Vide et credere

A curse escaped your lips, brows furrowed, while you made your way to your window, looking down to see a flurry of activity from below; men filtering out of your brother’s residence in swarms, wooden shields and spears in their arms.

It didn’t take long before you arrived at your brother’s residence; your footsteps, light and agile as you climb the steps, contrasting the agitated footsteps of men exiting your brother’s residence.

Upon arriving at the threshold, you see the expanse of your brother’s back, inked and covered in blood, while the healers cleaned him up. Tucked under his muscular arm, he cradled, which you assumed was a severed arm. 

“Brother,” You called, footsteps resonating through the wooden floorboards as you made your way inside.

Your brother, Sukuna, perked up when he heard the familiar jingle of your jewellery, looking back with a grin with far too many teeth. “To what pleasure do I owe my dear sister that she paid a visit to my residence?” 

He hissed lightly when he felt the pressure of the cloth against his tender wound; the older healer’s eyes narrowed at him, a silent command for him to hold still before she continued to tend to his injuries.

“I see that you’ve returned from your conquest.” You moved his wooden shield away, making space for you to sit in front of him.   

“Certainly,” He nodded, tossing the severed arm to your nephew, Choso’s, direction, who caught it with ease. “I already asked that we prepare a Thanksgiving.”

For the warriors of your tribe, it was customary to bring back a severed arm of a slain enemy to be hung underneath the house for the thanksgiving for Talabusau, the spiritual protector of warriors. 

“Another one?” You tilted your head with a raised brow. “What got you itching to sever more arms, even when no family requested so?” 

A young healer offers a wrapped betel quid, placing it near his lips, which he begrudgingly accepts, noticing how the wounds littering across his skin close slowly, only leaving a faint scar.

Sukuna leaned back, another toothy grin. “Nonsense, all to appease the protector of the warriors.” 

Your eyes squinted, unconvinced, “Do not take me for a fool, brother.” 

From the corner of your eye, you noticed your brother raising his arm, waving lightly to the threshold, and slowly, the healers and men inside his residence left. 

With the two of you alone, the air suddenly tensed. 

“The tumanod has visited my dreams.” Sukuna started, his tone low, jaw clenched as his eyes averted from your steady gaze. “A warning.”

Your eyes widened, already noticing how Sukuna’s shoulder became rigid, a looming sense of dread forming in the pit of your stomach. Your brother was, if not a fearless warrior, but his tumanod visiting him in his dreams, only means one thing: bad omen. 

This was not good. 

“On the first puff of wind, there comes a whirlwind and storm. Bid the sweetest farewell to your home and loved ones.” 

“The wind deity has waged war on our kingdom.” He looked out of his window, seeing the tribe bustling with life as everyone prepared for the Thanksgiving ceremony. “And with his taklubu and baklaw, it is only a matter of time before we are wiped off.”

“And I won’t allow that.”

The silence between you two felt thick; the sweltering heat from the sun filtered through the window, making you adjust your ginilangan, the blouse pressing against your skin when a sweat slowly forms. 

Then a laugh. 

Enough to strike a nerve, your brother’s nerve. 

“Brother,” You let out a dry chuckle, shaking your head enough for your brass earrings to jingle faintly. “Surely, this is a problem that I can lend a hand with.”

“Sister, the wind deity is a powerful being.” Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, lips curled into a frown. “Do not take this matter lightly; the fate of our people lies in my hands.”

You insisted, hands forming into fists against the fabric of your long skirt. “They’re also my people, too, brother!”

Your brother lets out a sharp exhale, almost as if coaxing the burning rage building within him, before meeting your gaze once more, fiery yet calmer. 

“I ask you not to intervene, sister.” 

“Are you belittling me?” Your tone was jagged and tense, your mouth gaping in disbelief at his insinuation.

“Certainly not!” Sukuna answered rather quickly, placing a hand on his temples. “The wind deity is no ordinary enemy.”

Through gritted teeth, you stood up abruptly, catching the attention of your brother, while your fists remained clenched on your sides. “I expected my own brother to have some faith, but we can’t have what we want.”

Heavy footsteps followed when you left his residence, enough for Sukuna to feel the wooden floorboards shake slightly, while you weaved through the busy bodies in a stormy rage. Your brother lets out an exasperated sigh, standing up shortly to look down from his window once more.

The sun was at its peak when you returned to your residence, a wooden hut sitting on top of a hill just above the community and your brother’s, bathing it in a warm glow, but the feeling simmering in your rib is anything but warmth.

Your firm strides resonated in the quiet corners of your home, extended arms grabbing a stash of betel nut, leaves, lime, and other trinkets, placing them in the woven basket wrapped against your hip. 

Then, you picked up the quiver, along with the arrows near your feet, slinging them against your frame before grabbing your sulinday, the enormous straw hat you used to travel to faraway, distant lands, which you settled on with careful steps.

The sulinday slowly ascends to the sky, your eyes glancing once more at your hut, which grew smaller and smaller, until you felt a stronger breeze licking against your skin, enough for you to tighten your hold against the rattan of the hat, while your brass jewellery chimes in a bell-like melody. 

You felt another strong gust, almost deliberately moving the sulinday’s direction, making your brows furrow in confusion as your hands itched to pull out a weapon from the basket attached to your hip, until, from the clouds, you see something from a distance.

Eyes slowly narrow, clouds dissipating while you attempted to make out the silhouette of a house seated on top of a mountain; a wooden hut similar to yours, except this one was littered with multiple charms in all crevices. 

A deity’s house. 

As if sensing your realisation, the wind lets out another round of puffing for the last time, directing the sulinday in the mountain’s direction, making you grip the sulinday firmly, enough for you to feel the material prickle. 

The sulinday descends slowly, settling itself against the earth, while the wind carries your body with ease, guiding you into the Wind Deity’s home, where you land on your feet, smack in the middle of the hall with a light thud. 

Your body stiffens, and the hairs behind your neck prick up when you feel an ominous presence filling in the space. 

You were certainly not alone.

There, at the centre of the hall, seated on his gilded mat was none other than the Wind Deity himself, who turned to your direction upon feeling your intrusion.

His eyes narrowed, “Who dares intrude-”

Satoru, the Wind Deity, stills when his gaze lands on you—an intruder. 

Not only that, but a mortal too. 

Except you were anything but an ordinary mortal.

Despite the stiffness in your shoulders, your unwavering eyes matched his own, and your lips thinned into a line. Your stature remained regal, making the embroidered blouse sit firm, revealing your bare midriff lined with a swirling, geometric-patterned ink against your skin.

The palikan, an embroidered headdress, sits on top of your head, reminiscent of an elaborate fan, while the brass earrings stop at your chin, with multiple layers of salay, an elaborate beaded necklace, layered on your neck. 

Your skirt also followed the same alternate patchwork tied with a bagkus, a decorated sash with sewn brass bells, sitting on your waist, while the skirt’s fabric fell to your ankle with grace, even noticing the glint of the singkil, a heavy brass with pellets, around your right ankle.

You were certainly a sight to behold. 

The silence was tense, making you clear your throat, which immediately caught the attention of the deity, snapping him out of his reverie as his cerulean irises shifted to you, meeting your gaze.

“I am a weary traveller looking for the kingdom of Nalandang.” You started, tone even despite the rapid beat of your heart against your chest. “Perhaps my lord can give me directions.”

Satoru leaned slightly, tufts of his white hair falling against his forehead, while his lips curving into an amused smirk. “For an intruder, you do have the audacity.” 

He keeps a watchful eye, observing for any shifts in your expression or stance, but finds nothing but conviction. Though a brave face settled on your features, you felt bile slowly crawl up your throat, while a sinking feeling of coldness settled against your stomach. 

“Not even directions?” You batted your eyelashes with feigned naivety. 

Satoru jutted his lip slightly before shaking his head. “I’m afraid, sweet maiden, that I cannot give.”

Unable to contain how you truly feel, your face immediately twitched in annoyance, despite your attempts to hide it behind a strained, good-natured smile, which was enough to make the deity chuckle at your sudden tick.

He tilted his head slightly, making his five-headed crown, the solang-solang, shift slightly, humming in thought before snapping his fingers. 

“Maybe I can,” The deity offered, the end of lips curving slightly, seeing how your ears perked up. “But on one condition?” 

You pressed on, leaning a bit. “Which is?”

Satoru’s smirk only widens at your desperation, thoroughly pleased that you have fallen under the trap of his elaborate plan. “Offer me a betel quid.” 

You stilled, eyes blinking at him before narrowing in his direction at the deity’s audacity.

“Escaping is futile, for even if you soar through the skies—the wind is at my mercy.” He trailed on with a knowing smirk, his chin leaning against his palm while he glanced at you. “I am, if not, the Wind Deity.”

“So, offer me a betel quid, my sweet maiden.” 

Your lips quivered, eyebrow twitching in irritation when you caught on to his scheming, which only furrowed deeper when the smug grin extended Satoru’s lips when he noticed your realisation.

When a man, a wind deity nonetheless, requested a woman, which in this case is you, to roll a betel quid—it meant an offering of marriage. While such a thing is a blow to your pride, your mind wanders to your home and the people whom Satoru will obliterate in this war.

The closer you are to him, the closer the taklubu and baklaw are within your grasp.

Your wounded pride may take time to recover, but a guilty conscience cannot—not when the fate of your kingdom and people rests in your hands.

For the safety of your home and people. 

With a defeated sigh, you settled down in front of him, the chime of your jewellery filling the silence as you tucked your legs beneath you.

Your hand moves toward the direction of your wooden basket on your hip, fishing out a few things from your pouch and placing them on your lap.

Satoru watched you through the wisp of his lashes, observing how your nimble fingers held the betel nut with care, placing it on the centre of the leaf with a slight exhale.

You fold the nut firmly into the leaf before dabbing it with lime paste, and you repeat the same steps multiple times. 

Then, you extend your arm, offering the betel quid on your palm to Satoru, which he eyed for a moment. 

Taking his silence for hesitation, you straightened up enough for you to kneel, knees cushioned by the fabric of your skirt to prevent the friction against your skin and wooden floorboards 

His eyes widened, feeling you inch closer, and when he took a sharp inhale, a whiff of the sweet fragrance clinging to your skin greeted him. 

An exhale escaped your lips, the warmth brushing against his skin as you brought the quid near his lips, unbeknownst to you, made Satoru hold his breath while he stole a glance at you, seeing how the sunlight casts an ethereal glow.

Eventually, he accepts the quid, chewing enough that it stains the seam of his lips a faint red tint.

“Not too bad, huh?” Satoru licked his lips before letting out a toothy grin, while his eyes focused on you.

You let out a scoff, shaking your head in disbelief, which made the brass jewellery hit against the outline of your jaw. Then, Satoru leaned forward, extending his long arms to snag a single betel quid near your lap.

The pads of his fingers brushed lightly against your jaw, tilting to make you look at him as his cerulean irises focused on the movement of your lips. Satoru brought the quid closer, eyeing how the seam of your lips widened a bit before chewing.

A tentative brush of his index finger made you shiver slightly in your seat, and then you averted your gaze away from his. 

The moment dawn broke marked the day that Satoru, the Wind Deity, became your husband. 

On that same day, it also marked the beginning of the greatest betrayal that has yet to come.

Three moons had passed since Sukuna arrived at your residence with a huff, wiping the sweat forming against his forehead after the gruelling trek from his hut to the hill your house was on. 

Sukuna never understood the tradition of placing your house atop the hill. Your father, the datu, would often reason that it was believed to keep strong winds out, but it also acted as a reinforcement to keep her womanhood protected. 

After all, the daughter’s womanhood is the reason for her high bride price—she was priceless, in the words of the elders.

He scoffed at such a ridiculous idea. 

You may have the face of a bride, but you were certainly sharper than you let on.

Even a skilled warrior, as he believes that you’d certainly outdo him in the game of the hunt. Perhaps, even sever his arm if you wish. 

Not that he’d ever admit such a thing. Certainly not!

He walked up the wooden stairs leading to your door, only to see it slightly ajar, which made him halt in his steps. Gripping his spear, he threaded carefully, placing a hand on your door to open it slightly. 

Nothing. 

