mellow

Running a farm sure is difficult. You had to wake up early everyday and get lots of physical work done. Not only that, you also had to care for all of your hybrid animals, each with their own individual needs and problems. You did hire employees to help lessen your workload, but there were still things only the owner can solve. Like today, having to deal with the mystery of one of your best cows producing results atypical of him.

“Ahhn— ahnnghh~ ♡ mmHghff, n-not so roughhhh..!! T-too much too g-guuud ♥︎♡” He mewled, nails digging into his own thighs as he whimpered around the stretch. His knees were raised up to his chest and your cock already bottomed out inside him, causing him to kick his legs futilely. It’s been so long since he last had someone else play around with him in the hay like this. Just the tip alone was enough to make his eyes roll back, his mind all fuzzy with pleasure.

Now with the entire thing inside, his couldn’t hold back his voice anymore, “ahh.. ah—ahNgh, ha,,uuhNnh~ b-big, so biiig ♡ so deep~ h-hurts~!!♡♥︎♡” At this rate, he could swear you were fucking his stomach, reaching places he only gets to experience with you. No matter what he moaned out, he couldn’t fool no one with that big, stupid grin plastered across his face. “You are kind of pissing me off.” For some reason, you felt like you were being played by him. “Spread yourself wider.”

He did as you said, using his hands to hold his legs apart, faint red lines appearing from where he gripped too hard. The hay below was digging into his back and getting into his hair, yet he didn’t care one bit. He couldn’t think of anything but you right now, not when his lovely, favourite farm owner was personally showering him with so much love! You don’t even know how long he’s been waiting to get manhandled by you again.

And fuck, he wasn’t just imagining it, he could totally see the belly bulge apparing and disappearing from his lower abdomen with each thrust. “mhhHffgg~ r-right there, ahhNn～ I-I’ll do anything, so pleassee!! Ha-harder, more, gimme all of it~♥︎” Someday, he was going to make you snap. “Don’t get cocky. I wouldn’t be here fucking your desperate self if you weren’t acting like some bitch in heat.” You snapped at him. That’s right, you were supposed to investigate his milking problem, but the upper half and not his lower, stupid half.

It’s not like you didn’t try solving it in a civil manner first. At first all you did was asking if anything happened or if he felt sick, while he was using the milking machine as per procedure. He replied no to each and every one of the questions, yet only produced a quarter of what he usually did, so it’s understandable that you got concerned.

“Maybe… it’s because of the machine?” That cow hybrid suggested upon your inquiry, gently pulling the pumps off of himself and holding his squishy tits with both hands. It was obvious that these got bigger over the course of the last few days. “Are you saying we should try hand milking?” You wondered, and he nodded quickly. You even felt like his eyes lit up for a split second. So you decided to give it a shot, since you did start off in the traditional way first and just recently adapted the more modern method.

You then quickly proceeded with the experiment and began tracing your fingers around his areola. After a few circles, you pinched his nubs softly with two fingers, trying out the flow. Nothing much happened apart from the low, breathy gasps coming from the male, which was why you began pulling and twisting a little. But once you started doing that, he just immediately moaned out, “aAaHnngg~♥︎♡♥︎ mMhnnh— uHhn,, huUhmff ♡”

After having his nipples sucked by the machine for so long, they were already super sensitive. Then to have his favourite caretaker the one he really really liked ♡ hand milking him again? Who could blame him for getting hard! By then he was already leaking precum onto the hay below. Your fingers were just so skilful, so much more intimate and warm than any device could ever hope to replicate. He just adored having your hands on him. “G-gentle… nghhHgg, l-love it~~ mhmm~! ♥︎”

He glanced down at the spot between his legs, a small puddle of precum already forming there. “I-I can’t help it…! It feels too good when you touch them.” Seeing that the wrong part of him was getting milked dry, you felt this realisation clicking inside, “did you suggest the hand milking just to get off? Don’t you know I have other things that needs to be done too?” The boy stayed quiet for a bit, before smiling sheepishly, noticing your hands were still on his nipples, “nnhhGahhh-ahnn!!♡♡ ha-haaa,, maybe…?”

Needless to say you were at your wits end with him, which is what got you into your current situation. With you holding his waist while slamming your hips against his, lewd squelching sounds echoing through the barn. “You know, this is how you get real cows to produce milk. By breeding them.” You whispered, his walls squeezing your length all snuggly. “Will it work for you too? Though I’m starting to think you were faking it all for attention.”

The way you stared down at him gave him chills. Oh how he loved it when you frowned at the sight of him, your eyes focused on him only. His words were slurred as he babbled with his tongue lolled out, “n-noo, no..!! M’wasnt, i r-really couldnt~ nGhhn ♥︎” look at that, he was thoroughly enjoying himself, wasn’t he?

“So, you are telling me you didn’t see this coming?” He didn’t answer, but his body revealed everything you needed to know. “Cheeky bastard.” You sighed and pulled out until only the tip remained inside, before slamming it all back in, making him curl his toes. “GuuUhhGnn~♡♥︎♡ ah-HnnGh—!!“ His moans turned into a whine when you abruptly grabbed him by the chin, “Since you’ve got so much time on your hands, fix that milking problem.”

“Yuu are sho… mhmm..!!! sho mean…!” He gasped out while you were still squeezing his cheeks. His hands finally released his now bruised thighs and landed on his nipples, his legs wrapping around your waist. The spot where he gripped them before has been decorated with a bunch of red nail-indents. “Ha-haaahh~ like this?” You did let go of him the moment he fulfilled your command.

Unsurprisingly, he kept smirking while he rolled his nips between his digits, licking his lips as his own sweet milk flowed down his wrists. The entire barn smelled of sex and warm, fresh milk. “hey… isn’t this suuuuch a-ahh~ waste?” He brought one of his soiled hand up to his mouth and sucked his own fingers clean, sticking his tongue out afterwards, “you want to make money with this, no? Heh… nghh ♡ So we shouldn’t waste it…!”

He was actually hoping for you to touch him yourself again, but to his dismay, you instead handed him the pumps of the milking machine, forcing him to reapply them to his own chest. “You think I’m that stupid? I won’t fall for the same trick twice.” You raised his hips up a little, getting a better angle before pounding into him even deeper, with surprisingly quicker thrusts. “AhNghhn ♥︎♡ d-don’t stop, ahhh so guuud, too good mghhnnff, m’love you, love this, right t-there ♡♡♡!”

You were hitting his sweet spots with the accuracy of someone who knows how to play his body like an instrument. The way you abused all his favourite places, rolling your hips with each rut into his sloppy hole…? It was simply heavenly ♥︎ his moans bounced off the thin wooden walls of the stable, echoing back at him, though he didn’t care at all. He was getting the privilege of being fucked by you, why would he be ashamed of that~?

Even the low humming of the milking machine was like music to his ears, the soft pressure of the suction pumps constantly stimulating his chest. His body was like on fire. Wherever you touched, heat would blossom beneath his skin. His vision was swimming, brain melting from the absolutely overwhelming ecstasy. It was to be expected that he’d sooner or later reach his limit.

“I’m close… ah~ I’m c-close, hnNhh, gunna cum, m’cummin’~♥︎♡!!— ah, n-nooo!” Right before he could shoot it all out, you wrapped your hand around his neglected cock and pressed your thumb into his slit firmly, denying him his much anticipated climax, “don’t you dare cum before I do. I’m not done breeding you yet.” “Wa— n-no…! L-lemme cum, I wanna— ah, ahNhhhgg, uHHhn!!!”

With that being said, poor thing was forced to endure the ruined orgasm and deal with the consequences of his actions. Shudders coursed through his spine as he cried out with each thrust, pleading so, so so so sweetly for his release. But you stayed firm the whole time, saying you were only going to let go of his now weeping cock once you’ve emptied your load inside him.

This time, you were going to fill him up until he learns how to behave. It didn’t stop him from trying his shot by begging even more submissively though. “P-please… cum already… b-breed me, fill me♥︎ hnNgh, like you said…!! I-I can’t anymore, m’wanna cum, ahh please~♡♡♥︎”

Gradually, you approached your own limit. He’s been getting really good at squeezing around you, shaking his own hips in a poor attempt to speed things up. You took a glance at the machine, then back at him. It seems your little ‘breeding therapy’ bared fruits, there was so much more milk coming out of his tits now. It was filling the tanks up all nicely. The same couldnt be said about his face though. With tears, sweat and snot running down his chin, his eyes glazed over and pleasure-ridden— even his pupils turned into little hearts♥︎!

One of his hands was just shy of grabbing your wrist, the other one clutching at anything within reach. His body was shaking heavily, his breath hitching audibly when you suddenly quickened your pace and mumbled, “fuck… I’m close.” Shortly after you also finally let go of his swollen dick. The shade was an angry red as it leaked precum everywhere, twitching with a mind of it’s own as he whimpered, “y-yes, yes…!, finally, ah- ahnGhh I-i’ve been wa- ah— waiting, gonna cummm ♥︎♡♥︎ f-fuck me harder, Nghh~ deeper, fill me up with your babies ♡♥︎♡”

Soon enough, both of you tipped over the edge. With you filling him to the brim, making his belly distend even more, and him making a mess everywhere. His head thrown back, eyes rolling until only the whites remained, thick ropes of cum coming out of his still jerking cock, splattering everywhere. “MhHmghhn~~ ♡♥︎” he bit down on his inner cheek, tasting the metallic tang of blood on his tongue as he heaved heavily. Chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

You also took a moment to catch your breath, before pulling out of him with a quiet pop. The moment you left him empty and wanting, your cum began spilling from his entrance and dripped down his ass in an undeniably erotic display. His hole fluttered and clenched around nothing, small whines of residual bliss slipping past his lips from time to time. You couldnt help but chuckle at the debauched display, mocking him, “so that’s why you couldn’t produce any milk… it’s because you are such a slut that you need a dick to perform.”

After fixing yourself up until you were presentable again, you stuffed a plug vibrator inside him, to keep your seed trapped inside him. Then you turned it on to the max level alongside the pumping machine, since his breasts were carrying the milk from multiple weeks. This earned you a meek sob from the cow hybrid, but he was way too tired to even argue! All he could do was lay still while letting himself be milked like a good, obedient cow ♡

He still had so much more left until dry anyway, so it wouldn’t be a problem to set the timer to a few hours, no?

Mount Hua’s strongest disciple, whose name has spread across the Central Plains like wildfire.

At the mere mention of him, bandits scatter and evil sects fall silent in fear. His strength is said to be invincible, something no one can surpass. Not even the elders of other sects can overcome him.

And because of that, those martial artists who have made names for themselves can’t help but scoff in jealousy.

Who wouldn’t?

Not even you were safe from that envy.

You are just another of Chung Myung’s fellow disciples, someone who got swept up in his overwhelming presence.

Another future elder who will likely die with nothing left behind at Mount Hua, nothing but a name etched faintly among countless others.

You envied Chung Myung.

But that doesn’t mean you hate him.

You are sworn brothers within the sect. How could you possibly hate someone who greets you with that bright, unrestrained grin every time he sees you?

The same person who pats your back after training, as if your efforts are worth something.

The same man who drags you away in the dead of night, sharing stolen jars of alcohol beneath the quiet glow of the moon, your shoulders brushing as laughter lingers in the cold air.

You envied him.

And yet, at the same time.

Your love for him has only continued to grow.

Sure, he’s an arrogant bastard. He looks down on anyone weaker than him, ignores the elders, and doesn’t even bother listening to the sect leader.

When you first met, he didn’t even try to hide his disdain.

“How can an elder be this weak?”

“If this is Mount Hua’s future, then we’re doomed.”

Out of frustration, you challenged him to a spar.

And of course–you lost.

Every single time.

Again and again, you were struck down, your body twitching on the cold ground, sword knocked from your grasp, wounds aching as you struggled to even breathe.

But somehow, it only brought you closer–close enough to earn the title he gave you. Sworn brothers.

And yet, that name has never quite fit what you truly feel for him.

You know you’re weak. There’s nothing particularly remarkable about you, nothing that could bring glory to your sect.

But Chung Myung…

He was the only one who ever saw you, even when you were surrounded by countless outstanding disciples.

He kept saying things like.

“You’re strong. You’re just too blind to see it.”

You never fully understood what he meant.

But those words meant everything to you.

Because someone had acknowledged your effort, that someone had seen you.

How could you not fall in love?

The way he fights, the way he moves every motion is sharp, precise, and overwhelming.

The body he’s honed through relentless training… one you’ve shamelessly masturbate every night.

If the heavens had ever granted you the power to stop time, the first thing you would have done was take his virginity.

You were well aware that, as a Taoist, you were meant to cast aside earthly desires.

But that didn’t stop you from praying.

Again and again, you whispered your wishes to the Primordial Lord of Heaven.

And somehow it seemed the heavens had answered.

Because right now, in this quiet mountain forest, the strongest man in the world stood before you.

Chung Myung’s face was flushed, his gaze wavered as he looked at you, shyly spoke

“Y/N… would you like to dual cultivate with me?”

He was so flustered that he quickly began justifying himself, words tumbling over each other.

“It’s for your cultivation. You need to improve faster if you want to keep up with me.”

And he wasn’t wrong, Dual cultivation was a legitimate method one that allowed martial artists to exchange and refine their energy through physical union.

Put more pervertedly, having sex can make you stronger.

And you who had long harbored feelings.

Who had spent countless nights wishing for something like this.

Who were you to refuse him?

Your lips lifted into a slow smirk as you grabbed his waist, pulling him closer.

Chung Myung flinched at first, his body tensing–then a soft groan slipped past his lips when he felt your hot breath brush against his ear, your voice low as you whispered,

“Bend over.”

At your words, his body moved almost instinctively. He turned, bracing himself against a nearby tree, hands pressed against the rough bark as he bent forward.

It was as if he had been hypnotized.

Hypnotized by your dick.

By the overwhelming need burning through him.

Chung Myung, who had never bowed to anyone, was now desperate to have you right there.

His heart pounded wildly in his chest, each beat louder than the last.

A sharp inhale left him when he felt the cold air brush against his skin as you slid his pants down.

He glanced back over his shoulder only to freeze.

Your gaze was fixed on him, intense, unrelenting. It locked onto him.

Heat rushed to his face as embarrassment crept in, his teeth sinking into his lower lip before he snapped,

“Can you hurry up? This is embarrassing!”

Spank!

“Hnn!”

Chung Myung jolted, completely caught off guard when your palm struck his left cheek.

“Be patient.”

Your voice was firm and commanding.

It made his stomach tighten, something unfamiliar coiling deep inside him.

When he looked back again, your eyes had changed into something dark.

Something filled with both want and lust.

It sent a shiver down his spine, it only made him harder.

Seeing him like this–bent over, tense, desperate, his strong body betraying him.

Made something click inside you.

Something you hadn’t fully understood until now.

This feeling of control of wanting to take apart the man who had always defeated you, who had always stood above you in every spar.

It sent heat rushing through your body, your breath growing heavier.

Your clothed dick pressed forward, the tip nudging against him, teasing and proding.

You had immediately started. You brought two fingers up to his lips and ordered.

“Open.”

Chung Myung obeyed without hesitation.

That alone made your heart race.

You couldn’t believe someone like him could be this… obedient.

Your fingers slid into his mouth, playing with his tongue until they were thoroughly coated with his saliva. He wrapped around them instinctively, warm and wet.

When you pulled your fingers out, you swore you heard a faint desprate whimper escape his lips.

It made you grin.

Slowly, you pushed your two fingers inside him.

“Mhm… ha…"

Soft moans slipped from him it was quiet at first.

But your fingers didn’t stop, they went deeper, searching, pressing, exploring. Until you found it.

“Hnn! Ngh~ ahh!”

A sharp, high pitched moan broke from his throat.

You exhaled heavily, your eyes darkening.

Cute.

He was too cute.

Chung Myung’s body trembled from the unfamiliar pleasure. He turned his head sharply toward you, glaring though tears that had begun to gather at the corners of his eyes.

“Be gentle! This is my first time!”

You blinked, then spanked him again before speaking,

“Did I give you permission to speak?”

“Permission my ass–”

Your fingers pressed against that spot again.

“Nghh~!"

His head dropped forward, his body shaking uncontrollably.

He was confused, so confused.

What were you even touching inside him to make him feel this weak?

His legs trembled, barely able to support him.

Just one more touch, and he felt like he might come undone.

And you seemed to read him easily as you kept hitting that spot.

Schlop! Schlop!

The lewd sounds your fingers made only embarrassed him more.

“Haa… Y-Y/N, slow down…”

Chung Myung whimpered, sounding utterly helpless.

If he had known sex would feel this intense, he would have trained for it.

Your lips brushed against his ear again as you whispered lowly,

“I’m only using my fingers, and you’re already trembling?”

“Ba–bastar–ahhn!”

You shut him up by pushing in another finger.

The moment he felt three fingers inside him, Chung Myung’s eyes rolled back as pleasure overwhelmed him.

“Ughh! Sh-shit”

His legs trembled as a warm liquid trailed down his thighs, dripping onto the grass below.

His eyes were blown and mind had gone completely hazy from the sensation.

“We’re not done yet.”

As you spoke, you pulled your fingers out, and your tip pressed against his puckering rim.

You teased him slowly and agonizingly.

“You want it?”

Of course Chung Myung wanted it.

Your cock was so thick, he wanted to feel it inside him, to feel that fullness stretch him open.

To have you take his virginity.

Without hesitation, Chung Myung reached back and spread his cheeks himself.

“Please, Y/N… I want you inside me…♡”

The Plum Blossom Saint, reduced to a cock drunk mess.

Feeling satisfied, your tip pushed slowly inside him, creating lewd sounds as it gently entered.

Chung Myung’s tongue lolled out at your girth.

It was so thick that his legs completely weakened and gave out, but you were quick to catch him, hooking both of his legs into your arms.

The position was embarrassing, but Chung Myung could only focus on the way your dick entered him.

From this angle, it went deeper and deeper–

Even deeper than your fingers had reached.

“Eugh–!”

