LUNA’S MASTERLIST !

ʚ satoru gojo ɞ

ෆ future days

☆࿐ཽ༵༆༒ 🐾 ༒༆࿐ཽ༵☆

ʚ choso kamo ɞ

ෆ consume

ෆ bad pup

☆࿐ཽ༵༆༒ 🐾 ༒༆࿐ཽ༵☆

ʚ toji fushiguro ɞ

ෆ brat tamer

ෆ needy

☆࿐ཽ༵༆༒ 🐾 ༒༆࿐ཽ༵☆

ʚ shoko leiri ɞ

ෆ fixated

ෆ special toy

☆࿐ཽ༵༆༒ 🐾 ༒༆࿐ཽ༵☆

ʚ ryomen sukuna ɞ

ෆ mornings with kuna

ෆ riding his stomach

☆࿐ཽ༵༆༒ 🐾 ༒༆࿐ཽ༵☆

ʚ multiple ɞ

ෆ needy | starring satoru gojo x suguru geto

ෆ practice | starring satoru gojo x suguru geto

| riding sukunas stomach mouth :p

the moment you step through the doors of his chambers, the air changes. it always does.

the guards outside bow their heads, the servants scatter like leaves in the wind, and the heavy scent of incense wraps around you like a second skin.

you're dressed in layers of silk and gold tonight, a deep crimson robe that pools at your feet, embroidered with threads of real gold that catch the candlelight and shimmer with every step you take. your hair is pinned up with ornate combs, jade and pearl, and there are rings on every finger, gifts he's given you over the months you've been his favorite.

because that's what you are. his favorite. his most cherished concubine, the one he keeps closest to his chest, the one he dresses in the finest fabrics and feeds the sweetest fruits. everyone in the palace knows it. everyone envies you for it.

but you don't care about any of that. you care about him.

sukuna is lounging on his dais when you enter, sprawled across a mountain of silk cushions, his four arms draped lazily over the edges. his eyes are half-lidded, that perpetual look of boredom etched into his features, and he doesn't bother to sit up when he sees you. he never does. he doesn't need to. he's ryomen sukuna. the world moves for him, not the other way around.

"you called for me, my lord?" you ask, your voice light and sweet, a smile already tugging at your lips. you know he did. you know why you're here. but you like to hear him say it.

"i did." his voice is deep, rumbling, like thunder rolling across a distant sky. he gestures with one hand, a lazy flick of his fingers. "come here."

you glide across the room, your robes whispering against the floor, and stop at the edge of the dais. you look up at him, your eyes bright, your smile unwavering. he looks down at you, unimpressed, unmoved, like a god observing a particularly amusing insect.

"you're in a good mood tonight," he observes, his tone flat.

"i'm always in a good mood when i'm with you," you reply, tilting your head. "you bring out the best in me, ryo."

his eye twitches at the nickname. you know he hates it. or at least, he pretends to hate it. you've never been sure which, and that uncertainty only makes you say it more.

"don't call me that," he says, but there's no bite to it. just a worn-out command he's given a hundred times before.

"don't call you what?" you ask, innocent as a lamb. "ryo?"

his jaw tightens. you bite back a giggle.

"what do you want tonight, my lord?" you ask, stepping closer, close enough that your knees brush against the edge of the dais. "i'm yours to command."

he studies you for a long moment, his crimson eyes tracing the lines of your body, the curve of your hips, the way the silk clings to your skin. you feel his gaze like a physical touch, warm and heavy, and you shiver despite yourself.

"you've been spoiled," he says finally. "too spoiled. you walk around my palace like you own it."

"i don't walk around like i own it," you correct, your smile widening. "i walk around like i own you."

the silence that follows is deafening. his eyes narrow, and for a moment, you wonder if you've finally pushed too far. but then the corner of his mouth twitches, just barely, and you know you're safe.

"bold words," he murmurs. "for someone so small."

"size doesn't matter when you have charm," you say, placing a hand on his knee. his skin is warm, impossibly warm, and you feel the muscle beneath tense at your touch. "and i have plenty of charm."

"you have plenty of something," he agrees, but he doesn't pull away.

you let your hand wander, trailing up his thigh, feeling the powerful muscle beneath his skin. he watches you, impassive, but you can see the way his breathing changes, just slightly. just enough.

"i want something," you say, your voice dropping to something softer, more intimate.

"and what's that?"

you lean in, your lips brushing against his ear, your breath warm against his skin. "i want to sit on your mouth."

he doesn't react. not visibly. but you feel the way his body stills, the way the air around him seems to grow heavier.

"explain," he says, his voice low.

"your mouth," you repeat, pulling back to look at him. "on your stomach."

he stares at you for a long, quiet moment. then, slowly, a smile spreads across his lips. it's not a kind smile. it's sharp, predatory, filled with a dark amusement that makes your heart race.

"you're the only one who would ask for such a thing," he says.

"i'm the only one who's brave enough," you correct.

he laughs. it's a low, rumbling sound, barely more than a exhale, but it's real. it's genuine. and it sends a thrill through your entire body.

"very well," he says, shifting his position on the dais. he lies back, his head resting on a pile of cushions, his four arms spread out on either side of him. he looks up at you, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "come here, then. show me what you want."

your heart is pounding as you climb onto the dais, your robes pooling around you like a river of silk. you position yourself over his stomach, your knees on either side of his waist, your pussy hovering just above his stomach mouth. you look down at him, and he looks up at you, his expression unreadable, his lips parted just slightly.

"go on," he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. "don't keep me waiting."

you lower yourself slowly, giving him time to stop you if he wants to. he doesn't. your skin meets his lips, and the contact sends a jolt through your body. his mouth is warm, impossibly warm, and when his tongue presses against your folds, you gasp.

he takes his time. he always does. his tongue traces lazy patterns across your skin, dipping into your sopping hole, sliding along your clit. his hands—all four of them—come up to rest on your hips, guiding you, holding you in place. you feel his breath against your skin, hot and steady, and you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the sensation.

"you're so soft," he murmurs against your skin, his voice deep, still commanding. "like silk. like you were made to be touched."

"i was made for you," you breathe, your hands finding his hair, threading through the strands. "everything about me was made for you."

he hums, a low, satisfied sound, and the vibration travels through your skin, making you shiver. his tongue curls, presses, explores, and you feel yourself growing wetter, your arousal pooling between your thighs. you rock your hips slightly, pressing yourself closer to his mouth, and he responds by sucking gently on your skin, leaving a mark that will bloom purple by morning.

"ryo," you whimper, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

he pulls his mouth away just long enough to look up at you, his eyes dark, his lips slick with saliva. "what did i tell you about calling me that?"

"i forgot," you say, your voice breathless, a grin spreading across your face. "remind me."

he growls, low and dangerous, and pulls you back down against his mouth, his tongue plunging deeper, more insistent. you cry out, your back arching, your fingers tightening in his hair. he's relentless, his mouth working against your skin like he's tasting something precious, something rare, something he wants to devour.