Not even a laugh, chatter, or jingle. 

The gust of wind brushes against the branches on your window, then Sukuna’s eyes flit across the room, only to notice how your Sulinday was nowhere in sight. 

His shoulders stiffened, gripping his spear tight enough to make his knuckles turn a deathly shade of white, then he stormed out of your hut with heavy footsteps. 

Not wasting a second, Sukuna descended from the hill with a snarl, while he barked orders loud enough for the village to hear. “I could careless if you’d have to dive into the ocean’s depths, ensure my sister’s safe return!”

The men flinched at the orders, then immediately grabbed the spear and wooden shield in their arms, before they all shuffled in synch out of the village. 

Yet, despite the livid expression from the greatest warrior, a looming dread of your sister’s fate, along with Nalandang falling, continues to plague his mind, even as he watches the men’s figure disappear from afar.

The glare of the noon sun prickled against Satoru’s neck, fair skin flushed red as a faint layer of sweat formed as the air, hot and humid, licked against his skin.

But he paid no mind, not when his cerulean irises narrowed at the current before him. 

The water, stopping before his knee, flowing from the river, was cool enough not to make him delirious from the fierce heat. He tracked every minuscule movement and, with a slight flick of his wrist, he willed the air as he pleased.

It didn’t take a breath before a fish leapt into his palms, body wriggling and scales damp against his palms, before he motioned the wind once more to toss the fish in the direction of the woven basket seated at the edge of the land. 

The corner of the deity’s lips formed into a pleased grin, then he placed his left hand on his hip before looking down once more, but unbeknownst to him, you watched him from afar with thinly veiled bemusement. 

“Is using your hands too lowly for a God like you?” You tilted your head, stopping not too shy from where the land stops, while cradling the spear against your shoulder.

Satoru straightens his back, turning around to see you standing not too far from him. “You wound me, my wife.” 

“Good.” You let out a scoff. The earth was damp beneath your feet as you walked closer. 

“This is how you do it.”

Without any hesitation, you dipped your feet in the water, wading against the current, so that the end of your patterned skirt became drenched, sticking against your leg as your jewellery chimed with each step.

You crouched, the fabric darkening further as your hands wandered underneath the water, removing and feeling through the small, jagged rocks before straightening up—each movement never leaving Satoru’s watchful eye.

Adjusting the grip around your wooden spear, eyes already focused on the faint shadow against the crystalline waters, a slight exhale escaping your lips.  

THWACK!

Water splashes slightly in Satoru’s direction when you plunge the wooden spear deeper into the river with precision. Then, your arm, slow and steady, pulls it out, revealing two big fish at the pierced end.

Your lips curled into a prideful smirk before hiking the end of your skirt a bit while you waded back on land to toss the newly caught fish. 

Of course, you returned once more, back straight and hand firm around the spear as your eyes surveyed the moving waters. What you don’t notice is the mischief shining in Satoru’s irises when he sees your arm raise the spear.

With a quick movement of his finger, the deity willed the wind with force, enough for you to lose your balance and ungracefully land right into his arms.

Satoru’s eyes glanced at you, hands splayed at your hip as a wide grin settled on his lips. “Quite a sight I have here in my arms,”

“Unhand me.” You frowned, then flitted your gaze at the waters to look for your wooden spear.

“I shall think,” He juts his lips, humming in thought. “Perhaps, not.”

Unfortunately for the wind deity, you were quick on your feet. You nudged him with all the strength you could muster, which made him lose his footing and plunge into the water in an unceremonious splash, feeling the cold seep through his skin and robes weigh heavier.

Satoru emerged to the surface, his eyes wide and his cloud-white hair drenched and sticking against his forehead, while the solang-solang no longer stood on his head, floating not long after.

Your wooden spear floats up, much to your joy, only to see the fish at the pierced end escaping back into the water. 

Silence. 

You blinked, staring at the now-empty spear, then back at the deity, who only let out a sheepish smile as he placed a hand against his nape in reconciliation. 

“My darling wife, about that…” He lets out a chuckle before his ears perk up, hearing you emerge from the water and waddling through the river. “Wait, wait! Surely, you won’t leave me here to drown, right…?”

You looked over your shoulder, unamused, while water dripped against your face, then you faced in front once more as you waddled through the currents of the river. Satoru shook his head, an amused grin forming on his lips as he stood up on his feet, picking up his solang-solang to chase after you. 

Safe to say, the wind deity spent the entire evening following his wife, who did not breathe nor spare a glance in his direction, much to the confusion of the deity’s servants.

From a distance, you hear the sounds of celebration: the low rumble of the agung (brass gong), hollow sounds of the gimbal (wooden drums), followed by the soft humming of lantoy, a small wooden flute and kubig, a wooden harp

You can see the faint smoke rising from below where you stood by the window before flitting up to admire the sunlight peeking through wispy clouds, while the breeze made your jewellery jingle faintly with each puff. 

Today, you and Satoru will be visiting a nearby community that is celebrating thanksgiving for the Wind Deity to thank him for the good weather for their harvest. 

Satoru’s voice echoed, loud and distinct, as his footsteps padded against the floorboard as he entered. “Still admiring the view?” 

You looked at him, seeing that he was already in his coat and saoal, form-fitting trousers decorated in embroidered baksan patterns, one akin to the scales of snakes coiling around branches when you hunt. 

His panaya tapered around the waist, making him look taller than he is, then the beaded talismans rest against his chest glow when it caught light, and on his right arm, he cradles the solang-solang in his right arm. 

Though he bore no title as the God of Beauty, he certainly put the men in your village to shame.

You averted your gaze, back facing him, as you willed your eyes in front once more to look out of the window, until you felt a familiar warmth pressed beside you on the skin of your arm.

"Perhaps, today is quite beautiful after all," You commented, not sparing him a glance while leaning against the wooden windowsill.

Satoru’s pupils dilated seeing you up close, taking in a sharp inhale when he settled on your frame dressed in an embroidered sinulaman enough to show a sliver of your inked midriff as the long skirt rested on your hips tied by a golongan, brass bells at the waistband of the skirt, while feather combs and sinakot, beaded necklaces with gold coins, rested against your neck.

“Is there something the matter?” You tilted your head, eyes narrowed slightly at him.

He blinked owlishly before meeting your gaze. “No… Not at all!”

You took a step forward, jewellery chiming like bells, lifting your arm and pressing the back of your hand against his cheek.

“You have been silent since I finished.” You pressed your hand a bit, the redness of his ears going unnoticed as you assessed the deity through pursed lips. “Are you ill?”

The deity felt his heart flutter at your tone, seeing the corner of your eyes rounding in concern, while your touch was soft yet calloused against his skin, enough for him to lean slightly.

Satoru was no stranger to a touch of a woman, whether they be of divine lineage or human, but you were no ordinary woman. 

“No! But we shall take our leave.” The deity cleared his throat before grabbing your arm, advancing his strides, taking two steps each. 

When you reach outside his home, his pace slows, which is enough for you to regain your centre and walk beside him, then you feel his hold loosen, adjusting his hold before intertwining his hands in yours. 

Then, you felt his thumb brush against the back of your hand, almost as if coaxing—apologising for the rather rough hold he had over your wrist, while you made your trek down to the village.

Satoru stood by the threshold of his house, tall and regal, a presence befitting his station, as each passing servant bowed their head while carrying large woven baskets slung over their backs, half-filled with root vegetables and a few ripe fruits.

The Wind Diety was anything but naive, not when he heard worried whispers from older servants about how meager harvest meant fewer dishes served for their master and his wife.

He was also not spared by the desperate pleas of villagers and farmers, who whispered prayers under their breath for good weather, even offering more of their healthiest livestock and cattle as a means to appease him and the Deity of Harvest for a bountiful harvest.

While the Wind Deity is a trickster at heart, spending his days willing the winds’ huff and puff, sending skirts afloat mid-air, his heart was anything but hardened stone. 

Cradled in Satoru’s hands was one of his most prized possessions, the taklubu—a giant clam that sheltered the strongest storms in the realm, enough to destroy an entire village. His long, careful fingers pried the clam open, unleashing the storms nestled within. 

With a flick of a wrist, he commanded the wind to soften the storm unleashed; slowly, the angry, dark clouds turned into a lighter shade of grey, but it was enough to bring forth rain for the season. 

The clouds soared high above the skies, blanketing it in clusters of grey before Satoru went back inside, whistling a chipper tune as he settled at the centre of his hall, while watching the downpour from his window.

His heavy eyelids fluttered closed; the last melody he listened to was the rhythmic sound of a downpour, enough to lull him to sleep.

It was already evening, being shaken awake by a young servant boy, asking him about your whereabouts, which was enough for him to straighten up from his mat. 

“Is my wife not home?” He asked lightly, eyes darting across the halls to look for even a smidge of your silhouette.

The young boy shook his head, “Our lady has not returned from her hunt since early morning, my lord.” 

Satoru looked out to see how the rains were a tad stronger than earlier, but not enough to uproot crops. His heart sank in his stomach, imagining an image of you shaking under the rain. 

Worried, he rushed out of his hut, ignoring the frantic calls of the younger boy who offered to look for you, nor was he willing for the wind not to drench him. The sounds and smell of wet earth became potent as he rushed into the thick trees to look for you, batting away branches clinging to his torso.

His damp hair pressed against his face, a few twigs and small leaves even clung to the wet strands, while his chest heaved with ragged breaths that the sound of the wind became silent against the rhythm of his heart. 

Eventually, he found you seated under the thick roots of a tree, clothes slightly damp, while you cradled your wooden quiver in your arms.

The sound of wet earth and leaves made you look up, only to see a drenched Satoru. “Why are you out? It’s raining hard!”

A dry yet relieved chuckle escaped Satoru’s throat at your worried expression, his footsteps frantic enough to close the distance between you two. He wrapped his arms around your frame, pulling you close while he buried his head against your shoulder. “I was looking for you…” 

Your eyes widened at his admission, feeling the wetness of the fabric of his clothes and the loud thuds of his chest against yours. 

“I didn’t know you would unleash a storm today.” You murmured, relaxing under his embrace before removing a stray branch stuck in between the seam of the fabric by his shoulder. 

“I should have been mindful,” He slowly pulled away, shoulders slumped as he looked at your shivering form before placing a worried hand against your cheek, wiping the stray raindrops against your skin. “I wasn’t aware you’re out.”

Your eyes softened when you saw his eyes cast down and worried, bringing your hand against the one cradling your cheek and clenching it lightly in assurance, enough to catch his attention. 

Satoru’s lips parted at the gesture, a light blush forming against his cheek before he flicked his wrist and willed the wind to blow softer. He engulfed his hands in yours, fingers intertwining in front of you. “Shall we head home?” 

“I’d like that.” Your lips quirked into a small smile, squeezing his hand before you felt his fingers pluck the stray leaves stuck in between your beaded necklace. 

The walk home was quiet, only the sound of the pitter-patter of rain filled the silence between you two. While being drenched racked up a full-body shiver from you, but the warmth radiating from Satoru’s palm was more than enough. 

You did notice how the downpour didn’t stop, yet you didn't feel heavy droplets land on your skin or clothes; instead, you felt a mist-like spray, which made you glance from the side, who only walked with you with a light hum.

Once you arrived at his hut, the servant greeted you and Satoru with thick sheets of fabric, but to your surprise, he shook his head at their offer, then pointed in your direction.

“I am fine,” He assured, looking at you with soft eyes with his cerulean irises shining brightly, while a slight smile formed on his lips.

“But do ensure my wife is given a warm bath.”

The servants certainly didn’t miss any corner and crevice while washing you, leaving you seated and soaked in a bath of warm water, busy hands scrubbing every inch of your skin of grime and dirt. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you stretched your arms, bones letting out a satisfying crack, while your steady footsteps echoed through the wooden floorboards as you made your way to your shared room.

Eventually, you reached your shared room, only to see Satoru standing near the window, holding something in his hands as clusters of storm clouds gathered close before tucking themselves in.

Noticing your presence, he looked up over his wispy lashes as the clam shut with a faint snap. “You’re back.”

“That I am.” You immediately relaxed your face, willing your tensed shoulders to relax slowly. 

