him while you sat pressed against his side. neither of you spoke much. you just rested your head on his shoulder while he slowly relaxed beside you. eventually choso glanced down and found you half asleep against him, your hand still firmly wrapped around his sleeve even in your sleep. like you were worried he might disappear if you let go.

that was the reason choso stayed.

not because he enjoyed the jealousy.

not because he enjoyed the possessiveness.

not because he thought your behavior was always reasonable.

he stayed because nobody had ever loved him the way you did. your love wasn’t healthy sometimes. it wasn’t balanced. it wasn’t calm. it was intense and overwhelming and occasionally terrifying. but it was real. every protective glare, every jealous argument, every ridiculous demand to unfollow somebody, you loved him so much that the thought of losing him genuinely scared you. and while everyone else only saw the difficult parts of you, choso saw everything else too.

he saw the girl who waited up for him when he studied late. the girl who remembered every tiny detail he ever mentioned. the girl who could spend an entire afternoon glaring at strangers only to spend the evening curled against his chest like the sweetest person in the world.

and maybe that didn’t make your jealousy okay. maybe it didn’t excuse how mean you could be. but it was enough to make choso smile whenever you demanded his attention, enough to make him hand over his phone without complaint, enough to make him pull you closer whenever you wrapped yourself around his arm possessively.

because at the end of the day, no matter how exhausting you were, choso had never doubted one thing.

you were absolutely, completely, obsessively in love with him.

the front door clicks shut behind them, the deadbolt sliding home with a familiar thud that usually summons you from wherever you’ve been napping. but tonight there’s no scrabbling of claws on hardwood, no excited whining, no warm body hurtling itself against their legs in a frenzy of wagging tail and licking tongue. the house is silent.

satoru drops his bag by the coat rack, shrugging off his jacket with a frown that pulls at the corners of his mouth. “that’s weird,” he murmurs, and suguru is already moving past him, his own footsteps quickening as he heads down the hallway. the lights are dim, just the soft glow of a lamp left on in the living room, and there’s something about the stillness that makes the hair on the back of suguru’s neck prickle. you’re always at the door. always. it’s a ritual they’ve come to rely on, the way you wiggle and squirm and press your wet nose into their palms, tail wagging so hard your whole back end sways with it.

suguru calls your name, soft but expectant, and gets nothing but silence in return. satoru is right behind him now, his hand finding the small of suguru’s back as they round the corner into the living room.

and then they see you.

you’re curled up on the oversized cushion in the corner of the couch, the one you’ve claimed as your own, but you’re not sleeping. your knees are drawn up toward your chest, the hem of the oversized t-shirt—one of suguru’s old ones, the fabric soft and worn—bunched around your thighs. your ears are pinned flat against your skull, pressed so tight they’re nearly hidden in the mess of your hair, and your eyes are wide, glassy, fixed on them with an expression that’s equal parts shame and desperate relief.

your hand is between your legs.

even in the dim light, they can see the way your fingers are moving, slow and slick, hidden beneath the fabric but unmistakable in their rhythm. your cheeks are flushed, your lips parted, and there’s a damp patch darkening the shirt where your thighs press together. you haven’t stopped. even now, with them standing there, watching, your hand keeps working, keeps rubbing, like you can’t help yourself, like your body has taken over and your mind has just given up.

suguru’s breath catches. he feels the heat rising in his own chest, the familiar stirring in his gut as he takes in the sight of you, trembling and caught, your obedience crumbling under the weight of four days alone. satoru lets out a low, slow exhale beside him, and when he speaks, his voice is quiet, controlled, laced with something that makes your ears twitch.