Another embarrassing high pitched moan escaped him when you finally bottomed out inside him.

You gritted your teeth at his tightness.

Chung Myung was a virgin, after all–this was the tightest you had ever felt.

But more than that, he was wet.

You didn’t know a man could be like this, so slick, making it so easy for you to slide inside him.

His hole twitched lewdly, as if it wanted to swallow your entire cock.

But between the two of you, Chung Myung was the messier one.

Your hips began to move, rutting into him.

Fwop!

The sharp thrust made his back arch, his head thrown against your shoulder.

The pleasure rushed straight to his head, leaving him completely dazed.

“Ahhn~♡”

You didn’t stop.

You kept thrusting, abusing his hole as it tightened with every movement.

Fwop! Flop!

Lewd sounds echoed throughout the forest.

But none of it made Chung Myung want to stop.

“Ooh~ big… so big! Y/N!”

He wanted more.

More of your cock hitting the deepest part of his ass.

Thud!

You suddenly pushed him down onto the ground, his head buried low while his ass was raised in the air.

The way Chung Myung arched his back just to keep your dick inside him so shamelessly made you lick your lips.

You spoke in a low voice,

“If this is the only way to defeat you, I might as well fuck you like this every day.”

Flop! Schlop!!

Your cock continued to abuse his prostate.

“Ye-yes! Every day! Ruin me every day!!”

Chung Myung screamed, throwing away his pride.

Fuck his pride.

If he could feel your dick like this every day–a pleasure he had never known before.

Then he might as well become your obedient cock sleeve…♡

Shlick! Fwop!

“Ooh~ more! More!”

Chung Myung’s whimpers grew louder every time your hips slammed into him, his ass turning red from the impact.

Everything around him was spinning. He's completely overstimulated.

Too rough for someone's first time.

He hadn’t known your dick would be your strongest weapon.

Schlop! Flop!

Spank!

“Eugh!”

A sharp moan tore from him at the sting on his rear.

Your fingers dug into his hips, your pace never slowing.

“Chung Myung-ah… you look so cute like this.”

“Fwu–! Ahhn!!”

He couldn’t even respond anymore, drool slipping from his lips onto the ground.

It was overstimulating.

Chung Myung had never imagined his first time could feel this good.

He’d have to thank Tang Bo later for the aphrodisiac he had given him.

The drug he drank was so potent it seemed to have affected you as well–

The way your hips wouldn’t stop, as if they had a mind of their own.

Or the way Chung Myung’s hips pushed back just as desperately.

“Moreee! Fuck me harder!”

Chung Myung had never felt this kind of bliss just from fucking his sajil.

“So good! More!”

His eyes rolled back as he moaned and whimpered, sounding nothing like himself, more like someone completely lost to pleasure.

Everything felt mind numbing.

His sajil’s cock was so much thicker than the makeshift one he had carved out of wood with his sword.

The toy he used to ride shamelessly, imagining this very moment–imagining you wrecking him.

And now, those fantasies had finally come true.

Your cock felt far better than the toy he had used every day.

Who knew a cock this big even existed?

So thick it almost felt like a blade splitting him open from the inside, and yet.

It felt so damn good…♡

You bit your lip hard as your orgasm drew closer.

It was too pleasurable –Chung Myung ass feels perfect for your cock.

His tightness felt like it was trying to milk your balls dry.

“I’m close, sahyung”

You let out soft moans as your hips moved faster and rougher.

Chung Myung felt a surge of happiness.

He was close too.

Would it feel even better if you both came together?

It had to, right?

He was about to find out.

With your one final thrust.

“Cumming!”

You groaned, grabbing his hair and pulling his body back, forcing him deeper onto you.

“Eugh! Y/N!!”

Chung Myung’s body trembled as pleasure crashed over him. His cock spurted semen, so messy, even staining his upper robes.

Climaxing together felt different. Stronger, more overwhelming. It felt like Chung Myung was ascending to another realm.

Warm semen flooding inside him made you feel revitalized. You could feel your cultivation growing stronger.

His body trembled intensely from the ecstasy–from the way you had filled him so completely.

Eventually, his strength gave out, and his body slumped to the ground.

“Huff… huff…”

You caught your breath and looked down at the mess you had made.

It was a filthy sight–Chung Myung’s hole still twitching, with traces of your release slowly leaking out.

You heard him whisper weakly,

“Th-thank you… for cumming inside me…♡”

Your lips curled into a dark grin.

“You’re welcome, sahyung♡”

--------------------

“So, how was it?”

Tang Bo asked, passing a bottle of alcohol to the limping Chung Myung, who still managed to catch it with ease.

“It was good.”

“That’s it?”

A heavy sigh escaped Tang Bo. He had expected his hyung to give a detailed explanation of how potent his drug was.

But judging by the way Chung Myung looked–completely refreshed, almost as if he had ascended to another realm–it seemed his aphrodisiac had worked perfectly.

Chung Myung sneered when he noticed Tang Bo’s expression.

“No. I’m not telling you what happened in detail.”

Tang Bo pouted, crossing his arms as he turned on his heel.

At the bottom of a lake in a national park sits a towering stone statue of an Asura – the three-faced, six-armed demigods who revelled in war and hungered insatiably for worldly pleasures. Two hands are clasped in prayer; four reach for the heavens. The forests are dense, the mountains tall, and the waters dark and cool.

Most scholars estimate the statue to be particularly ancient – something like one thousand and five hundred years, around the time Buddhism was introduced to Japan. Its size, however, begets questions: why so large for such a new religion? Who made it? Why at the bottom of a lake? Why this lake? How is it still almost perfectly preserved, with such little water damage or natural erosion?

It was a local oddity, a mystery of ancient times. Its purpose – to scare, to protect, to be worshipped – was debated. Kenjaku, however, knows better.

It is a door. An entrance to a long-forgotten tomb.

Now, draining an entire lake is a mammoth task. Luckily for him, whoever crafted the statue also made it a lock. It will open via a specific pulse of cursed energy, shaped sharp and terrible like a blade rather than a key. However, time has eroded the statue's memory of its proper shape – with a determined-enough battering ram, any door will open. Kenjaku is that ram.

It's magical, watching the lake drain into some strange contraption at the raised circular base at the bottom of the statue. It looks like a grate. Soon enough, the roar of the water subsides, and the dark hollow of the lake, punched deep in the earth, is like the gods' very own kitchen sink.

Kenjaku's eyes flicker to the dark dome above. The veil conceals everything for now, but discretion would be awfully difficult to keep if he finds out there's no way to restore the lake to proper, well, lake-hood. Sorcerers would come sniffing in an instant.

At the bottom of the lake, he enters the revealed stone doors, probably fifteen or twenty feet tall. They waited, newly open, for him once he'd bypassed the lock, grinding open slowly once he reached them.

His steps echo in the vast, dark cave system. The soft plink of water drips into clear pools somewhere in the distance. His breath clouds in front of him, the air cold and damp, as he descends stairs carved into the dark stone. The stairs go down and down, then up and up, the long winding passages broad enough to fit three cars side by side.

Torches line the walls, hammered into place with black iron that fans out in the shape of spider lilies. They crackle to life as he nears them, their red flames licking the centres.

Eventually, he comes across another set of open stone doors. Two black braziers sit on either side, throwing crimson light on the walls and darkening the shadows. He lifts a hand to one of the braziers as he passes, fascinated as the flames flicker harmlessly around his bare fingers. The fire feels only as hot as the steam over a boiling pot of pasta.

None of this is for him specifically. There is no kindling in the braziers, no oil in the torches – this is a falling line of dominoes, with stored cursed energy instructed to follow a set of actions the moment the lake drained. It is unique. It is ancient. It is... ingenious.

Beyond the second set of doors, the cave system opens up into a vast, gaping cavern. Through a gap in the ceiling, pale moonlight cuts diagonally through the darkness, a cone of light falling upon a rocky formation in the centre of the cavern. A cleared path curves up to a point, and mirroring its curve above is a massive stalactite. Perhaps the points of each had touched, once, into a single form, but no longer. Water drips from the tip into a blooming patch of translucent blue flowers that stretches around the base of the rock all the way to his feet, so pale they seem to glow in the moonlight.

He glances down near the doors. At the edge of the field of flowers is a knee-height collection of drawings etched in stone and painted with flaked paint. He bobs down, brushing his fingers over the stone.

The linework is sloppy, unsteady. The paint trails outside of the lines. Humanoid figures dance around a spider-lily brazier – sit peacefully around a roasted boar – stand knee-deep in a river catching fish. His fingers trail over the last scene. Two figures are in the water, one tall and one small, but there's a third on the banks, watching under a tree. It has four arms. The face has been erased with time.

He stands again. He walks up the path, flowers sprawling on either side, and finds a tall, still figure slumped gently at the top, like a throne.

Ancient silks pool around its wrists and feet, trailing through the flowers. Any colour it once had has since faded, the cloth now bone-white. It still, however, retains its shimmery lustre, with a sheen like crushed pearls.

Kenjaku steps closer, brushing his bangs over his ear as he reaches into his pocket and extracts his phone, glancing at a picture of an ancient painted scroll from his private library. He lifts his phone up to the figure, glancing between them, and hums.

"All these years, and you haven't changed one bit."

A thousand years have passed and your skin is still supple, smooth, though ashen with death. No blood runs through you now. Your hands rest open in your lap, cupped loosely, as if awaiting offerings. Your hair is romantically long, tucked behind your ear and over your shoulder, and despite how soft they look, your lips lack colour.

Even standing at the end of your robes, more than a metre away from the bottom of your moonlit throne, Kenjaku still has to look up slightly – you are tall, definitely beating his current body, six-foot-something as it is. No, you are larger than that. God-tall. Easily worshipped, he thinks – easily feared.

He steps closer, carefully manoeuvring around the white silk pooling around his shoes. In your hands is an intricate golden brooch, inlaid with four almond-shaped rubies that haven't dulled with time. It rests delicately in your palms, and your head is tilted towards it – perhaps it was the last thing you ever saw. Careful not to disturb the rest of you, he reaches for it.

Your hand shoots forward and wraps around the entirety of his forearm, dragging him in. Your grip is bruising, strong enough to shatter stone.

Silhouetted by darkness, your eyes glow a ghostly silver, pupils completely milky-white. Your lips nearly touch his as you pull him ever so slightly closer, fingers twisting punishingly around his arm. Your breath is cold against his lips.

"A corpse..." you whisper, a raspy, rattling breath, "should be left well alone."

Kenjaku doesn't move. He doesn't try to. Even dead, your presence is electrifying, your touch like a live wire straight to the nerves. His lungs constrict, and his heart pounds in his chest with something more than wonder.

Even like this, you still manage to surprise him.

You tilt your head slightly, eyes reflecting with an eerie catlike glow in the shadows of your features. Slowly, your grip loosens, and you release his arm – gently, softly, as if you're giving it back to him. Mechanically, your gaze lowers to the brooch in your palm, and you lean back, cupping it once more. Your hand closes around the brooch; the crimson jewels glitter between your long fingers. You close your eyes, and stillness returns to the dark cavern.

Kenjaku grabs his wrist, rubbing it more out of habit than anything. His own touch is a balm from the icy burn of yours. He mutters, "So dramatic."

You don't move.

"My way would have been easier. Centralised. I have to go out of my way to bring you back – but you were always a rebellious one, weren't you?"

He reaches for the brooch again. You grab his wrist – again. Just like before, there is no life in it. Nothing real. This is all just automatic reflex, instinct preserved in limbo, as unconscious and unthinking as the decay of meat and muscle – a natural, predetermined pattern of reactions to certain stimuli.

"What a bother," he murmurs, twisting his arm out of the corpse's grasp. "But if I were you, I suppose I'd want to keep a face like this, too."

He leans down, inspecting your lowered face. You have intimidatingly beautiful features – noble, strong. Uniquely elegant.

He reaches up, his face tilted towards yours. His fingers brush your ice-cold cheek – his palm is tiny in comparison.

Part curse, part god. A once-simple soul entangled deeply, cosmically, with another's. A bond that transcends eras, lives, and perhaps the very realm of the earth.

You don't stir. Why, he wonders? Is it the brooch that acts as the catalyst? Is your corpse protecting it?

Kenjaku draws back, lifting his phone again and scanning his annotations printed on a PDF file of scrolls. The photos are clearly taken with a phone camera on a library table rather than being scanned in archive quality, but they’re serviceable.

There's a highlighted note on a poem with beautiful calligraphy, its author gone uncredited. It accompanies a landscape scene of the lake he's standing under, the inky shape of the hills and mountains almost identical to when he viewed it over a nearby cliff.

Lucent blooms settle

Beneath sleeping mountains' light—

Silk's argent embrace

He hums. Incredibly profound.

It's a winter poem. 'Sleeping mountains' – that's the seasonal word, the kigo. His thoughts dart between fragments of information as he taps his chin thoughtfully, beginning to pace languidly back and forth. If only you'd trusted him enough with the key yourself – he'd had to scrounge through countless charred villages and museum archives just to find these clues, a task that spanned centuries. You were very good at hiding things. Unfortunately for him, only one being in existence has ever held that key, and they were currently… indisposed.

Winter. Cold. The corpse is cold. 'Lucent blooms' – that definitely has to be referencing these strange flowers, some rare variety he's never seen anywhere else. 'Light'… Moon? The moon's out right now. A full moon, if that changes things. Or it could be the light bouncing off the white peaks of the surrounding mountains. 'Embrace'. Embrace what? Fancy talk for just enjoying the natural view?

He clicks his tongue with a sigh.

Silk, his mind supplies helpfully. His gaze swings back to the god-corpse resting before him and the snow-white silk, still defiantly gleaming despite the passing aeons. An idea sparks in his mind.

Slowly, he crouches, inspecting the flowers and plucks the largest one from the fresh soil. The white petals are slender, soft as velvet and luminous under the moonlight. He glances at his phone, rereading the poem two more times. He places the flower in the cup of your open palms.

He waits. He watches.

The corpse's fingers twitch.

They close stiffly around the flower, pulling it close. With a slow, steady inhale, the corpse's eyes flutter open.

No longer are they that milky death-white, lacking the natural pinkness at the corners of the eyes and in the veins of the sclera. The irises are now gold, molten gold, and as bright and brilliant as the dawn.

There is a figure in front of you: dark-clothed, blurry with countless years of your dreamless oblivion.

"Uraume…?" Your voice is a low, husky breath. You close your eyes, one hand lifting briefly towards your aching, throbbing temple. The gold brooch tips from your palm, landing soundlessly in your lap.

"Not quite."

You blink, brow slightly furrowed. Your vision clears. There is a man in front of you – a sorcerer, judging by the controlled silvery shimmer that threads itself through his very being. His face is unfamiliar. But his energy is…

You take in his serene expression, the knowing gaze that borders on condescension… and the stitches across the forehead.

"You are not Uraume," you murmur – barely. Your lip curls with distaste. He has to strain to hear over the ambient noise, the low hum of the earth and the whisper of wind through stone. Your voice comes low, a death rattle cold enough to chill bones. "Leave, brain. You are not welcome here."

"Such little gratitude to an old friend," he replies with a smile. "Would it kill you to call me by my name?"

"Which one have you stolen now? This body…" You tilt your head, surveying him. "It is a recent acquisition."

"Yes – Geto Suguru," he says rather joyfully, touching his stitched forehead in a caricature of shyness. "You may call me such, if you like."

"I will not." You lower your gaze, scooping up the brooch and closing your fingers over it. The metal is cool against your skin – your sense of touch is returning to you. You can feel the intricate patterns of the gold and the hard angles of the jewels under your thumb. "Why do you wake me?"

"My plans are coming to fruition. I assumed you would want to be there for them."

You trace the white petals of the freshly-plucked flower in your palm. An offering – but given by the wrong hands. "If I had any interest in your 'plans', I would have accepted your proposal back then. So, before I snap every bone of your borrowed body and drink its marrow while you watch, I ask again: why do you wake me?"

He lifts his hands in surrender, but his smile sharpens. "Ryomen Sukuna has returned."

Your fingers stop drawing circles into the petals. Your breath catches. "What…?"

"Indeed. I'll give you a moment to check for yourself."

You can sense it. You feel him. It's faint, but something tugs at the base of your ribs, a sharp longing that has your eyes widening. He's unmistakable. You would recognise him anywhere – you would know him blind.

But if he has returned, why is it this brain stands before you, and not him? You promised you would wait for him. You would wake for him. To be awoken by this thing instead feels like a sickening betrayal. Your grip tightens on the flower, its petals crushed in your palm.

You… should kill him.

"Thinking of ending me?" His grin widens. "Unfortunately, Your Grace, I am the tip of the spear when it comes to restoring the King of Curses to his full strength. Removing me from the equation would obstruct his return to power."

"Would it?" You cup the brooch instead, letting the broken flower petals flutter to your feet. "You are such a confident little bug."

"Well-earned, I'd say." Kenjaku flutters a few fingers in the air casually as he speaks. "If it pleases you, I know a place where you can stay to recuperate while I gather the remaining number of Sukuna's fingers. I'm sure you'll be well enough by then to participate in my plans, should you change your mind."

"I have no desire to partake in your games. It is all posturing and strutting about – no substance." You glance up, leaning back. "Now leave before I peel every nerve out of that hideous brain of yours. You interrupted my beauty sleep."

He smiles back, infuriatingly composed. "As you wish. But I can't, in good faith, go without mentioning something. You might be interested to see that I have… this." He reaches into his robes and pulls out a wooden box completely wrapped in paper seals. Despite them, dark cursed energy radiates off of it in suffocating waves, thick enough to choke humans into a terrified, sobbing paralysis. It pulses like a heartbeat. He shakes it, and something rattles within.

Your amusement vanishes. You stiffen.

He watches your reaction keenly. "This is one of the two. Join me and I'll help you retrieve the other. Luckily for us, I just so happen to know exactly where it is."

Your eyes flash. "Are you threatening me?"

"It's more of a bargain, but I digress. Is the threat of a heart attack on a cosmic scale enough to entice you over, Your Grace?"