The deity walked towards the foot of your bed, the quilt dipping under his weight while he shifted a bit into a more comfortable position. Still cradling the taklubu in his left arm, he patted the spot beside him. “Come here, sit beside me.” 

You walked closer to the bed, shuffling a respectable space, one that was close enough to feel his warmth but not too close that you feel every brush of his skin.

Satoru noticed this, eyes gleaming in amusement. “Does my wife find me repulsive that she wishes not to sit closer?” 

“I am only being polite.” Your lips twitched into a knowing smile before your demeanour softened upon seeing Satoru throwing his head back with unrestrained laughter. 

Without missing a beat, he used his free arm to wrap around your waist; his grip, strong and certain, as he pulled you closer to him—your back against his chest, enough to feel his distinct warmth through the thick layers of fabric. 

He brought the taklubu closer to you, enough for you to feel its magic, the shell shaking slightly from the storm contained within, while the baklaw, the golden chain, glinted under the moonlight, wrapped around his pale wrist.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, seeing the two artefacts of destruction—the same one prophesied to destroy Nalandang—right before your eyes, and it was enough for the coil in your throat to tighten uncomfortably. 

“My most prized possessions,” Satoru guided your hands to hold the clam, feeling the rough exterior beneath your palms, while his careful hands cradled your own. “I trust that it won’t fall into the wrong hands.” 

While your gaze remained on the object between your palms, the Wind deity’s gaze already shifted elsewhere. His eyes remained on you, watching as your lips parted in awe and wonder, enough for an affectionate smile to settle.

“You’re my wife, after all.” His tone was unmistakably soft, almost heavy with something left unsaid.

Your heart stopped when you felt his lips pressed against your forehead, the pad of his thumb caressing the back of your hand, before you felt him let out an exhale once his head settled in between the juncture of your shoulder.

That same evening, when the moon was at its brightest, you lay there wide awake and staring up at the wooden ceiling’s patterns. Your mind wandered through the ins and outs of the ploy, a satisfaction settling, but it remained short-lived when you felt your husband shift beside you.

Everything has fallen in place; all that’s left is for you to act on it.

Yet, the human heart is a treacherous thing. 

Satoru’s words haunted you like a broken melody; the manner of referring to you as his wife in a softer, almost loving tone made the thought of betraying and leaving him, made your chest ache in more ways than one. 

While you expressed your words in sharp-tongued retorts and playful quips, there is no denying your fondness towards the Wind Deity. 

You shifted slightly, quilt rustling faintly while you looked at your husband, Satoru, who was sound asleep with his face relaxed, his mouth agape, and his arms wrapped around you, making your heart soften and break at the same time.

He murmured something incoherent before pulling you close to his chest, ear pressed against his sternum enough for you to hear the rhythm of his pounding heart. 

You swallowed the bitter feeling lodged in your throat, eyes closing as you relaxed against his hold, mind already set on the next step despite the dull pain throbbing against your chest.

Not even love can stop you from fulfilling your duty to protect your people.

He will understand. You thought before you drifted into deep slumber, a faint tear runs down your cheek as your arms tighten around his stature.

The succeeding days blurred into days where Satoru would accompany you on your hunt, while you tagged along during his walks to nearby villages, even commanding the wind to throw you off your feet, much to your dismay.

As always, Satoru was like the wind, free and unpredictable, while you remained his earth, grounded and unyielding. However, similar to Earth, darkness lies beneath the surface, as he remained clueless about the ploy you’ve already plotted. 

When the day arrived, it started with a kiss on your forehead, one that lingered and burned like a searing mark before Satoru heads out to settle matters with another deity and a promise to return before the sun sets. 

Your plan was only beginning.

The kitchen bustled with whistling clay pots and sizzling fire, while the heat slowly filled the air, enough to make your nose burn with each inhale and sweat building up behind your back.

Much to the servants’ offer of their assistance, you remained stubborn about doing all of the preparation by yourself, your back straightened with each firm chop—each louder than the other to distract the ache settling in your chest,

Then, your eyes landed on two sweet potatoes merged into one, feeling your heart sink before shaking your head with an exhale, then lifting your cleaver, which was followed by the resonating sound of wood.

Just as promised, Satoru returned by sunset, exhausted to the very bone, only to be met with a generous spread of claypots filled with broth and vegetables, a platter of roasted wild boar, a heaping of white rice, and sliced ripe fruits. 

“All for me?” His gaze met yours, settling in his usual seat and inhaling at the spread in front of him with a pleased grin. “You’ve certainly outdone yourself.”

You covered with a smile, “Only for the best.” 

Despite the gnawing hunger, Satoru dutifully placed a portion on your plate, going as far as to give you the heartier parts of the roasted wild boar, whilst removing the stubborn bone from the meat. 

Something he never forgets to do. 

His hands were restless with giving himself portions after polishing his plate clean, pleased sounds escaping his lips with each bite that was enough to distract you from the lingering bitterness that rested against your tongue with each bite you took. 

Your eyes flitted back to your husband once more, who was extending his arm to reach for a ripe slice of fruit, only to see him get the one in front of you—the particular slice where they were merged into a makeshift heart, almost as if taunting your current predicament. 

Once supper was done, you found yourself lying on your shared bed, busying yourself with counting the lines decorating the ceiling that you didn’t notice Satoru settle himself beside, until you felt an arm pull you close to a solid plane of a chest.

“You didn’t have to,” He murmured, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “But thank you.” 

You shivered when you felt his fingers brush against your waist. “It’s nothing, really.” 

You feel your husband’s head shake against your shoulder in disagreement, eliciting a soft laugh from you before pulling a drugged betel quid from your pocket.

“Satoru.” 

“Hm?”

“You love me, right?” You asked, the tone was too quiet, enough for Satoru to look up to you with concerned eyes.

“Of course, I do.” He replied gently, tilting up your face to make you look up at him. “Did I do something wrong, my heart?”

“No,” You shook your head, then placed your left hand on his. “Just making sure.” 

You lifted the betel quid in between your fingers, offering it to Satoru, who didn’t even spare a glance and just accepted it without any hesitation, which made the looming dread tighten at the pit of your stomach.

It doesn’t take long before you feel his breathing even out, arms still wrapped around you as he succumbs to deep slumber.

You ignore the coil that tightens around your chest, unwinding his arms around you before running to the corner where the woven basket was settled, opening with haste to still find the taklubu and baklaw inside.

Glancing at your sleeping husband for the last time, you took in a sharp inhale before grabbing the two artefacts in your arms, weighing heavily as you flew onto your sulinday as you successfully escaped the night.

Satoru woke up with a jerk, chest heaving while his eyes flitted around the room, only to see the sheets ruffled, but no you, his wife, lying beside him, until his ears perked up to hear the frantic footsteps of servants calling for the lady of the house. 

“What is this commotion?” He demanded, loud enough for the servants to come rushing inside the room.

A young girl stammered with a lowered head, “My lord, our lady is gone and nowhere to be found.”  

“How can that be? My wife must have gone hunting.” He shook his head, hand gesturing at the window nearby.

Another stammered response. “My lord, her sulinday is nowhere to be seen.”

His body tensed at the revelation. Something twisted against the wind deity’s chest, which was more than enough for him to rush to the basket at the corner of the room, only to find 

that the taklubu and baklaw are no longer there. 

Satoru’s eyes widened, feeling his heart break before he straightened his back, then he blew on the shell trumpet, loud enough that his men immediately marched towards his hut. 

They all assembled at the hall, the deity’s hands behind him and pursed his lips into a thin line. “I order you all to pursue the thief who stole my belongings.” 

A pause.

“But, do not forget to tell them not to hurt the thief. I want them alive, not a single hair touched nor a skin bruised.”

The men marched in unison, carrying wooden spears and shields in their arms, with the Wind Deity’s seal, as they carried out their master’s orders. Satoru stood by the threshold outside of his hut, looking up to a bright and clear sky.

With a flick of his wrist, he willed the wind to blow in the other direction, feeling the strength building up slowly before commanding the wind to muster up all its force to stop the thief’s trail. 

Above the clouds, your hands gripped onto your sulinday, whisking through the thick blanket of clouds while you occasionally glanced back to see if you had flown far enough for safety. 

A sigh of relief escaped your lips when you no longer saw the silhouette of your husband’s hut, but it was short-lived when you felt the strong winds pushing you in the opposite direction, making you lose your balance. 

Your attempts to guide your sulinday against such brutal winds were futile, cursing when you realised that you were slowly descending with rapid succession, until your body hit the seashore with a groan.

As if your luck was any better, Satoru’s men found you sprawled against the soft sand, spears pointed in your direction.

Before they could pursue you, you reached for your quiver with a grunt, then loaded your arrow into your bow, before an arrow flew at a soldier’s chest with a clean strike, followed by a thud against the sand. 

Silence.

You eventually found your footing, catching the spear from the fallen soldier just in time before you blocked an incoming strike in your direction, letting out a huff before striking another soldier at their side. 

The sand dug coarsely under your feet, while the strap of your basket—the same one carrying both the stolen taklubu and baklaw remained heavy, which made blocking and striking a tad difficult.

Each man tried to apprehend your limbs, only to be brought to their knees with a clean strike of a spear and a clumsy beating, despite the weight of the items.  

You pointed the spear over a wounded soldier, hand cradling their injured rib. “Why haven’t you struck me, soldier?” 

“My lady,” He wheezed lightly, lips slowly becoming pale as the seconds passed. “It was an order.”

“From whom?”

“Our lord Satoru…”

Your shoulders tensed before letting out a huff, adjusting your hold onto the spear while glancing at the bodies at your feet, as more men charged their shields in your direction. 

This was certainly going to be a long battle.

Several moons had already passed since Choso left Nalandang, along with his uncle’s men, to search for his aunt, who escaped their kingdom to pursue the Wind Deity. His muscles slowly started to ache, and sweat dried against his forehead  

The other men were no better, feet already forming thick callouses and cuts littered against their ankles from walking up and down the mountain trail, in search of you. 

With the sun beating down, their exhaustion becomes more apparent, and some have become delirious from the glaring heat, but Choso stopped, ears perked up when he heard a distant clash of wood from the direction of the shore.

Then, he raised his arms for the men to see, urging them to advance in the direction of the seashore, only for them to stumble upon a sea of bodies against the sand, painting it a faint red. 

Choso heard the familiar jingle of your brass jewellery, then looked in the opposite direction, only to see you, dishevelled and heaving while crouching by the sand, blocking the incoming spear.

Another spear was about to strike you from behind; Choso didn’t hesitate to let an arrow fly, lodging itself against the shoulder of the attacker, enough for them to fall back before rushing in your direction to support your weight against his shoulder.

Sukuna continued to pace around his hut since your departure, yet his search party, the one where he let his nephew Choso lead, has not returned since his orders that not even your mother’s assurance was enough to coax his restlessness. 

The sound of the shell trumpet was enough to break him out of stupor, glancing from his window to see an exasperated Choso towing behind his exhausted aunt (you) walking in sluggish steps. 

He rushed out of his hut, stopping mid-way as you attempted, much to your stubbornness, to trek up the hill leading to your hut. 

THUD!

Choso came to your side in worry, while Sukuna only shook his head with laughter upon seeing you face-first against the ground. “Certainly your stubbornness knows no bounds, dear sister.” 

“I did not ask for a quip, brother.” You grimaced while Choso supported your weight against his shoulder once more, while your mother and the other servants assisted you up to Sukuna’s hut. 

Your body was placed over a quilted mat, servants cleaning off the sand and blood, painting your skin, while your mother wrapped the betel nut with thick leaves.

Sukuna sat down not too far from you, leaning slightly. “Do you mind telling me where, by the Gods, have you been?” 

As you were about to respond, your mother immediately lodged a betel quid inside your gaping mouth, making you cough slightly, eliciting a sinister grin from your brother. You begrudgingly chewed through the quid, then felt the strength slowly coursing through your body once more. 

“I think my escape needs no introduction,” You began, licking your lips slightly. “I travelled to pursue your enemy, the same one you were so adamant about me confronting.” 

The words flowed easily from your lips, while you recount your encounter with the Wind Deity from your attempts to trick the deity himself, until the part where he asked you to be his wife, eventually setting forth your plans, until the moment you have to fight his men.