“puppy,” he says, and the word hangs in the air between you like a command. “what did we tell you?”

you whimper. it’s a small, broken sound that leaks out of your throat before you can stop it, and your hand stills for just a second before resuming its frantic pace. you can’t stop. you’ve been trying for days, fighting against the ache that built in your core from the moment they left, the empty house pressing in around you until the only thing that made the loneliness bearable was the memory of their hands, their mouths, the way they owned you completely. you told yourself you’d be good. you promised. you made it through the first night, and the second, but by the third day the need had become a living thing, coiling in your belly and whispering in your ear, and this morning you woke up with your fingers already buried between your slick folds, grinding against your palm before you were even fully awake.

and now they’re here. they’ve seen you. they know.

satoru moves first, crossing the room in a few long strides until he’s standing in front of the couch, looking down at you with those sharp eyes that miss nothing. he reaches out and hooks his fingers under the hem of the shirt, peeling it up slowly, deliberately, revealing the pale skin of your thighs, the glisten of your wetness, the desperate clutch of your fingers as you try to hide what you’ve been doing. but he doesn’t let you. he wraps his hand around your wrist and pulls your hand away, exposing you completely, the slick evidence of your disobedience shining on your inner thighs.

“look at you,” he murmurs, and there’s no anger in his voice, just a kind of dark wonder. “so needy you couldn’t even wait for us to get through the door. we’re gone for a few days and you fall apart like this?”

you shake your head, a frantic denial that doesn’t match the way your hips buck into the empty air, searching for friction you’re no longer allowed. suguru has come to stand behind satoru, his arms crossed, his gaze heavy on your exposed cunt. you can feel the weight of their attention like a physical thing, pressing down on you, and it only makes you wetter.

“please,” you whisper, the word cracking at the edges. “i tried. i tried so hard.”

“not hard enough,” suguru says, and the firmness in his voice makes you whimper again. he steps around the couch, crouching down in front of you so he can look you in the eye. his hand comes up to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward him, and you feel the warmth of his palm against your flushed skin. “we told you not to touch. we gave you a simple rule, and you broke it. didn’t you?”

you nod, a tiny, shameful motion. your ears are still pinned flat, your tail— tucked tight between your legs. you feel small and exposed and utterly at their mercy, and the worst part is how much you crave it.

“i’m sorry,” you breathe, and the apology trembles on your lips. “i just—i needed—“

satoru’s hand lands on your knee, squeezing gently, and the touch sends a jolt through your entire body. “we know what you needed, puppy,” he says, and his thumb traces a slow circle on your sensitive skin. “we know exactly what you need. but you don’t get to take it. not without us.”

suguru’s hand slides from your jaw down the column of your throat, resting lightly over your pulse point, feeling the frantic beat of your heart beneath his fingers. “you’ve been bad,” he says, and there’s a hint of satisfaction in his tone, the pleasure of having evidence of your desperation spread out before him. “but we’re home now. we’ll take care of you.”

the promise in his words washes over you like hot water, loosening the knot of tension that’s been wound tight in your chest for days. you sag forward, your forehead coming to rest against his shoulder, and you feel his hand move to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, holding you there. satoru’s hand is still on your knee, but it’s sliding higher now, tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver.

“tell us,” satoru says, his voice a low rumble close to your ear. “tell us how long you’ve been touching yourself. how many times. we want to hear everything.”

and you do. you tell them, the words spilling out in a rush of confession, every moment of weakness laid bare for them to judge. the first night, when you curled up in their bed and pressed your face into their pillows, breathing in their scent until the ache became unbearable. the second night, when you gave in and let your hand wander, just a little, just enough to take the edge off, but it wasn’t enough. the third morning, when you woke up grinding against the mattress, your cunt soaked and aching, and you came with a sob of relief that echoed through the empty house.

you tell them about the guilt that followed, the shame that sat heavy in your stomach, but also the way the pleasure lingered, the memory of your own fingers working in and out of your wet heat making you wet all over again. you tell them you tried to stop, you really did, but your body wouldn’t listen, and by the time you heard the key in the lock you were already lost, already gone, your hand moving in frantic circles as you chased one more release before they found you.

satoru and suguru exchange a look over your head, a silent conversation that you can’t see but can feel in the way their hands tighten on your body.

“well,” suguru says, and there’s a smile in his voice, dark and fond. “it seems like we have some work to do. you’ve forgotten who you belong to, puppy.”

you shake your head, pressing closer to him. “no. i know. i remember. i’m yours.”