"you're going to be the death of me," you gasp, your hips grinding against him.

"good," he murmurs against your skin. "you'll die happy."

you laugh, breathless and bright, and his stomach huffs against your pussy, a sound that might be amusement. you stay like that for what feels like hours, his mouth on your skin, his hands gripping your hips, your body trembling above him. and when you finally collapse beside him, spent and satisfied, he pulls you against his chest, one of his arms wrapping around your waist.

"you're insufferable," he says, but his voice is softer now, almost gentle.

"but," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his jaw, "i'm your favorite."

he doesn't deny it.

don't be discouraged and keep writing!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCHH :p

yesssirrr i ❤️ hybrid au frfr

i love you too kiss kiss <33

| you’re finally home from work, but wait.. are those chewed up panties??

the front door clicks shut behind you, and you kick off your shoes with a heavy sigh, already exhausted from the day. but as you shrug off your jacket and pad further into the apartment, you notice something strange. choso is sitting on the floor in the living room, his back against the couch, his head bowed. he looks up when he hears you, and his eyes are wide, guilty, and filled with a kind of nervous energy that immediately puts you on edge.

"hey," you say slowly, dropping your bag by the door. "what's wrong?"

he doesn't answer. he just shifts uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting in his lap, and you notice he's avoiding looking directly at you. that's when you see it. you frown. you reach down, your fingers brushing against the fabric of your panties?? you feel something wet and sticky. and then you realize.

they're chewed up.

you pull your hand away and look at it, your heart sinking as you see the evidence. your panties are ruined. the fabric is torn, frayed, and soaked with saliva. you turn to choso, your eyes narrowing, and he flinches like you've struck him.

"choso," you say, your voice dangerously low. "did you do this?"

he nods, a pathetic, miserable little nod, his dark hair falling into his face. "i'm sorry," he whispers. "i couldn't help it. i just—i needed something that smelled like you. you were gone so long, and i—"

"you chewed up my panties," you repeat, cutting him off. you pull them right out of his hands and held them up. they're absolutely destroyed. "like a fucking dog."

his face crumples, and he looks away, his shoulders hunching. "i know. i know it's bad. i'm sorry."

you don't say anything for a long moment. you just stand there, holding the ruined fabric, letting the silence stretch and stretch until it becomes unbearable. then you catch his chin inbetween your pointer finger and your thumb.

"get up," you say, your voice cold.

he scrambles to his feet, his eyes still downcast, his hands trembling at his sides. you yank his face down, forcing him to look at you. his eyes are glassy, on the verge of tears, and you feel a surge of power that makes your pulse quicken.

"you know what happens when you misbehave," you say, your thumb tracing along his jaw. "don't you?"

he nods, a single, jerky motion.

"say it."

"i have to go in the cage," he whispers, his voice breaking.

"that's right." you release his chin and point toward the corner of the room where the dog cage sits. it's a large, metal thing, big enough for him to sit or lie down in, but not much else. you'd bought it specifically for moments like this. "get in."

he hesitates, just for a second, and you raise an eyebrow.

"did i stutter?"

he shakes his head and walks over to the cage, his steps heavy and reluctant. he crawls inside, his body folding awkwardly as he settles onto the thin cushion you'd placed on the floor. he looks up at you through the bars, his eyes pleading, his lower lip trembling.

"please," he says softly. "i'll be good. i promise."

"you should have thought of that before you decided to chew up my underwear like a dumb mutt," you say, your voice sharp. you walk over to the cage and crouch down in front of it, your face level with his. "now shut the door."

he reaches out with a shaking hand and pulls the door closed. the latch clicks, and you hear him let out a shaky breath.

"good boy," you say, but there's no warmth in your voice. it's mocking. cruel. "now stay."

you stand up and walk away, leaving him there in the cage. you go to the bedroom, change into a comfortable pair of shorts and a loose tank top, and then settle onto the couch with your phone. you can hear him from here. the soft, pitiful whining that starts almost immediately. the way he calls your name, over and over, his voice cracking with desperation.

"please," he begs. "please, i'm sorry. i won't do it again. just let me out. please."

you ignore him. you know he loves it.

you scroll through your phone, reading articles, watching videos, pretending you can't hear the sounds of his suffering. but you can. every whimper, every sob, every plea cuts through the air like a knife, and you feel a dark satisfaction blooming in your chest.

an hour passes. then two.

by the end of the second hour, his voice is hoarse from crying. he's stopped begging. now he's just sobbing, soft, broken sounds that echo through the apartment. you can hear him sniffing, can hear the way his breath hitches as he tries to calm himself down. it's pathetic. it's beautiful.

you finally get up from the couch and walk over to the cage. he looks up at you, his face streaked with tears, his eyes red and swollen. he looks utterly wrecked, completely destroyed, and you feel a thrill of power that makes your skin tingle.

"have you learned your lesson?" you ask, your voice soft.

he nods frantically, his hands gripping the bars of the cage. "yes. yes, i've learned. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry."

"good." you reach down and unlatched the door, pulling it open. "come out."

he crawls out on his hands and knees, his body trembling, his head bowed. he looks up at you, his eyes filled with a desperate, pathetic gratitude that makes your heart race.

"thank you," he whispers. "thank you for letting me out."

"don't thank me yet," you say, grabbing the pink collar that's hanging on a hook by the cage. it's a thick leather collar, studded with rhinestones, with a small silver ring at the front. you kneel down and fasten it around his neck, your fingers brushing against his skin. he shivers under your touch, his breath catching.

"stand up," you command.

he obeys, rising to his feet. you grab the ring on the collar and tug, leading him toward the couch. he follows without resistance, his steps unsteady, his eyes fixed on the floor.

"sit," you say, pointing to the couch.

he sits, his hands resting on his thighs, his posture tense and submissive. you stand in front of him, looking down at him, savoring the way he squirms under your gaze.

"you're going to make this up to me," you say, your voice low and commanding. "you're going to use that mouth of yours for something other than destroying my property. understood?"

he nods, his eyes wide and eager. "yes. anything. i'll do anything."

"good." you step closer, your legs brushing against his knees. you reach down and pull your shorts aside, revealing your bare cunt. you're already wet, your arousal slick and glistening in the dim light of the living room. "then get to work."

he doesn't hesitate. he leans forward, his hands gripping your thighs, and presses his mouth against you. his tongue is warm and wet, sliding through your folds with desperate, hungry strokes. he moans against your skin, the vibration sending a shiver through your body.

"fuck," you breathe, your hand finding his hair and gripping it tightly. "that's it. that's a good mutt."

he whimpers at the praise, his tongue working faster, more frantically. he laps at your clit, his lips sucking and nibbling, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. you rock your hips against his face, your grip on his hair tightening, your head falling back as pleasure washes over you.

