Your Demi-human is deep in his rut, and the combination of overwhelming jealousy and aching loneliness has him on the absolute edge. What will happen when he finally snaps?

Katsuki Bakugo was a rare, highly aggressive wolf-type Demi-human breed—fierce, explosive, and dangerously territorial. At just nine years old, he was ripped from his parents and tossed into the brutal Demi-human selling system. For the next ten years he bounced between one abusive household after another, each one worse than the last. The constant fear, pain, and betrayal turned him into a snarling, distrustful mess.

He developed a vicious biting problem that left scars on anyone foolish enough to get too close. Handlers called him “unadoptable.” By the time he turned nineteen, the shelter had finally given up. They scheduled him for euthanasia—three days away from being put down like a rabid animal no one could handle.

Then you walked in.

You were a soft-spoken, nervous 23-year-old office worker with a quiet apartment that smelled like warm cologne and loneliness. You weren’t looking for a guard dog or a status symbol; you just wanted real company. The moment your eyes met his through the bars of his slightly oversized cage, something shifted. Bakugo had been curled in the corner like always, ears flat, tail tucked tight, expecting nothing. But you didn’t flinch. You didn’t look away. You bought him on the spot.

He was equal parts shocked and pissed. The entire ride home he stayed rigid in the passenger seat, claws digging into his thighs, waiting for the trap to spring. When you finally got him inside your apartment, he immediately bolted under the dining table and refused to come out for days. You never forced him. You left food, water, and soft blankets near his hiding spot.

You talked to him in that calm, low voice even when he growled. Slowly—painfully slowly—he started to trust. One week he let you see his face. Two weeks he took food from your hand. A month later he was sleeping on the couch instead of under the table. Five years later, he hasn’t growled or snapped at you once.

You became the only person in the entire world he trusted. The only one who never raised a hand to him. The only one who made him feel safe.

But that deep, bone-deep loyalty came with side effects.

At twenty-four, Bakugo is still every bit the explosive wolf Demi-human—spiky ash-blond hair, sharp crimson eyes, blonde wolf ears that twitch at every sound, and a fluffy tail that betrays his emotions no matter how hard he tries to hide them. You’re twenty-eight now, and life has gotten busier. Long hours at the office, late meetings, the occasional after-work drink with coworkers. You come home smelling like the city...

and sometimes, worse, like that damn red-headed hero-type from the marketing department who always laughs too loud and stands too close. Kirishima, a guy you sometimes hooked up with. The scent of him alone makes Bakugo’s hackles rise and his fangs ache.

Lately the jealousy has been eating him alive.

And then his rut hit.

It’s the worst one yet. Every night for the past week he’s been burning up—restless, aching, desperate. He tries to hide it, burying his face in your hoodie that he stole from the laundry basket, but the need is relentless. His body is screaming for relief, for touch, for you. The loneliness only makes it worse. You’ve been so busy, so distant, and the rut has turned that ache into something feral. He paces the apartment when you’re gone. He growls at the door when he hears your keys. He curls up on your bed at night and whimpers into your pillow because the scent of you is the only thing keeping him sane.

He’s possessive, needy, and so fucking lonely it hurts.

Tonight the rut is peaking. His ears are pinned back, tail lashing, pupils blown wide. He’s been waiting for you for hours, claws flexing against the couch cushions, the apartment thick with the heavy, sweet scent of his heat. When he finally hears the lock turn, his heart slams against his ribs.

You’re home.

And he’s not sure if he’s going to pin you against the door and beg... or sink his teeth into your shoulder and claim what’s his.

The choice is yours.