“prove it,” satoru says, and his hand finally reaches the apex of your thighs, fingers sliding through the slick evidence of your disobedience. you gasp, your hips jerking forward, chasing his touch, and he rewards you with a single, slow stroke that makes your vision blur. “show us how sorry you are. show us you remember.”

now, you’re laid out on their bed like an offering, wrists bound above your head to the headboard with the silk ropes they’d left coiled in the nightstand, the knots snug but not biting, holding you in place with a firmness that leaves no room for escape. your legs are spread wide, knees bent, feet flat on the mattress, and you feel utterly exposed, the cool air of the bedroom brushing over your wet cunt, making you shiver and clench around nothing. satoru kneels between your thighs, his focus razor-sharp as he positions the bullet vibrator against your clit, pressing the flat head right against that swollen nub, and then he’s wrapping a length of soft cord around your hips, cinching the toy in place so it sits flush against you, unyielding. the first low hum of vibration buzzes through your pelvis and you gasp, your back arching off the mattress, but he hasn’t even turned it up yet.

suguru moves above you, his shadow falling over your face, and you feel the soft fabric of satoru’s blindfold being draped over your eyes, the world going dark as he ties it snugly behind your head. the pressure is just enough to remind you that you can’t see, can’t anticipate, can’t prepare for whatever they decide to do. your ears—your puppy ears—swivel and twitch, trying to catch every sound, every breath, every whisper of clothing against skin, but the darkness leaves you adrift, sensitive and trembling.

“there,” satoru murmurs, his thumb stroking the inside of your thigh with mock gentleness. “nice and tight. you’re not going anywhere, are you, puppy?”

you shake your head frantically, a small whimper escaping your lips. “n-no, i’m not going anywhere, i’m sorry, please—”

“shh,” suguru says, and his hand lands on your cheek, not hard, but firm, turning your face toward where you guess he’s sitting. “you don’t get to talk unless we say so. you lost that privilege when you decided to touch yourself without permission. didn’t you?”

you nod, tears already pricking at the corners of your eyes beneath the blindfold. “yes, sir.”

“good girl,” satoru says, and the praise sounds like a knife wrapped in velvet. “now let’s see how many times you can come before you remember your place.”

he clicks the vibrator to its lowest setting. the buzz is soft, teasing, a gentle thrum that makes your thighs twitch but doesn’t push you anywhere close to the edge. you squirm, trying to grind against the toy, but the cord holds it in place—you can’t get more pressure, can’t angle it differently, you can only lie there and take whatever they give you. suguru’s fingers find your nipples through the fabric of the shirt, he rolls them between his thumb and forefinger, pinching just hard enough to make you gasp.

“you look so pathetic like this,” satoru says, his voice low and conversational. “spread open, tied down, blind. and you’re already wet. you’ve been dripping since we walked in, haven’t you?”

“yes,” you breathe, because you can’t lie, not when they’re watching, not when they know.

“yes what?”

“yes, sir. i’ve been wet. i—i can’t help it.”

“can’t help it,” suguru repeats, and there’s a cruel amusement in his tone. “you can’t help being a desperate little slut who needs us to keep her in line. is that what you’re saying?”

you whimper, your hips bucking involuntarily as the vibrator pulses against your clit. “yes, sir. i need you. i need you to keep me in line. i can’t do it alone.”

“we know,” satoru says, and he clicks the vibrator up a notch.

the sensation sharpens, the buzz deepening, spreading through your clit like a wave of heat. your breath hitches, your fingers curling into fists above your head as the pleasure starts to build, slow and inevitable. they don’t touch you otherwise—they just watch, let the toy do the work, let your body writhe and twist on the bed as you try to find some friction, some angle, some relief. but there’s no relief, only the relentless hum against your clit, drawing you higher and higher until the first orgasm crashes over you, sudden and sharp, your back bowing off the mattress as a cry tears from your throat.

