#sub choso

He's been your cute stay-at-home-hybrid for a while now, finally comfortable enough to not be as shy around you.

Choso was on the more timid side, but he'd make sure he's always around you when you're home.

Sitting next to you at the breakfast table, thigh against thigh, his tail wagging and smacking against the leg of the chair. You liked his presence, letting him steal food from your plate, wiping his cheek with your thumb when he got a bit messy.

He wanted to watch everything with you, getting startled by horror movies- you had to hold the sweet boy and scratch behind his ears. You loved it though, getting to coo and laugh at him when he trembled from a jumpscare.

He slowly had moved to your bedroom instead of his designated room, sleeping besides you, sometimes at the foot of the bed if you weren't in the mood to get snuggled up with a man that could engulf your whole form in his arms.

But that was rare.

You let him lay his head on your chest, place soft kisses on his hair and listen to his breath.

If there was a thunderstorm outside, then you'd huddle up under blankets with him and read to him as a distraction from the loud thundering sound and howling winds.

He did get a bit… touchy though, nosing and trying to scent you in the middle of the night when he thought you were fully passed out.

…You liked it.

He could smell how turned on you'd get, the lovely way your panties became damp and your cunts hole would flutter.

He wanted to have a lick… get your flavor in his mouth.

But he was good, just shifting to try and go to sleep, even if he had the most delicious smelling treat right under his nose.

When you went for walks at the park, he behaved well and stayed near. Choso was actually fairly frightened by the other demihumans.

Especially that mean looking pink tiger guy… or the gray wolf.

Choso wasn't some meek weakling but he preferred to stay hip to hip with you… in case he had to protect you, not the other way around… definitely.

Back to him being the bestest boy ever.

He wasn't.

Choso was a little pervert.

Like any dog would be.

He gave you sad puppy eyes when you left for work, whining about missing you- all to get a kiss on his droopy expression before you left and closed the door.

He did miss you, he didn't lie about that.

But that pouty act turned into one of pure neediness.

He had started off tame… going into your bedroom, rummaging trough your underwear drawer to get his paws on the fresh laundry, bringing it up to his face to sniff.

Then put them back.

You never knew.

Then he got bolder, sitting on the bathroom floor and pouring the dirty laundry basket out on the tiles, picking your most recently worn clothes up to roll in, laying on his back while smushing a pair of filthy panties to his face. As if you would be on his face.

And then he would shove all of it back into the basket and go laze about on your bed.

You NEVER knew.

One morning you had given him a bye bye peck on the lips, something you had never done before but he had been on the brink of tears, kneeling while tugging at your jeans, ears all flat and tail between his thighs. He was being extra clingy.

So a little kiss was sure to cheer him up.

A bit too much.

Late afternoon- and you return back home, exhausted from work and in need of a shower and a good meal. And some love and attention from your house dog.

"Choso! Puppy, I'm home…" You yawn out, toeing your shoes off and dropping your bag on the little table in your hallway.

Choso, the precious boy he was, rushed over and hugged you, his frame folding over you.

You couldn't help but giggle when he nosed at your neck, acting all cute. Not trying to taste you, no not at all.

He had acted normal throughout dinner, maybe a bit more… nosy than usual.

Nothing was amiss.

Until you were picking out some clothes to change into after you took a shower.

T shirt.. check… sweatpants… check… chewed up panties… check.

…

chewed up panties?

You lifted the cotton pair up by the sides.

There was a hole… a big one… bit right out from where your pussy would go if you wore them-

You don't remember moths having such a big appetite.

Your stupid mutt of a hybrid had gotten into your underwear.

He had gotten a little bit too excited and had decided he NEEDED a taste.

So what else was he supposed to do? Not take a chunk out of your favorite pair?

You tossed the ripped up thing to the bed and groaned, rubbing a hand over your forehead.

"CHOSO."

He was in the room before you could even finish the full word, on his knees and a trembling bottom lip sticking out, tail neatly tucked under his thighs and black furred ears down on his skull.

"Yes, mistress..?"

You glanced over to the bed.

He did too-

Oh no.

I mean, what did he expect would happen.

Leaving evidence right where you'd find it.

Silly boy.

The kneeling hybrids face started to heat up, looking to the floor where his hands were.

"…Wasn't me.."

"Who then? The undie ripping fairy? The pervert gnome of panty land?"

"…Both of them…"

You went silent, eyes staring down at his.

He whimpered, shifting uncomfortably under your glare.