Sukuna brought a hand to his temples, rubbing them lightly. “So you have stolen his belongings.”

“Yes.” You nodded against the fabric of the mat.

“And he made you drop by the shore.”

“Brother, he controlled the wind so I landed on the shore.” 

“What I just said.” 

“And you say that the deity ordered his men not to hurt you?” He looked at you, brows raised in your direction.

You gave him an unamused look, “Have you lost your ear?” 

“Do you realise how unbelievable that is?” Your brother let out a scoff, enough for you to hurl your stray jewellery at him. 

You grunted, feeling the servant tend to the tender wound by your heel. “Brother, it is the truth.”

Silence filled the air between you two until you felt the wood creak under his weight as he stood up, heavy footsteps following him upon your brother’s exit. 

“Where by the gods are you going?” You slowly sat up, face contorting in concern as you saw your brother’s back facing you. 

He stopped by the threshold, looking over his shoulder in warning. “That is none of your concern.” 

Ignoring your screams of protest from his hut, each gradually increasing in volume, while he motioned for Choso to accompany him, even asking him to lead them in the direction of the shore to settle this war once and for all.

True to his nephew’s words, the shore was littered with bodies of fallen soldiers, injured and bleeding, which painted the powdery sand a faint red, as the battle between Nalandang’s army and the Wind deity’s men continued to persist. 

The wind rushed through enough to tip both of them off balance, and through squinted eyes, Sukuna can see the figure of none other than the Wind Deity himself, Gojo Satoru. 

His cerulean eyes glowed in recognition, flicking his wrist to command more force unto the breeze. “Ryomen.” 

“Gojo.” Sukuna fought against the pressure, arms raised so the wooden shield could block his eyes from the momentum of the wind.

They stood face to face, Sukuna gripped his spear so tightly that it was enough to make his knuckles turn white, while the deity’s lips only curved into a menacing grin at the warrior in front of him. 

“I see you’ve decided to pursue the rage of war, huh?” Satoru tilted his head, twirling his index finger to show off the small whirlwind he was creating.

“I’m not here to challenge you to a duel.” Sukuna lowered his shield, standing straighter and looking at him dead in the eye. “I wish to settle this.” 

The deity looked up in surprise before narrowing his eyes. “The Warrior Ryomen settling this through an amicable discussion is a bit… fictitious?” 

The pink-haired man took a sharp inhale, coaxing the flames of his rage and instinct to lodge a spear against the deity’s chest. Then, he looked at him once more with a serious expression, even going as far as dropping both of his weapons. 

“Alright, on one condition.” Satoru stopped begrudgingly before crossing his arms with a grimace. “Tell me who stole my prized possessions.” 

Sukuna didn’t even hesitate. “My sister… Your wife, rather.”

This seemed to catch Satoru’s attention, enough for the winds he commanded to grow still and silent. He lets out a sigh of relief after placing his hand on his chest, while Sukuna only blinked incredulously at the sudden change of demeanour. 

“My tumanod has warned me about the destruction your baklaw and taklubu will bring forth to our home, and I forbid her from intervening… I am not one to beg, but I ask of you to spare my sister… She only did what she could because she wanted to ensure Nalandang’s safety…”

A pause.

“While I’m pleased to know my wife is in good hands,” The deity’s lips quirk into a genuine smile, until his gaze flitted over his fallen men, enough for him to frown. “my men… I cannot say the same.” 

Sukuna straightened up, glancing at the displeased deity. “I shall ask my sister to return them forthwith. As per your men, I think something can be arranged.”

“Choso,” The warrior called to his nephew, who immediately rushed in his direction. “Tell my sister to come back to the shore and bring back the items she stole. Do tell her also to heal these men back to health.”

The strap of your woven basket dug against your shoulder, reminding you of the weight of the two powerful items you’ve stolen from your husband, who also happened to be the Wind Deity.

Your nephew, who kept a watchful eye on you to prevent you from escaping, much to your displeasure, as each steady step was cushioned by the powdery sand beneath your feet. 

You eventually stood face-to-face with your husband, who stood there, palms already opened and extended in your direction. Averting your gaze, you began digging through your woven basket, the baklaw emerged first, metal cool against your hand, then placing it onto his palm.

Satoru wore it around his wrist, the metal glinting once it caught the light from the sun, then placed both of his hands against yours as you carried the taklubu in between your palms. “Careful there, dear.”

When the taklubu was within his grasp, he pried the clam open, releasing the whirlwind of storms within; the strong winds were more than enough to blow the battling men on both sides off-balance, then the deity commanded it to return to its shelter once more.

Without missing a beat, you rushed towards the bodies of fallen men, fishing out the betel quid and placing it between their mouths, kneeling against the stand while you cradled their jaw into a chewing motion.

One after another, their injuries and wounds slowly closed, while the men who died in battle had breathed with life after you gave them the quid you had prepared. 

All of the men inspected their arms and legs, even patting against their ribs and chest, before rejoicing amongst themselves, seeing their skin unblemished once more, despite the dried blood clinging to their skin.

You slowly made your way to Satoru, footsteps halting once you stood in front of him. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, while his eyes focused on you. 

 “Forgive me…” You swallowed slowly before looking up to him, your tone both watery yet steady. “While I am not ashamed to admit I did it for my people, it was dishonourable for me… your wife, to break your heart.” 

“Know that I will understand if you wish not to forgive–” 

Silence.

Then, a large hand, warm and familiar, cupped the outline of your jaw, the soft yet callused pads of your husband’s thumb brushing away the stray tear that ran across your cheek. 

You felt a gentle press of his lips on your forehead once more, the touch searing against your skin while you looked at him with widened eyes.  

He only grinned before pressing another onto your forehead. “I cannot stand being upset with you for long, my dear wife” 

“What?” You blinked once more, which only made his shoulders shake in laughter before pulling you into an embrace, nose brushing against the exposed skin of your neck. 

“I’ve missed you, my heart.” He breathed, fingers brushing against the fabric where your waist is. “Terribly.”

“I’m sorry, Satoru.” 

“Shh… none of that, I am glad you’re alright.”

You relaxed under his touch, biting your lip to contain the growing smile, but failed miserably. Without a second thought, you buried your face against his shoulder and wrapped your arms around him. 

Satoru grinned against your skin, swaying your body along with his before letting go tentatively to look at you once more. 

In Nalandang, the moon bore witness to two sides forming a powerful alliance and ending a war, which was more than enough to throw the entire kingdom into a joyous celebration. 

The best livestock and chicken were slaughtered, the rhythmic and synchronised footwork of the ladies echoed along the melodies of brass and strings, igniting the kingdom in bright light and high spirits.

In the midst of the celebration, Satoru stepped forward in front of you, stopping you from clapping your hands and tilting your head at him in confusion. He only extended his hand with a handkerchief, eyes softening earnestness as if asking you to dance with him. 

Your lips curled into a smile, already recognising that your husband is asking you to dance the Pinag-agawan, the courtship dance using a handkerchief to express one’s emotions, which in your kingdom was a symbol of peace and thanksgiving. 

“How cruel of you to keep me waiting,” He feigned a pout before leading you to the centre, near where the others also danced. 

Something in your chest warmed, seeing how he fit seamlessly in your life, while you looked at the side, seeing your brother clapping along with a grimace upon seeing you two. 

“Cruel?” You turned to Satoru, bursting into fits of laughter as you held the other end of the handkerchief. “You may be a deity, but know I won’t go easy on you with dancing.” 

He grinned, eyes already glinting with challenge. “Of course, the Wind Deity is a man of many talents, of course.”

He laughed softly and shrugged. “I was just about to grab something myself. Might as well make it a group trip.”

Your nephew took one look at the tall, blindfolded man and immediately scrambled behind you, clutching the back of your shirt with both small hands. Satoru tilted his head, trying to greet the boy gently, but the child stayed hidden, face pressed into your side.

“Hey, that is just Satoru,” you said, reaching back to pat your nephew’s head. “Annoying Satoru. Do not be afraid. He's offering to buy snacks, so tell him what you want.”

The boy stayed shy, peeking out only a little. Satoru crouched down to his level, still towering but trying to look less intimidating. “Well, today is kinda hot, right? Wouldn't an ice cream be good?”

Your nephew’s eyes lit up at the word ice cream. He gave a tiny nod and a small, shy smile. Satoru returned it with his own soft grin, the kind that made his usual cockiness fade into something warmer.

You secretly wished he'd suggested mochi instead. Those expensive ones from the good vending machine were calling your name, but you figured you could use your nephew as leverage some other time. Satoru straightened up, ruffled the air above the boy’s head without actually touching him, and headed out with a final teasing wink in your direction. You waved him off without lifting your gaze from the papers.

Some time passed and you decided a little walk around jujutsu tech would be nice while you waited. Your nephew held your hand tightly as you strolled through the courtyard. Up ahead you spotted Satoru standing with Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi. He was mid conversation with Yuji about cursed techniques, a blue popsicle already half eaten and stuck in his mouth. All four of them had ice creams in hand.

You walked right up and tapped Satoru on the shoulder, breaking his focus. When he turned, you crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow, looking as stern as a teacher could manage.

He glanced at you first, then tilted his head down toward your nephew. Before he could even open his mouth with an excuse, you spoke.

“Hm, Gojo did you forgot something, huh? Where's the ice cream you promised my nephew?”

Satoru stammered for a second, clearly caught off guard. He couldn't come up with anything clever enough to save himself. Your nephew’s face fell into a disappointed little frown, and he squeezed your hand tighter. You shook your head slowly.

“Satoru, you would make the worst step father ever,” you said with an evil little chuckle.

Yuji and Nobara burst out laughing immediately. Nobara pointed at him with her own ice cream stick. “She's right, sensei. Total failure.”

Yuji joined in, grinning wide. “Yeah, Gojo sensei, you couldn't even remember one ice cream. How are you gonna handle kids?”

Megumi just smirked quietly in the background. Satoru stood there with his popsicle dripping, lips pulled into a dramatic pout.

Just as you were about to walk away with your sad nephew, Nanami appeared from the side path. Without a word he handed the boy a fresh ice cream cone. Your nephew’s eyes went wide with joy as he accepted it, and Nanami offered a small, genuine smile in return.

Nobara clapped her hands. “See? Nanami is definitely daddy material.”

Everyone laughed again, even louder this time. Satoru’s pout grew bigger, his shoulders slumping theatrically while the students kept teasing him.

Later that evening your nephew had finally fallen asleep on the office couch, curled up with his empty ice cream wrapper still clutched in one hand. You stepped into the quiet hallway and spotted Satoru standing by himself near the windows. You nudged him lightly with your elbow. His infinity was on, which surprised you since he always turned it off around you. He was still pouting, arms crossed like a sulky child.

You smiled softly. “I was just joking earlier, you know. About the step father thing.”

He stayed quiet for a moment. When you lifted a finger to playfully touch the edge of his blindfold, he caught your hand gently in his. “Hey, no fair. You know I would make the best father.”

You rolled your eyes, but the fondness in your voice gave you away. “Sure, sure.”

Satoru reached up and pulled his blindfold down, letting it rest around his neck. Those bright blue eyes met yours, sparkling with teasing warmth. He stepped closer, voice dropping into that playful tone he saved just for you.

“Admit it. I would be amazing. Best bedtime stories, unlimited snacks, and I would never forget the ice cream. Probably.”

You laughed quietly, letting him pull you in a little nearer until he was holding you close. He gave you a quick lingering kiss that had you closing your eyes and clutching his shirt. He deepened the kiss, his hands finding their way into your hair. You tried to pull away because Satoru was being annoying again, dragging it out on purpose. When he finally broke the kiss there was a dopey happy smile on his face as he licked his lips. You pushed him back slightly.

"Come on, babe. I would be the best father and you know it," he said. He put a little more emphasis on the word father than he needed to, but you got his point.

You smiled despite yourself and shook your head. "I have to go get my nephew, time to take him home."

Before you could walk away Satoru grabbed your hand. "Come over to my place at eight," he reminded you, voice soft but insistent.

You nodded in quiet response. "I’ll be there," you said softly.