You gaze at him with an expression as readable as stone. Your gaze darkens. "You are a fool if you believe I'll ever make promises to a brain."

"A smart fool. I know you and Sukuna are impossibly attached to each other. How long will it take you to rewrite the rules of your 'hibernation' again? A year? Ten years? His current vessel is giving him grief, so it may take him a while to retain control long enough to find you. Help me gather his fingers and you'll have him back in a flash."

You say nothing.

"How long has it been?" you ask, finally, glancing around you. "How long has that bastard made me wait?"

"A thousand years, give or take."

Your grip tightens on the brooch. A long, heavy silence falls.

"Very well," you mutter, tracking him like prey as he steps away, inspecting the flowers and your silk robes as if you're some sort of museum exhibit. Your lips press together with disgust as he smiles and clasps his hands, a glint in his eyes that states he already knew your answer before you said a word. At least for now, you're weakened, so you'll oblige, but you promise yourself you'll enjoy spilling him across the stone one day. "Do what you must."

—

A child is running around your feet. It is small, with mismatched eyes and long blue-grey hair. You stare at it.

"This is not Uraume."

Kenjaku chuckles, watching from his seat by the table. He lifts a cup of steaming tea to his lips. "Uraume is busy searching for Sukuna's fingers. Why? Missing them?"

You cross your arms, tugging your billowing sleeves away from the grabby hands of the tiny... curse. Undeterred, it crawls under the hem of your trailing robes, folding them over its shoulders like a cape. You lift your gaze. "You said they were here."

"I said they were awake," he corrects. "If you care so much, why don't you send out your Bat-Signal, call them over?"

"My what?" you frown. "If you mean that I should signal my presence to them, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. Only Sukuna created that sort of bond. I did not like the idea of being... tracked."

He hums, sipping his tea. "Always so independent. Uraume will be back soon, I wager. In the meantime, why don't you introduce yourself, Mahito?"

The child at your feet looks up and beams, brushing his messy bangs out of his eyes. The dark stitches across his skin stretch with his smile. "I'm Mahito!" he chirps. "I can touch souls!"

"That's... very nice," you say, tugging your robes to stop them from catching and pulling at his dark stitches. You glance between the pair, eyes sliding up to Kenjaku's forehead. "Is it another one of yours?"

Kenjaku lets out a barked laugh, placing his tea on the table. "No. He was born of human hatred. He's quite young – not even a year old, I believe."

"Oh. I suppose that's better." You observe the youngster for a moment as he plays with the charms hanging from your sash, particularly absorbed with a small jade fox.

"Excuse me?" He almost sounds offended. "Why is it better that he's not my child?"

You ignore him, turning to the little curse. "Mahito, do your stitches hold you together, as his do? Or are yours just to make you look even more adorable?"

He lights up. "Geto! You hear that? He thinks I'm adorable!" He turns back to you, grinning. "I don't know, mister! I don't think I'll fall apart without them, but I haven't been pulled apart yet."

"I see." You pat his head. "Let's keep it that way."

"Okay!" He grasps your kimono and follows you to the table, where a dozen old scrolls and stolen inventory files lie neatly organised. You pick up the nearest folder, finding inside a printed report of 'Sukuna's Finger: Left Index'. You trace the image of it, your gaze softening ever so slightly.

Mahito isn't tall enough to see what's in your hands, let alone over the edge of the table. He huffs in annoyance and shoots up in height, shaking out his newly lengthened limbs, and grabs your elbow, shoving himself beneath your arm. He is now comfortably chest-height with you.

"Oh, just looking at these again. Geto always looks at these. So, you two were, like, married, right?" he says, tilting his head straight up to look at you at an angle impossible for human necks. "Was he any good as a wife?"

"It was a covenant," you correct, turning the page. "And yes. He was very good."

"Wow," he giggles, grabbing a scroll and unrolling it flat across the table. "Then what was the covenant about? How'd you meet? Did he try to kill you?"

You glance down at your robes, white as moonlight. A small smile tugs at your lips. "That's a boring story, Mahito."

"I don't believe that for a second! I mean, I'm not doing anything important. Let me decide if it's boring or not," he says, immediately ditching the scroll he'd just opened to take up half the library table. "Tell me, tell me!"

"Are you sure? I might not be the best storyteller. My mind is still a little foggy with sleep."

"It's okay. I just wanna know how someone like Sukuna caught the attention of someone as pretty as you, mister." He stares up at you with wide, sparkling eyes.

"If you insist." You chuckle.

"I do!"

"Very well. Long ago, I lived in a forest," you begin, touching the photo of Sukuna's finger. Even Kenjaku shifts slightly, eyes downcast towards his research but his ear tilted towards you. "It was a great, ancient place, spanning across many mountains. It was my home, and I protected it well for many years – until one day, humans came stumbling through it, shouting and trampling and carrying torches. There were too many to fight off, coming from all directions. Dealing with one group left another unchecked. They set my home on fire; that fire raged for two weeks."

You grab a chair and settle down into it, and Mahito quickly takes a seat at your feet. "Hanami hates when humans do that," he says wisely, nodding.

"They do it often, those wretched things – no consideration for the innocent creatures caught in their paths. That day, they were looking for someone: someone who'd made his latest home in my forest, and who they called the King of Curses. I didn't think much of the title. I'd never heard of the man before, so I wondered why they cared so much about him. Curious, I sought him out. I don't know why the sorcerers struggled to find him – he was loud and brutish, every step like an earthquake, every blow shaking the heavens. Unfortunately, before I could confront the barbarian disrupting my peace, the sorcerers fighting him attacked me as well. Mahito, what colour do you think gods bleed?"

He cups his chin thoughtfully. "Mine's red, but most other curses are purple. Hm... You seem different. Maybe gold, like your eyes?"

You smile evenly. "Clever guess. After I slaughtered those sorcerers, I found this supposed 'king' standing back and watching me, letting me do all the hard work. It infuriated me. He barges into my home, destroys my quiet, and now he doesn't lift a single finger to drive off the enemies he brought to my door? He had twenty of them. Surely he could spare one. But he refused, so clearly, I had no choice but to chase him off like a feral dog to take his invaders with him. For three days and three nights, we fought until we reached a stalemate. He could not touch me in a way that mattered. I could not keep him down."

A sigh flutters past your lips as you rest your head on your palm, propping your elbow on the table. "Finally, he stopped. He called me mesmerising, said that I'd enchanted him with how I fought like it was a dance, but that he wouldn't leave and wouldn't help with the humans unless offered something in return. You who steal my moonlight for your silks! he accused me. I will kill every sorcerer who threatens this forest only if you dance for me alone, forever."

Mahito hangs onto your every word, leaning forward slightly. His round, mismatched eyes shine with fascination.

"And so, Ryomen Sukuna, the mighty and undefeated King of Curses, became my darling little guard dog. The end." You wave a hand, your white sleeve gleaming in the light, and laugh at Mahito's dumbfounded expression. "Why the look? Did you expect more?"

"You skipped the middle part!" he complains, crossing his arms. "That's the best part. I wanna hear how you responded to his bargain!"

You think of Sukuna's flushed face and parted lips, all four ruby eyes half-lidded and trained on you. You think of taking him then and there in the forest clearing, the grass and trees bleached bone-white from the heat of your clash, with his sturdy thighs bracketing yours as he gripped his weapons stabbed into the soil for balance.

"No," you hum, smiling. "No, dear, you don't."

—

Mahito quite likes you. Hanami approves of your paternal care of the forest you claimed as your own, and little Dagon is still too young to do much except get carried around by Mahito so they can listen to your stories together. These are facts that bother the volcanic cursed spirit, Jogo, a surprising amount.

"He lies as easily as breathing," Jogo says gruffly, his single Cyclopean eye narrowing in your direction as you spin tales out of Sukuna's triumphs over ten-thousand-strong armies. Mahito is small at the moment, legs crossed in the sand of Dagon's beachy domain – his eyes shine brighter when you briefly make reference to your own formidable strength. Sukuna is a fairytale, just a collection of words – you are tangible, real, and to his mind, more interesting for it.

Kenjaku smiles calmly. "Is that why you don't get along?"

"Cursed spirits should be authentic! Real! The fox hides his true feelings and plays games to manipulate things in his favour. That's cowardly," he grumbles. "Striking from the shadows is reserved for the weak."

"Ah, but you forget that he faced off against Sukuna in his prime and managed to walk away. He's anything but weak. Open, honourable duels just aren't his cup of tea." Glancing across the beach, he watches Mahito clamber into your lap, childlike interest bright on his face as he reaches up and touches the brooch pinned high on your lapel. You hide it with your hair most of the time, sweeping it forward over your shoulders. Kenjaku watches as you sit him across your knee and let him touch it, but you grasp it firmly so he can't steal it away. "Once Sukuna fully incarnates, don't mention such thoughts to him. He's very touchy when it comes to what's his, so if you know what's good for you, keep your mouth closed."

Jogo harrumphs. "Fine. Doesn't matter to me. Why'd you wake him up before Sukuna's incarnation, anyway? He hasn't done anything yet except make a fanboy out of Mahito."

"Oh, just think a little bit harder," Kenjaku cajoles. "We know Sukuna's vessel is trained by Gojo Satoru and they're both residing at the Tokyo jujutsu school, yes? If Sukuna's as possessive as I remember, knowing his fox has returned and is waiting for him will fuel his desire to incarnate as soon as possible. Right now, there are still a dozen fingers out there, so he isn't rushing to consume them. I want to change that."

His eye narrows. "You… want to send him to the school."

"Bingo," he replies cheerfully.

"That'll get him killed."

"Oh, please. Stop underestimating him. He's very good at his certain brand of violence. Besides..." he hums as he settles back in the chair, crossing his ankles and closing his eyes with a serene smile. "Don't you think it would be funny?"

—

Yuji trudges blearily towards the open training fields of the campus, rubbing his eyes. His uniform is crinkled, and his socks are probably two different colours. He can't remember. He's always been unnaturally hardy, but over the last two weeks, Sukuna has been exceptionally loud and restless inside his head, and every lapse in attention was enough to let him manifest a mouth or eye with disturbing ease. Nights were even worse, and Yuji worriedly relayed to his teacher how Sukuna was able to take control of his entire body just because he crashed so hard it felt like blacking out. He'd jerked himself awake with his hand on the doorknob, but that wasn't a risk he was willing to take every night.

Satoru had lost much of his flippant attitude at his confession. His smile faded for a beat too long before it returned, and he simply asked Yuji to meet up with him the next day to 'train'. Train what, exactly, he wasn't sure, but honestly, he'd trust the man if he told him to walk off a cliff blindfolded.

"You're a weak, pathetic little gnat and always will be. You think your 'training' will amount to anything? Give in. Give up."

If Yuji smacks the side of his head with any more force, he'll give himself a concussion. "You're straightforward today," he mutters. "Usually you like to try to manipulate me more."

"What is there to manipulate when you've got the brains of a brick?" Sukuna drawls. His voice echoes in his skull like a pounding bassline with none of the fun involved.

"You're a real jerk, man."

He chuckles then, deep and sinister. "Every time you consume a part of me, you lose more of yourself. Can you imagine that, of not knowing where I begin and you end?"

Something red flashes into Yuji's peripherals. He blinks, pausing on the edge of the training field along the path, right next to the dense forest that circles the campus.

A small red fox halts in the middle of the path in front of him, thick fluffy tail swaying low behind it. It blinks slowly, its yellow eyes fixated on him. Its red-orange fur is glossy, and its soft white throat is as pale as snow.

"Hey, buddy," Yuji coos, voice pitching higher subconsciously. "Aw. You're just the fluffiest, aren'tcha?"

The fox stares at him, small paws tapping the ground. It turns and patters further along the path for a few steps, then pauses and looks over its shoulder expectantly with uncannily clever eyes.

"Whoa," he mumbles, brows knitting slightly. "Is it just me, or does that fox look like it wants me to follow it?"

The response is instantaneous. "Do it, brat."

"Well, now I don't want to," he says stubbornly, crossing his arms. "Can't you literally read my thoughts? I was going to do it to kill time, since Gojo-sensei isn't here yet, but you saying that really messed me up."

"What the hell do you think I gain out of following a damn animal?"

"I dunno. What if it's a cursed spirit or something? What if you're trying to get me killed – again?"

"It is not. I can assure you, it is not." He sounds almost impatient. "But say it was. Look at the size of the thing. Kick it and you'd exorcise it. Now go. It's leaving."

Yuji groans, reluctantly jogging after the quick little fox. He supposes Sukuna's right, though – he's on campus, and he saw Principal Yaga walking through the halls just a few minutes earlier, so he at least has someone to run to if anything goes sideways.

Besides... something within him burns with curiosity. Not a vestigial remnant of Sukuna, either. Something uniquely his own.

With a half-second pause and a glance back, the fox veers left into the trees. It vanishes amongst the shrub almost immediately. Yuji scrambles to track it. "Ah, damn it…! Doesn't everybody say not to follow foxes in forests? The second things look fishy, I'm getting outta here."

For the first time in weeks, Sukuna is dead silent. Yuji ducks under a low-hanging branch, glancing behind him to see the light of the path quickly dimming with every step. The fox seems to be leading him in a straight line, which will be great for sprinting his way back to safety if he even so much as hears a twig snap.

The fox's pace quickens, white-tipped tail held high like a flag. Yuji steps over a nest of thick, gnarled roots, almost trips on a spiky bush, and looks up. He freezes.

There, in a small patch of sun behind a large evergreen tree, is a pure white fox the size of a large dog. Several smaller red foxes surround it, jumping about or resting in the patch of sunlight. What seems like a mother and her kits play slightly further away to give the yipping, wrestling babies some room. The white fox watches them with particular care.

"Whoa... Cute," Yuji whispers, dazed. He lifts his hands to his mouth, his eyes glistening. "So cute…"

At his words, the large white fox turns its head in his direction. Its eyes are not just yellow – they seem to glow with an unnatural flash that lingers even after it passes through the light into the shadows. It rises to all fours and steps slowly, predatorily, towards him.

Stepping out from behind the tree, it reveals nine long, gleaming white tails, held up high and proud.

The fox that led Yuji here scampers towards it, lowering its head in what seems like deference. The white fox glances at it once, and the red one stands and trots off to join another curled up in the roots of a tree.

The white fox approaches slowly, strong and sinewy. It blinks with eyes almost human, the pupils dilating as it scans his figure. The nine – nine! – tails puff up and give a little quiver, before calming down into a slower – though faster than earlier – side-to-side sway.

It comes even closer, near enough to pet if he lifted his hand. His fingers twitch. Its fur looks impossibly soft and white, like a cloud in animal form. It churrs quietly as it lifts its head towards his outstretched palm.

Wait, outstretched?

He snaps out of it with a sharp gasp. He turns swiftly on his heel and takes a single step forward.

"Leaving so soon?"

He freezes with a strange tugging in his soul – was that his? – that commands him to turn. Eyes wide, expression fixed in place, he slowly inches back around. His breath catches in his throat as his gaze travels up, up, up.

Standing before him is a beautiful man, taller than anything he's ever seen – taller than Nanamin, taller than Gojo-sensei, taller than Panda. He wears long robes that flow like a silver river, gleaming so brightly he looks like a fallen star, and a soft wind plays with his sleeves and hair. His expression is almost kind.

Almost.

"Goodness. Even a thousand years later, you still manage to drag me into the filth of your messes," you say, your voice a soothing wash of silk over river-smoothed stone. A pair of red foxes curls around your ankles, leaping over your trailing robes.

Yuji takes a step back.

"Well?" you ask, tilting your head. "Nothing to say, husband?"

Yuji squeaks, lifting his hands defensively. "Huh? What? No, you must be mistaken, I-I'm not – um—"

His jaw clicks shut as you step closer, extending a hand. How can you be more beautiful up close? You gently take his chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting his face up. "He even looks like you, Sukuna. I have not seen you so young in a long, long time."

A crushing pressure presses down on his lungs, not unlike Gojo-sensei's when he lifts his blindfold. He wants to move. Needs to move. He's going to die if he stays still for even a second longer.

You lean down slightly, molten-gold eyes trained on his. Against his own will, his eyes flick down to the ruby-studded brooch peeking out from beneath your hair. Something dark and foreign rumbles against his very soul – like the purr of a large cat.

"Brat." Sukuna's deep voice cuts through his incoherent thoughts. "Let me take over."

What? he thinks, halfway to panic because a really, really pretty man is holding his face and isn't breaking eye contact. No! I'm not doing that! No way!

"You think you can fight him and win?" He scoffs. "That's a special-grade curse you're looking at, you know – slips past your defences like moonlight, a cruelty so beautiful you would thank him if he danced on your corpse. He made rivers run red with human blood for days."

WHAT? he thinks, fully panicking.

Oh, god. Oh, dear god. He wonders if he can summon his trusty teacher if he screams his name loud enough.

"You should come with me, child," you whisper with a smile, those golden eyes glinting. You kneel, moving closer, and Yuji squeaks as you look up at him. The scent of sweet petrichor curls around him – cool, gentle, like a secret not meant to be shared. "I won't hurt you... not a hair on your head. Come."

Your offered hand looks so inviting…

"No!" he blurts out, jerking back. "He said you like human blood, a-and dancing on people's corpses! I don't trust you at all!"

"Do you think sweet animals would sleep around my feet if I were so savage? You'd trust the word of a demon over mine, pup?"

"I..." He hesitates. "F-For this, yeah! He sounded proud. He's never proud of anything, so he can't be lying."

Your lips part slightly before pressing together. Your eyes, once so gentle, narrow. "Sukuna... You're ruining things again with your big mouth. I travelled all this way just to be foiled by my own husband – typical."

You turn Yuji's face, staring at the scar-like line below his eye. "You speak to the child, yet you hide from me. Does it please you to pretend I'm not here? Coward."

Foreign indignance bubbles up inside him. Yuji swallows.

You wait. One second. Two.

Your expression darkens and you rise to your feet, not so much dropping Yuji's face as pushing him away. He steps back, touching his jaw where your fingers once were. Something lingers, painless but crackling like Pop Rocks against his skin.