"Choso, be good. Tell me what happened, seriously."

"I.. i didn't mean to… swear it."

"Choso Kamo."

He bit the inside of his cheek, head tipping forwards and hanging. His dark locks falling over his face to cover the guilty look.

His tail was starting to slooowwly slide back and forth across the floor.

Was he enjoying this?

You ran the hand from your forehead down your face.

"I did it…ma'am.."

"Why?"

"Wanted to smell you… but.. but also taste so i…"

"Taste and smell… what else, touch and lick?" You scoffed, making a sarcastic remark.

But he nodded, finally lifting his chin back up to have his chocolate irises meet your annoyed ones.

"May i, mistress?"

"May you? You tore up my favourite pair and now you want to get some? Fine. But you won't like it. "

You tried to threaten him, but he didn't look all that scared.

Not until you grabbed him by the hair and made him scoot forward, clumsy hands clinging to the backsides of your thighs. That pitiful little face he was making made you want to forgive him, but he deserved to be punished.

You stepped a bit wider, shoving his face between your legs.

This earned you a whine from him, unsure what to do now… the scent of you filling his nose and making his fluffy tail thump around on the flooring.

"Don't look so excited, damn mutt."

Choso shuddered from the mean name, peering up at you, tongue already darting out to try and lick at the fabric of your pants.

You unbuttoned your jeans, letting the not so guilty looking hybrid watch you unzip and tug the waistband down.

Before you could even get them past your thighs he was trying to lap at the front of your filly panties- canines lightly pulling on the material.

Someone was hungry.

"Look at you… now hold on, you can't taste unless i allow it." You chuckle, pulling him away by his hair.

Poor Choso was already sniffling, unable to tear his eyes away from the damp fabric clinging to invitingly to your puffy folds, hands gripping into his own sweats.

"Please….mistress… please."

You tutted.

How impatient.

You pulled him up from his knees, pushing him onto the soft bed- ripped up panties forgotten underneath him.

You didn't want to let him get what he wanted the most. To get to touch and bite at your skin.

So the best course of action?

Forcing him to lay down, tugging his sweatpants down just enough so you could sit on his weepy cock. It looked like it was crying by how much precum was oozing out.

Your clothed pussy formed around it, thighs trapping his legs underneath yours.

"No touching."

"Yes ma'am."

It was a pitiful sight, his ears floppy and his eyes glossy, unable to look away where your bodies were rubbing together- and his hands, oh his desperate hands, trying to lay flat on the bedsheets beside his sides.

You didn't slide your soaked panties to the side until he started to buck his hips.

Obviously his cock was obscenely large, with a plump knotting bump at the end. Not to mention how pretty his happy trail was, your hands pressing down on his lower stomach to hold him still while shifting and helping the leaky cockhead find your sopping hole.

Thwap slap thwap slap slap!

Your hips bounced up and down, ass meeting his trembling thighs, the wet sounds of skin meeting skin filled the usual wholesome bedroom air.

All he could do was… well.. cry. And let out whimpers of your name- too overwhelmed.

He was sobbing, nose scrunched up and his eyes blinking out pearly tears before shutting completely, fingers gripping into the bedsheets so hard they might tear.

"Misuhh…mistthhrurress…" He hiccuped out your title over and over again.

You leaned over, grabbing his face with one hand, the other bracing your weight on his abs.

"Cmon, look at me, you crybaby. You did this to yourself."

He refused to open his eyes, trying to squirm out of your hold.

Smack!

You have his cheek a light slap before leaning back, making sure to clench around him for a torturous squeeze.

"Bad puppy."

You didn't even let him cum inside, getting off right at the last moment.

And the thick load splurted out all over his own chest and face. Nowhere near where he would have liked to get it on… or in.

Lesson learned?

For now, maybe.

You weren't that cruel… you scooped up the whiteish liquid in your fingers and fed it to him.

That counted as cleanup.

Fine, he got a proper cuddle session and a short lecture about eating your clothes.

Didn't mean you knew about all the other stuff he had done before getting caught this one time.

Yoon's notes: sumn abt writing subby pup choso always hits the spot

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toji. f

You’d been asking him for twenty minutes, shamelessly relentless, until Toji finally let out a heavy sigh and shifted over you. Even then, he refused to give you his full weight. He braced his knees on the mattress on either side of your head, his thick, scarred thighs framing your vision as he hovered just inches above your mouth.

"You're annoying, you know that?" he grumbled, his voice a low, gravelly vibration in the dark room.