"you're lucky i'm forgiving," you say, your voice breathless. "if you ever chew up my panties again, i'll leave you in that cage all night. do you understand?"

he pulls his mouth away just long enough to answer, his voice muffled against your thigh. "yes. i understand. i'll be good. i'll be so good."

"good boy." you push his head back down, and he dives back in with renewed fervor, his tongue plunging inside you, his nose pressing against your clit. you moan, your knees buckling, and you grip his hair to steady yourself.

he eats you out like a man starved, like he's been waiting his whole life for this moment. his tongue is relentless, his lips never leaving your skin, his moans vibrating against your cunt and sending waves of pleasure through your body. you can feel yourself getting close, the pressure building in your core, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"i'm going to cum," you warn him, your voice strained. "don't stop. don't you fucking stop."

he doesn't. he doubles down, his tongue flicking against your clit in rapid, desperate strokes, his fingers digging into your thighs as he holds you in place. and when you finally cum, it crashes over you like a wave, your body convulsing, your cry echoing through the apartment.

he doesn't pull away. he keeps licking, keeps sucking, drawing out every last tremor of your orgasm until you're trembling and oversensitive, pushing his head away with a weak hand.

he looks up at you, his face slick with your arousal, his eyes dazed and adoring. he looks so beautiful like this, so broken and devoted, and you feel a surge of affection that softens the hard edges of your dominance.

"good boy," you murmur, stroking his hair. "you did so well."

he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed, a soft, contented sigh escaping his lips. "i love you," he whispers. "i love you so much."

"i know," you say, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "i love you too, even if you are stupid."

he laughs, a weak, breathless sound, and nuzzles his face against your thigh. you let him stay there, his arms wrapped around your legs, his breath warm against your skin. and for a moment, everything is perfect.

i really need to figure out how to use dividers… they always turn out weird for me :((

| bf!suguru teaching nerdjo how to eat a girl out, but your the test subject??

you are pinned firmly to the mattress, the fabric scratching against your skin as you feel the oppressive, heavy weight of the atmosphere in the room. the air is thick with a tension that feels almost tangible, a mixture of nervousness and raw, unfiltered lust. you are completely open, your legs forced wide by suguru, who is positioned behind you like a dark, brooding shadow. he is the picture of emo apathy—his dark hair falling in messy strands over his eyes, his expression distant and moody, but his grip on your thighs is anything but passive. his fingers are long and strong, digging into your soft skin with a possessive intensity that leaves no room for argument. he has you exactly where he wants you, exposed and trembling, your center glistening and damp in the dim light.

satoru is sitting directly in front of you, and the sight of him is almost comical if the situation weren't so erotic. he is the quintessential nerd, wearing those thick-rimmed glasses that are currently sliding down the bridge of his nose because he's sweating so much. his face is a deep, violent shade of crimson, his cheeks burning as he stares at you—or rather, as he stares at the wet, pink folds of your pussy. he looks like he’s staring at a forbidden relic, something so precious and terrifying that he’s afraid to touch it. he is sitting on his heels, his shoulders hunched, his hands gripping his own knees so hard that his knuckles are white. he is paralyzed by a cocktail of social anxiety and an overwhelming, starving curiosity that is practically radiating off him in waves.

"go on, satoru," suguru murmurs, his voice a low, smooth drawl that vibrates against your shoulder blades. he leans in, his breath hot against your ear, his tone lazy yet commanding. "don't be a coward. look at her. she's practically dripping for you. she's waiting to be tasted."

satoru swallows hard, the sound audible in the quiet room. his throat bobs as he tries to find words, but he’s stammering, his voice high and shaky. "i... i don't know if i'm doing this right, what if i... what if i do something wrong? what if i hurt her? i've never... i mean, i've read about it, but i've never actually..." he’s procrastinating, shifting his weight from side to side, his eyes darting frantically from your flushed face to your open crotch and back again. he is vibrating with a nervous energy that makes him look like he might actually bolt from the room if given the chance.

you feel a surge of shyness, the intensity of satoru's gaze making you feel exposed in a way that is almost too much to bear. instinctively, you try to shift your hips upward, attempting to scoot back or close your legs just a fraction to hide yourself from his wide-eyed stare. but the moment you move, suguru’s reaction is instantaneous and firm. his grip tightens, his fingers bruising your skin as he slams your hips back down into the bed with a heavy, possessive thud. the impact makes you gasp, your breath hitching in your throat.

"stay still," suguru whispers, his voice turning into a dark, velvety command. he presses a slow, lingering kiss to the nape of your neck, his lips grazing your skin in a way that makes your toes curl. "you're doing so well for us, baby. such a good girl, staying so open for him. just relax. let him taste you. you want this, don't you? you want to see what he does when he finally loses it."

his praise is like a drug, soothing your panic even as he keeps you captive. you let out a soft, whimpering moan, your body betraying you as you arch your back into suguru's chest, craving more of his touch. the contrast is intoxicating—the cold, dominant control of suguru behind you and the frantic, overheating desperation of satoru in front of you.

satoru is still hesitating, his mouth hanging open slightly, mesmerized by the scent of your arousal. he looks like he’s fighting a war between his ingrained politeness and a primal, animalistic hunger. he’s staring at your clit, watching it twitch with every breath you take, and you can see him swallowing again and again. suguru’s patience finally snaps. without a word of warning, suguru reaches forward, his hand moving with predatory precision to grip the back of satoru's head. his fingers tangle deep into those soft, white locks, pulling tight. with a sudden, forceful shove, suguru drives satoru's face straight down into you.

he lets out a muffled, high-pitched shriek of surprise, his face slamming into your wetness with a wet slap. for a few seconds, he just freezes, his nose buried in your folds, his hot, erratic breath puffing against your sensitive skin. you gasp, your legs shaking violently in suguru's grip, the sudden shock of contact sending a jolt of pure electricity through your spine.

"now," suguru commands, his voice cold and demanding, devoid of any hesitation. "use your tongue, satoru. lick her clean. i want to see you devour her."

satoru obeys, driven by fear and an explosive need. he starts tentatively, his tongue flicking out in shy, hesitant licks that barely graze your skin. he's cautious, almost tentative, but the moment he tastes the salt and sweetness of your juices, something inside him simply breaks. the "nerd" vanishes instantly. the anxiety is replaced by a frantic, starving hunger that is almost frightening. he groans—a deep, needy sound that vibrates directly against your clit—and suddenly he is diving in with everything he has.

he is completely pussy-drunk. he doesn't know the "correct" technique; he doesn't know how to be gentle or rhythmic. instead, he is clumsy and desperate, his tongue working with a wild, uncoordinated energy. he sucks on your clit with a greedy intensity, swirling his tongue over you in wide, messy strokes as if he’s trying to drink every single drop of you. he’s making wet, slurping sounds that fill the room, his breathing turning into heavy, desperate pants.

you begin to thrash beneath him, your head tossing back against suguru's chest, your voice rising in loud, breathless moans that echo through the space. you are overwhelmed by the sheer raw enthusiasm of satoru's approach. suguru is watching every second of it with a smug, dark expression, his eyes hooded as he watches satoru lose himself in you. his hands never leave your legs, keeping you pinned and perfectly positioned so satoru can't miss a single inch of you.