"Fine," you murmur, like a dull wave against the shore, as you turn your back to him. Your voice is impassive, but the forest responds to your mood as physically as a bushfire. Trees shudder. Flowers shrink away. The foxes stop playing. "Stay silent. Stay spineless. Just don't come crawling to me after, begging for forgiveness."

You lift your head at the brief flaring of heavy, malicious, familiar cursed energy that soaks into the forest around you.

At once, with more urgency than ever before, black markings bloom across Yuji's skin. His features sharpen minutely, his nails lengthen and blacken, and he runs a hand through his hair and sweeps it up off his forehead. With a slow, silent exhale, he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and shoves his hands into his pockets, tipping his chin up as he regards your figure with eyes that are finally his own.

Emotion burns like red-hot charcoal in his chest. Sharing a body with a teenager was annoying at best and humiliating at worst. Forced to watch through the brat's eyes as you touch him, hold him, even going so far as to kneel before him to make yourself smaller, he despised the way he felt his vessel's heartbeat quicken, how the kid's thoughts turned into jumbled mush the moment you gave him a playful nickname.

Maybe he should tear out the brat's eyes before he gives his body back. Maybe he should rip his heart out again just for the pleasure of crushing it in his fist, knowing that regenerating another meant that the new one would never have raced for you.

You turn. Your expression changes – softens, almost.

"Sukuna," you say quietly.

He says your name slowly. It's almost reverential, his four eyes trailing over your body. His crimson gaze is greedy, drinking you in. You have changed very little – you still wear the kimono he gifted you, tailored and as expensive as ten thousand mercenaries. The hem has frayed slightly, trailing over the ground, but every silver thread still carries the faint thrum of his original cursed energy – a mark, a claim, which you once wore with preening pride, teasing him for his quick jealousy. You have kept it steady, meticulously keeping him alive quite literally on your sleeve.

His lips part. "You're… awake."

"I am." Your eyes narrow. "Not by your hand."

He crosses his arms. Two, not four. "No."

"Why not?"

He pauses, assessing your mood. You stand perfectly still, now taller than him by a significant margin. He thought he'd hate it more than he does. Regardless, you have yet to grab him and sew him into a rock-weighted sack to toss in a lake, so he supposes it could always be worse.

"The brat is an anomaly," he replies, his lower set of eyes glancing down at his vessel's body with a sneer. His upper pair remain trained on you. "I was… suppressed."

"Suppressed," you repeat. You lift your chin and stare down at him. "I thought I married the King of Curses. The strongest."

He bristles slightly. "You did," he snaps, his voice deepening. "I am."

Silence falls. Your cursed energy ripples outward, and as the foxes begin to play again, as if he weren't even there, he knows he is free to speak. You have cloaked his presence, letting his energy merge with yours – as a creature of lies and illusions, nature's guardian god, your cursed energy feels more natural than most, as essential and unremarkable as rain and earth. You've given him a few minutes of secrecy.

"Hm." You step towards him, beckoning with an outstretched hand. He meets you in the middle, and you gently take his chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting his face up. "You look young, Sukuna. I have not seen you like this in a long, long time."

"Do you prefer it?" he asks, his tone flat with boredom – but he never blinks, tracing your features, printing them into the backs of his eyelids. The weight of his gaze slips lower – to your lips and then to your robes, tantalisingly open from the chest to the navel. His tongue swipes over his lower lip. Your waist is cinched with a wide silk belt, pinned with several draping chains of pearls and jewels. Little charms of glossy jade hang from your sash.

"Don't be jealous." You tilt your head as you blink slowly down at him, curiously tracing his features with your hand. "You are so small now, beloved… It hurts my neck to look you in the eye."

He huffs, but says nothing. You let go of his face and turn to pick up one of the foxes darting around your ankles, which paws at your clothes like a fussy toddler wanting to be picked up. Sukuna almost steps forward to force himself back into your line of sight, to keep your attention solely on him. He satisfies himself by walking half a step behind you, his sleeve brushing yours as you take a seat on a fallen log, the bark blanketed in soft moss. The hems of your robes spill across the deep green grass like a pool of stars.

You place the little fox in your lap, and it curls up in the crook of your arm. Its yellow eyes follow Sukuna as he moves. Expectantly, you gesture to a boulder beside you and murmur, "Sit with me a while."

When he doesn't so much as twitch, your eyes narrow slightly.

"Sit."

He sits.

You lean back, satisfied. You spend a long, silent, suffocating moment watching him, unblinking, in the way cats watch birds.

The mother fox begins to pick her kits up and place them near your feet, one at a time – back and forth, until all six of them are roughhousing a few steps away. Sukuna doesn't try to hide his distaste when a pair of them roll too hard and land on top of your pooling hem. You, however, relax at the sight, a small smile tugging at your lips as the mother trots off to a quiet, shady tree nearby and promptly curls up and closes her eyes.

Children are all the same, regardless of species.

Atop the boulder, Sukuna sits with one knee up and his cheek in his palm. His shoulders are loosely sloped, his hands open and loose, and if you didn't know any better, you'd say he's bored of the company. But you do know better. One set of eyes is always, always, trained on you.

"So," he drawls. "I'm sitting. There. Now what?"

You eye him. "Someone's testy these days… Eager to get away, are you?"

"I—" He exhales sharply. "No. Just aware of time. The brat's supposed to be meeting with his mentor soon. I don't know how long I have you for."

"Ah. That would be the newest Gojo boy I've heard so much about, yes? The only one in recent years to have both the Six Eyes and Limitless?"

"Yeah. That one." He clenches a fist. Loosens it. "I want you to stay away from him."

"Hm." You stroke the fox's brow gently with your knuckle. It curls up more comfortably. "Do you believe I would lose?"

His lips thin into a line. "No. He will become far too interested in you."

"Of course you would think so. Sharing me with anyone else is, to you, worse than death." The fox shifts in your arms, and you can feel its breaths – the steady expansion of its ribs, the inner workings of the heart. Meat and bone. Even Sukuna, next to you, is the same – now in a stolen body, yes, but he was still flesh and blood when he had four arms and four eyes. You, on the other hand, won't leave a corpse to feed the earth.

Inhaling sharply, you turn to Sukuna, suppressing the emotion that still rakes its claws across your heart when you remember he lied to you. I will be there when you wake, he'd murmured when his temples were frosty with time. He'd pushed a folded piece of paper into your hand, containing a short poem in his elegant script. Your sleep may leave you weakened. Until you regain your strength, I will keep you safe.

How humiliating it had been to stumble in front of Kenjaku, of all people. You had once been a force of nature, the only thing the merciless King of Curses ever took counsel with – the only thing strong enough to bend in his wake without breaking. None of that mattered when you were forced to walk with a hand against the wall to keep your balance.

"How do you know the Six Eyes will take an interest in me?" you ask, voice deceptively even. "Even if he were, what does it matter? I am yours, not his."

His fingers twitch at your last sentence. It almost makes you smile; even after all this time, he remains a possessive little creature.

"Sometimes I can see through the brat's eyes," he replies, dragging a hand through his hair. "Gojo Satoru has already taken an interest in you. Over the decades, cursed spirits by your tomb began to concentrate, but their numbers were recently lowered to near zero. The sorcerers suspect one of my fingers was consumed by a curse which razed everything else. They're investigating my history with the area."

"It is always you who causes trouble for me. No one else. Only you." You sigh. "Does the boy know you watch?"

He shakes his head. "The file was open when the boy glanced at it. He didn't even read the title."

"I see," you say. Then, quieter: "Is he aware of us right now?"

"No."

The pause that follows is thick with anticipation. Sukuna watches as you brush your hair over your shoulder, his body turning towards you ever so slightly as if to make himself look larger, to show himself off. Look at me, his posture demands. Look at me and no one else.

You look away.

"I see now that you cannot leave," you say, watching the kits at your feet pounce playfully at each other. "This… displeases me."

"Yeah, well, imagine how I feel."

You're supposed to be angry with him – for lying, for leaving, for a dozen little things you scrounge up in ancient memories just to be petty. But you almost smile, a familiar warmth blooming in your chest that passes as your kind of love.

He opens his mouth. You stiffen and hold up a hand, all humour vanishing from your expression.

"Wait," you murmur, eyes darting around. "Something has changed."

A beat after you, Sukuna feels it, too: a loud, careless rush of cursed energy, emanating from an infinitely-condensed point near the main gates of the campus. A radar, of sorts.

It crackles over him harmlessly, moving on without notice. You place the fox in your arms aside as you rise to your feet, turning to him with a complicated expression.

"Someone has come looking. I can't keep you hidden while revealing your vessel. This is... This is where we must part ways." Your gaze flits over him as you step closer. He tilts his head up to meet your eyes. "I can't say meeting you here made me happy. But... I missed your presence," you admit quietly, "and this assuages that, somewhat. Even if you are still as much of a bastard as you used to be."

He folds his arms tighter over his chest.

You continue, "Worry not. I will wait. After all, what is a few years to a millennium? However… you must promise me something in return for my patience."

He eyes you warily. "What is it?"

Leaning down, you grasp his chin. You glance over your shoulder in the direction of the overwhelming energy, pausing, then kneel in the grass and trace the marks along his cheek. A small smile graces your features, as soft and familiar as the night.

"Come for me the moment you are free. Depending on my mood, I may even offer you a dance," you tease. "You always liked that, didn't you?"

"Of course, I'm not a savage," he drawls, though his voice lacks its usual disdainful bite. He shifts his weight. "Fine. Deal."

"Good. Very good." You draw him closer, your fingertips brushing the soft underside of his chin. All four of his eyes flicker down to your lips. "My good boy…"

You press your lips to the corner of his mouth, as light as satin. For Sukuna, however, it is a grave insult – he grabs your collar and yanks you closer, turning his head so that his lips meet yours instead of his cheek.

He feels your lips curve up against his. They part, and you whisper his name against his skin.

—

"Beloved."

A silky voice, a soft touch. Somewhere in the distance, birds call to each other in the verdant canopies. Your fingers trail over his broad chest, and you prop your chin on his shoulder. You wrap your arms around him, pressed warm and solid against his back. He shifts – not to push you off, but to examine your expression.

You are smiling. Not that beautiful, terrifying show of teeth and tongue, but a small, playful one, reserved for him alone.

"What is it?" he mutters, ink brush hovering over the paper. "Weren't you teaching Uraume to use a bow?"

"I was," you agree, head bobbing. Silver glitters in your hair, woven through it like the river of heaven through the sky – treasured gifts from a man who cares little for personal adornment, but whose gaze always lingers a little longer, a little hungrier, when you drape yourself in his spoils.

"And?" he prompts, turning back to his half-finished poem. Your fingers slip beneath the edge of his dark grey haori, tracing the edge of the cloth. "Finish your sentences, fox."

"Patience. I was getting there. I sent Uraume out to run some errands – when you ask me to craft you weapons, you really don't understand how much you're asking of me. My list was... substantial." Those golden eyes of yours dilate slightly as you tilt your head, staring at the side of his face. You bring your lips to his neck, kissing the skin just below his jaw. "I tire of the heat of the forge. I missed you."

His skin flushes with heat as your touch grows heavier, less fleeting. You press on his shoulder, turning him towards you, and you smile, fanged, as your eyes drift to the grinning mouth splitting his stomach. You lower your hand, pressing your thumb to the sharp points of its teeth, and it laps lightly at your fingers like an eager little pet, saliva thick and viscous.

"You've missed me, too, I see," you hum, playing with its tongue. "Put down the brush." You lean in, licking the shell of his ear. His stomach-mouth kisses your palm, licking your hand into it. "It has been some time since I've touched you, my lord. I will fix that right away."

"You are interrupting my private time, fox," he grumbles, though he doesn't push you away. "Don't try to twist your desires as if it's my fault. You are insatiable."

"You're the one who wanted me all to yourself," you huff, the shimmer of your silken pearly robes pooling around you as you pluck the brush right out of his hand. You wear so much fabric – sometimes he wonders how you can stand to lug it all around. Translucent white ribbons loop around your arms and across your back, shimmering with silver threads. "Do you also blame your stomach for rumbling when you starve?"

Giving up on his poem, he turns to you fully. "What do you want, then? To eat me?"

"Oh, can I?" You lean forward with a half-lidded glance, leaning into his touch when he raises one hand to drape over your shoulders. "I would love that."

"Only if you remove your clothes."

You tilt your head, pointed canines digging into the softness of your lips as you bite back a smile. "So eager. Who's the one with the 'desires' now, hm?"

He scoffs. "Don't be ridiculous, fox. It keeps the cloth clean. You will whine to me later if there are bloodstains."

"I would not."

All four eyes gaze blankly at you. You click your tongue and remove your hand from his stomach, much to its obvious displeasure – its lips twist, corners tugging down.

"Fine. No eating, then. Best to save room for dinner, anyway." You lean in, lips brushing his with a teasing smile. He busies two of his arms with straightening the inkwell and his half-full page of hemp paper – the third props himself up, and the last is wrapped possessively around your shoulders. "Perhaps you can sate another hunger of mine, beloved? I'll accept it as an apology for denying me a proper meal."

"Apology—?" he snarls, head whipping towards you. He glares. "What am I apologising for, you insolent fox—"

He is sufficiently silenced by a kiss.

You are not rough in the traditional sense. Just... bitey. Your canines dig into his lower lip, breaking skin, and he grunts softly as your tongue glides over the slick, coppery blood, pushing it into his mouth. He can feel your smile as you lick his tongue.

You part with a quiet smack, twisting in his hold to settle between his sturdy thighs. You press your forehead against his, stealing fleeting kisses between groans that seem to leave him more breathless than not.

"I know my lord is a generous and compassionate man," you murmur, your chest brushing his. "Sate my hunger. Offer me salvation."

Bare skin to bare skin, he can feel the strength taut in your muscles, the easy steadiness of your body. Despite your preference for twice as much fabric as necessary and all things shiny and luxurious, you are, at heart, just as much a fighter as he. Foxes are still predators, regardless of their glossy coats.

"Am I?" Sukuna nearly growls. His hand around your shoulders lifts to the nape of your neck, closing around delicate bone and muscle. He pulls you closer with a jerk, fingers digging into the soft spot beneath the corner of your jaw. His eyes roam your features, his blood tinting your grinning lips rosy. "Maddening pest. Think you can tell me what to do? You belong to me."

"Naturally," you reply with that same smile. "You always give in, anyway. Rather embarrassing, isn't it? A big, strong man like yourself, bending over backwards to please this little fox... or bending forwards, really. You're obsessed with me."

Nothing about you is little. You're the only thing he's ever met able to look him in the eye.

Sometimes he thinks you hover a few inches off the ground when you stand next to him, just so he has to tilt his head up to meet your playful gaze. But it isn't like he has any real proof; your robes obscure your feet, and you are constantly moving, fluttering about his shoulders in those ridiculous clothes, so it's difficult to get an accurate reading. It isn't as if you'd ever tell him, either.

"Come, now," you purr, fingers dipping into his stomach mouth again. It immediately licks your fingers inward, pulling them closer. "Ah... At least some part of you wants me. I'd almost resigned myself to using my own hand to get off."

His grip tightens around your neck. His eyes flash. "You will not. Your pleasure belongs to me."

"Yes, yes, as always. But you weren't giving me many options, my lord." You pout, stroking the tongue lapping contentedly at your hand. "Why can't you be more like this one? It's always happy to see me. You just call me names."

"That is also part of me, fox." Two of his eyes flicker down to it, watching the way you caress even his most monstrous parts with the same affection you offer the rest of him. Something unsettling curls around his heart. "Its sentiments are my own."

Your smile brightens. "Oh, I knew you loved me, Sukuna! Even if you'd rather pull out your own teeth than admit it."

He rolls his eyes and grabs you with two arms, another pulling at your sash and loosening it. You wear nothing beneath – typical of you, greedy creature – and your cock bobs as he releases it from its confines. He hums, low and rumbly in his chest.

Spitting in his hand, he grabs it and begins to stroke you, all four eyes trained on the pleased expression on your face. You thrust into his palm, one of your hands lifting to cup his thick chest and squeezing. Your saliva-slick thumb rolls over his tawny nipple, pinching and tugging, and you swallow his groan, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

You nibble at his neck, sucking bruises into his tanned skin. He twists his wrist, his hand heavy with the weight of you. The size is nothing to scoff at. When he glances up, you're already looking at him, smirking knowingly. He scoffs and rolls his eyes, pumping you faster, tugging roughly at the sensitive skin. Your smile falls as you whine pitifully, hips jolting forward. Your thick tip leaks.

"Sukunaaa," you gripe, "not so rough..."

"Shut up." His grip tightens as you groan directly into his ear, hot breaths fanning his neck. His skin prickles, a warm shiver threatening his perfect poise as you moan his name in a lazy drawl. His breathing grows heavy. "You... wanted this."

"So cruel." Suddenly, you press against him, closing the distance between your torso and his. You gaze through half-lidded eyes as you rut against the heat of his body, your tip brushing the lips of his grinning stomach. It opens wide, waiting.

He glares at you. Gently, you lean in, threading your fingers through his hair. You mouth at his jawline, tracing a path up, and you smile at the way his lips part naturally. You kiss him, feather-light.

Finally, mutely, he lets go of your cock, and you are free to move. He rests back on two hands, his thighs like iron around you as you press your hips forward into the mouth of his stomach. It closes immediately around you, more eager than you are, and its wide tongue laps at your length as you lazily fuck into it.

Sukuna's breath hitches violently. He tips his head back slightly but his eyes never leave yours, his expression as impenetrable as stone.

You shift, throwing your legs over his to straddle him. His eyes widen slightly as you push your cock deeper into the furnace-like heat of him, his muscles tensing under your touch. Your balls smack his stomach-mouth's lower lip as you grip his shoulder, your robes slipping around your broad shoulders. Thick muscle ripples beneath your skin as you lower your forehead to press against his.

"Good boy," you husk, fingers tightening in his hair. He couldn't pull away if he wanted to. "That feels good, doesn't it?"