You didn't answer, just tilted your chin up and caught him. The moment your tongue swiped firmly against his slick heat, the tension in Toji's heavy frame snapped. He didn't stay hovering for long. As you worked your tongue in broad, demanding strokes, his hips started to drop. He began grinding down against your mouth, a slow, desperate roll of his hips that forced you deeper against his center.

His breathing roughened, turning into sharp, jagged hitches. He gripped the headboard, his knuckles turning white as he chased the friction. You added two fingers, sliding them inside and hooking upward. Toji's breath hitched violently. He was practically riding your face now, his heavy muscles twitching with every frantic thrust of his hips as he ground down onto your tongue.

Then, without warning, his entire body stiffened up.

Toji let out a sharp, breathless gasp. His back arched, and a sudden, heavy rush of hot fluid sprayed directly across your mouth and cheeks. It wasn't just a leak; he was actively squirting, his internal muscles pulsing frantically around your fingers as the sheer volume of it coated your lower face.

The room went dead silent, save for the sound of his ragged breathing.

Toji froze completely. The strength gave out in his arms, and he dropped down, his knees taking his weight as he stared blindly at the wall. He looked down at you, his usually sharp green eyes blown wide in absolute, stunned disbelief. He was completely speechless, a dark flush rapidly climbing up his thick neck and spreading across his scarred chest. He just stared at the wet mess on your face, his mouth slightly parted, trying to process what his body had just done.

You pulled your fingers out slowly and swiped the back of your hand across your chin, catching the slick fluid. You looked up at his shocked, flushed face and smirked.

"Damn, Toji," you said, your voice low and cocky. "Didn't know I could work you out like that."

His jaw snapped shut. For a long, heavy second, he just stared at the wet mess covering your lower face. The deep red flush burned all the way to the tips of his ears.

"Shut up," he finally grated out, his voice a full octave lower than usual, completely raw. He dragged a heavy hand down his face, deliberately breaking eye contact. "Don't act like you did something special. I just... it's been a long week."

You didn't wipe the smirk off your face, letting your eyes drop meaningfully to where his thighs were still trembling against the mattress.

"Stop looking at me like that," he snapped, though the harshness of his tone was completely ruined by the way his breath caught at the end of the sentence. He shifted his weight, suddenly hyper-aware of his own body and the undeniable evidence he'd left all over you. He reached down, his large, calloused thumb aggressively wiping at your chin and cheek, trying to scrub away the proof. "Wipe your damn face. You look stupid grinning like that."

You chuckled, catching his wrist and leaning up to kiss the inside of his palm. He flinched, but he didn't pull his hand away.

"I'm serious," he warned, his chest still heaving as he finally forced himself to look back down at you. His green eyes were dark, defensive, but blown wide with lingering heat. "You utter a word of this to anyone, and I'm putting you through a wall. You just caught me off guard. Don't let it go to your head."

He let out a rough, shaky breath, trying to summon his usual intimidating aura, but he was still straddling you, completely laid bare and visibly shaken.

"Now are you gonna get up," he muttered, his voice dropping into a needy, impatient growl as his hips twitched involuntarily against you, "or are you just gonna lay there looking smug all night? Because I still have an ache you need to take care of."

You didn't argue. You just reached up, gripping the back of his thick neck, and pulled him down. He didn't resist, collapsing his heavy frame over yours. He caught your lips in a quick, rough kiss, tasting the salt and slick of himself on your mouth without a single complaint.

He broke the kiss just as fast, turning his head to bury his flushed face deep into the crook of your neck. He let out a long, heavy exhale, his massive chest expanding against yours as he snuggled closer, his solid weight pinning you to the mattress. He was still trembling slightly, his arms wrapping around your shoulders in a tight, grounding hold.

"Just shut up and touch me," he mumbled into your skin, the last of his fight completely drained out of him.

satoru .g

The sheets were a tangled wreck underneath you both. You were twisted up in a breathless 69, Satoru’s ridiculously long legs straddling your shoulders while his face hovered right over your hips. He had your cock in his hand, his lips parted to finally take you in, but the second your tongue swiped firmly against his slick heat, his jaw just slacked.

He was far too distracted by what you were doing to his pussy to actually focus on sucking your dick. He tried, ducking his head down, but as you dragged your tongue right over his most sensitive spot, he let out a sharp gasp and lost his grip entirely. He ended up just panting hot air against your thighs, his long fingers abandoning their task to twist deeply into your hair instead.

