Satoru was the demanding type. He didn’t care if you were working, cooking, or doing domestic chores—he always found a way to snuggle next to you, constantly seeking your attention.

“Hmph...” he purred, his tiny ears atop his head twitching as he almost crawled on top of you. Despite his size, his elastic nature allowed him to fit anywhere.

He slid his hands up your side and over your chest, almost panting at the sight. When he was in rut, there was no going back.

“You feel so good…” he whined pathetically, his hips seeking any kind of friction.