Two of his hands shoot up to grip your waist as you stuff your cock deep inside him, reaching the spongy back of his second mouth. His lips part, eyes fluttering against his will, and you chuckle as he fumbles with your clothes, pulling them away from your thighs so they don't get in the way. He's careful to keep his sharp teeth away, and his lips keep a tight suction around your thick cock. His palm ghosts over your chest and stomach, almost reverential. His eyes are dark as they take in the sight of your length vanishing into him.

You croon as you yank his hair, forcing him to look at you rather than your dick. "Answer me, my lord. Does this feel good? Is it my cock that makes your cheeks flush so?"

His teeth bare in a snarl as you cup his hot face, but it's all posturing. He swallows his insults, knowing you are just as petty and would happily force him to sit there and watch as you stroked yourself to completion.

"Yes," he mutters.

You cock your head. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

Your dick slams into him. He lets out a low growl. "Yes!" he snarls, his bruising strength on your hips making your skin dip. His long nails dig into your skin. "Fuck!"

His arm threatens to buckle under his weight. His second mouth isn't meant for this sort of thing – it sucks and slobbers on your cock messily, less coordinated than the one on his face. Or maybe it's just as coordinated but it feels too good – making him lose his mind, turning him into a greedy, cock-obsessed whore. It salivates, strings of drool connecting your cock to his lips, as he buries his head in your shoulder. Soft, heavy grunts escape him with every rough thrust, deep oval rolls of your hips making his stomach tense up.

"Good answer," you whisper, amused. He shudders almost imperceptibly as you grab his chin and tilt his head up to meet your loving gaze. "Don't hide, Sukuna. I want to watch you while I use you."

He bares sharp teeth, face twisted in a grimace. "Whatever. Just finish quickly. I have other things to do."

"Like what?" You withdraw slightly, wrapping a hand around your length and stroking lazily. His fingers dig into your skin, slipped beneath your many layers and preventing you from backing up any farther. You smile as you lower your forehead to his, your hair a curtain of privacy around you – that smile is sickeningly fond. You murmur, "I don't think you're busy at all. I think you just want me to fight for your attention – as you do for mine."

You're either very trusting or very stupid when you push your cock back into the mouth of his stomach. He considers it for a split second. The idea is simple – bite down and you'll stop goading him. But then he thinks about your easily-given affection, and he thinks about difficult bloodstains in your white sleeves, and he discards the idea entirely.

Two of his hands travel up your sides – cupping your ribs, callused fingertips bumping up your spine. He watches silently, enraptured, as your body moves with more urgency. All that beauty collides with a physical superiority that he cannot ignore. Your hand in his hair stops him from looking away – you're barely trying, too busy chasing pleasure like the gluttonous thing you are, but he really does have to work to even tilt his head down.

Not that he'd want to look away, anyway. Perhaps it was a shame you were a curse, invisible to most humans – you could solve ten wars by supper with a face like that.

Or maybe it was better this way. More of you is his alone.

His muscles flex under his skin as you press deeper with a rumbled groan, your seed spilling across the mouth's slick tongue. It devours you, tongue swirling around your length, mouth hot and sloppy and oh-so starved. You close your eyes and sink into the furnace-warmth of his embrace, threateningly close to burning – close, but never there.

"How does it feel?" you murmur breathlessly, ever-curious about his physiology. Most of the time he dismisses your questions with a grunt, but sometimes, when he's softer, he'll divulge an answer or two. Now, as he stares unblinkingly up at you with lidded crimson eyes, you figure he's the latter.

Sukuna's lips part as he closes his arms around you, pulling you closer against him. He rests his head against your shoulder, the slope of his nose pressed against the side of your neck, and releases a heavy exhale that's more like a groan. His grip tightens on you as your tip rubs the soft back of his mouth with a particularly desirous thrust.

"Deep," he rumbles, tone brusque. He licks his lips, pressing them against the skin of your collarbone. "Very deep."

"Good?" you ask, tilting your head to allow him better access. Wordlessly, his teeth sink into your flesh to satiate his instinct to gnaw and gnash, but not enough to break skin. White clothes, still worn.

"Yes." His sharp nails leave marks in your skin. "Acceptable."

You laugh and kiss him hard. You cup his cheek – the side with the bony growths, the monstrous eyes – and pull him deeper into the kiss, stroking the thick dark line across his bicep and eventually the daintier ones along his jaw. You kiss him with both hands on his cheeks like some delicate thing you aren't, and his skin prickles as if licked by fire.

Lazily, the mouth of his stomach laps up your come, its lips and tongue glazed in a thick white gloss. It dribbles down his lower stomach, soaking into the waist of his dark hakama. You drag your fingers through the sticky mess, coating them in it, and press two fingers into his mouth – the one on his face.

He takes them without complaint, a low rumble escaping him, and he curls his tongue neatly to lick up every drop. You press against his teeth, his tongue, stroking the delicate back of his throat, but your beloved is second to none and he doesn't so much as twitch, let alone gag. You pull them away with a slick pop and you chuckle affectionately as he stares up at you, his chest rising and falling shallowly.

He licks his lips, shining with saliva. "My turn."

He tosses you to the floor – you go down easily, a smile on your face as you gaze up at him, haloed by your own hair. He throws a leg over your middle and leans down to kiss you. He grabs your neck instead of cupping your cheek, but for him, they're one and the same.

Two of his hands tear off his trousers. Properly, too – none of that awkward shimmying, nor the time-wasting stepping-out of trouser legs. Sukuna, as he does a lot of things, does it brutishly: two handfuls of cloth yanked in opposite directions. The fabric comes apart as easily as paper.

You tut, though you can't help appreciating every inch of skin revealed to you. Your hands roam down his waist to his massive thighs, grabbing and squeezing wolfishly as you go. "You will run out of clothes at this rate."

He cocks his head. "You would like that, wouldn't you?"

"Of course. Easier access."

He huffs, not quite a chuckle, as you grab his heavy cock and smear your own slick come against his skin. You stroke him languidly, being polite – for once – by not mentioning how wet he already is when all you've done is use him. "You are a dog."

"Fox," you correct, watching hungrily as he tugs off his haori and tosses it aside. "As you are fond of reminding me."

"In spirit," he concedes, not quite agreeing. He places his hands near your head, and despite his barbaric nature, he is careful not to pin down your hair. He reaches down between his thighs and lines up your cock with his entrance, though you are quick to grab his wrist.

"No oil?" you ask, lifting a brow.

Impatiently, one of his hands brushes you off. "Do not tell me what to do."

Without another word – without fanfare, without flourish – he sinks hilt-deep onto your cock.

Your eyes slide shut as you smack your head against the floor, the sheer heat of him threatening to melt you. Your hands slide higher, brushing his lower set of pectoral muscles. Lost in the bliss of his body, it takes you a moment to register his own hand lifting to grab yours. He holds your palm against his chest as he begins to move, the solid weight of his body dropping again and again onto your lap.

He would not be Sukuna if he were not gluttonous. So, he holds you, rides you, and leans down to kiss you, all at once – and you do nothing to encourage moderation. You entwine your fingers with his, caress his waist, and nip at his lower lip to provoke him into giving you more.

More. It was always more with you. More, more, more…

The suffocating heat of his body is nothing new. You have taken him a thousand times, but you'll never grow tired of it. He is addictive, and you should be pleased you are the only thing his blood has ever run hot for. No concubine has made him feel the way you do.

He grinds onto your cock, the heavy muscle of his thighs clenching around your hips. You throb inside him, sticky precome slicking up his insides and easing his movements. You lick your lips as you grab his thigh, fingers bruising his skin as you grip him and roll his ass deeper onto your cock. You even use the shallow lift of his hips to make the next thrust harder, rougher, deeper.

His heavy cock jolts, slapping your stomach wetly. You grin with sharp teeth as you wrap your hand around it once more, pumping his length from root to tip in time with every roll of his hips. He hisses as a thick bead of liquid dribbles down his glans. His tip is dark red, and you press your thumb into the slit of it, smearing his slick down his pulsing length.

You stroke him faster, making him grunt. He chases your hand, his own tightening into fists near your head. His sharp nails dig into his palms, drawing blood.

What a silly little dear he is. Four hands and not one of them feels as good as yours around his cock.

He pants and growls as he bounces in your lap, muscles flexing as he slams harder onto your fat cock. The wet sounds of your cock squelching in his ass, of his skin meeting yours, are obscene and violent – perfect for a man like him. Hot pleasure shudders up his spine as your cock kisses that spot inside him which makes his dick pulse hotly, a spurt of partially-clear liquid shooting across your knuckles. You smirk as you swipe it up and smear it down his length. Your thumb rolls over his slit and drags down the prominent vein on the underside roughly, as if you're trying to smooth it flat.

He drops his hips, putting his full weight on your cock. He rocks back and forth. You drag your lower lip between your teeth as you toss your head back, and your groan of pleasure sinks into his brain like your claws into flesh. His dick twitches, his balls tightening as he watches your heaving chest and gazes into your dilated pupils.

"You ride cock like a seasoned whore, my lord," you whisper, chuckling as he clenches around you in annoyance. "Nowhere else can I find someone who takes it as easily as you do."

He clicks his tongue, squeezing punishingly around you. You grunt as his tight, gummy walls stroke your slick cock. "Of course I am the only one. You are twice the size of a man. Your cock would break them."

You smile up at him, your eyes half-lidded. "Wouldn't that be fun?"

His eyes flash. His lips curl into a sneer as he leans down to wrap his hand around your throat, nails digging into your skin.

"You have me," he growls, grip tightening. "Speak nothing of others."

He would pulverise bone had you been weaker, but as it stands, all it does is pin you down, the warmth of his palm against your skin making your cheeks heat up. You bite back a smile. You adore it when he glares at you. There's a red flush to his cheeks that he steadfastly ignores.

You squeeze his ass, hand roaming back over his thigh. Playfully, you pinch the thick black line circling his leg. "Is my lord jealous?"

He bares his teeth with a low growl that sounds more animal than man. Your cock throbs. His glare deepens.

You smirk, smug as always, and go as far as to slap his ass, which makes him jolt in shock as the sound cracks like a whip in the room. His glare returns, this time with a roll of all four of his eyes, and he presses you punishingly into the tatami mats. His hole, hot and slick, swallows your cock with ease.

"Fox," he hisses.

"My lord," you reply with a smile. "You're close, aren't you? I can feel your pace slipping."

"Do not test my patience. I will leave you here with nothing."

The threat is an empty one – you know he desires this as much as you. The mouth of his stomach drools, thick and wet, as your cock punches so deep he swears he can feel it at the back of his throat. You both know he would never leave you unattended when he could watch himself be your undoing.

Despite it, Sukuna looks pleased with himself when you offer a begrudging silence. His stomach mouth grins widely as your dick pulses with newfound hunger. Your eyes slide shut as your cock carves a path through the slick heat of his insides, again and again, until his body learns your shape. Your tip leaks, thick and sticky, and he lets out a harsh exhale, his own cockhead dripping with every pump of your hand.

He chases the slick ring of your fist, his low grunts mixing with your unabashed groans as he rides you closer and closer to your shared climaxes.

He barely blinks as he watches your high peak – he has to swallow roughly before he salivates like some barbarian. Your come bursts creamy and thick inside him, hot as lava, and heat rushes up from his chest to his head as he admires the way you groan his name and thrust up sloppily into him. All that natural grace of yours is tainted with the pleasure you take in his body – you are unwound, undone, by a savage like him.

Then you flip him over, throwing him to the floor as if he weighs nothing. He lands with a huff, opening his mouth to complain, but his words die in his mouth as you begin to drill into him, burying your head in his neck and breathing him deep. Every slick clap of skin on skin has your seed leaking out of his stretched hole, white and creamy, and it smears his ass and thighs with each brutal thrust of your hips.

He lets out a sound like a cornered animal. "Fox," he snarls, nails tearing at the floor as your cock demands every lick of his attention. He struggles to keep his voice even. "You – hah – you damned insatiable fox—"

"Insatiable?" you purr. "You haven't come yet. I'm being a good husband and making sure you do."

His hole slurps you up like some vulgar pussy. The filthy volume of come inside him makes every pump of your hips sound like you're in a brothel. Your claws sink into the meat of his ass as you fold him up – crimson blood beads along his skin, and he twitches as your teeth part skin and muscle to mark up the side of his throat. You pull back with a breathless groan that settles deep into his ear, listening to the slick churning of your scarlet tongue as you lick his blood from your teeth and lips.

You dive in again but he tangles his hand in a fistful of your hair, halting you half an inch from his scalding skin. You growl, eyes gleaming, with teeth stained red.

He jolts as your cock slams into his abused prostate, barely able to subdue his shout into a low moan.

"White," he mutters, jaw clamping to silence himself. "No chewing."

Your lips press together in a pout but you settle for lapping at the bite mark, your hips pumping hungrily against his ass. You suppose he's right – taking a chunk out of him always makes you surprised at the amount of blood that spurts out, no matter how many times you do it. But he just bleeds so beautifully – you can hardly control yourself.

Your head is foggy with lust. You press yourself into him, burying your face in the other side of his neck so you aren't tempted to take a quick bite. You leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses up his jaw, lips brushing the black markings that decorate his honeyed skin.

"Sukuna," you breathe, two of your fingers pushing into the mouth of his stomach. You can still feel the creaminess of your own release on its lips. You stroke its tongue and a low, magnificently beastly sound escapes him as his head tips back. The bite mark on his neck bleeds more profusely, pulsing in time with his quickened heartbeat.

"Don't—" He groans as you push one thigh higher, pinning it to your shoulder. It is heavy, with muscle like steel. "Slow—"

"What was that?" You drag your inhumanly long tongue against his calf with a wicked grin, leaning forward. He grits his teeth at the vulnerability of the position. "'Slow down', did you say? Can't my king handle a little roughhousing?"

His cock twitches visibly at the title. You laugh at him, your pace never slacking, and you press a kiss to his calf on your shoulder.

"You're holding back," you say, amused. You angle your hips, thrusting up to kiss that sweet spot inside him, and you delight in the way his back arches for half a second before he corrects himself and glares at you. "My lord, it'll be easier on you if you come. I'll stop trying so hard."

"Shut it."

He hates the way you use his hard-won titles like pet names. Such little respect. If you were anyone else, you'd be cleaved into tiny cubes before you could finish laughing, but then he would have no dancer and his days in your forest would be silent and boring.

You press your finger to his leaking slit. He clenches his jaw. Stubborn. Still, his swollen cock jolts as you grind into him, adjusting yourself above him to fuck him harder, deeper – one way or another, you'll get it out of him.

Suddenly, your pace quickens, and the sound echoes off the walls. The weight behind every thrust jostles his body and he curses you like a war cry, two of his hands grabbing you as the other two hold him up. You lick your lips at the sight of his flushed skin and the sweat beginning to collect at his temple and across his collarbones.

You can't help it. You swoop down and drag your tongue over his chest, and the tang of his sweat mixing with blood makes your head spin with desire. He groans, deep and throaty. Your hips clap against his ass hard enough to make him shout out, and as your teeth sink into the unmarred side of his neck and bite all the way down, he comes with a humiliated, thunderous roar.

You moan desperately into his skin as you follow him over the edge, his clenching insides achingly hot and tight. You fill him up with lazy thrusts, and he twists his hand in your hair so hard you feel lightheaded. He yanks you off his bleeding neck with a growl – you hang from his fist with a drunken grin and ruby-stained teeth, your jaw working slowly. Blood drips down your chin.

He can feel the cold sting of the air against his exposed meat and veins, a neat little scoop taken out of his shoulder. It annoys him that his cock throbs at the feeling, and his chest heaves as he pushes your grinning face away. His face is hot.

"You… Tch. I told you not to chew," he grumbles, healing it with a roll of his massive shoulder. He goes to wipe off the blood dripping down his chest but you beat him to it, cleaning him up with your tongue. You use the moment to mouth at his nipple, tongue laving across it, and pop off before he can smack you away.

You chuckle as your tongue slides over your front teeth, your voice rich and husky. You wipe your chin, smearing it. "But you liked it, Sukuna. It pulled such pretty sounds out of you."

"I—" He clicks his tongue, breath catching slightly as you pull your cock out of him with a slick, sticky pop. His thighs twitch as you grab his messy length and coat your fingers in his release, pumping him twice before lifting your hand and admiring the white glaze sticking between your fingers. He watches silently as you push two fingers into your mouth with a pleased groan, then lap up the rest when it drips down your wrist.

"Finish your sentences, my lord," you tease, tossing his own words back into his face. He rolls his eyes as you pause to suck your ring finger clean. "Maybe I should bite you more often. You taste like bliss. Come, now – tell me how much you enjoyed that."

Chest still heaving, Sukuna sits up straighter, widening his legs to fit you comfortably between his thighs. You kneel there – lazy, satisfied, practically glowing. Your robes pool around you like scattered starlight as you wait for his answer.

"You are impertinent, troublesome, and spoilt," he sighs, voice a low rumble. "But fine. Yes, I enjoyed it. No, you will not do it again. Today."

You wilt like an abandoned flower. "Why?"

He rolls his eyes and pulls you into his arms, heavy and possessive. He reaches up and swipes his thumb over a trickle of blood from the corner of your mouth, and you press your lips to the pad of his finger, licking it up. "There is blood on your clothes."

You glance down to where he points at your sleeve. Your eyes widen and Sukuna braces himself. On cue, you grab his arm and begin to complain directly into his ear, nails digging into his freshly-healed shoulder.

"Sukuna – what is wrong with your body? Why does it bleed so much? My sleeve was nowhere near your neck! Look at what you've done – do you know how hard it is to ensure the cloth washes white and not pink? You ask so much of me – entertain you, keep this estate hidden, smith you a dozen weapons from myths and fables – which is ridiculous, I say, do you know how difficult it is to create cursed tools? – and all I ask in return is to not bleed on me, yet here you are, bleeding on me, like some—"

You are cut off with his lips on yours. You stiffen slightly in surprise, then melt into it, leaning in and tilting your head. He groans softly as your tongue curls with his, your hand lifting to twist in his hair. You smooth it off his forehead, tracing his hairline with a light touch, and he pulls you closer with three hands. The last one cups your hand on his face.