"that's it, baby, just take it all," suguru praises, his voice a low hum of approval that vibrates through your back. "look at him... look at how obsessed he is with you. he's losing his mind just tasting you. just for you, isn’t that right satoru?"

but satoru is beyond hearing him now. he is completely consumed by the flavor and the feel of you, his glasses long since fallen off and discarded on the bed. he starts to hump the mattress, his hips jerking forward in a rhythmic, desperate motion as he continues to devour you. he is rubbing himself frantically against the bedsheets, his movements uncoordinated and wild, his face smeared with your juices and his own sweat. he is so overwhelmed by the sensation of eating someone out for the first time—the smell, the taste, the heat—that he can no longer contain himself.

he begins to make strangled, sobbing sounds into your pussy, his body shaking with an intensity that threatens to knock him over. with one final, violent thrust of his hips against the bed and a loud, shattered moan that is muffled by your flesh, satoru hits his limit. he shudders violently, his entire frame racking with a massive, uncontrolled orgasm. he hasn't even touched himself; the sheer mental and sensory overload of the act has pushed him over the edge. he cums right there in his pants, a huge, hot mess soaking through the fabric of his trousers in a sudden, pulsing release.

he collapses against your thighs, his forehead resting against your skin, panting in ragged, broken gasps. he looks completely ruined—his hair a mess, his face flushed a deep purple, his eyes glazed and vacant as if his brain has been completely wiped clean by the experience. he stays there for a long moment, shivering in the afterglow of his forced exhaustion.

suguru lets out a low, dark chuckle that sends a shiver down your spine. his grip finally loosens on your legs, but only so he can slide his large hand up to your waist, his thumb rubbing circles into your hip. he looks down at the shivering, wrecked satoru with a look of mild amusement before turning his gaze back to you. his eyes are hooded, dark, and swimming with an appetite that makes satoru's look like child's play.

"my turn," he says, his voice dropping an octave into a dangerous, satisfied purr.

| pussy slaps with older!bf toji.

the air in the apartment is thick with the scent of cheap whiskey and old cigarettes. toji is sprawled on the worn-out couch, one arm draped over the back, a half-empty bottle dangling from his fingers. he looks like a predator at rest—all lean muscle and lazy menace, his dark eyes tracking your every movement as you stomp around the kitchen, slamming cabinets and rattling dishes.

you’re pissed. toji was supposed to pick you up an hour ago. an hour. you’d stood outside in the cold like an idiot, your phone buzzing with ignored calls, until you finally gave up and took the train to his shithole of an apartment. and when you walked in? he was here. relaxed. drinking. like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“you know, some people actually have schedules,” you snap, yanking open the fridge and grabbing a carton of milk. you don’t even want milk. you just need something to do with your hands before you punch him. “but i guess that doesn’t matter to you, does it? you just do whatever the hell you want, whenever you want, and everyone else can just—”

“watch your mouth, doll.”

his voice is low. calm. it cuts through your rant like a blade, and for a split second, you falter. but your anger is a wildfire, and it’s not about to be extinguished by a few quiet words.

“don’t ‘doll’ me,” you snap, spinning around to face him. you point the carton of milk at him like an accusation. “you were supposed to be there. i waited for you. in the cold. for an hour. and you’re just sitting there, drinking, like it’s nothing.”

toji doesn’t move. he just watches you, his eyes half-lidded, a ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. he takes a slow sip from the bottle, letting the silence stretch until it becomes unbearable.

“you done?” he asks.

“no, i’m not done!” you slam the milk carton down on the counter, the plastic cracking under the force. “you’re so fucking selfish, toji. you think the world revolves around you, but it doesn’t. i have things to do, places to be, and i can’t keep dropping everything just because you can’t be bothered to show up on time. i’m not your fucking doormat.”

the smirk on his face widens. he sets the bottle down on the floor with a deliberate thud, then rises from the couch in one fluid motion. he’s tall. so much taller than you. and broad. his shoulders block out the dim light from the single lamp in the corner as he stalks toward you, his bare feet padding silently against the grimy floorboards.

you hold your ground, even as your heart starts to pound. you won’t back down. you won’t give him the satisfaction.

“say that again,” he says, his voice soft, almost gentle. he stops right in front of you, close enough that you can smell the whiskey on his breath. “call me selfish again.”

“you’re selfish,” you repeat, your voice trembling just a little. “you’re a selfish, arrogant, inconsiderate—”

he moves fast. faster than a man his size should be able to move. one second he’s standing in front of you, the next he’s got you bent over the kitchen table, your cheek pressed against the cool wood, his body caging you in. you gasp, your hands flying out to brace yourself, knocking over a salt shaker in the process.

“you talk too much,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. his hand comes down on your ass, a sharp, stinging slap that makes you yelp. “you got a smart mouth. always running it, running it, running it. think you’re so tough, huh? think you can say whatever you want and there won’t be consequences?”

he slaps you again, harder this time, right on the same spot. the heat blooms across your skin, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips.

“i asked you a question.” his hand grips the waistband of your jeans, yanking them down along with your panties in one rough motion. the cool air hits your exposed skin, and you shiver. “do you think you can say whatever you want?”

“n-no,” you stammer, your anger dissolving into something else entirely. something hot and shameful and desperate.

“no,” he repeats, mocking you. “that’s right. no. because i’m in charge here. not you. me.” he runs a hand over the curve of your bare ass, his calloused palm rough against your sensitive skin. “and you know what happens to little girls who talk back to me?”

you shake your head, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“they get punished.”

his hand comes down again, but this time it’s not your ass. it’s lower. between your legs. his palm slaps against your wet cunt with a sharp, wet sound that echoes through the kitchen. you cry out, your knees buckling, but he holds you steady with a hand on the small of your back.

“look at that,” he says, his voice dripping with amusement. “soaking wet already. and here i thought you were mad at me.” he slaps you again, right on your clit, and you jolt like you’ve been electrocuted. “but your pussy knows the truth, doesn’t it, doll? your pussy knows exactly what it needs.”

he keeps going. slap after slap after slap, each one landing precisely on your most sensitive spot. the pain and pleasure blur together, a white-hot haze that consumes every thought in your head. you’re moaning, crying, begging—you don’t even know what you’re saying anymore. your hips are bucking against his hand, chasing the friction, chasing the release that’s building deep in your core.