After you confirmed, his grip loosened and he let go of your hand reluctantly. He watched as you walked into the faculty office and lifted your sleeping nephew into your arms a moment later and carried him down the hallway toward the parking lot.

The little boy stirred just enough to wrap his arms around your neck, face tucked against your shoulder. Satoru stayed in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his blindfold back in place.

He couldn't stop the warm thought that settled in his chest. He couldn't wait for the day it was yours and his child like that, walking together, safe and loved, while he waited for you both to come home.

★ 𝒯 ag list - @cttelina @0celotmilk @booboobear-12 @yummidumplingss @liahcharms @mimimochis @fayefavz @butterbeanandsparkleface @megumisrighttoe ★

He seemed too lawful to betray his sort. Too calm, always complying with authority and regulations that each and every other God broke.

But not him.

Thus, when the fire was stolen and pushed into the hands of humans – Zeus almost ripped him apart.

He couldn't punish mankind, not truly, for they did nothing wrong. None of them was responsible for their foolish creator, whose dreams travelled beyond the secure borders of the Gods' wishes.

Zeus, however, ordered to create Pandora. The first mortal woman, who sent sicknesses and plagues down the mortal world. If humans possessed the life-giving fire, then they also needed to learn a wretched feeling of suffering.

As for Prometheus!Hiromi's punishment, it was particularly cruel – a half-naked body tied to a stake of Mount Caucasus, where an eagle fed upon his ever-regenerating liver. The winds howled mercilessly around the cold stones, carrying the scent of moss, bending under his back, and something far more bitter. A wrath of Zeus who looked down at his bleeding body with a smile, as if amused by how truly lawful the Titan had been.

"Kill mankind, take away the fire," he whispered, looking at Hiromi's stony face. "And I shall lift your punishment."

But Prometheus!Hiromi simply couldn't, as his honour and morality have forbidden him from treating humans as foolish, bleak creatures. He was their father, after all, so what parent wouldn't wish for their children to grow.

Days bled into nights, and nights into something shapeless. Time itself seemed to lose meaning under the glimmer of a thousand stars, with the coldness biting his massive body.

Chains dug into his skin, gnawing deeper each time his arms shifted beneath the iron. There was little to no strength left in it. Blood on his skin dried and returned and dried again, with eagle's feasting always accompanied by Higuruma's tears and prayers.

But he endured – for the suffering was nothing compared to the humanity that was slowly evolving under the power of flame.

And then, on one evening, somewhere in front of him, between the dense trees covering a stony wall he was chained to, a light had appeared.

A gentle glimmer, or rather a faint mist, before dividing into two and then into three separate flames.

Lanterns.

His weak, dark eyes looked at it with fondness, for Zeus had strictly prohibited any sort of flame being gifted to the condemned Titan.

Gentle sound of footsteps followed, and soon, like a dream, a woman pushed through the curling branches. With long, dark robes brushing the earth and veil covering a part of her head.

Hecate.

You, a Goddess of Magic, Night and Moon. Of spectral creatures and necromancy, with one hand holding three little green-flamed lanterns and the other gripping the key.

The mist rose under your feet as you moved towards the Titan slowly. Without a hurry, as neither you nor he – especially he – had any other place to be at.

Something warm glimmered behind your eyes, and Hiromi first mistook it for pity. An uncomfortable feeling he has already become accustomed to, with other Gods and Goddesses sighing deeply whenever an eagle came back again, and the dense forest muffled the Titan's groans.

But no, your gaze carried something else. Something much warmer, as if haunted by a bit of loneliness, you noticed in his sorrowful eyes.

"You should not be here," he whispered, with a voice still carying a certain authority.

After all, for so many decades, he remained a God of Mankind.

The green flame of the lanterns swirlled under the harsh air spreading around his figure.

Your gaze traced the ruin of him without flinching – the torn skin, flesh slowly closing up, the dried blood, the way his body struggled to remain whole against a punishment designed to deny him even that mercy.

"The crossroads are quiet tonight," slipped faintly, before you placed warm flames next to his body. "I thought I'd see what's beyond them."

His straight eyebrows furrowed as he saw your misty figure sit down on plush grass. The glow of lanterns danced upon your cheeks, smooching soft skin with an eerie light.

"Then you've taken the wrong turn, my Goddess," he murmured, as if trying to joke.

But it was a difficult task with his flesh torn open.

"I never take wrong turns. I'm a Goddess of Crossroads, remember?" Your fingers brushed the evening grass, eyes never left his. "I just thought that..."

"Whatever that is, my Goddess, I believe you should go," Hiromi whispered with a pulsing head. Pain spread all over his body, and something in his chest weighted like a stone.

The thought of a woman like you seeing him in such a pathetic state was truly unbearable.

You smiled, with a warmth beaming from your eyes. So kind, he thought, so gentle.

"I just thought maybe you needed a company?"

A foolish thought, truly, but as a Goddess who spent most of her time hidden in the depths of Hades, you knew the wretched feeling of loneliness.

A spectre divinity like you, no one truly noticed. Cold and misty, with black robes always following your looming body and a trace of magic sticking to your fingertips.

Days in the Underworld mixed with nights, for there was no sun, no warmth, and no lifeliness that you always unconsciously leaned towards.

Thus, when the news of the chained God of Forefought and Fire reached your ears, something warm coiling under your shiver-coated skin told you to go.

And see him – the giver of life.

The warmest man Olympus has birthed.

Even in such a state, he still looked like a God. With a massive body hanging off the mountain's wall and droplets of sweat carving trails between his bulging muscles.

He was meant to never feel the fire again, but how could it be if he embodied the flame itself? With warmth bursting from his skin, you wished to touch with your freezing hand.

"My Goddess, I do not need your company. You should leave before Zeus punishes you too." His word contradicted the feeling of loneliness coiling behind his woody eyes.

You smiled softly, covering your head with a misty veil more tightly. "He can't see through my magic. From up there, it seems as if you're talking to yourself," you giggled.

"So I look like a madman?" his voice was warm and lined with an amusement.

Your head tilted, with jolly flames dancing behind your eyes. "Aren't you? In the eyes of Gods, you do look like a madman."

A soft silence stretched between your bodies, and Hiromi's forehead furrowed. You've noticed his bleeding wrists wrapped with iron chains and dried blood marking his back.

"Do you think of me as a madman?" slipped like a whisper, but you caught it quickly enough.

"No, never. I couldn't. I think..." your eyes fell down the grass, feeling the plush strands move between your fingers. "I think what you did was brave. And kind. To let the humans grow and become liberated."

His dark eyes followed your truthful cheeks, and a sorrowful smile curved his lips. "I thought so too. It was my obligation to give those clay creatures a life they deserved. Unfortunately, not everyone could agree."

After that evening, you stayed. And Prometheus!Hiromi learned how to cherish every second spent in your company.

At first, he thought your visit was a one-time thing. Just something to feed the curiosity about a foolish God who decided to stand against Zeus.

But then the next evening came, and you slipped from between the curling branches again.

And again, again, till your misty figure haunted him during the days and coiled senses in the nights, with the same, warm eyes always meeting his.

There were only so many things you could talk about while the moon hung high in the sky. When the first kisses of the rising sun touched the earth, you always bid him a soft farewell and went back down to the underworld.

After a while, with a thin thread slowly binding your lonely hearts, you started to touch each other. Or rather, you touched him, with kind hands cleaning his wounds and snippets of magic helping his body regenerate.

The eagle was eating tearing his skin during the day, and you repaired it every evening. Although he could regenerate, your cold touch on his muscles felt more sacred than any prayer sent his way by the believers.

He cherished every second of your fingers brushing his back and chest and sometimes even the curve of his nose, when the air between you two felt heavier than usual.

Sometimes your hands would trace towards his, brushing the iron shackles hugging his wrists. A though has always coiled in your mind – a treacherous one – of using your magic to free him.

To hide God somewhere in the depths of the Underworld and always keep him for yourself.

But whenever your eyes wrapped around the lock and the key sitting between your breasts vibrated, Higuruma could only bitterly smile.

"Don't do it, my Goddess."

You would look into his eyes – dark, filled with warmth – and lift a hand to caress his cheek. "I could hide you."

His lips would curve softly. In love. "I know, but that wouldn't be proper."

"Your punishment is not proper," would slip in a whisper, for there was a chance that Zeus was watching.

Something in his heart would tug at the sight of your saddened face, and he wished, oh gods he wished so much, to pull you into his arms.

To feel your skin under his fingers, warm up your body, always wrapped tightly in dark robes. He wished to pepper kisses on your sweet cheeks, corners of eyes, and bow of lips.

The impossibility of touching you made him spiral into the maddest corners of his mind.

As after months of you visiting him every day, Prometheus!Hiromi has thought that he could go over this punishment over and over again, if it meant feeling your cold touch on his skin every single night.

Yet he could do nothing but cherish the sweet gloominess of your face haunting his dreams and try to carve the taste of your lips into his mind.

Always so soft, so cold, leaving his feverish body in dire need of more. With your hands curling behind his neck, fingers tugging gently on raven hair and lips caressing his with a long, craving kiss.

When the sun sizzled his bleeding body, and an eagle could be heard over the horizon, Hiromi could think of nothing but your sweet giggle he would soon hear after the dusk.

And that's how you lived for the next thousand years.

You, without knowing the texture of his fingers on your skin.

Him, treasuring the sweet chill of your lips.

A deep affection coiled behind his eyes whenever you caught his gaze. Love worth to be written down in chronicles, but the one no one would ever know of, as you always came to him hidden under the starry nights. With a misty veil concealing your figure, so no God nor mortal could see those little moments of your forbidden love.

For Hiromi was banned from ever touching the flame, and yet, his heart burned fiercely for his dear, spectral Goddess.

And then, one day, a man came.

Tall and divine, with muscles climbing up his back and blond hair catching the sun.

Heracles, his name was, and he killed the eagle that haunted Prometheus!Hiromi with his bare hands. He ripped apart the iron shackles that wrapped God's hands, ending the thousands of years of his suffering within a second.

"I have labours to do, one of them was to release you," he said after Hiromi asked him for a reason. "Don't worry, I'm Zeus's bastard son. He won't do anything."

The Titan looked down on his fingers, wrists, skin marked with calloused bumps and bruises that formed under the weight of shackles.

"Do you have a place to go to?" Heracles asked, and Hiromi nodded.

As now, after a thousand years of yearning, he could finally go home.

☾𖤓 ☾𖤓

"M-My God! Wait a minute–" you gasped, feeling Hiromi's tongue between your folds.

He was so gentle, sweet, sucking on your clit with low whimpers and wrapping your thighs tightly around his head.

When you saw him down here, in Hades, standing right outside your temple – your heart jumped. For a mere second, you thought he had truly died and come down to the Underworld as a lost soul.

But no, he was alive and vivid, with muscular arms wrapped around your thighs and a warm tongue lapping between your creamy folds like a starved beast.

"I can't, my Goddess just let me devour you," he moaned, bumping his curved nose against your clit. "Thousand years, fuck, I couldn't touch you for a thousand years."

That's why, before you could say a word, ask why he's down here, his lips crashed against yours. In a long, yearning kiss, with arms immediately pulling you closer to his burning chest.

It was the first time you've felt him so firmly, with lips and fingers and clothed hardness brushing against your covered skin till sudden warmth hit your cheeks.

Your usually cold body burned, feeling his big hands slipping under your thighs to lift you up. He walked into your temple, with lips not leaving yours even for a second.

"My Goddess, my Goddess," he murmured as if possessed, tasting the sweetness of your moans.

A second later, your back hit something cold and hard.

Your altar.

And that's how you found yourself here – with black robes long gone and thighs wrapped around his head.

Long fingers worked you open, with one more calloused than the other, till three of them spread your tight ring of muscles. Creamy cum dripped down the marble altar, and he quickly licked the surface clean.

"Stop, my God, that's filthy!"

But Hiromi thought that nothing your body made could ever be filthy.

His lips went back to your pussy, sucking gently on the puffy clit. "My Goddess, in thousands of years of my life, I have never tasted anything better."

Your feet curled when his fingers hit the plush spot inside your cunt. Long digits scratched every corner of your warmth, trying to stretch the drenched, clamping muscles.