He pulls away to breathe. You sit back on your heels, pupils swallowing up the gold of your irises. You blink slowly as you steal another kiss, lips smacking halfway to indecency again. He leans back before you can drown yourself in him and try to push him back to the floor – a very unseemly place to do such things, in his opinion.

He lifts a brow. "Calm, yet?" he asks, absently pulling the collar of your robes over your shoulder.

"Enough," you acquiesce, watching him move over to grab his discarded haori near his table. He shrugs it on, his lower pair of arms not letting go of your body. You smirk. So jealous, even when nothing threatens to take you away.

"That is better than nothing."

"Mm." You crawl closer and walk your fingers up his arm. "Write me a poem, beloved."

His eyes snap up. He bares his teeth in a sneer that does nothing to dissuade you. His grip tightens on your hip. "What?"

"A poem," you say with infinite patience. "Whichever type you prefer. I know you enjoy praising me through poetry – my face, my sorcery, how I 'revel in the fires of your chaos'! Oh, yes, I've read a few of those volumes you've made, pushed to the back of your drawers." You smile, a dark edge to it, as you meet his glare unflinchingly. "This time, I want no secrecy – I want to observe your artistic process. Perhaps I will forgive you for staining my clothes if it is sufficiently flattering."

"Why are you rummaging through my quarters?" he scoffs. "Those poems are not for you."

"So you say. You refer to me in everything but name. If you truly wanted to keep them secret, you would've burnt them." You shift to sit beside him, leaning forward to pull the paper and inkwell towards the edge of the table. "Go on. Write."

He rolls his eyes. He adjusts to sit sprawled, lazy, one arm resting upon his knee and two around you. It brings a smile to your face. He was always terribly voracious for your attention, like a feral animal you feed once and cannot escape. No matter how he feels, no matter the company, he would always bend to your whim.

You grab his thigh, pawing at the meat of him like a kneading cat, and you almost laugh aloud when he pointedly tosses the hem of his haori over his cock. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, sliding your palm up to the crease of his thigh, and cast your gaze down to the paper, the poem from earlier half-complete.

"'Kitsunebi'?" you muse, tilting your head. "Foxfire. Not for me, you said?"

He exhales sharply, shooting you a warning glance. In response, you pluck the brush from its resting place and smile sweetly as you grab his hand and push it into his palm.

How ridiculous it is that he must hide his belongings in his own home. The logical thing to do would be to rid himself of you and your curiosity. Instead, he simply lowers his gaze and rolls the brush tip in the black ink.

—

When Sukuna opens his eyes from the kiss, you have already begun to pull away, to step back – and he is reminded of his physical limitations once more.

"Greedy," you chuckle, swiping your thumb over your lower lip. "Go now – let the boy have his body back. Perhaps I will see you again. Follow my foxes; they will lead you to me."

Something compels him to speak. "And you?" he murmurs lowly. "I refuse to waste my time searching for a dead spirit."

Will you be safe? The question is unsaid but clear as day. You hum.

"If I can hide from you, I can hide from anyone. Rest assured, no one but you will ever spill my blood." You step behind him, pushing him towards the school campus. "And… Sukuna?"

"What?"

"I really did miss you."

He turns, but in your place is a nine-tailed white fox, silent and watchful. Your ears flick. After a lingering second, you rise from your haunches, curling around him and batting his side with your tails, before slipping away and leaping into the treeline to vanish completely into the forest's shadows.

His skin prickles with the fading remnants of your cursed energy. He clicks his tongue, jaw clenching. Your cloak will not last much longer, and he can sense the brat waking up. He presses his fingers to his lips, savouring the memory of your sharp, sweet warmth.

He closes his eyes, already feeling his control over his incumbent vessel lapsing. He spends his last moments of autonomy replaying the moment his lips touched yours, a moment a thousand years in the making.

Moonlit silk, ribbons of stars, a smile sharp enough to cleave bone. The world fades to soundless oblivion.

Before the Riko incident you became a transfer at jujutsu high, you weren't really strong nor weak, you were the prime balance of an average guy who just wanted to be in the middle- as long as you helped others then that was fine by you, being well known seemed overrated anyway.

You never thought you'd get between the infamous duo, they were tight knit after all, they were all any jujustu student aspired to be and after all you were just a boy looking to make it through the academy without any complications

If you would've known the outcome of transferring to this school you would've stayed far away, how did you even enter their lives? You were put on their team as a balance, you were put there to be guided and who was better to guid you than you once upper class men Satoru?

You were put on their missions, it started simple, the three of you going against curses together but you noticed very quickly that your friendship meant more to them than what met the eye. The friendship you thought of as normal or even just knowing them out of same interests turned dark far to fast.

What stool out at you the most was during a mission when you were saving a civilian from a low level curse, after a hour the fight was over and you were clean from any wounds, the man just ran up to you muffling his words between tears grabbing your hands.

"thank you—I don't know what would've happened if you didn't show up!"

The man hugged you and the next thing you knew you tilted your head and suguru was already pulling him off of you pushing the man away harshly throwing him to a wall of a near by store.

"What do you think you're doing suguru?!"

You quickly ran forward to him pulling him away from the civilian leaving the man running off terrified, your hands reaching up to his uniform shaking him back and  forth while yelling at him. All Geto seems to do is stare blankly like he didn't care what you did in the slightest.

"He touched you [name], nobody should get up close and personal, unless it's me or Satoru"

"What's that supposed to mean? You two aren't my damn keepers, we are friends Suguru- just friends!"

You look at him offended with your lips pressing in a thin line shoving him back and letting him go, walking off pushing past a confused Gojo leaving him tilting his head looking back at Geto with a 'what did you do?' Face.The next few days to pass you avoided Geto like the plague, only being around Gojo when he wasn't near Suguru.

Sitting in a café during the weekend with Gojo lifting your drink, the feeling was off and you weren't the biggest fan of how Gojo kept staring over at you but your dad was pushing you to be more like other boys your age, that's how you ended up calling Gojo on the water day morning after the incident with Geto.

"You don't have to avoid him Y'know [name]?"

Gojo breaks the silent looking at you with his eyes rolled forwards under his glasses watching your every move when you take a bite of whatever pastries you made him buy you.

Gojo just gives a shrug, of course he would. Always sticking up and vouching for Geto like he was some sort of fan boy. What did you really expect? Gojo knew Geto before you, they had an uncanny close relationship and knowing all you know now looking back on it that's the reason Suguru didn't mind sharing you with Satoru.

"I think you're overreacting, he was probably just worried about you, I'm sure he did in in good intentions"

"Yeah, whatever you say Toru"

You shove down a few more bites while Gojo takes a sip of his tea, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched but you always feel that way. Gojo kept trying to bring the topic back to Geto, trying to persuade you two to make up and apologize but you were just creeped out with his actions.

"Come on? He's our friend [name] you don't wanna be the one to put a wedge in our trio right?" Gojo did his best to speak sweetly to you. Trying to convince you, and if that didn't work then he'd just whine and make you feel bad til you felt like you just had to forgive Suguru. You didn't wanna be the reason your friend ship fell apart with them right?...

The next day was a Sunday and Gojo had practically done everything but force you to meet up with Geto. Gojo had used the fact he and Geto were on a mission looking after a girl as the perfect opportunity to finally get you three together.

You hear your phone ringing whilst you lay sprawled out in bed, it's a Sunday morning after all, it's the last day of your week to sleep in until next weekend.

"Hello Toru..why're you calling me so early?.."

"I just wanted to ask if you wanted to come and hangout at the beach today? Me and Geto are gonna be watching after this girl for our mission and I really-really want you there [nicknaamee]"

You just let out a small sigh and groggily open your eyes up begrudgingly mumbling back out to Satoru when you hear his whiny voice on the other end of the phone pleading and going high pitch on the nickname he gave you"

After that day at the beach things fell right back in line, you and Suguru had made up, and Gojo was happy, after all his best friends had made up.

Then it went and happened, some assassin had killed who they were protecting- or so Satoru told you. You weren't there the day it had happened, you were on another mission with your upperclassman Nanami. Suguru wasn't the same after that point, he hardly talked to you or Gojo- he would just silently space out staring at you.

Then summer hit and when he had came back he wasn't the same at all, he was cold and distant and snapped at you over the slightest things. If you spent more time with Satoru than him then he'd give you the cold shoulder until you apologized despite your lack of knowing what you did wrong.

"I just don't understand why you're acting like this Suguru?"

You walked along side Gojo after school one day following after Geto, your eyes were wide and your lips pressed firm.

"Hey! Where are you goin?!"

Gojo ran faster than you walking forward more when Suguru stops and turns facing Gojo, their argument starts leaving you chiming in every few seconds standing next to Satoru, by the end of their fight Suguru just turns forward to walk away.

"Suguru wait! What the hell are you doing?"

You stand in utter disbelief for what was happening right in front of you— this couldn't be happening? Your friendship was splitting up right before you and suguru, the boy that was eerily close around you was leaving you now.

You didn't think you were going to be that affected over the loss but it left you confused on how you felt.

The days following that incident the team had drifted apart but you and Gojo had a newfound closeness but you couldn't shake the feeling of always being watched, it felt like all eyes were on you even when you were walking through your dorm, that must just be the paranoia that comes with being a jujustu sorcerer right?

By the time you had graduated from Jujustu high, Gojo was already number one, you were happy for him of course as any friend would be. Eventually by the ripe age of twenty you take up a teaching job at jujustu high after a long time of Satoru pestering you to take the job with him.

"If I take the job will you just shut up Toru?"

"Of course I will! I promise [nickname]"

You eventually get tasked over the same team as Gojo, which you found strange. Not that Gojo didn't totally pull strings to make them place you two together. The teams you were mentoring were names Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi, the boy that Gojo had been watching after ever since he fought with his father- you think he's the son of that assassin that killed Riko.

The Jujustu world became hectic, not that it was new but it became crazier than usual especially after finding out that Yuji boy had ate one of the king of curses fingers— how was he even alive after that?

Over the years of being a Jujustu sorcerer you had seen and dealt with many things and you couldn't deny you never thought you'd see Suguru again, not after what he did to his parents- you had just assumed he was gone for good. For some odd reason Gojo never seemed too concerned it felt as though he knew something you never did.

You remember earlier in the day hearing Satoru asking you to take the subway with him later after classes had ended, something about this new place he wanted to take you too and knowing Gojo and his Expensive tastes you had just expected another luxury restaurant so imagine the confusion on your face when you see a old Japanese style parlor.

You walk right in behind Gojo, following confused seeing the dark colored interior and dim lights, non sorcerers walking out of the place wearing matching robes.

"What is this place Toru?"

"It's just a parlor ran by an old friend"

The way he hummed those words with a smirk made you feel uneasy, this place felt cultic, the purple walls and candles lit around the halls leading towards a pair of Japanese styled double doors, Satoru opens them ushering you inside. Your senses feel different in this room, it smells sweet and all you can do is feel fuzzy inside, were you being laced?

When you come to again you open your eyes half way seeing two figures hovering above you. Softness is all you can seem to feel right now, you're laying on something soft, maybe a pillow? It's fluffy and all you wanna do is close your eyes and succumb again, your body is weak and you only muster up enough strength to open your eyes when you feel a hand undoing your pants.

Your eyes roll around a little in their sockets before focusing in on the two figures, they look like yin and yang- one has white hair, it's Gojo...is that—

"Suguru?"

His name sounds pathetic when you slur your words looking up at him letting out a little whine seeing his robes, where has he been and why was he dressed like a messiah. What was happening? All those thoughts are postponed when you feel hands pulling your cock out of your boxers.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you [name], god you know how hard it is to not be able to touch you? To not hear my name from your mouth? It's torture sweetheart"

"Awe suguru! You told me the cameras I put in his apartment were close enough?"

Satoru and Geto conversation while kneeling before your body, one of them on either side of you with Suguru's hand on your cock playing with the soft flesh and teasing it. Your body felt too many things to let your mind properly think.

"You're alive?"

Those words come out shakily with your body shuddering feeling the warm palm of his hand under the base of your cock pulling a few strokes while Satoru leans down more sliding your shirt up your body, lifting your arms up and discarding it while you lay on your back in the parlor. Your eyes seeing candles lit around the room next to a picture of Geto— this was a cult.

"Of course I'm alive? Why wouldn't i be [name]?...you know me and Satoru will never leave you"

"Look at him Suguru, he's so loopy, I told you that gas was too strong~"

Your cock pulses in his hand with your nipples erect from the cool air, your body heating up and your cock starting to leak precum.

"What're you two doing?"

The words fall weakly while you lay on the pillows with your eyes circling in on Geto the whole time he touches your cock, your eyes rolling over to Gojo when he coos words to you talking you through it while your hands tremble pulling at the pillows.

"What we've wanted to do since day one [name]"

Suguru hums, leaning in more stroking your cock a little faster and moving his way between your thighs before craning his neck backwards whispering out something to Gojo. Gojo groans and pouts, taking his hands off your body and getting up walking off and out of the room leaving you and Suguru alone.

When Gojo comes back he's holding a bottle of strawberry flavored Lube, Geto let's go of your now hard cock and turns you over on your stomach, Gojo tossing Suguru the lube while he squirts the lube all up and down your crack, sitting the lube aside and squishing your cheeks together over and over making the lube smear around in between your cheeks.

"All I can think about is how you'll taste, I hope Satoru don't get mad I eat you up first"

Geto leans down kissing your arch and holding your hips sliding them down to your ass cheeks and slowly pulling them apart while grinning up at Gojo, watching the white haired man undoing his slacks and pulling out his cock, Gojo slaps his tip to your lips still soft.

"Toru please-"

"C'mon, suck it hard f'me?"

Before you can respond Geto has his faced buried between your cheeks eating you out like your his last meal, his tongue sliding up and down your crack and back down to your rim.

When your lips part to gasp, Gojo takes that as his chance to shove his cock down your throat making your lips wrap around him gagging and tearing up laying on your stomach with Satoru's hand reaching down to grab a handful of your locks making you tilt your head back and look up at him.

"How's it taste [name]?"

You can't seem to muster a word, feeling Geto's tongue going flat against your rim and pressing its way inside you while he reaches one hand under you to grab back ahold of your cock, Suguru starts stroking you in time with his tongue while aiming your cock down towards the pillows in jerking motions like he was milking you.

Gojo and Geto share gleaming looks, they were on cloud nine finally getting the intimacy from you they had longed after for years. Gojo thrusts his hips forward slowly making your cheeks bulge with every motion, his cock now fully hardened in your mouth hitting the back of your throat making vibrations around his base when you wail out.

"Poor baby is all delirious isn't he Satoru?"

Geto smile against your flesh, pressing sloppy wet kisses to your rim rolling his own eyes back at the taste of strawberry and you on his tongue leaving a satisfaction in his stomach with his cock hard under his robes being pressed to his hip.

Gojo keeps stroking your hair before starting to lift your head by your hair and bob your mouth up and down on his cock making you deep throat him to the point your face was buried in his white pubes.

"Sugu—tworu ple~"

Your words come out choppy around his cock. You speak with your mouth full feeling your throat hurting and the hot tears in your eyes streaming down your cheeks being used by the two men unable to put up a fight due to the drugs in your system keeping you weak between the men.

The feeling of Geto's tongue swirling around your insides makes your head go fuzzy again, you just wanna close your eyes but you can't because yours are locked on Gojo's bright blue ones, have they always been as blue as they are now? The look of pleasure on his faces makes knots build in your stomach knowing you're the cause for his half closed eyes.

"Oh you're so close aren't you? Don't even gotta answer I can tell [name]"

Geto can tell by  the way your rim greedily puckers around his tongue and the amounts of precum oozing from your tip that you're on the verge of your orgasm. His hand keeps working you between your thighs leaving your legs trembling laying on your stomach when a wave of heat floods your whole body making you moan around Gojo's cock.

Your tip starts to swell angrily under Geto's thumb, when his tongue laps your prostate it pushes you past your breaking point making you lose it, cumming all over the pillows, staining the purple fabrics with an off white stain making Gojo look down at you with his signature smirk.

"Mhmf— he's a fuckin squirter Satoru"

"Suguru you should just feel how he's gagging on me right now-"

They talk about you like you aren't there, using you for their own pleasures you feel Geto pulling his face from your cheeks with one last lick pulling his tongue out of you leaving your s/c ass all sticky from a mix of spit and lube.

Geto starts lifting up his robes pulling them up over his head throwing them to the side with a smile, wearing black boxer briefs with a prominent bulge inside them with a dark patch of black hair trailing down his abdomen giving Satoru little to the imagination.

Suguru slides his fingers under his boxer waist band pulling them down his thighs allowing his cock to spring forward and press to his stomach.

"I would ask if you're ready [name] but you probably shouldn't speak with your mouth full~"

His voice is cold and mocking not giving a damn about Satoru face fucking you like a fleshlight. Suguru pulls your slick cheeks apart again thrusting his cock up and down your crack getting himself lubed up with the mixed substances.

Gojo reached his thumb down tracing over your full cheeks, watching how your throat bulges more and more the deeper he pushes himself inside your mouth fucking your eyes to reverse watching how they looked away from him and into the back of your head with a teary face that could arouse any man.

"I need-air tworu~"

Your drool running down your chin with your cock half limp between your thighs from how Geto jerked you off leaving you already feeling empty. Suguru reaches his hands up and grips your hips tightly nudging his cockhead against your rim watching while it stretches wide in a sad attempt to fit him, his cock feels like it's tearing you in half.

"Fuck!~ hurts Suguru—"

You gasp when Satoru pulls his cock from your mouth leaving you fishing the purple pillows clenching up around Geto while he lazily pushes in, he doesn't pay mind to it hurting you, he rubs small circles on your hips before bottoming himself all the way inside you with your rim leaving a little blood in with the lube from being stretched so much you tore.