“please,” you gasp. “please, toji, i need—i need to—”

“you need to what?” he taunts, pausing with his hand hovering just above your soaked folds. “use your words, doll. tell me what you need.”

“i need to cum,” you sob, the words torn from your throat. “please, i’m so close, just let me—”

“no.”

he says it so casually, so matter-of-factly, that it takes a second for the word to register. and then he pulls his hand away entirely, leaving you empty and aching and so fucking close to the edge you can taste it.

“what?” you breathe, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder.

he’s standing there, completely composed, not a hair out of place. he looks down at you with that same lazy smirk, his hand glistening with your arousal.

“i said no,” he repeats, savoring the words. “you don’t get to cum. not tonight. not until you learn to keep that pretty little mouth shut.”

“that’s not fair,” you whine, pushing yourself up on your elbows. “you can’t just—”

he slaps your cunt again, cutting you off mid-sentence. hard. you collapse back onto the table, a broken sob escaping your lips.

“i can do whatever i want,” he says, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “i’m the one in charge here, remember? you gave up the right to argue when you started running your mouth.” he grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back. “now, i’m going to keep going. and you’re going to take it. and when i’m done, you’re going to thank me. understood?”

tears are streaming down your face, mixing with the sweat on your skin. you nod weakly, your voice barely a whisper. “understood.”

“good girl.”

he releases your hair and resumes his assault, his hand finding your pussy again. slap. slap. slap. the rhythm is merciless, each impact sending shockwaves of agonizing pleasure through your body. you’re a mess—a quivering, sobbing, drooling mess, completely at his mercy.

and you love every second of it.

he keeps you there for what feels like hours, bringing you to the brink of orgasm over and over again, only to pull back at the last second. you lose count of how many times you’ve almost cum. five? ten? twenty? your mind is a fog of desperation and need, and all you can do is beg.

“please,” you whimper, your voice hoarse from crying. “please, toji, i’ll be good, i promise, i’ll be so good, just please let me—”

“shh,” he soothes, his hand finally stilling. he leans down, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “i know. i know you’re suffering. that’s the point.”

he straightens up, and you hear him unbuckling his belt. the sound of his zipper sends a shiver down your spine.

“but since you asked so nicely,” he continues, his voice laced with dark amusement, “i’ll give you something else to think about.”

he lines himself up at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your slick, swollen folds. you whimper, your body trembling with anticipation.

“remember,” he says, his voice a low rumble in your ear as he pushes inside you in one smooth, brutal thrust. “you don’t cum until i say so.”

and then he starts to move.

| you just loove the taste of chosos cum.

you kneel between choso's spread thighs, your mouth already slick and hungry as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and slide down without hesitation. the taste hits you instantly, thick and warm, coating your tongue in a way nothing else ever could. you hate every other liquid, water, blood from strangers, anything that isn't this.

and the moment it floods your mouth you moan around him, sucking harder, swallowing every drop like it's the only thing keeping you alive.

choso's fingers tangle in your hair, his breath already shaky. "fuck... you're really going for it," he murmurs, but his voice cracks when you hollow your cheeks and take him deeper. his cock twitches against your tongue, pulsing as the last spurts of his first orgasm slide down your throat. you keep sucking even after he's spent, refusing to let him soften, your eyes flicking up to meet his with pure need.

“i need more," you whisper against the head of his cock, licking a slow stripe up the underside. "again, now."

choso whines, a soft broken sound that vibrates in his chest. his hand moves to his own thigh, fingers pressing into the skin as he activates his technique. you feel the shift immediately, blood rushing to his cock under his control, forcing it to swell and stiffen once more right against your waiting tongue. he gasps at the sensation, hips jerking involuntarily. "ah... it feels weird when i do that," he admits, voice trembling, but he doesn't stop. the blood manipulation keeps him rigid, veins standing out along his length as it hardens fully again, ready for your mouth.

you don't waste time. your lips slide back down, taking every inch until your nose brushes his pelvis. the taste is even stronger now, pre-cum already leaking from the tip because of how he's forcing his body to respond. you suck greedily, tongue swirling around the head each time you pull up, savoring the flavor that makes your entire body hum with satisfaction. nothing compares to this. the saltiness mixed with that unique sweetness only choso produces, the way it coats your throat and settles the burning thirst in your gut. you could drink him for hours and never get enough.

his whines grow louder, more desperate. "please... it's too much," he pants, but his cock throbs harder in your mouth as you suck with renewed intensity. his thighs tremble on either side of your head, muscles flexing as he fights to stay still. you bob faster, one hand gripping the base while the other strokes what your mouth can't reach, determined to pull another load from him. every swallow makes you hungrier, the flavor of him driving you deeper into the rhythm.

his second orgasm builds quickly under the blood manipulation, his cock pulsing against your tongue as he gets closer. choso's head falls back, a long whine escaping his throat. "i'm... i'm g’cum again, o-oh shit baby..” he warns, voice high and shaky. you double down, sucking harder, tongue pressing firmly against the sensitive underside until he breaks. his hips buck once, twice, and then he's spilling into your mouth in thick, hot ropes. the taste explodes across your senses, even richer than the first time, flooding your mouth and throat as you swallow every single drop without spilling a bit.

you keep him in your mouth until the last twitch fades, licking him clean with slow, deliberate strokes. only then do you pull off, lips shiny and satisfied for the moment. but the thirst isn't completely gone. your eyes drop to his inner thigh, the skin pale and inviting right beside his spent cock. without warning you lean in and sink your fangs into the soft flesh there, piercing cleanly.

choso cries out, a mix of pain and pleasure that makes his whole body jerk. "ahh... fuck," he whines, the sound turning into a soft moan as you begin to drink. the blood flows warm and metallic, but it's laced with something that reminds you of him, of the cum still coating your tongue. you take only a few swallows, enough to feel the warmth spread through you, your hand stroking his cock lazily as you feed. his thigh trembles under your mouth, another broken whine leaving his lips while you drink just enough to ease the edge of your hunger.

when you finally pull your fangs free you lick over the small puncture marks, soothing them with your tongue. choso's breathing is ragged, his cock already half-hard again from the mix of sensations. you rest your cheek against his thigh, looking up at him with heavy eyes. "still thirsty," you murmur, pressing a kiss to the bite mark. "might need you to use that technique one more time."

| playing with shokos tits is your favourite pastime.

the first time you really noticed them, you were both seventeen, crammed into the back of a satoru’s car after a party. shoko was wearing this cheap, thin cotton shirt, the kind that stretched just a little too tight across her chest. you were sitting next to her, your thigh pressed against hers, the warmth of her skin seeping through the denim of your jeans. she was laughing at something someone said, her head thrown back, and the motion made her body jostle. you saw it. the way the fabric pulled, the way her breasts shifted, the soft, heavy weight of them moving under that flimsy material.

your breath hitched. you couldn’t look away. it was like a switch had been flipped in your brain, a primal, obsessive part of you waking up and fixating on that single, perfect curve. from that night on, they were all you could think about.

now, years later, you’re tangled in the sheets of your shared bed, the late afternoon sun painting golden stripes across the rumpled covers. shoko is on her back, one arm thrown over her eyes to block out the light, her breathing slow and even. she’s half-asleep, completely vulnerable, completely yours.

and your hands are already there.

you don’t even realize you’ve moved until your palms are cupping the undersides of her breasts through the thin fabric of her tank top. they’re warm. so warm. heavy and soft, filling your hands perfectly. you squeeze gently, a low, possessive hum vibrating in your chest. she stirs, a soft sound escaping her lips, but she doesn’t stop you. she never does.

you slide your hands up, your thumbs brushing over her nipples. they harden instantly under the cotton, pebbling against your touch. you trace the outline of them, slow and deliberate, memorizing the shape of her areolas through the fabric. you lean down, pressing your face into the valley between her breasts, inhaling deeply. she smells like sleep, like her shampoo, like you. like home.