"Hold on, let me—ah!" Satoru gasped, a breathless, exhilarated laugh bubbling out of him as he failed to focus for the third time. "You’re doing that on purpose. You’re not even letting me start."

You didn't let up. You gripped his thighs, holding him steady as you worked your tongue in broad, demanding strokes. Satoru was incredibly vocal, his hips rolling eagerly and shamelessly against your mouth as he completely surrendered to the sensation. The room was filled with the wet, heavy sounds of the friction and his ragged breathing.

He arched his lower back, pushing himself deeper against your face. You took the invitation, sliding two fingers deep inside him and hooking upward to hit that internal sweet spot, keeping a relentless, punishing pace with your tongue.

Satoru’s breath hitched violently. He completely abandoned the idea of the 69, his head dropping back against the mattress as he practically rode your face. His long frame arched completely off the bed, his thighs trembling uncontrollably against your cheeks as the overstimulation built up higher and faster than he was ready for.

"Yeah, right there," he stuttered out, his voice pitching higher. "Don't stop, don't—fuck!"

A violent, full-body shudder ripped through his long frame as the last of his control completely broke.

Satoru let out a loud, sharp cry, his fingers pulling taut against your scalp. His hips buckled hard, and a sudden, heavy rush of hot fluid sprayed directly across your mouth, chin, and cheeks. He was shaking, his internal muscles clenching in frantic, wet waves around your fingers, completely coating your lower face.

He collapsed down onto your legs, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. For a split second, there was total silence in the room, except for the sound of the bed creaking.

Then, Satoru shot up. He pushed himself onto his hands, craning his neck to look down at your face. His bright blue eyes were blown incredibly wide, but there wasn't a single hint of embarrassment in them. Instead, a massive, thrilled grin broke out across his flushed face.

"Holy shit!" he laughed out loud, completely breathless and amazed. "Did I just do that?!"

You pulled your fingers out slowly, swiping the back of your hand across your slick chin. You looked up at his wide, excited eyes and smirked, your tone perfectly cocky and satisfied.

"Damn, Satoru," you teased, your voice low. "Didn't know I could make you flood like that. Look at the mess you made."

"Are you kidding?! That was incredible!" he beamed, completely unashamed of the sheer volume of slick covering your face.

He shifted his long frame immediately, abandoning the 69 entirely to slide his legs down and fully straddle your waist. He leaned down over you, practically vibrating with lingering adrenaline, and didn't even hesitate before pressing a wet, messy kiss right to your lips. He tasted himself on you without a second thought, his tongue swiping lazily at the corner of your mouth.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his flush deepening but his grin turning distinctly teasing. He reached out, tapping a finger right on your slick chin.

"You look really good wearing me, by the way," he hummed, his tone playfully arrogant. He let out a happy, exhausted sigh and dropped his weight, snuggling his face right into the crook of your neck. His heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against your chest, and his arms wrapped tight around your shoulders.

"You're an absolute genius," he murmured happily against your collarbone, his hips still twitching involuntarily against you. "But now I have to clean up my mess. So lay back, because it's my turn to focus... and I'm going to take my sweet time draining you completely dry."

choso. k

You had him pulled right to the edge of the mattress, his back flat against the sheets while you knelt on the floor between his legs. It was an incredibly vulnerable position, and Choso was visibly hesitant. His hands were gripping tightly at the bedsheets, his knuckles turning stark white, and every time you leaned in even an inch, his thighs would reflexively try to snap shut against your sides.

"Wait," he breathed, his voice tight and nervous. A dark, heavy blush was already dusting his pale cheeks, spreading down his neck and over his collarbones. "It's... I'm already too sensitive right now. Maybe we should just—"

You didn't let him finish. You reached out, gently but firmly catching his wrists, prying his fingers away from the bunched-up fabric of the sheets and pinning his hands flat to the mattress by his sides. Then, you slid your arms under his knees, hooking his pale legs securely over your shoulders. It opened him up completely to your view, leaving him entirely exposed.

Choso let out a shaky, embarrassed whine, turning his head sharply to the side so he wouldn't have to look at you. He squeezed his eyes shut, his chest rising and falling in shallow, nervous hitches.

"Just relax for me," you murmured, leaning in close enough that your breath fanned over his slick skin.