Oh, he simply couldn't wait to feel you on his cock.

"Do you like it here? Is it good?" he whispered, brushing the spot again.

And again, again, again, till your hips started rolling against his plastered tongue and bumped nose, chasing the pleasure slowly building up in your belly.

He fested on your wet cunt like an animal, slurping, drinking, murmuring sweet little nothings, with cheeks and chin and nose absolutely drenched in your sweetness.

A man possessed, truly.

But how could you blame him if for the past thousand years his fingers burned in need of caressing your skin?

"My G-God, I'm going to–mhm–let me cum on you," slipped like a dream, and he almost came on the spot.

Weary eyes looked up from between your thighs. "You want to cum on my cock, dearest Goddess?" and when you nodded, he groaned. Big palms spread your thighs even wider, glueing them to your chest. "So pretty, beautiful, my sweet Goddess, I'm never leaving your side again."

His fingers burned your skin most deliciously – digging deep into the plush of your thighs, coating it with warm trails. The air in the Underworld was biting cold, but you could feel none of it with him by your side.

His muscular body radiated heat like a sun, and you started to feel rather feverish. Although you weren't quite sure whether it was for his touch or the sight of his massive cock that slapped against your wet pussy.

Heavy and throbbing, with a reddened head already leaking with precum and leaving traces on your lower belly.

He bent down, catching your lips into another kiss, haunted by passion. With tongue licking your lower lip and warm breaths mixing together.

A pitched moan escaped from your tightened throat, feeling the head of his cock catching on your fluttering hole. He swallowed your cry, before silencing next sob with deep kisses. The traces of your juices still coated his lips, and you could taste the sweetness of your cunt.

He was desperate, but you were no better – with hips rolling against his and cunt trying to swallow his cock in. Your walls clamped around his girth, moulding obediently under each popping vein. Sticky cum helped him push deeper, with hips thrusting gently just to feel you thoroughly.

Hiromi didn't wish to miss anything; he wanted to feel it all. Every squeeze of your walls, every cry slipping through your lips, every scratch of your nails on his back, every smooch of his tip to your cervix.

He moved oh so gently, but mean at the same time, with deep thrusts spilling pleasure all over your spine and pushing nasty, slurpy cries from the depths of your lungs.

"My Goddess, fuck, I dreamed about it for so long, too long," he groaned, placing a hand on your cheeks. Big palm caressed you softly, before his thumb pressed your lower lip. "Tell me you love it. Say it feels good. My Goddess, my dearest–ah!"

You nodded, with your mind clouded by pleasure and his girthy cock sliding gently through your cunt. He moved in the most ficious way – always pulling out till nothing but the tip sat warmly inside your hole, before slowly, slowly, thrusting back in and smooching your cervix.

"So good–ahhh–my God p-please faster, please–"

But he only shushed you, before licking sweetly the sweat coiling on your temple. "Let me feel you dearest, j-just let me feel your pretty cunt stretching around me."

His hips met yours with each push, fingers dug deeper into your thighs every time you squeezed around his cock. He was massive, blocking the faint gleam of candles with his back and looming over your trembling figure like a monster. A Titan.

You thought he looked magnificent, but he... oh.

Hiromi thought that he could repeat the last century of suffering if it meant seeing you again like that.

With parted lips and slightly glossy eyes. Hairs sticking to your frowned forehead and cheeks warmed by the fire radiating from his body. Nothing but little lanterns lit the marble walls of your temple, but he saw you more vividly than ever.

One of his hands slipped up to your breasts, pinching the perked nipple with gentleness. Your body jerked, and another sweet moan filled the quiet temple.

"My God–mhm–I'm going to, I'm–ah!" your breath hitched, when you felt his tongue plastered to your nipple.

His thumb slid down, landing right on your pulsing clit and pressing it gently, as if he held the most delicate of flowers.

"Cum for me, my Goddess. Please, let me feel you," he muttered, sending little vibrations through your chest. A string of saliva connected his lips to your breasts, before he moved to the next bud – sucking, licking, kissing it carefully, but nevertheless bringing you the mind–clouding pleasure. "Beautiful, my beautiful Goddess, fuck, I can't believe you're actually here."

Here, wrigling under his body like a sweet nymph and rolling hips against his. His thrusts became faster, a bit more erratic, but still keeping the brutal depth that made your toes curl.

The head of his cock kissed your cervix, and now, with a sweat coiling on his forehead, he became even more maddened. Warm eyes stayed glued to your cheeks, as if trying to remember every moan slipping past your lips and every frown of your brows. His thumb rolled your clit faster, sending little electric bolts through your belly, till the knot you withheld for such a long time started untying.

You both needed just a single, shared look and whispered I love you, before a wave of pleasure washed over your bodies.

You came, with tears dancing in the corners of your eyes and juices bursting all over Hiromi's stomach. With gluey cum sticking to his dark pubes and walls pulsing around his cock, as he burst with a loud groan.

His cock nestled deep inside your pussy, filling it with ropes and ropes of cum, till you felt it moving inside your womb. He pumped you madly, keeping hips close to yours and devouring your fallen lips.

"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, my Goddess, fuck, I love you so much," he mumbled under his breath, still pinching your sensitive clit. "I'm not leaving you, never again."

You chuckled, tracing with a finger the curve of his nose. "Even if it means living here, in the coldness of Underworld?"

He looked into your eyes – deep, madly in love, with your cold body finally wrapped in his arms and sweet giggle bouncing off the dark walls of your temple.

It was dimmed and biting frost and grey, but the God of Fire did not care. "I shall never see a sun again, if it means staying by your side."

©liahcharms all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, feed AI, translate or modify my works.

Dearest anon, I hope this story lives up to your expectations!

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Some men would go to the forest late afternoon, solely to come back the next morning, long before the first crowing of the cock. With dreamy eyes veiled by a mist and minds completly blank, as if the night creatures of the woods sucked their memories away.  

They would reckon some bits and snippets of nightly wander, with cold wind brushing their cheeks and hazy visions of a woman's voice pulling them towards the weird-looking hut. But they could never remember the details, and thus the forest witch was nothing but a tale creeping through the creaky windows of the wooden houses.

The villagers stayed away from the woods, and children were forbidden from going near.

And everyone went by this silent rule.

Oh, well… almost everyone.

For two lumberjacks, Toji Fushiguro and Sukuna Ryomen, could not care less about the trumped-up fable.

Two massive, burly men – the biggest in the village, truly, and the only ones providing the thick timber logs.

It was not that other husbands didn’t dare to dive into the woods, but rather… well, there was just too much harvest, and every pair of strong hands was needed. At least that was the thought that allowed them to sleep serenely.

Without risking their lives, without the danger of meeting spectral creatures and chicken-legged huts.

But Toji and Sukuna have only believed in things they could see. Touch, experience, remember in detail. That was why the tale of a forest hag sounded to them both rather foolish, almost made up.

Did their mothers, grandmothers and great-grandmothers warn them about the dangers of the forest?

Surely.

But even as nippers, they couldn’t keep their prying eyes away from the thick greens, with one tree spookier than the other. 

Thus, now, at the age of thirty-five, they still didn’t care about all the rumours going around. And the daily occurrence of villagers tucking tightly inside their houses after the last beams of sun left the earth was quite amusing.

Fools, they have thought, while going back and forth between the forest and a village every single day.

Until, well… until one day they saw a hut.

The dusk has fallen quietly over the golden fields, with a deep purple blanket covering the sky. Nothing but a faint glimmer of stars crept through the dense trees, and both men found themselves rather lost.

They had never gone that deep into the woods, but the need for logs was higher around that time as the summer solstice was just around the corner. And with the planned celebrations, grand feast and fire jumping, they would need much more timber than usual.

It was not that they couldn’t find their way out, but all the looming trees started to resemble eerie creatures. With branches curling restlessly behind their backs, as if trying to brush two foolish souls passing through the enchanted woods. The lethargic melody of crickets was long gone, leaving the forest in a deathly silence.

Nightly wind brushed their dust-covered shirts, bringing a gentle shiver down their spines.

Was it caused by a cold?

Or maybe by a deep, dread feeling of someone, something, lurking behind the gnarled branches?

They walked farther and farther, thinking that they were getting closer to the familiar fields of the village. Thinking that the little pond they passed every day was right behind the next tree, with slimy frogs humming on the cold stones. That soon they would notice a golden glimpse of not-yet-sickled wheat and wooden houses filled with candled warmth.

Their backs burned from all the gathered logs, and eyes tried to see through the thick darkness filling the forest air. Not even stars could help them, and for the first time in their lives, a bizarre thought had crossed their mind.

That maybe they could have listened to all the cautionary tales about the dangers of the woods. 

That the trees were truly unpredictable and wicked, with their sharp needles poking their skins.

That a faint meow stretching between the softwoods was a bad omen.

"Did you hear it?" Sukuna murmured, stopping in tracks. 

Toji furrowed, finger gripping the saw firmer. "Was that a fucking cat?"

They stood in place, listening carefully for another sign that some normal, living creature was wandering somewhere around.

Another soft meow sent a shiver down their spines.

"Why would a cat be here?" Sukuna murmured, going towards the source.

Whether it was a foolish decision or not, they would need to find out on their own.

As the cat could mean two things – firstly, another village somewhere nearby and a place where they could spend the night. 

Secondly…

"You know why," Toji murmured, with all the warnings his grandmother had stuffed into his head suddenly lighting up.

Sukuna scoffed, looking over his shoulder. "Don’t tell me you’re scared."

"Fuck no."

But why would the cat be here? He wanted to add.

They moved slowly, with the muffled meows growing clearer and higher-pitched, but none of them noticed a feline slipping between the branches. 

They walked for another five, ten, maybe fifteen minutes, and even glimmering stars looked down at their sweating backs with a silent frown. Wandering that deep into the forest could not finish well.

But then, something appeared.

A hut.

Tall and looming, resembling something straight out of those delirious tales they loved to ignore that much. Spreading an eerie atmosphere, with a cold air biting much harsher than before. 

It stood in the middle of the woods, having a skull–topped fence surrounding it in a neat circle and a black cat sitting lazily on one of the milky heads. Wet earth dipped under the big, thick claws of a long chicken leg, made of nothing but skin and bones.

At its top sat a small house. Made of dark wood, with smooth walls and a crooked roof pinned rather messily. 

Both men furrowed their brows, seeing no doors nor windows, although grey mist loomed over the bended chimney.

A cat meowed, a raven croaked, and the woods came even closer, as if inviting them in and slowly covering all the paths with their thick branches.

"Yeah, I’m not doing it," Toji murmured.

Sukuna’s crimson eyes gazed at the wicked hut before a sight slipped away. "Fuck no."

They needed a single glance to turn around on their feet and walk away. As far as they could, till the endless plains of woods would let them out.

Because, at some point, they would find the right path. Probably.

Thus they walked, and walked, and walked till their legs were burning and faint meowing was left far behind. The trees never changed, bending and curling above their heads like spider’s webs, with leaves and needles dropping onto their shoulders.

The air was biting frost, although summer had almost come, and carried a lingering taste of rottenness.

At some point, they finally saw a faint glow. Pale glimmer, drawing from between the dense trees. A rise of hope bubbled in their chests, with fingers gripping the saws and legs suddenly moving much faster. 

They finally found it – an exit from this wicked forest.

With crows following their every step and darkness sharpening its teeth to swallow them whole. 

Little stones rolled beneath their feet, cheeks bled from the curled branches slashing through their skin, backs dipped under the weight of carried logs, but then they took the one last step and–

And found themselves back in the hut.

The faint glow they had chased was just a moonlight bouncing off the skull fence. The cat was still there, with yellow eyes glancing at them rather cheekily – as if the feline knew that both men were already done for.

Grey smoke still curled around the chimney, but this time it was much denser. Thicker, and it seemed that someone must’ve been inside this little, wooden house. 

"Dear God," Toji murmured, taking a deep breath. "How is it possible?"

Sukuna’s brows furrowed, crimson eyes slashing with the cat’s amused gaze. "I don’t know, but we need to keep moving."

"Where? We walked for twenty minutes and did a fucking circle."