“baby,” she murmurs, her voice thick with drowsiness. her hand comes down to rest on the back of your head, her fingers threading through your hair. “you’re doing it again.”

you don’t answer. you just nuzzle deeper, your lips brushing against the swell of her left breast. you press a kiss there, then another, then another, trailing a wet path up to the peak. you take the fabric-covered nipple into your mouth, sucking gently, feeling it harden against your tongue. she gasps, her hips twitching instinctively.

“i can’t help it,” you mumble against her skin, your voice muffled by the cloth. “they’re perfect.”

she laughs, a soft, breathy sound that makes your heart stutter. “you’re obsessed.”

“i know,” you admit, pulling back just enough to look at her. your eyes are dark, hungry. “and i don’t care.”

the movie is a blur of sound and color on the tv screen. you have no idea what’s happening. the protagonist is yelling about something, an explosion rips through a building, but you don’t give a single shit. because shoko is curled up against your side on the couch, wearing nothing but one of your oversized hoodies and a pair of tiny shorts. the hoodie is bunched up around her ribs, and her breasts are pressed against your arm, soft and warm and right there.

you shift, turning your body toward her. she glances at you, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “you’re not even watching the movie.”

“i’m watching something better,” you say, your voice low. you reach out, your fingers finding the hem of the hoodie. she doesn’t stop you. she never does.

you push the fabric up, revealing the pale, smooth skin of her stomach, then her ribs, then the underside of her breasts. she lifts her arms to help you, and the hoodie comes off entirely, pooling around her waist. she’s bare-chested now, her nipples already tight from the cool air of the living room.

you don’t waste a second. you lean down, your mouth finding her right breast. you take the nipple between your lips, sucking it into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. she moans, her head falling back against the couch cushion, her fingers gripping your shoulder.

you switch to the other breast, giving it the same attention, your hand coming up to knead the one you just abandoned. you’re alternating between sucking and licking and biting, your mouth never leaving her skin for more than a second. you’re ravenous. you can’t get enough.

“you’re going to leave marks,” she breathes, her voice shaky.

“good,” you whimper against her skin.

you spend the entire movie like that. your mouth on her tits. your hands on her tits. you don’t watch a single scene. you don’t care. all that exists is the taste of her skin, the sound of her moans, the way her body arches into your touch. when the credits roll, she’s a panting, trembling mess, and you’re still latched onto her, your lips swollen and slick.

she looks down at you, her eyes half-lidded and glazed with lust. “you’re impossible.”

you smile against her breast, pressing one last, lingering kiss to her nipple. “and you love it.”

it’s three in the morning. the room is dark, lit only by the pale glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. you’re spooned behind shoko, your chest pressed against her back, your arm draped over her waist. you should be sleeping. you have work in the morning. but you can’t sleep.

because your hand is on her breast.

you’ve been cupping it for the past hour, your thumb tracing lazy circles around her nipple. she’s deep asleep, her breathing slow and even, completely unaware of your obsession. but you’re wide awake, your mind consumed by the weight of her flesh in your palm, the way her nipple hardens under your touch even in her sleep.

you squeeze gently, and she stirs, a soft sound escaping her lips. you freeze, waiting. but she just shifts closer to you, her ass pressing against your hips, and settles back into sleep. you let out a shaky breath and continue your ministrations.

you bring your other hand up, cupping both breasts now, holding them like they’re the most precious things in the world. because to you, they are. you press your face into the back of her neck, inhaling her scent, your thumbs flicking over her nipples in tandem.

“so perfect,” you whisper into the darkness.

you stay like that for hours, your hands never leaving her chest. you memorize every curve, every soft swell, every tiny imperfection. you trace the faint blue veins visible under her pale skin. you count the freckles scattered across her cleavage. you learn the exact pressure it takes to make her moan in her sleep, the exact rhythm that makes her hips twitch.

when the sun finally starts to peek through the curtains, you’re still awake, your hands still on her tits. she stirs, blinking sleepily, and turns her head to look at you. a soft smile spreads across her face when she sees the adoration in your eyes.

“did you sleep at all?” she asks, her voice raspy.

you shake your head, your hands squeezing her breasts one last time before you reluctantly pull away. “couldn’t. i was too busy appreciating the view.”

she laughs, rolling over to face you. she takes your hand and places it back on her chest, covering it with her own. “you can appreciate it all you want. i’m not going anywhere.”

you feel your heart swell, a warmth spreading through your chest that has nothing to do with lust. you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“i love you,” you murmur against her mouth.

“i love you too,” she whispers back. “even if you are a total boob fiend.”

you grin, your hand squeezing her breast again.

and as she pulls you closer, her body pressed against yours, you know that this obsession will never fade. you don’t want it to. because every time you touch her, every time you taste her, every time you lose yourself in the soft, perfect curves of her chest, you fall in love with her tits all over again

| dadjo angst fluff

the front door clicked shut with a soft sound that barely carried through the quiet house.

it was late.

far later than you’d expected him home.

outside, rain tapped gently against the windows, and somewhere in the kitchen the dishwasher hummed its steady rhythm. the lights downstairs had all been left dim, casting warm amber pools across the wooden floors.

satoru loosened his shirt as he stepped inside, shoulders aching beneath the weight of another exhausting day. there were faint scratches hidden beneath the collar of his shirt, dried blood along one cuff that wasn’t his, and the familiar exhaustion settled deep in his bones.