The moment your tongue traced a long, slow, deliberate path right over his center, Choso let out a startled, high-pitched gasp. His entire body jolted like he’d been struck by lightning. He was so incredibly pent-up and sensitive that even the lightest, teasing pressure felt like a massive shock to his system. He tried to squirm backward, instinctively trying to pull away from the overwhelming sensation, but your grip on his hips kept him anchored right at the edge of the bed.

"It's too much," he whimpered, tears immediately welling in his dark eyes and spilling over the bridge of his nose. "Please, I can't... I can't take it, it's too much..."

He was pleading, shaking his head against the pillows, but his body was completely betraying him. Even as he cried out for you to stop, his hips were instinctively bucking upward, his breathing turning into wet, ragged gasps as he chased the very friction he claimed was too intense.

You answered his frantic movements by sliding two fingers deep inside his soaking heat, curling them upward to hit a steady, rhythmic pace while your tongue worked him over without a single ounce of mercy.

Choso became a complete wreck. He was sobbing openly now, sweet, musical sounds of pure sensory overload leaving his lips. His head thrashed against the pillows, his dark hair a tangled, sweat-dampened mess. His stomach muscles jumped and twitched with every stroke of your tongue, the overstimulation rapidly pushing him past the point of rational thought.

"Please!" he sobbed out, his voice cracking as his toes curled so tight they cramped. "Ah! I'm—I'm gonna—!"

A violent, full-body shudder ripped through him as he finally shattered.

Choso let out a loud, ruined wail, his back arching off the mattress so hard he practically lifted himself into the air. A sudden, heavy rush of hot fluid sprayed directly across your face.

The heavy, intense rush of it left him completely drained. His body went limp, collapsing back onto the mattress with a heavy thud. His chest rose and fell in sharp, desperate gasps as the last of the tremors worked their way through his thighs.

All Choso could do was lay there and pant.

Then, Choso slowly opened his tear-filled eyes, peering down at you through his damp lashes, his chest still heaving. When he finally focused on your face—when he saw the sheer volume of slick dripping from your chin and painting your cheeks—his breath hitched violently in his throat.

He froze completely. A look of pure, unadulterated shock washed over his pale features, his lips parting in silent horror. The red flush on his face that seemed to consume him entirely.

You pulled your fingers out with a soft, wet pop, slowly swiping the back of your hand across your slick chin. You looked up at his horrified, flustered face, letting a slow, incredibly self-satisfied smirk cross your lips.

"And here you were begging me to wait," you teased, your voice low and perfectly cocky in the quiet room. "Look at the absolute mess you just made of my face. You must have really been dying for this."

A pathetic, utterly mortified squeak left his throat.

"I—I'm so sorry!" he stammered, his voice trembling with sheer panic, shame, and overwhelming embarrassment. He immediately scrambled upward, his shaking hands reaching out to frantically cup your jaw, his thumbs trying to wipe at your slick-covered cheeks. "I didn't mean to—I don't know what happened! I'm so sorry, you're covered in it, I ruined everything, I—"

You chuckled, catching his trembling wrists to stop his frantic, messy apologies. You leaned forward, tilting his chin up, and pressed a quick, wet kiss right to his trembling lips, tasting the salt and slick of him, shutting him up instantly.

Choso melted into the kiss the second your lips met his, a soft, needy whimper vibrating in the back of his throat. When you pulled back, his eyes were wide and beautifully dazed, his blind panic instantly replaced by a heavy, adoration-filled heat that he couldn't hide.

Before he could find his voice to start apologizing all over again, he just gave up. He slumped forward with a heavy sigh, sliding right off the pillows to wrap his arms tightly around your neck. He buried his burning, tear-stained face deep into the crook of your shoulder, absolutely desperate to hide from your cocky gaze.

"You're terrible," he mumbled into your skin, his voice muffled and shaky, though he was clinging to you like a lifeline, his bare thighs still trembling where they bracketed your waist. "Please don't look at me right now... just hold me for a second."

mahito

You had him hoisted up onto the edge of the heavy wooden desk, standing squarely between his legs. Mahito was leaning back on his hands, swinging his bare heels against the back of your thighs and giggling that manic, grating laugh of his. He was treating the whole thing like a game, his mismatched eyes bright with chaotic amusement as he looked down at you.

"Is this supposed to be intimidating?" he teased, a wide, stitched grin stretching across his face. He tilted his head, completely unbothered. "C'mon, you look so serious! Are you really going to just stare, or are you actually going to—ah!"