“one,” suguru counts, his voice flat, clinical. “four more to go.”

you’re still trembling from the aftershocks when satoru clicks the vibrator up again. the sensation goes from sharp to almost unbearable, the vibration stronger now, pressing against your oversensitive clit with no mercy. you gasp, trying to squirm away, but the cord holds you fast, and suguru’s hands clamp down on your hips, pinning you in place.

“ah-ah,” he says. “you don’t get to run. you wanted to come so badly while we were gone, didn’t you? now you get to come for us. as many times as we want.”

“please,” you whimper, already feeling the second wave building, too fast, too soon. “please, it’s too much—”

“it’s not too much,” satoru corrects, and his voice is hard now, no more gentleness. “you don’t get to decide what’s too much. we do. and we say you can take five. so you’ll take five.”

the second orgasm hits before you can brace for it, ripping through you like a lightning strike, your cunt clenching around nothing as a sob tears from your chest. you hear yourself crying, high and broken, but the vibrator doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, just keeps grinding against your clit, pushing you into the third before the second has even fully faded. your legs kick out, your heels digging into the mattress, but suguru’s grip on your hips is iron, and satoru’s hand finds your stomach, pressing down, feeling the convulsions of your muscles beneath his palm.

“three,” suguru says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “you’re doing so well, puppy. making such a mess of our sheets.”

you’re sobbing now, tears soaking into the blindfold, your throat raw from the sounds being torn out of you. every nerve in your body is screaming, pleasure and pain blurring together until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. the fourth orgasm builds slower, more agonizingly, each second of vibration sending jolts through your oversensitive clit that make you wail and beg.

“please, please, i can’t, i can’t, please have mercy—”

“mercy?” satoru leans close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “you didn’t show any mercy to yourself when you were touching that cunt without us. you came anyway, even though you knew it was wrong. why should we show you mercy now?”

you shake your head frantically, a stream of incoherent pleas spilling from your lips. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’ll be good, i’ll never do it again, please, please just stop—”

“one more,” suguru says, and his hand slides down between your legs, his fingers pressing against the vibrator, driving it deeper into your clit, amplifying the sensation until you scream. “one more, and then we’ll think about it. come for us, puppy. let go.”

the fifth orgasm tears through you like a wave of fire, white-hot and devastating, your whole body arching into a taut bow as a broken wail rips from your throat. you feel yourself gushing, soaking the sheets beneath you, your cunt clenching helplessly again and again as the vibration finally, finally stops. satoru clicks it off, and the sudden silence is broken only by your ragged sobs, your chest heaving, your wrists straining against the ropes as you shudder and cry.

you’re a mess—tears and drool and slick all over the bed, your ears flat against your skull, your body limp and trembling. you can hear them moving around you, feel the mattress shift as they reposition, but you can’t open your eyes, can’t see, can’t do anything but lie there and sob.

“please,” you whisper, your voice wrecked, barely audible. “please, no more. i can’t. i can’t.”

a hand cups your cheek, gentle now, wiping away tears. you don’t know whose it is, don’t care, you just lean into the touch, desperate for any kindness.

“five,” suguru says softly. “you did it. you took five.”

“but you still broke the rule,” satoru adds, and his voice is quieter now too, but no less firm. “so you’re not off the hook yet, puppy. we’re just giving you a break.”

you sob with relief, your body sagging into the mattress, too exhausted to even form words. the ropes stay tight around your wrists, the blindfold stays in place, and the vibrator is still pressed against your clit, a silent promise of more to come. but for now, they let you breathe, let you cry, let you feel the weight of their presence around you, holding you in the aftermath.

and somewhere in the haze of pleasure and pain and surrender, you remember exactly who you belong to.

“you’re still awake?” he murmurs, voice rough with exhaustion.

you whine immediately.

not even words. just a pathetic little sound as you crawl over him again, knees digging into the cushions until you’re half sprawled across his lap. your ears twitch anxiously. you can feel it under your skin — that clingy, needy ache that always gets worse at night. puppies groom who they love. puppies scent who they love. and satoru always lets you.

he sighs dramatically, though one of his hands is already sliding up your back. “ah, there it is. was wondering when you’d start acting insane.”

you pout at him, pressing your face into his neck. “need you.”