They didn’t dare to walk past the skull-topped fence and thus stood still at the edge of the forest. Trees behind them chanted wickedly, tickling the backs of their sweating necks.

"You’re right, okay, let’s try that way," Sukuna pointed out at another path. "Maybe we will find a neighbouring village."

So they did just that.

And when their eyes caught a sinister hut again, towering over the looming trees, they both cursed under their breaths.  

Each path they took always led them straight towards the skull-topped fence, and after the fourth time, they finally crossed its border. They walked past the creamy heads and purring feline before standing by the bony chicken leg.

Everything looked like a nightmare – the hut, the fence, the moonlight shining on their wet foreheads and a cat, slowly sitting up. 

Like a fever dream they couldn’t wake up from, and every little detail of the tales whispered by the villagers suddenly flooded their minds.

They didn’t want to end up as the blasphemous hag’s sweet little treats. With their bones licked clean and dumped down the endless pit of her basement. 

If they wanted to get out of the forest before sunrise, they needed to act quickly.

"Let’s cut this down," Toji suddenly rolled, leaving Sukuna speechless.

"You mean, the leg?"

The man nodded, with scarred lips curving up. "If we’re going to die anyway, why not get her first? If she’s as old as everyone says, killing her would surely be a piece of cake."

A silence stretched between them, as if both Sukuna and a black cat and a big crow, that had sat quietly on the fence, were trying to process what he just said. 

"You want to murder an old lady?"

Toji scoffed. "Don’t look at me like that. She’s a witch!"

"But she’s also a…" Sukuna wanted to say a human, but he wasn’t entirely sure.

Was she a human?

Or maybe a spawn of the devil, a satab itself?

Toji gripped an axe tighter, poking the bony leg with the wooden end. It was rather thin, and he wondered how such a fragile thing could hold a whole hut. 

A spell?

"Why won’t we just cut it down first and see whether she’s there?" Sukuna murmured, lifting his axe.

"And if she’ll be there, we will…"

Sukuna tsked. "Let’s see first. Maybe, if we ask nicely, a hag will let us go. Maybe she’s not even that bad as people say."

None of them believed it, and creamy skulls sitting quietly on long bones should be evidence enough.

They both raised axes – with muscular forearms bulging under the muscles and eyes glued to the thin ankle of the chicken’s leg. It was steady, with long claws gripping the earth and yellow skin pulsing under the spilling moonlight.

And the moment their arms had swung, something hit them.

No, something has burst at their faces, and only then have they noticed a row of puffballs. With white caps breaking under their heavy shoes and powdery clouds erupting right into their noses.

But it seemed they weren’t just normal mushrooms, as the world in front of the men’s eyes started to swirl. Gaze slipped into fogginess, and lungs filled with a bitter powder. It burned their throats, chests, pushing sharp needles into their hearts, till both fell to their knees. 

They cat meowed softly in the back, the crow hummed, and the moonlight could only glance down pitifully at two lumberjacks slowly sacking out.

𖤐 𖤐 𖤐

When Sukuna slowly opened his eyes, something heavy lay sprawled on his chest. Warm and purring, with black fur floating around his lips and soft paws brushing his nose. 

The cat, the same one they saw just a while ago, sat down right above his heart, with yellow eyes glued to his slowly waking up face.

His mind was still a bit dizzy, and the bitter aftertaste of mushrooms swirled on his tongue, sticking to each and every corner of his throat. There was something soft under his body, although, surprisingly, he noticed that he lay shirtless.

And as it turned out, Toji was undressed too.

Spread right next to him, with hands lifted high up and wrists tied to a… bed frame?

Fuck, slipped silently, as he realised that his wrists were tied too. Strong enough not to rip the smooth fabric, but soft enough not to hurt his skin. 

"What is this place?" Toji murmured, only now waking up from a deep slumber.

Sukuna couldn’t see anything because of the fluffy beast purring on his chest, but Toji…

"Fucking hell," he whispered, feeling his heart flutter.

Sukun turned head his way, seeing the emerald eyes of his friend glued to something in front of them.

Someone, maybe. 

You.

A witch.

Your back was covered by a velvet, purple robe, brushing the wooden floor. Wide sleeves hung from your wrists, moving like clouds with every gentle swoosh of your hand. Toji couldn’t see much of your face, but only its profile – soft and kind, with plump lips murmuring something under your breath and hair hugging your cheeks. 

The inside of the hut was much larger than they had thought, and surely you must’ve used a kind of special spell. Rows and rows of books lay messily on shelves, with dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. A massive, brass cauldron stood right next to you on the low wooden table, with eerie greenish mist floating above the bubbling water. 

It looked warm, rather cosy, filled with the gentle crackling of candles and their yellow glow lighting up your furrowed brows.

When Sukuna sneezed, feeling the fur tickling his nose, you turned their way.

"Oh my," slipped in melody, and Toji held his breath. Your face was even more beautiful than he had thought, with beaming eyes curving in a gentle smile. "Apologies, mister. Lucifer, go away, let him breathe," you shooed the cat, before sitting at the end of the bed.

And then Sukuna could finally see you – an angel.

Or rather, a witch, as the legends said.

But your countenance looked nothing like the tales forsweared, as Sukuna’s breath hitched upon seeing a glimmer dancing behind your eyes. So soft and kind. Plush lips twisted in a smile, and when his gaze slipped down, something in his lower body moved.

Toji couldn’t see it before, but the purple robe flowing down your figure was much more flimsy than he had thought. With your soft collarbones gleaming under the candle’s light, and barely covered chest. They could clearly see the swell of your breasts, with their heavy fat barely hidden behind the material. 

Fucking hell.

Maybe they wished you looked more like legends swore – a hundred-year-old hag with a crooked nose.

"Miss," Toji choked out, with a mouth dry as wheat. "I think there has been a misunderstanding."

Your head tilted, and eyes flashed with amusement. "A misunderstanding? Aren’t you the ones who mere minutes ago wanted to cut down my hut?"

Their lips fell flat. 

"And aren’t you the ones who wished to, hm, how was it…" slipped in a giggle, while a fat cat purred on your lap. "Kill an old lady?"

Both of them looked rather stupefied, and a sight of two burly men tied to your bed frame was quite pleasant. 

What’s more, you didn’t even try to hide your deep eyes wandering around their half-naked bodies. With heavy muscles beaming under the light coating of sweat, and palms big enough to crush your whole head. 

Their tall, massive bodies could barely fit on your bed, and a few spells needed to be used to make it a bit wider. Shocked, but oh so handsome, faces looked at you in disbelief, and you felt their eyes slipping between the swell of your breasts and plush lips curving mischievously.

"Have you heard it?" Sukuna asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Not me," you looked down at the black cat, petting its soft fur gently. "But Lucifer is my eyes and ears. You got lost, from what he said. No one ever told you not to wander around the woods in the night?"

Your giggle tasted like an aphrodisiac, and both men shifted uncomfortably on the bed. 

"Listen, miss, how about we apologise and you’ll let us go, hm? Let’s forget about–"

"Well," you interrupted, slowly standing up. The cat jumped off your lap and strolled towards the fireplace, sitting his fat ass on the soft carpet. "I usually have two ways of dealing with men of your sort," your fingers lifted a little glass phial with pinkish fluid. "I either clear their memories and simply let them go–"

"Wonderful, let’s get to it," Toji murmured, but you sent him a quick, cheeky look.

Oh, so that was not a way destined for them.

"Or," quiet footsteps filled the hut, as you walked towards a big carpet spread on the floor. With a single move, you rolled aside to present small doors, leading to the… "I throw them here. But no woman has complained about you two and wished for a curse, so fear not, dear sirs. Or, Toji and Sukuna."

You covered the basement, leaving them both scared and breathless.

"What have you heard about me?" suddenly rolled, as you walked back to the cauldron. The green mist still floated over it, and you turned at the long shelf filled with colourful little phials. 

"You’re a witch," Toji muttered, trying to keep his eyes on the back of your head and not the way velvety robes hugged your hips.

You hummed with a smile. "Go on."

"That you kidnap children," Sukuna added, seeing your back tremble in laughter. "And eat their flesh with iron teeth."

"Oh, truly?" came with a melodic laugh they both felt right in their cocks. Some purple liquid was added to the mixture boiling in a cauldron, and the mist changed from green to red. "That’s my favourite one so far. Anything else?"

You glanced over your shoulder to see their creased foreheads. One covered with raven hair and the other with soft, pinkish strands. 

"The women seem to like you," Toji murmured, noticing a little smile beaming on your cheeks.

"Haven’t you noticed a sudden surge in child births?" When they nodded slowly, you continued. "Well, no need to thank me. I’m glad I could help. And it leads me to why I decided to tie you up."

You looked more closely into the boiling cauldron, a gentle crease appearing between your brows. 

"Are you going to kill us?" Sukuna finally choked out, and your eyes quickly came back to them. 

Silence stretched mercilessly as they watched you come closer. And closer, and closer, till the bed dipped under your plush body, slowly climbing up theirs. Your knees scratched their thighs, palms dipped into the small spaces between their heavy chests, and soon a sugary fragrance hit their minds.

Curling around them sweetly, almost suffocating with the tender hints of berries and flowers, beaming on your soft neck.

Your hips straddled each of their thigh and the purple robe curled around your hips, hugging the spilling fat. Looking at the flowing material, they were rather sure you didn’t wear any panties.

Something bulged under your thighs, and a little smirk crawled up your lips.

"I won’t," slipped cheekily. "But first, sirs, say ah."

They furrowed, but opened their lips up, and before either of them could react, your fingers landed inside their mouths. With a gentle touch swirling between their gums and milky fangs, as if examining every curve of them.

You hummed softly before pulling the fingers back and allowing them to cough.

"Miss, are you crazy?" Toji barked, but you ignored him.

"Healthy gums, straight teeth, that’s good, good," slipped in a murmur, before your fingers landed in their hair. A silent tsk followed, as you pulled out two single strands.

"Hey, missy, what the hell are you doing?" Sukuna growled, wriggling under your hips. 

It did him nor Toji no good, because their already hard cocks dugged into the fat of your thighs deeper, pushing out a low, strangled hum of their throats. And a soft giggle from yours.

With two soft curls, you slowly slipped off their hips, leaving both men with a quiet disappointment. 

"You see, lots of women come to my hut with a wish to bear a child," their hair landed inside the cauldron, and a red mist changed into purple. "For many, I’m just a scary witch, but women cherish me as… a forest goddess, you may say," you mixed the boiling mixture with a wooden spoon, and a soft that’s good, perfect slipped through. "Fulfilling their desires is rather easy, you see. A simple mixture is enough to bloom their fertility."

Both men tried to listen closely, but could only focus on how quickly your warmth had left their bodies. 

Quite unpleasant, slightly unfortunate.

Toji furrowed. "Miss, what does that have to do with us?"

"I also want a child. No, I need to have a child to keep the lineage of witches," rolled softly, with your voice slipping into something warmer. "That’s what my mother did. And her mother, sisters, aunts, and every woman in my family. All of them chose a man healthy like a horse, the most potent one in the entire village."

Oh.

Something bubbled in their chest. A sudden warmth, a wave of electricity washed over their bodies, as both Sukuna and Toji looked at your blessed face with round eyes.

For a while, nothing but the cat’s soft purring and the soft crackling of the fireplace filled the hut. A deep silence, marked by unbearable tension. Your lips fell in line, forehead wrinkled with a coiling thought.

Toji coughed. "So we–"

"Yes," you quickly added. "You are the most perfect for this role."

And the rest played out faster than they expected.

The misty, purple robes suddenly fell off your shoulders, fully unveiling your divine body. With perked nipples licked warmly by a candle’s flame and a plush belly, their teeth already itched to dip into. You started to move – slowly, with thighs jiggling gently and lips curving in a mischievous smile.

"You can refuse, of course," slipped in a bewitching sweetness, curling around their lips and minds and already leaking cocks.

Refuse? They would be fools to refuse a woman like you.

"If you wish, I shall clear your minds and simply let you go. I'm sure, at some point, my path would cross with yet another potent men," the mattress dipped under your weight as you, once again, started crawling up their bodies.

Your words creased their foreheads.

Another men?