His mocking laughter was completely cut off the second you stepped in close and dragged your teeth lightly up the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. You didn't give him what he wanted right away. Instead, you took your time, deliberately teasing him. You mapped out the patchwork lines of his skin with slow, agonizingly light laps of your tongue, completely ignoring his slick center while hovering just inches away from it.

Mahito shifted on the hard wood of the desk, his grin faltering. "Hey. Stop messing around. That tickles."

You smirked against his skin and traced a slow circle just outside his heat, blowing a warm breath over him. Mahito’s breath hitched, a sudden, involuntary shiver running down his spine. His hands gripped the edge of the desk tighter.

"I said stop playing," he grumbled, his voice losing its playful edge, dipping into something much more impatient and needy. "Just do it already!"

"Impatient, aren't we?" you hummed.

Then, you finally gave it to him. You gripped his thighs, your fingers digging firmly into his pale skin to hold him in place, and buried your face against him. The second your tongue swiped firmly and relentlessly against his core, the change in him was instantaneous.

The playful arrogance melted entirely off his face, replaced by a look of wide-eyed, frantic overstimulation. He jerked backward, his spine snapping straight, but you didn't let him retreat. You worked your tongue in sharp, demanding strokes, refusing to let up the pressure. He wasn't used to being overwhelmed, usually twisting and reshaping himself out of any corner, but his body was completely betraying him.

"Wait, wait—stop!" he gasped out, his fingers tangling desperately into your hair. He tried to squirm away, letting out a series of high, breathless whines, but his hips were instinctively bucking forward against your mouth. "I can't—it feels too—!"

You answered his frantic movements by sliding two fingers deep inside his soaking heat, hooking upward to hit that deep, internal pulse.

Mahito’s entire body went completely rigid. His breath caught violently in his throat, his jaw dropping open in a silent scream as the sheer intensity of the overstimulation shattered his chaotic facade. His heels dug sharply into your lower back, his pale thighs trembling uncontrollably against your cheeks.

Then, the tension finally snapped.

A violent, full-body shudder ripped through him. Mahito let out a loud, high-pitched cry, his back arching off the desk as a sudden, splash of warm fluid sprayed onto you.

The heavy rush left him entirely drained. He collapsed forward, his chest heaving as he gasped for air, his forehead coming to rest heavily against the top of your head.

Mahito slowly pushed himself up, blinking rapidly as his dazed eyes finally focused on your face. When he saw the sheer volume of slick dripping from your chin and painting your shirt, his breath caught in his throat.

He froze completely. The manic, unhinged curse was rendered completely speechless. A look of pure, unadulterated shock washed over his patchwork features, his mouth falling open. A dark, violent flush erupted across his pale cheeks, burning right through the stitches on his face and spreading all the way down his neck.

You looked up at his horrified, flustered expression, letting a slow, incredibly cocky smirk cross your lips as you wiped his essence off you. You didn't wipe all of it away, letting him stare at exactly what he’d done.

"Well," you teased, your voice low and deeply satisfied in the quiet room. "That’s certainly one way to finally shut you up."

A pathetic, mortified squeak left his throat.

"You talk all that big game," you continued, stepping into the space between his thighs and crowding him against the edge of the desk. "But you completely flood the second I put a little effort in. Didn't know you had it in you to make such a massive mess of me. Look at you. You made a puddle."

"I—what?!" he stammered, his voice trembling with sheer panic and overwhelming embarrassment. He looked entirely stripped of his usual bravado, his shaking hands hovering in the air as if he didn't know what to do with them. "I didn't—I don't even know what just happened! You—you cheated! You did something weird to me, you must have used a cursed technique, I—!"

You chuckled, catching his trembling wrists to stop his frantic, messy excuses. You leaned forward, tilting his chin up, and pressed a quick, wet kiss right to his trembling lips, tasting the salt and slick of him, shutting his rambling up instantly.

Mahito melted into the kiss the second your lips met his, a soft, needy whimper vibrating in the back of his throat. All the fight left his body. When you pulled back, his eyes were wide and beautifully dazed, his panic instantly replaced by a heavy, pliant heat.

Before he could find his voice to start arguing again, he just gave up. He slumped forward with a heavy sigh, sliding right off the edge of the desk to wrap his arms tightly around your neck. He buried his burning, flushed face deep into the crook of your shoulder, his chaotic energy entirely snuffed out.