“honey?” he called quietly.

no answer.

he already knew where you’d be.

his footsteps were slow as he climbed the stairs, careful not to wake anyone. every creak of the floorboards felt louder in the silence, until another sound reached him.

your voice.

soft.

he stopped outside the nursery before pushing the door open just enough to peek inside.

warm yellow light from the night lamp spilled across the room.

you sat curled in the old rocking chair beside the crib, your daughter tucked carefully against your chest beneath a knitted blanket. one tiny fist rested against your collarbone while the other clung loosely to your shirt.

the chair rocked back and forth in slow, gentle motions.

you hadn’t noticed him.

instead, your attention stayed entirely on the sleepy little girl nestled against you as your fingers stroked carefully through the wisps of white hair on top of her head.

then you began humming.

the melody.

his melody.

satoru’s chest tightened.

he hadn’t played that song in months.

not since your pregnancy.

he remembered sitting on the edge of your shared bed one rainy evening with an old acoustic guitar balanced on his knee. he’d stumbled through half-finished lyrics, laughing every time he forgot a chord while you watched him with that impossibly patient smile.

you’d cried before he’d even finished it.

he’d teased you relentlessly afterward.

“baby, i barely know what i’m doing.”

“i don’t care,” you’d sniffled through tears. “it’s beautiful.”

he hadn’t admitted it then—but he’d written every word for you.

now you sang it to your daughter .so softly it almost disappeared beneath the sound of the rain.

“if i ever were to lose you…”

your voice wavered slightly, tired from the long day, yet it remained warm enough to wrap around the nursery like another blanket.

“i’d surely lose myself…”

satoru swallowed.

the words hit differently now.

when he’d written them, he’d only imagined loving someone this much.

now he lived it.

every day.

“everything i have found dear…”

your hand rubbed slow circles against the baby’s tiny back.

she made a sleepy little noise before settling again.

“i’ve not found by myself…”

satoru leaned quietly against the doorway.

he didn’t interrupt.

couldn’t.

he simply watched.

watched the woman he’d fallen hopelessly in love with years ago.

watched the tiny life the two of you had somehow created together.

watched the room he’d painted himself while insisting he absolutely didn’t need instructions for assembling the crib.

he’d built an entire life.

one he’d never believed he’d deserve.

your voice softened even further.

“try and sometimes you’ll succeed…”

the rocking chair continued its gentle rhythm.

“to make this man of me…”

silence settled afterward.

not empty.

comfortable.

the kind only homes filled with love ever seemed to know.

“you know,” satoru murmured from the doorway, his voice quiet enough not to startle either of you, “i always catch you singing my greatest hits.”

you turned your head.

your eyes met his immediately.

hair slightly damp from the rain.

blindfold pushed up onto his forehead.

shirt wrinkled.

looking utterly exhausted.

yet the moment your eyes found his, the weariness on his face melted into something softer.

something only you ever got to see.

“there you are,” you whispered.

“you waited up.”

“i always do.”

he laughed quietly under his breath before crossing the room.

every movement was slower than usual, the fatigue finally catching up with him, but there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation as he reached you.

you shifted carefully, making room.

without a word, he lowered himself onto the wide chair beside you.

it was cramped.

ridiculously cramped.

his knees bumped against the armrest, one shoulder pressed firmly against yours, but neither of you minded.

he rested his head lightly against yours.

“hi,” he whispered.

“hi.”

“you smell like baby.”

you smiled.

“you smell like work.”

his hand found yours where it rested atop the blanket. his fingers laced through yours automatically.

the baby let out the tiniest sigh between you both, making the two of you freeze before relaxing again when she remained asleep.

satoru chuckled under his breath.

“sleeps deeper than i do.”

“that’s because she doesn’t have students.”

he groaned dramatically.

“don’t remind me.”

you laughed quietly.

god.

he’d missed that sound all day.

the room fell silent again, save for the rain and the creak of the rocking chair.

you continued tracing absent circles over your daughter’s back.

satoru watched the movement.

then he looked at you.

your face was softer in the warm nursery light.

sleep tugged at your eyes.

you were tired.

he could tell.

yet you’d still stayed here until she fell asleep.

he squeezed your hand gently.

you looked back at him with the same expression you’d worn the first time he’d played that song all those months ago.

your smile was small.

tender.

filled with something that still made his heart race.

you nudged his shoulder.

“..sing it for me, ’toru.”

his breath caught.

for a second he simply stared at you.

“you serious?”

you nodded once.

“please.”

a sheepish grin spread across his face.

“i haven’t practiced.”

“you never practiced the first time either.”

“it worked out.”

he huffed a quiet laugh before shaking his head.

“you’ve got way too much faith in me.”

“i know.”

he looked down at his daughter.

then back to you.

his thumb brushed over your knuckles once before he took a slow breath.

his voice came quietly at first.

rough from hours of talking.

tired from the day.

but warm.

so impossibly warm.

“if i ever were to lose you…”

he smiled halfway through the line.

not because he found it funny—but because you were looking at him exactly the way you always had.

like he was something worth listening to.

“i’d surely lose myself…”

his fingers tapped absent rhythms against your hand, as though an invisible guitar still rested across his lap.

“everything i have found dear…”

his gaze drifted toward the tiny girl sleeping peacefully between you.

his entire world.

“i’ve not found by myself…”

his voice grew quieter.

almost reverent.

“try and sometimes you’ll succeed…”

he looked back at you.

blue eyes impossibly gentle.

filled with more love than words had ever managed to hold.

“to make this man of me…”

the final note faded into the quiet nursery.

neither of you spoke.

you simply reached over, brushing a strand of white hair away from his forehead.

“still my favourite song,” you whispered.

“…still my favourite audience.”

you leaned forward just enough to kiss his temple.

he closed his eyes.

for all the strength people believed he possessed…

for all the power that made the world call him the strongest…

nothing—not limitless. not infinity. had ever made him feel as complete as this tiny nursery, with his wife beside him, his daughter asleep in your arms, and the song that had once been nothing more than a promise now becoming a memory the three of you would carry together.

weeks later, the nursery looked almost exactly the same.

the same warm lamp glowed in the corner. the same old rocking chair creaked softly beneath you. the same rain whispered against the windows.

your daughter, a little bigger now, rested sleepily against your chest as your fingers combed through her white hair. she looked so much like him it hurt.

you sang the song just as gently as you always had.

“if i ever were to lose you…”

your voice almost broke.

“i’d surely lose myself…”

but you kept singing anyway, because he would have wanted you to.

this time there was no quiet laugh from the doorway. no blue eyes watching with that impossibly soft smile. no tired voice joining yours on the final verse.

only the empty space beside the chair where satoru should have been, and the ache that settled a little deeper in your heart with every word.

because now the song he had once written as a promise had become the only lullaby his daughter would ever know.

i’m sad so your all gonna be sad too

| mommy’s special toy.

shoko stepped through the front door after a long day, her keys clinking as she dropped them into the bowl by the entrance. she called out for you in that warm, familiar voice but the apartment stayed quiet. no eager padding of paws, no excited whine greeting her at the door. her brows furrowed as she set her bag down and began searching room by room, peeking behind furniture and checking your usual spots.

she found you curled tight in the corner of the bedroom, your body small and tense against the wall. your ears twitched at the sound of her footsteps and you clutched something tightly between your hands. shoko approached slowly, her expression softening when she saw the pink vibrator gripped in your fingers.