“yeah?” his lips twitch upward. “that so?”

you nod hard enough your hair brushes his jaw and then you’re climbing fully into his lap, settling yourself on one of his massive thighs. it’s warm and solid underneath you, his sweatpants stretched tight over thick muscle, and the second you’re comfortable you start nosing at his jaw and cheek like you can’t help yourself.

satoru laughs quietly. “there she goes.”

your tongue drags softly across his cheekbone first. then his jaw. then the corner of his mouth while your fingers curl tightly into the front of his shirt to keep him close. he smells warm after a long day — soap, sweat, his cologne faded down into something softer and completely him. your tail won’t stop wagging.

“needy little pup,” he mutters, tilting his head so you can reach better. “can’t sleep unless you’ve groomed me first?”

you shake your head against him and keep going, slow affectionate licks over his skin while he strokes lazily behind your ears. every time his fingers scratch there your leg jerks a little involuntarily, earning another laugh from him.

“cute.”

you huff at him, then tug lightly at the hem of his shirt.

he glances down. “seriously?”

another impatient whine.

“you are ridiculous,” he says fondly, but he lifts his arms anyway.

the second the fabric rises you squirm closer on his thigh, practically melting against him. your nose brushes over the warm skin of his stomach first before you start grooming there too, soft slow licks across the stubble on his abdomen while your fingers spread against his waist to steady yourself. satoru leans back deeper into the couch with a low breathy chuckle.

“god, you really can’t help yourself.”

your ears flatten bashfully but you keep going, tracing lower across the faint trail of hair disappearing beneath his sweatpants. completely focused. completely content now that you’re taking care of him properly.

his hand slides through your hair carefully. “feel better now, puppy?”

you nod immediately without stopping.

“thought so.”

his voice grows softer after that, heavy with sleepiness as he watches you fuss over him. eventually he starts rubbing slow circles against your back, the motion steady and warm and comforting until your tail slows down.

“c’mere,” he murmurs after a while. “bedtime for real.”

you whine when he tries pulling his shirt back down.

“don’t even start,” he snorts, scooping you up easily despite your protests. “you’ve had your grooming time.”

you’re curled up against him, a small, warm weight pressed firmly into toji’s side. the living room is dim, the only sound being the low hum of the air conditioner and the steady, rhythmic thrum of his heart beneath your cheek. you feel safe, completely enveloped by his scent—leather, old sweat, and something sharp and masculine that always makes your tail twitch in contentment. you’re purring, a low vibration that rattles in your chest, your feline ears flicking occasionally as you sink deeper into the plush cushions of the sofa.

toji isn't usually the affectionate type; he's all hard muscle and blunt edges, but tonight he's relaxed. his large, calloused hand rests on your head, his fingers idling. he doesn't really know how your anatomy works, not the specifics of it, so when he shifts his grip, he accidentally digs his nails right into the soft, sensitive base of your ear.

the moment his fingertip scratches that specific spot, a jolt of electricity shoots straight down your spine. your breath hitches, a sharp, audible gasp escaping your lips as your eyes flutter shut. it isn't just a pleasant feeling—it's an explosion. the sensation triggers something primal, a dormant switch in your biology that flips instantly.

you let out a tiny, pathetic whimper, your body suddenly stiffening before you begin to squirm against him. the purring stops, replaced by a frantic, shallow panting. you can feel the heat blooming in your core, a sudden, torrential wave of warmth that makes your skin feel too tight and your blood feel like molten lead. your ears flatten against your skull, and you find yourself arching your back, rubbing your hips blindly against his thigh.

toji freezes. he can feel the sudden change in your temperature, the way you've gone from a sleepy kitten to something desperate and trembling. "hey," he grunts, his voice rough and confused. "what's wrong? did i hurt you?"

you can't even answer him. your mind is a haze of pink noise and longing. you turn in his arms, your movements clumsy and needy, your fingers clawing at his shirt to pull him closer. you let out a high-pitched, needy keen, your tail lashing violently behind you. you aren't just warm; you're burning. every inch of your skin feels hypersensitive, and the only thing that seems like it could quench the fire is him.