"You're so mean to me," he mumbled into your skin, his voice muffled and shaky, though he was clinging to you like a lifeline, his bare thighs wrapping securely around your waist to hold himself up against you. "Shut up... don't look at me right now... just carry me to the bed."

suguru. g

You had been begging him for weeks. Every time you backed him against a wall, cornered him in the kitchen, or tried to pull him down onto the bed, Suguru would just offer that perfectly serene, frustratingly composed smile of his. He’d brush a hand through your hair, gently kiss your forehead, and murmur, "Soon. I just want it to be the right time and place. We shouldn't rush these things."

He was incredibly private, highly protective of his own vulnerability, and utterly obsessed with maintaining total control over himself and his environment. He hated the idea of feeling exposed or caught off guard.

But tonight, his elegant little excuses had finally run out.

He was seated deep in the plush, dark velvet armchair in the corner of his dimly lit bedroom, his long, dark hair tied back loosely. You were kneeling on the floor right between his parted thighs. Even now, with his legs spread for you, he was trying so hard to maintain that aura of untouchable grace. He rested one elbow on the armrest, his chin propped on his knuckles as he looked down at you through half-lidded, heavy brown eyes.

"Satisfied?" he hummed, his voice smooth and incredibly patronizing. "You’ve been relentlessly impatient, and now you finally have me exactly where you want me. Just do try to be gentle, won't you? I'd prefer not to make a mess tonight."

His arrogant, perfectly constructed little speech died instantly in his throat the second you bypassed his thighs and buried your face directly against his soaking heat. He tried to quickly muffle the sharp gasp that escaped him, biting down hard on his lower lip, but you weren't going to let him stay composed. Not after making you wait this long.

You gripped his thighs, your thumbs pressing firmly into the muscle as you dragged your tongue in long, deliberate, punishing strokes over his center. Suguru tensed violently, his hips involuntarily jerking upward against your mouth as his lower back arched completely off the cushion.

He tried to recover his composure, forcing a shaky exhale through his nose. He reached a trembling hand down, his palm finding the top of your head in a soft, patronizing pat—a desperate attempt to pace you. "Ah... you certainly don't hold back, do you?" his voice wavered, entirely losing its smooth edge. "That's... slow down a little, sweetheart, I can't—"

But the gentle head pat immediately turned into a white-knuckled, bruising grip in your hair the second you slid two fingers deep inside him, hooking upward to find the deep, internal ache he’d been so desperately hiding.

Suguru’s facade entirely crumbled. His hips buckled, lifting completely off the velvet cushion as he tried to chase the angle of your fingers.

"Wait, please, you're—ah! God, fuck!" he choked out, his voice cracking into a high, ruined pitch.

He was completely overstimulated, his long, muscular legs trembling violently against your ribs. He tried to pull you closer by your hair and push your shoulders away at the exact same time, his body entirely confused by the sheer volume of pleasure. A ruined, desperate whine tore past his lips, his head throwing back against the chair as his toes curled into the carpet.

Then, the final, stubborn thread of his control snapped.

Suguru let out a loud, melodic cry. His entire body locked up tight, and a sudden, rush of hot fluid met your awaiting mouth, completely coating your tongue in the sudden.

The intense rush of it left him completely hollowed out. He slumped forward in the armchair, his chest heaving with ragged, wet gasps. His hands slipped out of your hair, falling limply into his lap as the last of the intense tremors wracked his frame.

For a long, heavy moment, the only sound in the quiet bedroom was his open-mouthed breathing.

"So this is why you've been avoiding me for weeks," you teased, your voice low and deeply satisfied in the quiet room. "You were terrified I'd make you completely lose your mind. I've never seen anyone drench a chair this fast. Look at what you did to my face."

A pathetic, utterly mortified groan escaped his throat.

"Have a little mercy..." Suguru rasped out, his usually eloquent vocabulary completely deserting him. He looked utterly stripped of his pride, his shaking hands coming up to frantically drag down his burning face. "I had no idea I was even capable of that. God, you're wearing half of it. Please, don't gloat, I'm already entirely humiliated."

You chuckled, catching his trembling wrists and gently pulling his hands away from his face, refusing to let him hide. You leaned forward, crowding into his space between his thighs, and pressed a quick, wet kiss right to his trembling lips.

Suguru melted the second your lips met his, a soft, needy whimper vibrating deep in his chest. All the tension drained out of his rigid posture. When you pulled back just an inch, his brown eyes were wide and beautifully dazed, his intense embarrassment entirely replaced by a heavy, pliant heat.