“what have you got there, puppy?" she asked gently, crouching down in front of you. you looked up with wide eyes, ears flattening as you held the toy out toward her. "mommy... what does this do?" you asked in a small voice, your tail giving a hesitant flick behind you.

shoko took the vibrator from your hands and turned it over, studying your curious face. "this is mommy's special toy," she explained softly. "it makes you feel really good when it's used on you. would you like mommy to show you what it does?" her tone stayed calm and coaxing, like she was offering you a treat.

you nodded without thinking, your submissive nature kicking in before any hesitation could form. "yes," you whispered, shifting closer to her on your knees. shoko smiled and guided you onto the bed, arranging you on your back with your legs spread. she clicked the vibrator on to a low setting and pressed it against your inner thigh first, letting you feel the gentle buzz.

“good girl," she praised as she moved it higher, tracing along your folds until the tip brushed your clit. the sudden jolt of sensation made you gasp and your hips jerked.

you whined, already starting to tremble. shoko kept the pressure steady, circling slowly while watching your face.

you tried to close your legs but she held them open with one hand, keeping the vibrator right where it made your body react. "just relax for mommy," she murmured, turning the intensity up a notch. the stronger vibrations sent sparks through you and you let out a high-pitched whimper, your hands clutching at the sheets. "mommy please... it's too much already."

shoko watched the way your body trembled under the steady buzz of the vibrator, her fingers keeping it locked in place against your clit while your legs kicked weakly. she leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, her free hand stroking through your hair with that same gentle patience she always used when you got overwhelmed. your ears twitched at every tiny movement she made and your tail thumped harder against the sheets as the sensations kept building without any break.

“t’feels too strong," you whimpered, your voice cracking as fresh tears slipped down your cheeks. drool had already started to pool at the corner of your mouth and you tried to turn your face away but shoko caught your chin with her thumb, keeping your gaze on her. she smiled softly and turned the vibrator up another notch, the stronger pulses making your hips jerk up off the bed. "shhh, just let me take care of you," she murmured, her tone calm and sweet like she was soothing a fussy child.

you whined louder, your hands reaching out to grab at her wrist but she simply caught both of them in one of hers and pinned them above your head. the vibrator never left your clit, circling slowly in tight patterns that sent sparks shooting through your whole body. your thighs shook harder and your tail curled tight against your leg as you sobbed out another broken plea. " please... i don't want it anymore... it makes me feel all tingly and weird."

shoko shifted on the bed so she could straddle one of your legs, keeping you spread open while she worked the toy against you. she pressed it firmer for a moment and watched your eyes roll back as a choked moan escaped your throat. drool ran freely down your chin now and your breathing came in short, ragged gasps between the sobs. "you were so curious earlier," she reminded you gently, her voice never losing that warm, babying edge. "mommy is just showing you exactly what it does like you asked."

your ears flattened completely against your head and you twisted your hips in a useless attempt to escape the relentless vibrations. the pleasure kept climbing faster than you could handle and your legs started to spasm every time she adjusted the angle. " it hurts... it feels too good and i can't stop it," you cried out, your voice high and whiny as fresh tears streaked down your face. shoko only cooed at you and leaned down to lick a stripe up your neck, tasting the salt from your tears while the vibrator stayed pressed exactly where it overwhelmed you most.

she released your wrists only to slide her hand down and press two fingers against your entrance, feeling how wet you had gotten from the toy alone. you gasped at the new touch and your back arched sharply, pushing your hips toward her without meaning to. shoko chuckled softly and eased one finger inside you while the vibrator kept buzzing against your clit. "look at you getting all messy for mommy," she said in that same gentle tone, pumping her finger slowly in time with the toy's pulses.

you sobbed harder, your hands fisting in the sheets as your body betrayed you with every twitch and clench. drool soaked into the pillow beneath your head and your tail thrashed wildly behind you. "mommy i can't... i really can't take it," you begged, your voice thick and broken between the gasps. shoko added a second finger and curled them just right, making your whole body jolt as the combined sensations pushed you even closer to the edge. she kept her movements steady and patient, never rushing, just letting the vibrator and her fingers work together to overwhelm you completely.

your whines turned into messy, incoherent sounds as the pleasure crested without warning. your thighs clamped around her hand but she held them open easily, keeping the vibrator locked in place while you came with a broken cry. your walls fluttered around her fingers and your whole body shook with the force of it, tears streaming down your face as drool slipped from your open mouth. shoko didn't stop or slow down even as you sobbed through the orgasm, instead she turned the vibrator up one more setting and watched you fall apart all over again.

“that's it, good puppy," she praised softly, her fingers still moving inside you while the toy buzzed mercilessly against your oversensitive clit. you thrashed under her, your ears pinned flat and your tail jerking with every pulse. "mommy no more... please mommy it won't stop," you wailed, your voice hoarse from crying and begging. shoko kissed your wet cheek and kept going, her expression calm and loving as she pushed you through another wave of overwhelming pleasure that left you shaking and drooling even harder.

she finally eased the vibrator away after what felt like forever, but only to press it against your inner thigh instead while her fingers stayed buried inside you. you whimpered at the slight relief but your body still twitched from the aftershocks, your breathing uneven and your face streaked with tears and drool. shoko pulled her fingers out slowly and brought them to your lips, letting you taste yourself while she watched with that same soft smile. "see what mommy's toy can do?" she asked gently, her voice full of affection as she wiped your chin with her thumb.

you nodded weakly, too overwhelmed to form proper words anymore, your ears twitching at every little sound in the room. shoko set the vibrator aside and gathered you into her arms, pulling you against her chest so she could rock you slowly. your tail curled around her leg and you buried your face in her neck, still sniffling from everything she had just put you through. she stroked your back in long, soothing motions and pressed kisses to the top of your head, her voice low and comforting as she whispered how proud she was of her good little puppy.

your body stayed limp against her for a long time, the occasional aftershock making you twitch in her hold. shoko didn't rush you or let you go, just kept you cradled close while you came down from the intensity. every so often she would murmur another soft praise or ask if you needed water, her tone staying gentle and babying the whole time. you answered in small, whiny sounds, your voice still shaky as you clung to her like she was the only steady thing left in the world.

shoko eventually reached for a tissue to clean your face, wiping away the tears and drool with careful touches. she kissed each of your cheeks after and smiled when your ears perked up at the affection. "your okay baby." she said quietly, her hand resting on your belly in a comforting weight. you nodded again, too tired to argue or ask more questions, just letting her hold you while the room stayed quiet around the two of you.

this is so bad bruh i don’t know how to end things like this

visual (nsfw)

| mornings with bf!kuna

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."

| jealousy

you hated the way girls looked at choso.

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.

just a poor puppy who can’t help herself :(

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.”