"stop moving," he commands, though there's a hint of panic in his tone now. he tries to push you back slightly to see your face, but you only lean into him more, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck and letting out a series of broken, pleading whimpers. you start to rub your cheek against his jaw, your scent changing, becoming sweet and heavy, filling the small space between you.

toji’s eyes widen. he isn't a vet, but he isn't stupid. he feels the way you're grinding against him, the way your breath is coming in short, jagged bursts, and the sheer intensity of the pheromones hitting him. he realizes with a jolt of genuine freak-out that he just accidentally triggered your heat.

"you've gotta be kidding me," he mutters, his voice straining as he tries to keep his hands off you, though his own body is reacting to the sheer desperation radiating off you. "i just scratched your ear. how the hell does that—"

you don't care about the logic.

you're just a sensitive little kitty..

and you're absolutely miserable without him.

your hands slide down to grip his waist, pulling his hips firmly against yours. you're squirming uncontrollably now, your legs tangling with his, your voice dropping into a needy, guttural whine that begs for everything he has to give. you look up at him with wide, dilated pupils, your lips parted, completely undone by a single touch.

toji looks completely overwhelmed, his chest heaving as he stares down at your wrecked expression. he's trapped between the sofa and a hybrid girl who is currently trying to climb him like a tree, her body radiating a heat that is starting to make his own head spin. "dammit," he hisses, his grip tightening on your waist even as he tries to maintain some semblance of control. "you're such a handful."

now, you’re pinned beneath him, your chest heaving and your skin flushed a deep, burning pink. the weight of him is the only thing keeping you grounded, but it only makes you more desperate. you look up at him, your eyes glossy and swimming with tears of sheer frustration, your lips trembling as you try to find your voice through the haze of heat.

"please," you sob, the sound broken and pathetic. your voice is small, strained, barely a whisper as you claw at his shoulders, your nails digging into his muscles. “please... i can't... i feel so warm..."

toji freezes for a second, his gaze locking onto yours. seeing you like this—completely undone, sobbing and pleading just for a touch—does something to him. the panic in his eyes is still there, but it's being rapidly overtaken by a dark, possessive hunger. he watches the way your hips twitch instinctively, the way you're practically vibrating under him.

"warm?" he rasps, his voice sounding like gravel. he shifts his weight, pressing his hardness firmly against you, and you let out a loud, high-pitched keen, your back arching off the sofa. "you're burning up, kitty. you're absolutely soaking."

"i am... i'm so hot," you whimper, your head tossing from side to side on the cushion. you can't stop the needy sounds escaping you, the little chirps and meows that punctuate your words. "please, toji... help me... it hurts... i need you inside me... please, just put it in... i need it so bad..."

the sound of you begging, specifically asking for him to fill you, makes toji let out a low, dangerous growl. he grips your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand, leaving his other free to slide down and press firmly against your aching center. you scream into the quiet room, a loud, desperate sound of relief and agony as he finds exactly where you need him most.

"you're really not stopping, are you?" he mutters, his breath hot against your lips. he looks at you with a mix of disbelief and raw lust, his pupils completely swallowing the iris. "you're just a little mess for me huh kitty?”

"please!" you cry out, your voice cracking as you sob again, your legs tightening around his waist, pulling him closer. "please, tojjiii..“

toji’s expression hardens, a smirk finally tugging at the corner of his mouth as he realizes just how much power he has over you in this state. he leans down, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear—the very place that started this madness—and whispers in a commanding, rough tone.

"keep begging," he orders, his voice vibrating through your skull. "tell me exactly how much you need it, and maybe i'll give it to you."

you let out a strangled, high-pitched wail at his command, your body bucking beneath him. the heat is no longer just a feeling; it's a living thing, a pulsing fire that has consumed every single thought in your head. you don't care about your pride or how pathetic you sound; you only care about the hard, heavy pressure of him against your thighs.