Before he could try to find his composure again, he just completely surrendered. He slid right off the edge of the armchair, his knees hitting the floor right in front of you as he wrapped his long arms tightly around your neck. He buried his burning, flushed face deep into the crook of your shoulder, his perfectly kept facade completely destroyed and abandoned.

His trembling hand came up, instinctively finding the back of your head to offer a soft, shaky pat—his usual comforting gesture, though right now, he was entirely the one who needed it.

"You win," he mumbled into your skin, his voice muffled and shaky, though he was clinging to you like a lifeline, his bare thighs bracketing your waist on the floor. "I severely underestimated you. Now just... hold me, and let me pretend this didn't happen."

naoya. z

The bedroom was stifling, the air heavy with the frantic, wet sounds of his undoing. Naoya was pinned against the headboard, his pale legs hooked over your shoulders and his ankles locked behind your neck in an involuntary, white-knuckled grip. His hair was a sweat-slicked mess, and his dark eyeliner was completely ruined, dragged across his cheekbones in jagged streaks by the tears he couldn’t stop.

"Stop... I said stop!" he choked out, his voice cracking. He tried to shove at your shoulders, but his arms were shaking so violently his hands just slid off.

You didn't listen. You gripped his thighs tighter, your fingers digging into his skin, and buried your face back into his soaking heat. While your tongue swirled in heavy, demanding circles over his center, you slid two fingers deep inside him, stretching him wide and hitting that internal sweet spot with a punishing pace.

The double assault was too much for his nerves. Naoya’s entire body spasmed, a sharp, broken cry tearing from his throat. His hips buckled, his muscles clenching greedily around your fingers even as he tried to pull away from the friction.

"Just one more, Naoya," you murmured against his skin, your voice a low vibration that made him sob.

"It’s not... ah!... how you won't stop! You're... ngh!"

He was completely overstimulated, his nerves frayed, yet he arched further into the touch. His toes curled, and his breath came in hitched, needy whines. You increased the pressure, your tongue flickering faster as your fingers worked him into a frenzy.

"One more," you repeated, your teeth grazing him lightly.

"No! No more, please—Aaaah!"

He went rigid, his back arching off the bed as the next wave hit him. His thighs twitched uncontrollably against your ears as his body finally gave up, then came the gush of slick, coating almost the entirety of your lower face.

He let out a ruined, melodic cry, his hands flying up to cover his face in shame. He was sobbing openly now, his frame vibrating with the force of the climax. You finally pulled back, tasting the salt of him on your lips as you looked at the state of him—the smeared makeup, the trembling limbs, and the soaking mess on the bed.

"You're such a pretty mess, baby," you murmured, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from his cheek. "Look at you. All that big talk, and you’re just a leaky little girl for me, aren't you?"

Naoya visibly cringed at the endearment, his lip curling in a sneer that was half-furious and half-shattered. A deep, frantic blush climbed all the way to the tips of his ears. He squinted at you through his glassy, tear-filled eyes, his face a brilliant, humiliated crimson.

"What are you looking at, idiot?" he snapped, though his voice was entirely too shaky to carry any real weight. He squinted at you through his glassy, tear-filled eyes, his face a brilliant, humiliated crimson. "Don't call me that... it's pathetic. I'm not some dumb woman or a bitch for you to talk down to."

"Funny," you teased, your tone perfectly cocky as you deliberately let a drop of his slick run down your chin. "Because you're the one on your back, drenching the sheets because you couldn't handle a little tongue. For someone who hates women so much, you sure do scream like a girl for me."

Naoya visibly recoiled, his lip curling in a sneer that was half-furious and half-shattered. "I do NOT—!"

"You do," you interrupted, leaning in until your nose brushed his. "You’re pouting like a bratty little princess just because I made you lose your mind. It’s cute, Naoya. Really."

"I am NOT cute!" he hissed, his voice cracking with indignity. He reached out with a trembling hand, grabbing your collar and tugging you upward with a weak, desperate jerk. "Wipe your face. You look disgusting. You're filthy, and it’s your fault I’m like this anyway."

Despite the insult, he didn't let go of your shirt. His legs remained wide, his heels digging into the mattress as he pulled you closer. His eyes darted to your zipper with a desperate, impatient hunger that betrayed every word of his bratty protest.

"Well?" he whispered, his voice dropping into a needy, demanding rasp. "Are you just going to stare at me and say stupid things all night, or are you actually going to finish this? I'm not waiting any longer. Hurry up and give it to me."

"Say please, then," you hummed. "Tell me you want it, pretty girl."