"Shh, now you know you can take it can't you [nickname]"

Gojo drops your head letting it fall forward with your teary face in the purple pillows, your lips all swollen and your throat feeling like razors doing nothing but keeping you from screaming anymore. Your voice is weak and all you can do is hold the pillows and let out little squeals around Suguru.

"Suguru- pleasee—"

You get shut up again by Satoru's cock, he doesn't tap his tip to your lips like last time, he forced his whole cock back down your drool filled throat making a slobbery mess running down your face while you reach one hand back trying to push Suguru's hands off your hips.

"Don't even try it [name] you know better, god you're still as feisty as the last time I seen you"

Suguru reached one hand forward holding both your wrists tightly leaving promising red marks while he slowly thrusts his hips forward pushing your face more into Satoru's groin when Suguru starts to fuck you from behind holding you and binding you with his hands keeping you all defenseless but at this point with the way his cock is sliding against your inner walls you can't even properly think.

"There you go [nickname] you're so good at this aren't you? I think he was made for two cocks Suguru"

Gojo's blindfold hanging around his neck with his large hand around the back of your head holding it in place while he rocks his hips forward making his veins start prodding against the roof of your mouth more showing you he was close.

"Hmfh!~ Toruu"

You whine wanting to reach your hand down and start touching your cock, you needed to come so bad but you couldn't do anything but depend on them to make sure you got off. Suguru's cock pressed against your prostate milking your insides with his base stretching your channel to fit his cock like he was trying to mold you.

"Does our boy wanna come that bad?"

Geto asks you with a fake confused tone fucking you a little harder holding your hands behind your back with one hand using the other to reach down and lift your left thigh up forcing his cock inside you at a deeper angle making you feel every vein and curve to his cock.

"Mh hmm-!"

You're so far gone you can't bother to care about every messed up thing these men are doing to you, all your mind can process is 'needa come' your back arches and you start trying to bob your head under Satoru's hand trying to earn good graces from him when you look up at him with your wide eyes batting your lashes back and forth like a doll.

"Oh what's this? I think he's starting to be a good boy Satoru, you think we should let him come?"

Suguru asks Satoru with a smug smile holding your thigh tight fucking your insides raw with your rim all puffy and wrapped around his cock split open wide now accepting him with ease with the room in the parlor filling up with lewd squelches from the mix of lube and his spit making wet sounds when his hips hit your ass cheeks.

Plap-plap-plap, the sounds silently echo throughout the room while you just stare up at Gojo with a full mouth before feeling his load shoot down your throat spilling all over the back of your throat and running down the roof of your mouth leaving the pungent taste on your lips.

"I think we should let him come Suguru- he's been actin nice hasn't he?"

"I think you're right Toru~ good boys deserve rewards after all"

Geto let's your arms go reaching back down between your thighs starting to jerk your cock like he did before, fucking you rougher with his chubby cock head pulsing and twitching on your prostate putting a strong pressure in your stomach threatening to break over at any moment.

Satoru's cock slips out of your mouth letting you finally breath and gasp for air while Gojo stares down at your face stroking his soft cock hard again and aiming it at your fucked out face watching you get pounded from behind by Geto.

"Close- just a little more- suguru pleasee~!"

You start letting out whiny moans and sounds you never new your voice could make when his thumb runs right across your slit, staring up at Gojo the whole time with your teary face ruined and covered in tears and drool with your hair messy from Gojo's pulling. Geto keeps going bucking his hips forward harshly rutting himself into you going deep as he can pressing his balls to your backside feeling your rim spasming ready to orgasm around him.

When Suguru flicks his wrist holding the base of your cock it sends you over the edge arching your back under him clenching around his cock and holding onto the purple fabric beneath you, orgasming so hard your ears start ringing making everything in the room feel surreal when you come in Geto's hand.

"There he goes Suguru- oh that's such a beautiful face you're making [nickname]"

Your come floods over Suguru's thumb and spilling onto the pillows under you making you wail and cry at the nearly dry orgasm being pulled from your cock having you stiffening up under the two men with your nose scrunched in a over stimulated pleasure.

"I'm getting close [name], gonna flood these insides"

When Gojo hears those words he starts stroking his cock faster at your face watching his two best fiends fucking eachother with you laying all out of it and fuzzy from the drugs having you limp under Geto when he lets your thigh down to mount you more fucking your motionless body making you feel how his cock nudged you on its own before his flood gates break.

"O-oh hng~ suguru-"

The words come out high pitched and louder than the last when his come floods your anal cavity, the warmth surrounds your prostate in a hot sensation leaving you feeling all bloated and full from his seed, your hole instinctively starts to clench and unclench around him milking the rest of his load out of him while Gojo lets out a groan watching the whole scene play out before him.

"Here it comes [nickname]"

Those words were the only warning that Gojo gave you before his orgasm shoots across your face all over your nose and lips running down your chin, mixing in with your spit and tears leaving you completely ruined from the two men, with two loads in your tummy and another on your face leaving you spent.

"I can't take no more Toru~ Suguru I can't-"

"But you gotta [nickname] ! I haven't even got to feel your hole yet~"

Gojo lets out a whine while Geto lets go of your cock and pulls out of your ass, using his thumb to push any come that oozes from your hole back inside you while he rotates with Gojo letting Satoru get right behind you swapping places, god! At this rate it was gonna be a real long night.

"Toru- I can't take it"

You droop your head down feeling his hands flipping you over back into your back on the pillows feeling your come stained pillow fabric pressed to your skin making you cringe, Satoru lifts up one of your legs placing it up on his shoulder nudging your sore rim with his cock while Suguru adjusts himself now facing at your head pressing his cock against your come stained lips.

"Don't lie, we know you can take it [nickname], you were made to take it baby"

"He's right baby, we know you can handle it"

They don't take your weak response as an answer, Gojo slowly pushes his cock into your already stretched hole, sliding in easily from Geto's come and lube. Your chest aiming up at the air arching splayed on your back with your cock red and soft unable to harden from being milked to many times by the men.

Suguru pushes his cock pash your lips delving it into your wet cavern. Your throat bulges again from your now full mouth, your whole body aches and hurts but all you can do is lay still and take it. Gojo gives you no time to rest before he lifts your other leg up in the air holding you in a mating press while jackhammering into you.

"Fuck Suguru, you're right his hole feels so fucking good"

Geto hums in response shuddering a little when your canines graze over a sensitive vein on the underside of his cock making him reach his hand down choking your throat a little bit as a warning making your fission blur from the lack of oxygen and the way Gojo was fucking you, reaching more spots than Suguru if that was even possible.

"Ah- careful with your teeth baby, don't chew on it. Suck it"

Your thighs start trembling pressed to your chest with Gojo dipping his face down and burying his face into your pecks like a madman, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking on it. His hips roll forwards lifting and reaching down to pull your hips, pulling you back onto his cock with your moans being gagged by Suguru's cock.

"T'muush~ too stuffed Suguru~"

You roll your eyes back into your head looking up at Geto above you with your nose pressed to his balls from the angle he was fucking your mouth at leaving Satoru's cum all smeared across your face like a sticky mess. Your cock half limp and tender against your inner thigh while it rests on your stomach leaking a little puddle.

"You sucked Satoru off fine, I think you can handle me too [name], now don't start acting defiant again on us"

The way Geto spoke to you made you whine sadly unable to fight either of them, the drug still in your system and the way they were trying to consume your body whole left you mute sucking on his cock while Gojo pressed his chest up against yours making your toes curl up when he thrusts forward and nails your sweet spot head on.

"Don't be so mean to him Suguru, he's just about used up S' all"

Satoru coos out to Suguru while he makes the pillows dip under the shared weight of him on top of you, Geto's come swirling around your insides and trickling down your thighs around the base of Gojo's cock while Gojo bites down on your nipple again only pulling his mouth off of your flesh to speak.

"I'm getting close [name], do' you want it down your throat or face?"

Geto asks looking down at you feeling his balls drawing up against your cheek signaling he was close to his peak. Gojo on the other hand didn't care about Suguru's orgasm, he was too busy trying to chase his own inside your stomach. Your rim starts burning and stinging from being used and gaping around a cock for so long leaving you in painful pleasure.

"On m' face~"

You whimper out quietly just not wanting to have to taste another load or feel more come inside your stomach. Reaching one hand down whining when you start to touch your cock, it felt like touching a stiff rod, your hand slowly moved up and down it crying to have to pull another orgasm but you needed to come so bad.

"You can't do that [nickname] you gotta come from me or Suguru, so no touchin yourself"

Before you can respond or complain Satoru has his free hand slipping off your hip and down onto your cock, quickly swatting your hand away from it. His strokes aren't gentle like yours were, his are fast and unorganized like his thrusts are. Gojo takes his mouth off your nipple and shoves his face in your neck while Suguru keeps fucking your mouth, his thrusts slow down pulling out of your mouth with his cock jumping on its own.

"There we go [name] see what you do to us?"

Your ass feels sore and red from hips slapping against them over and over but before you can complain a hot load shoots all over your face spilling into your eyelashes and into your mouth making you taste his come, he tasted sweeter than Gojo, his semen more thick and less opaque than Satoru's.

"I'm getting close Sa-Toruu~"

Your voice cracks from a sore face fucked throat, your lips are all sticky and cracked in the corners from opening your mouth too wide, your lips part and ho agape making an 'O' shape when Gojo bites at the crook of your neck licking over the red marks he's leaving on your S/c skin.

Your abdomen starts feeling hotter and more tense making you sweat underneath Satoru when his cock teases your insides making your legs feel like jello up in the air with your knees bent over his shoulders. By the way Gojo was tensing up and the muscles of his shoulders stiffened beneath your finger nails you could tell he was about to come.

"Me too- you're just milking it out of me [nickname]"

His hand works harder and faster against your cock making you groan starting to orgasm shaking and crying with hardly any semen able to spill from you. Your tip starts leaking barely any pre come, you begin orgasming dry making Geto smile above you happy to know they had milked your body dry, Suguru reaches his hand down stroking your cheek while Gojo plows you between your thighs making the room spin through your eyes.

Soon the feeling of warmth in your gut hits you again letting you know Satoru had just found his release inside you, his semen seeping out of you overflowing your hole leaving the thin strings of his come running down your thighs and staining the pillows beneath the two of you.

"Toruu.. I'm soo sore-"

It’s been years since the Woodsboro slaughters. 

Years since the 3 killing sprees that claimed countless lives. 

A knock at the door pulls your attention. 

You head over, each step measured, each breath counted.

Your hand trembles above the knob, slowly you open the door. 

“Trick or Treat!” A group of kids shout. 

You fake a shocked laugh. 

“Ooo, I love your costumes. Hello Sheriff Woody, Sully, and…” you gasp in excitement, “Red Power Ranger.” 

“You guys have great costumes.” You hold out your bowl of candy. 

“Happy Halloween, kids.” You wave them off as they head back down your drive way. 

You shut the door, sighing and shaking your head.

“That should be the last batch of stragglers for the night.” You mumble, shutting off the porch light. 

You put a bag of popcorn in the microwave, watching as it inflates and spins around.

You shiver feeling a chill travel up your spine. 

You put your hoodie up, before looking around.

Your eyes widen, a nervous laugh leaving you. 

“Must’ve left the back door open.” You mutter, going to shut it.

You take a breath of relief as the lock and deadbolt click. 

While your popcorn finishes in the microwave, you walk around your home. 

You make sure every window is shut and latched. 

You make sure the front door is locked.

The keypad beeps as you arm the security system. 

You smile hearing the microwave ding. The smell of popcorn wafting in the air. 

You swear you feel a pair of eyes on you, but you wave it off. 

“The Woodsboro killings were so long ago. It’s just nerves.” You tell yourself. 

You don’t notice the closet door is barely ajar, before shutting.

“God all they do is replay these awful fucking Stab movies.” You groan, letting it play out anyways. 

Every Halloween like clock work, you could time it, a Stab movie marathon that plays for the whole day. 

It’s the newest installment. 

Based on the killings that involved the Carpenter sisters. 

Your phone comes to life, you reach over eyes still on the screen before you finally look at the screen. 

A smile stretched across your face. 

Jace 💞: Sorry babe. I’m gonna be late. Coach still has us running this Halloween event. 

You: it’s okay, baby. Just text me when you’re here, I armed the security system. 

You lock your phone, eyes going back up to the movie. 

Your eyes flutter open, you yawn and stretch. 

Your gaze drifts to the tv. It’s still on, but now playing Stab 1. 

“God…” You rub your eyes, “how long was I out for?” You mumble. 

You grab your phone, walking into the kitchen.

You dump the cold popcorn and place the bowl in the sink.

You go to wash it, but the vibration in your pocket stops you. 

Unknown Caller flashes across the screen. 

You laugh, pinching the brow of your nose. 

“Hello?” You hold the phone between your ear and shoulder, hands moving as you clean the bowl. 

“Hello?” A man’s voice answers yours. 

“Who is this?” He asks. 

You snort. 

“You called me.” You say unimpressed. 

“What number is this?” He presses on. 

“The number you dialed.” You say annoyed. 

“Seems like you called the wrong number. Bye.” You end the call before he can answer. 

You place the bowl on the drying rack, before wiping your hands. 

Your phone buzzes again before you can put it in your pocket. 

You sigh loudly. 

“Hello?” You answer.

“Seems like I’ve dialed the wrong number.” The same voice from before blooms in your ear. 

“Then why’d you call me back?” You say frustrated. 

“To apologize. Seems like I’ve struck a nerve.” The man’s voice has an upward inflection. 

Like he’s amused. 

The chill up your spine tells you it’s more like a predator circling. 

“Apology accepted, have a good one.” You say hand going to end the call. 

“Wait! Wait!” The man’s voice sounds desperate, the earlier charm gone. 

“What?” Your answer comes out clipped. 

“I wanna talk to you.” It almost sounds like pleading. 

“Call a sexline, or get on tinder buddy.” You end the call shoving your phone back in your pocket. 

You go back to your living room, setting up Hulu to watch another scary movie as you wait for your alpha. 

As soon as you hit play your phone buzzes again.

“Hello?” You answer again. 

“Why don’t you wanna talk to me?” That same voice says. 

“Who is this?” You say with a laugh. “Is that you Lucerys?” Your other hand goes to hit play. 

“What’s that sound?” The man asks. 

“Nightmare On Elm Street.” You say candidly. 

“The Dream Warrior one.” You add. 

“You Ike scary movies?” The man’s voice comes hot and heavy. 

You can feel a phantom tongue dragging up your cheek as he says that. 

“Yeah.” You say softly. 

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” The man asks. 

“Mmmm there’s a lot of options out there.” You roll your eyes, deciding to entertain him until Jacaerys arrives. 

“I’d have to say Nightmare On Elm Street or You’re Next, I like horror movies with final girls like that.” 

The man laughs softly. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen that one.” The man’s voice is sweet, like poisoned honey. 

“It’s basically where this girl— like gets dragged into her boyfriend’s scheme to kill his parents for the inheritance, and she ends up killing the men who were trying to kill her and his family.” You elaborate. 

“I like how your voice sounds when you’re excited.” His voice makes your hair stand on edge. 

“You’re not gonna ask me what’s my favorite scary movie?” He asks. 

“Sure. What’s your favorite scary movie?” You chortle. 

“Guess.” He replies. 

“Why’d I even ask if you were gonna make me guess?” You snicker. 

“Uhm…let’s seeee…” You think. 

“Given how you’re calling me like this, it’s giving Ghostface set up, so I’d say Stab.” You jab. 

“You’re absolutely right.” His voice coils. 

“So, do you have an alpha?” His voice is like a serpent striking.

You tilt your head. You didn’t mention you were an omega. 

“Why do you wanna know? You wanna ask me out?” You giggle. 

“Maybe. Do you have an alpha?” You can feel the teeth sinking into your skin already. 

“No.” You lie. 

“You never did tell me your name.” He quickly pushes forward. 

“Why do you wanna know my name?” You ask laughing off the chills. 

“‘Cause I wanna know who I’m looking at.” 

You feel ice seep into your veins. 

A chill you can’t shake. 

One that has your muscles tensing and relaxing. 

“What did you say?” Your voice comes out meager and weak. 

“I said I wanna know who I’m talking to.” You can feel the elation radiating from his voice. 

“That’s not what you said.” You snarl. 

“What do you think I said?” He laughs. 

You look around your home, walking to the kitchen.

You turn on the lights in your backyard, opening a small section of curtain to look around.

“Hello?” The man draws your attention again. 

“Look I— I gotta go.” You stutter. 

“Wait— I thought we were gonna go out?” He says sadly. 

“No not happening.” You mutter. 

“Don’t hang up on—“ he cuts off as you end the call. 

You go back to the living room, looking out the front curtains. 

You jump feeling your phone go off again. 

“What!?” You growl. 

“I told you not to hang up on me.” He says coldly. 

“What do you want?” You’re nearly in tears. 

“To talk.” He says smugly. 

“Well dial someone else.” You end the call again. 

You shakily sit back down. 

Suddenly every sound is louder. 

Every shadow more suspicious than the last. 

Even the noises you’ve leaned to tune out seem to be different and dangerous. 

You gasp, nearly sobbing as your phone rings again. 

“Listen up you piece of shit—“

“No you listen to me you little slut—you hang up on me again, and I’ll gut you like a fucking fish. Understand?” He snarls. 

Your breathing hitches. 

“Yeaaaah.” He says satisfied. 

“Is this some kinda joke?” Your voice warbles as you speak. 

“More of a— game really. Can you handle that…(Y/H/C)?”

Your eyes widen, every hair on your body stands on end. 

You run through your home making sure each entry point is locked down. 

You look out the peephole in your front door. 

“Can you see me, omega?” He snickers, his voice hot and heavy coiling around your neck. 

“Listen, I am two seconds away from calling the fucking police.” You cry. 

“They’d never make it in time.” He laughs. 

“A Ghostface caller on Halloween in Woodsboro? You’re a single drop in the bucket.” He coldly states. 

“What do you want?” You sniffle. 

“To see what your insides look like.” He rasps. 