"i need it! i need it so much!" you sob, your voice raw and desperate. you're shaking, your muscles twitching with a tension that feels like it might snap your bones. "please, toji... i'm burning... i'm so wet for you... i can't breathe... please just fill me up, please!"

toji lets out a sharp, guttural exhale, his grip on your wrists tightening until you're completely immobilized. he loves this—the way you've completely lost yourself, the way your hybrid instincts have stripped away everything but the need to be claimed. he shifts his hips, grinding himself slowly against you, and the friction makes you scream, your toes curling, your tail lashing violently against the sofa cushions.

"look at you," he rasps, his voice dropping to a predatory whisper. "completely wrecked because i touched your ear. you're such a sensitive little thing, aren't you? just a needy, thirsty little kitty."

"yes! yes, i am!" you cry out, your eyes rolling back in your head. "i'm yours... just please... give it to me! i feel s’warm...”

he doesn't give in immediately. he likes the way you're fighting for it, the way you're squirming and pleading under him. he releases your wrists only to slide his hand down, his calloused fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, teasing the edge of your heat. you let out a loud, needy meow, your hips jumping upward, trying to force him inside you.

he grunts, his thumb pressing firmly against your clitoris, circling it with a pressure that makes your vision go white.

you let out a series of broken, frantic whimpers, your voice barely a whisper now as you pant for air. "please... i can't... i'm going to die... toji, please... i need you inside... please fill me..."

the sight of you—flushed, sobbing, and completely desperate—finally breaks his last shred of restraint. he reaches down, his movements sudden and rough as he clears the way, his hand finding how incredibly slick and ready you are.

"god, you're practically dripping," he growls, his face twisted with a mix of hunger and disbelief.

he doesn't ease into you. he doesn't give you the luxury of a slow start. he positions himself and thrusts forward in one heavy, decisive motion, burying himself deep inside you in a single stroke.

the sensation is so intense that your entire body goes rigid.

you let out a loud, piercing shriek that echoes through the room, your eyes flying open as the void inside you is suddenly, violently filled. it's an explosion of relief, a crashing wave of pleasure that makes your brain short-circuit. you wrap your legs around his waist with bruising force, locking him in, your nails digging deep into his back as you sob into his shoulder.

"oh god... oh god, yes..." you moan, the words blending into a series of needy purrs. "you're so big... you're so..mm, thank you... thank you, toji..."

toji doesn't respond with words; he responds with action. he begins to move, his thrusts heavy and punishing, driving into you with a raw power that knocks the wind out of you. every time he hits your cervix, you let out a high-pitched chirp, your body shaking under the onslaught. he's not being gentle; he's taking advantage of your heat, using your hypersensitivity to push you further and further over the edge.

"you wanted this," he grunts, his voice strained as he hammers into you, his chest heaving against yours. "you begged for it, kitty. now take it all."

you're completely lost in the rhythm, your head tossing from side to side, your voice a constant stream of pleading moans and broken meows. the warmth that had been torture is now a symphony, every thrust sending sparks of electricity through your nerves. you feel like you're melting into the sofa, into him, disappearing into the sheer intensity of the friction.

"more... please!" you cry out, your voice cracking. "don't stop... please don't stop... i love it... i love it so much!"

toji’s pace quickens, his movements becoming more frantic as he nears his own limit. he grips your hips, his fingers leaving bruises on your pale skin, and drives himself into you one last time with everything he has. you scream, a long, loud sound of pure ecstasy as your orgasm hits you like a freight train, your internal muscles clamping down on him in tight, rhythmic pulses that make him groan out loud.

as he spills himself deep inside you, filling you with his warmth, you collapse against him, your breath coming in ragged, sobbing gasps. your tail curls loosely around his leg, and for the first time in hours, the fire in your blood begins to cool, leaving you limp, sated, and completely exhausted in his arms.