You muffle a sob as you end the call. 

You jump and gasp at the doorbell ringing. 

You cry and nearly fall over as your phone rings again. 

“Smart. You didn’t say ‘who’s there?’. Someone else might’ve come out to investigate a strange noise.” He laughs cruelly. 

“You’ve had your fun, so leave or else!” You shout. 

“Or else what?” He goads. 

“Or else my alpha’ll be here any second, and he’ll be pissed when he finds out.” You cry. 

“I thought you didn’t have an alpha.” The voice answers with the same amount of smugness. 

“I lied! I do have an alpha, and he’ll be here any second so your ass better be gone!” You cry louder. 

“He’s big, and he plays football, and he’ll kick the shit out of you!” You take deep ragged breaths. 

“I’m so scared.” He mocks. “I’m shaking in my boots.”

“It’s Halloween, so it’s time for a joke.” He angrily. 

“What’s red and pale, and already turned into a fucking pin cushion?” He roars. 

“……what?” You finally answer. 

“Jacaerys Velaryon.” 

You drop to your knees, hand over your mouth. 

“Turn on the backyard lights. Again.” He commands. 

You walk over, shaking like a newborn fawn. 

You gasp loudly, tears flowing even heavier as you see a brunette man laid out on the ground. 

He’s got 7 knives stuck into his back. 

“Oh my god!” Your hands fumble with the lock. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” He threatens. 

“Jacaerys…” You sob into your phone. 

“He’s dead, but you could still live.” His voice is laced thick with satisfaction. 

“I wanna play a game.” He singsongs. 

“No…” you whimper. 

“Then you die right now!” He snarls. 

“No! No!” Your voice trembles. 

“Which is it?” He says. “Which is it?” He says sternly. 

“What kind of game?” You manage to eke out. 

“Turn off the light. You’ll see what kind of game.” He laughs. 

You sob, head pressing into the glass as you turn off the light. 

“Here’s how we play. I ask a question. If you get it right you live.” He says with sick joy. 

“Please…” you whimper, “please don’t do this.” Your chest heaves. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun. It’s an easy category. Movie trivia.” His voice goes up an octave. 

“I’ll even give you a warm-up question. Name the killer in Nightmare On Elm Street.” He ignores your pleas. 

“Please—I can’t…” you gasp. 

“Come on it’s one of your favorite scary movies right?” He presses on. 

“He was burnt, had knives for fingers. He touched little kids that’s why they killed him. He goes after you in your dreams.” He laughs. 

“What’s his name?” He presses. 

“I can’t think.” You take a ragged breath. 

“Come on, your life depends on it.” He snickers. 

“Freddy Kruger.” You manage to get out. 

“Yes! Very good.” He says like a game show host. 

“Now for the real question.” His voice darkens. 

“No!” You cry. 

“But you’re doing so well. We can’t stop now.” He goads.

“Please stop! Leave me alone!” You plead. 

“Then answer the question. Same category. Name the killer in Friday the 13th.”  

“Jason! Jason Vorhees!” You blurt out.

“Wait—“ your eyes water. 

“Oooh I’m sorry. That’s the wrong answer.” He says feigning sadness. 

“It’s Jason’s mother.” You cry, resting your head against the table. 

“Aww, and you knew it too. I’m afraid that’s still a wrong answer.” He laughs darkly. 

“Luck for you there’s a bonus round. Final question.” 

“Please leave me alone.” You gasp deeply. 

“Answer the question and I will.” He growls. 

“What door am I at?” He drawls. You can almost hear him lick his lips. 

“What?” You manage to get out. 

“There are two main doors to get into your house, the front door, and backdoor. If you answer correctly, you live.” He says. 

“The back door.” You whimper. 

“I’m afraid that’s a wrong answer.” He laughs, before the line goes dead. 

You run to the front door, trying to put distance between you both. 

You look out the peep hole but freeze, as a door creaks open behind you. 

You slowly turn around. 

You gasp loudly, as Ghostface stands mere feet away. 

His hunting knife glints, as he brandishes it. 

You finally breathe again as he lunges at you, the blade sticking into the wood. 

You punch him in the stomach before trying to run away. 

You run towards the kitchen, each step quicker than the last as you hear his knife dislodge from the wall.

You reach for the block of cooking knives, but he knocks it clean from your reach. 

You pull back as he slashes downward, the blade lodging into the wooden table. 

You scream in horror, before turning and trying to run up the stairs. 

You make it to your room. 

You cry as you try to shut the door in vain, his foot already firmly lodged in between.

You both struggle, the door compressing against your hands and then his foot. 

But he beats you, the door kicking open as you fall backwards.

He perches over you, looking every bit the satisfied predator. 

He presses the knife to your neck. 

A chill blooming across your whole body, as you feel the cold sharp metal dig into your neck

“Please…” you cry out, “please don’t kill me…” you whimper.

“I’ll do anything.” You bare your neck. 

“Anything?” He asks intrigue thick. 

“Anything.” You affirm. 

Your eyes widen as he takes off his cloak, leaving on only the mask. 

You whimper seeing the bulge in his pants. 

“Don’t make that face….you asked for this.” He laughs darkly. 

Ghostface groans as his hips snap against your face. 

Your arms tense, your hands clench into fists behind you. The chain of the handcuffs jingling from the force of Ghostface’s thrusts. 

“I said to keep those fuckin’ eyes on me.” He grinds into your mouth, laughing as you choke before swallowing. “Unless you wanna lose them.” He snarls, holding your head down against his groin. 

Your tears keep flowing, your throat is raw and used.

Your spit and his precum dripping down your chin in thick rivulets. 

You look up towards him, making sure your eyes don’t leave his. 

“Such a perfect omega slut.” He giggles, before groaning as you swallow around his cock. 

“There you go, you’re learning.” His fingers thread in your hair, as he jerks you back and forth the whole length of his cock. 

His well maintained pubes and happy trial, keep brushing your nose. 

His testicles slap against your chin, coated in the vulgar mix that keeps spilling from your mouth. 

You can’t believe your body is betraying you. 

You’re harder than you’ve ever been, a wet spot already bleeding through your underwear and through the front of your jeans.

“And look at that…” He coos, he lifts his foot up.

“Mmmfpggh!” You sob around his cock, as he makes you grind your aching dick against the top of his shoe. 

“So hard for me.” He laughs, pressing up again harder. 

“What would your alpha say?” He asks, holding your head to his groin again. 

“Can’t imagine he’d have much to say, not with those knives in his back.”  He laughs. 

“Fuck—“ He curses, feeling you hollow your cheeks. 

He yanks you off his cock.

You cough, and swallow what you can, trying to catch your breath. 

“You’d better catch every fucking drop or I’ll cut your mouth all the way open.” He snarls, his other hand jerking himself sloppily. 

You shut your eyes, mouth opening wide, falling out. 

“Good fuckin’ boy.” He growls, as his cock throbs. 

His seed shoots out in thick viscous ropes, one paints your cheek, the next the bridge of your nose, the rest all land on your tongue. 

He takes deep breathes trying to center himself. “Swallow.”

You do so immediately, letting your tongue loll out to show proof. 

“I can see why he loved you.” He snickers, his fingers dragging the rest of his release from your face to your mouth. 

He pumps his fingers back and forth as you swallow the rest, his thick digits playing with your tongue. 

He pulls them out, moving his mask just enough to suck on them himself and taste the mixture he churned. 

“I—“ You take a deep breath, “made you cum.” You sniffle. “Please leave.” You beg.

Ghostface snarls, picking you up by your shirt, and throwing you onto your bed. 

“You’re not in charge here.” He roars. 

You freeze as he pulls the knife back out. 

Its glint and sheen taunt you. 

He drags the blunt edge up and down your body. 

“What happened to the good boy who was swallowing my cock?” He asks, leaning down, imposing himself on you. 

“M’sorry…” a raggedy breath and sob break your sentence. 

“Good. ‘Cause I’m not done yet.” He says darkly. 

Your eyes widen as he grabs the hem of your pants legs. 

He drags the sharp end of his knife.

It glides through the material like a hit knife through butter. 

In an instant he’s made tatters of your pants and underwear. 

He separates your thighs, moving his mask to expose his mouth. 

“Ple—“ The words die on your tongue as the knife finds itself against your neck. 

“I’m not through with you yet.” He snarls, biting down on your thigh. 

You groan, your cock throbs, your tip sticky and drooling. 

He drags his tongue over the indents, over the bruise with a softness that betrays his brutality. 

“You’re mine, until I decide I’m fuckin’ done with you.” Ghostface asserts. 

You moan and cry in pleasure. 

Your thighs shake and tremble as Ghostface holds you in place. 

Every drag of his tongue against your rim has you clenching down around nothing. 

Every push of his soft wet muscle into your slicked warmth has you relaxing further. 

Every time your thighs tense like you’re going to close them, he sucks on your rim and spreads you further. 

“Look at you. About to cum on my tongue.” He laughs. 

“After everything.” He adds. 

“I wonder what poor Jacaerys would say?” He asks bluntly. 

“His little omega didn’t even wait till his body was cold before taking the next alpha’s knot.” He cruelly remarks. 

You bite your bottom lip to keep from responding to his goading. 

“Stay quiet all you fuckin’ want this cute little cock of yours and tight fuckhole are so much more honest than that whore mouth of yours.” He dives back down, tongue pushing in deeper. 

Ghostface drags his tongue up from your hole, up your taint, he sucks each of your testicles, he presses a kiss to the base of your cock. 

His tongue laves your dick in his salvia before he takes you into his throat. 

“Ah! Ngh—!” Your back arches off the bed, Ghostface’s stubble rubs against your skin, you can feel your cock hit the back of his throat. 

He doesn’t pull off, he keeps you buried deep.

He moves one of your legs under him, before spreading you further.

4 of his fingers tease your rim, before he shoves them inside. 

“Fuck—!” You cry out, the stretch burns.

Equal parts pain and white-hot pleasure.

He doesn’t wait for you to cum, his fingers find your prostate, pressing into the little bundle of nerves. 

“God—!” You shout as you finally cum, hips jerking up and snapping against Ghostface’s jaw. 

You can feel him smirk against your groin as he milks you, and works you through your orgasm.

When you’re twitchy and boneless from your release, he finally pulls off with a harsh suck, making sure he’s left you clean. 

“Taste as sweet you look.” He snickers.

His hands rip his pants open, the button flying off. 

He takes them off throwing them to the side.

His underwear, still wet from his own orgasm, and pleasing you, come off next, joining his pants in a pile on the ground. 

He spreads your thighs, exposing your fluttering hole. 

His head rests at your rim.

“Wait—“ your voice breaks his concentration. 

“Put a— condom on.” You plead. 

He doesn’t move, you think he’s gonna do as you asked. 

His laugh shatters what little hope you had left. 

“Not a fuckin’ chance.” He snarls. 

“I’m going to knot you and cum so deep inside you, it knocks you up.” He chuckles. 

“I’m gonna make you carry my fuckin’ kids.” He adds. 

“How does that sound? Carrying the son of the man who killed your alpha?” He goads. 

Before you can respond, before you can say anything, you moan in surprise, as he thrusts in hard. 

One continuous thrust that doesn’t stop until he’s buried himself to the root. 

“Fuck—!” You sob, clenching around the thick heavy girth. 

“There we go—ngh…” Ghostface takes deep heaving breathes, like he’s already on the edge of another orgasm. 

He spreads your legs farther. 

His hands stutter when you whimper, like he wanted to be considerate and decided against it. 

“Fuckin’ look at you…choking on me like this.” He pulls back, thrusting forward immediately in short rapid succession. 

“Ngh—fuck—fuck—fuck!” You cry out at each drive forward. 

Ghostface leans down his hot wet tongue dragging through your tears. 

“Come on, beg me to cum inside you.” He whispers, his hips snapping against yours faster. 

“Angh! Ah! Ngh! Mmphm!” You sob, legs spreading, going around his waist. 

“Close enough.” He groans, slamming into you again.

His hand wraps around your cock, working you through his orgasm. 

“Fuck!” You cry out as your seed paints his hand and your stomach. 

“That’s it—keep fuckin’ clenching around me.” He drawls, grinding into your wet warmth. 

Ghostface’s cock pulses inside of you, spreading his seed, his essence deep inside. 

He growls before picking you up and putting you on the ground. 

He joins you, angling your ass up, as your face rests against your carpeted floor. 

“No, no, that won’t do.” He coos, pulling on the chain between your cuffs. 

“There we go.” He laughs, smacking his cock against your stretched hole. 

He drives forward, his hips crashing against yours, the sound of wet skin clapping against wet skin echos obscenely. 

“Keep your eyes ahead, omega.” He demands. 

You manage to look up despite the pleasure roiling in your gut. 

Your eyes widen, seeing him fuck you in the reflection of the mirror. 

The man’s lips curl into a smile as you finally look at yourself. 

“Fuck!” You squeeze your eyes shut. 

Ghostface’s hips stutter, feeling you clench down and convulse around him. 

“I said keep those fuckin’ eyes open!” He growls. 

You gasp loudly, clenching down even harder on his cock as his hand leaves a red print on your ass cheek. 

His fingers graze the red mark, almost as an apology.

You stare at yourself being ruined, split open on his cock, his seed spilling out and dripping down your thighs. 

“Ah!” You sob, eyes watering as his hand smooths over your ass cheek. 

The plush flesh already turning red in the shape of his hand. 

“Cum.” He demands. “You’re so fuckin’ close and easy I can feel it.” He leans down, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. 

His chest meets your shoulder blades, one of his hands grips your hip even tighter, the other snakes around your throat. 

He pulls you up, hips snapping forward like it’s all he knows. 

The new angle is even more devastating, each vulgar pull out, and harsh thrust in slides against your prostate.

“I said cum.” He snarls, his fingers pressing down on your tongue. 

Your eyes squint, watering as his fingers push in deep. 

“There we fuckin’ go.” He laughs, feeling you clench down around his cock like velvet vice. 

You cock throbs and pulses, your spend coming out in watery ropes that dirty your carpet. 

You slobber all over his fingers pushing back against his thrusts as you ride out your high. 

Ghostface forces the two of you back up.

He throws you onto your bed, snickering as you squeak. 

His slots himself between your legs, his thighs forcing yours apart. 

He slides back in with a slow pace that ramps up.

“Fuck—ah! Ngh! Mmmagh!” You moan, your walls milking his cock. 

His hand clamps down around your mouth. 

“Fuckin’ take it.” He punctuates each word with another deep thrust, each one reaching deeper than the last. 

His pacing turns erratic, his hips stutter and jerk forward.

Your eyes widen, before they roll to the back of your head. 

Your toes curl hard enough they crack. 

Your yowl of ecstasy breaks against his hand, spittle flowing out between his digits and around his palm. 

“Take it!” He roars, forcing his girthy knot past the ring of muscle, seating it deep inside. 

He ruts forward, pulling back as far as he can then driving as deep as he can reach. 

“Fuck—“ He groans, his knot flexing as he paints your insides white with his release. 

“That’s it…” He says softly feeling your walls milk his sensitive spongy flesh. 

He keeps grinding, working the both of you through your orgasms. 

He hears you sniffle again, his hand reaches up to his mask, you hear something click. 

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe.” A voice you recognize finally speaks. 

He undoes the handcuffs bringing your wrists to his mouth, kissing the indents. 

He slowly pulls off his mask. 

“Boo!” Jacaerys giggles. “Happy Halloween, sweetie.” He kisses you softly. 

Jacaerys waits for recognition, tilting his head. 

He gets closer noticing the glazed over look in your eyes. 

“Fuck.” He says worry laced thickly. 

“(Y/n), baby, are you okay?” He asks softly, rubbing his cheek against yours. 

“Come back to me, we’re done.” He kisses you softly, his chest rumbling. 

His crooning reverbs through his chest into yours. 

You blink once, twice. Your chest rumbles as you purr in response. 

“Don’t—don’t ruin the afterglow.” You say with a small giggle. 

Jacaerys’ eyes widen in disbelief, before he sputters through a laugh. 

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” He drags his hand down his face.

Jacaerys lays down on top of you, slotting his head into the crux of your neck, making sure yours goes into his. 

“Really though.” He says softly against your shoulder. 

“Are you okay? I didn’t go too far did I?” He asks concerned. His hands rubbing soothing circles into your skin. 

“Your knot is still throbbing inside me Jace. I’m still milking you.” You giggle softly. 

“You were perfect.” You moan sweetly. 

“Thank god…” He murmurs. “‘Cause that was hard for me.” 

“Hard for you?” You sarcastically remark. 

“Didn’t seem like it to me, you played your part perfectly.” Your hands move to cradle his head. 

“Only ‘cause it’s what you wanted.” Jacaerys mutters, his face flushing. 

“There’s my shy alpha.” You kiss his lips softly. 

“Who’d you get to play dead?” You ask, remembering the body in your backyard. 

“What are you talking about?” Jacaerys asks confused. 

“The dead body? In my backyard?” You say clipped, eyes widening. 

Jacaerys’ fear matches yours.

For a moment everything goes silent. 

You worry this is how you’ll be found, dead with your dead boyfriend knot deep inside you. 

“Phbt.” A laugh breaks through Jacaerys’ demeanor, and the suffocating silence. 

“You’re a dick!” You laugh playfully smacking him. 

“Got Cregane to do it.” He says matter of factly. 

“God what did he ask for in return?” You pry. 

“Oh nothing. I told him I was tryna fuck my omega and needed a favor. He said he’d do whatever it took after that.” Jacaerys props himself up on his elbow. 

“Jace!” You say scandalized. 

“What? You’re my omega! I’m an alpha! I’m sure people know what goes on behind closed doors.” He laughs. 

“You’re impossible.” You snort. 

“Yeah but I’m yours.” He rests his full body weight against yours. 

“Yeah. You’re mine.” You sigh sweetly, body relaxing. 

“I’ll take care of clean up, so just rest.” He kisses your cheek. “I also owe you some new pants.” He grimaces. 

“Yeah you do.” You yawn, arms lacing around his neck as your breathing evens out into soft snores.