"But if you decide to stay–"

Their breaths hitched, feeling the sweetness of your breath hit their cheeks.

Something wicked coiled behind your pupils – arousing, suffocating them with the lustfulness of your gaze. You looked into Sukuna’s crimson eyes before your lips touched the corner of his. Shortly, softly, slowly moving to the next man and gently licking the pale scar slashing his maw. 

"If you stay, you’ll need to be my obedient husbands. And give me lots and lots of witches," you whispered, waiting quietly for an answer. With your cunt dripping down their clothed thighs and their cocks shifting under your body. 

They stared at you – with crimson and emerald eyes sparkling in feary madness.

Oh, so you truly were a witch, for their minds suddenly filled with a flaming need to obey your wicked request. The sweet fragrance of your naked skin wrapped around their senses like a poison. A spell, maybe, and they wondered whether you truly cast a sort of devilish charm.

To mould them as you wished, bending and pushing their minds over the edge with nothing but sweet little whispers. And trickery eyes, cherry lips, heavy breasts just waiting to be fondled and, dear god, your cunt brushing against their thighs.

"What do you say?" You whispered, before placing palms on their cheeks. "Do you wish to go back to your village? Or maybe fill me up like good boys, hm? Today is my most fertile night, so it should go quite easily."

"Untie us," Sukuna whispered, with eyes not leaving your face even for a second. 

Toji kissed the inside of your palm softly, with emerald eyes looking at your warming face. "Come on, baby, untie us. If you want to have a baby, let’s make one, hm?"

With a single snap of your fingers, their wrists fell. 

And then, oh well… you truly were a wicked and powerful witch.

But still a rather foolish, stupid young girl, who knew nothing about men.

About lustful, foxy, much older and stronger men, who you accidentally aroused in a most maddened way.

Your belly hit the mattress before you even knew it, and big palms lifted your drenched hips.

"Wait–" you choked and tried to lift your chest, but a heavy palm landed between your shoulders. 

"Don’t worry, little witch," Sukuna rolled, leaning towards you. Warm lips curled around your earlobe before moving to the back of your neck, and shoulders and liquid spine. "Let your husbands take good care of you."

Drenched folds of your cunt met with Toji’s calloused fingers, before he spread them open. A sudden warmth hit your core, and he took a long and nasty sniff of your dripping wet.

"Baby, you smell so fucking sweet," rolled in a groan, before Sukuna joined him. 

His finger brushed your hole, scooping up a few sticky strings of juices. He licked it clean, with a low hum filling the hut. "Fuck, the best meal I’ve ever had. Arch a bit more, sugar, and spread yourself open."

His hand pushed you into the mattress even harsher, till breath knocked out of your chest. 

"Just like that, baby," Toji hummed with a sly smile, bending his lips upon hearing your teary gasp. "You’re doing so well already, hm? So fucking wet."

There was no need to ask, for both of them knew that you were a virgin. It was quite obvious, with your hole fluttering shyly, drenching their digits in gluey saps of cum. Juices trickled down your thighs, dripped onto the mattress, and Toji bent over to lick your skin clean. 

His tongue warmed the inside of your thighs, the mound of ass, before he finally spread your cheeks wider, and you felt the plush muscle on your warmth.

"A-Ah–" fell in a pitched moan, as you wriggled under Sukuna’s hand.

He leaned closer, brushing away single strands of hair from your cheeks. One of his palms still lay heavily between your shoulders, pushing you against the mattress, while the other started to fiddle with his trousers.

"Have you ever sucked a dick, sugar?" He cooed warmly, but mischievous flames danced behind his crimson eyes. When your head shook, he chuckled. "Of course not, such a sweet little witch. Though you really know how to fire up a man."

Another moan slipped between your lips when Toji’s tongue landed on your clit. Curling, pushing, and abusing the plump spot, making your toes curl in pleasure. Another wave of honeyed cum flowed from your cunt, and he drank it hungrily, growling in delight over the sticky cum dripping down his throat. 

"Fuck, baby, if that’s how you pussy tastes, you can use me all you want," he groaned, brushing his clothed cock against your foot. His finger slipped in, and before you could scream, Sukuna’s lips quickly crashed against yours. "Another men, you must be fucking joking. Although you really set the bar high, thinking you can take two cocks at once," he pushed it further, feeling your walls clasp his digit. "So fucking tight."

"Don’t worry, little witch," Sukuna mumbled, fisting his cock with one hand. "We’ll try not to tear you open. I’m sure Toji will stretch your sweet cunt enough to fit us both, hm?"

But seeing the veiny, massive thing sitting in his hand – you weren’t quite sure.

And only then have you realised that maybe you underestimated both of them. Thinking that using them to get pregnant would be smooth and easy, and after a mere few minutes, you would simply send them back to the village.

The whole husbands thing was just a foolish play, but, as it turned out, your silly plan has missed a few rather important details that.

Firstly, both Toji and Sukuna were massive. Muscular wasn’t the right word to describe their ripped bodies, with backs broad like mountains and heavy forearms manhandling you in the most toe-curling way. Two beasts, with necks thick as logs and rolling shoulders that could easily lift you without a sweat.

They cast a shadow over your trembling body, and Sukuna needed just a single hand to overpower you fully. 

You didn’t feel the unbearable air they’ve spread around each other until you foolishly untied them. 

It wrapped around your neck, weighted on your chest, with their hands and lips and brutal force slowly opening you up in the most pleasurable way.

With Sukuna’s fat cock pushing through your wet lips and Toji’s fingers keeping your hips in place.

"Come on, little witch, open up. Give me a good lick," Sukuna’s hand travelled from your back up, resting on head. Fingers gripped your hair gently, but not forcefully. No, after all, he wanted you to take him willingly – to swirl this wicked tongue around his leaking cock and get drunk on precum. "That’s a good girl, mhm, don’t bite it, you’re doing so well."

His words somehow tickled your mind, and you choked on his cock even further. Salty precum glued to your throat and veins scratched the roof of your mouth. His musky, manly smell pushed out yet another wave of honeyed juices of your cunt, and Toji drank them with a low hum. 

When the second finger joined in, you jolted, trying to move hips away.

"Ah ah, baby, there’s no running," Toji chuckled, feeling your fluttering walls hardly swallowing his fingers. "Fucking hell, at this rate you won’t take even a single cock."

His lips curled around your clit, sucking the plump bud with delighted growls and sending low tremors straight to your cunt. His heavy tongue feasted on your sweetness as if starved, with fingers slowly working you open and abusing a single, plush spot relentlessly.

"How do you feel, sugar? What does it feel like to have your pussy eaten out for the first time–fuck," Sukuna cursed, feeling your throat clench around his pulsing cock. "You look so fucking ethereal, hell, the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t worry, I won’t cum inside your throat. I’m keeping it warm and safe for your sweet cunt."

You couldn’t stand it.

Their dirty words, warm fingers caressing your body with gentle strokes, all the buttons they somehow knew how to push to turn you into a miserable, whimpering mess. With crystal droplets swirling in the corners of your eyes and a pleasure washing over your spine each time Toji sucked on your clit.

When his fingers bent again, you cried. Pitifully, like an angel, sending a tremble straight to Sukuna’s cock. 

He moved, sitting right in front of you, letting your lips drop down even further, till the feverish head of his cock hit the back of your throat. Your fingers dug into his massive thighs, and saliva dripped down his balls. 

"Fuck, so good sugar, you’re doing so well," he warmly cheered you on, taking a hefty fist of your hair. "Suck on the head. Yeah, just like that, try to hollow your cheeks, take me deeper," when his head hit your back wall again, you started coughing. He quickly lifted you, brushing away a few dropping tears. Heavy hand squeezed your cheeks, pushing out swollen lips. "My little witch, where’s all the courage from before, hm? You really have no idea what you asked for."

You didn’t say anything, as his lips soon crashed against yours. In a sloppy kiss, with tongue swirling inside your mouth and a long stripe of spit dripping down your chin.

Oh, he was starving to feel that sweet cunt of yours tear around his cock. To feel your warm walls clasp around his shaft and soft moans fill the sizzling inside of the hut.

The heat coming off the fireplace mixed with your heavy breaths, sweating bodies and gluey fluids sticking to your skin. From the outside, they couldn’t see the windows, but now a soft gleam of moonlight crept through the foggy glass, smooching your wet cheeks with a cold light.

Toji’s heavy hand smacked your hips, and he finally pulled off. A sweet string connected his lips to your stretched cunt, and he gave it one last, long and filthy lick, leaving your thighs trembling.

"Let’s try, baby," he mumbled, still oogling the way your drenched hole flapped around nothing. As if desperately needed to swallow something into its desperate clutches. "Sukuna, turn her over. It’s time to stuff our little witch."

They treated you like a rag doll, and you felt no different. Soon, your back hit Sukuna’s chest, and Toji’s hands landed under your thighs, folding you easily like a leaf – with cunt spread open and more of fertile juices coating your folds.

Sukuna’s hands reached to your perked buds, rolling your nipples between his calloused fingers. Maybe it was to send another wave of pleasure down your spine.

But, maybe, he wanted you to focus on something other than Toji taking out his massive cock and positioning it at your entrance. Sukuna’s fat shaft came right from below, smooching your drenched hole in warm, gentle kisses.

"It’s okay, sugar," he murmured into your ear, turning your head away. Fingers pinched your nipple, and another soft moan rolled through, making their hearts swell in ecstasy. "Don’t look there, just focus on me."

Your brows furrowed, and pleasure-blinded eyes tried to trace back, but his heavy hand kept your chin in place. "W-What is it?"

Toji chuckled, seeing your cunt already trying to swallow up their leaking heads. But would you be able to take them both?

Fucking hell, he didn’t know.

"Deep breath, baby," he muttered, covering your trembling clit with his thumb. He rolled it softly, helping your walls loosen up. 

And then slowly, slowly, two massive cocks pushed through the tight ring of your muscles. 

The pain mixed with pleasure, and before a scream rolled from your throat, Toji quickly leaned over. His lips swallowed a sharp cry, and cock pushed even further. 

Sukuna’s fingers kneaded your tits, with fat spilling from between his fingers, while Toji’s thumb worked slowly on your clit. In slow, deep rolls, pinching and pushing the sweet little button that helped their cocks slide deeper. Meaner, smooching and brushing your clasping walls, with their muscles trying to push fat shafts out.

"Sugar, fucking hell, try to relax," Sukuna muttered, feeling his girth get crushed between Toji’s dick and your trembling walls. "You’re doing good, so fucking good, our little witch. Come on, you asked for it."

You did, and maybe that made the matter worse. Because you, in fact, didn’t know what you were getting yourself into.

Not entirely.

Well, not at all, truly.

As you didn’t expect your cunt to burn in such fever, with walls getting brutally stretched by two massive cocks. Their sweet coos made your brain all fuzzy, with sweet little nothings whispered in gentle voices. Hands brushed away strands of hair sticking to your wet cheeks, and fingers kneaded your body with a rough softness, solely to let them get drunk on your melodic moans.

"T-To much–mhmm–that’s too–"

"Shhh," Toji whispered, licking away your tears. "You’ll take it like a good girl. Remember, that’s what you asked for."

Your head shook, and another whimper slipped away when Sukuna’s fingers pinched your nipple. "It’s okay, sugar, just focus on the pleasure. Yeah, that’s good," his hand squeezed your tit, while Toji rolled your clit with his thumb. "Relax, just like that. Fuck, you’re still squeezing us so hard."

"Let us fill you up, baby," Toji cooed with a nasty thrust. Their cocks moved in harmony, with two leaking heads sinking deeper and deeper, till they finally brushed your plump spot and let another moan fill the foggy air. "Can’t wait to see you fat and heavy, just like you wanted," he kissed the corner of your lip, wet cheeks, creased forehead. "And we’ll take such good care of you and little brats. Don’t worry, baby, we’re not going to leave."

At first, you just planned to use them and send them away, but hearing their loving murmurs and hands pulling you closer between their bodies – it seemed that it was impossible.

For neither Sukuna nor Toji planned to leave this sweet little witch, with the most melodic giggle and pussy they were ready to die for.

And if they needed to tie you up not to clear their memories – fucking hell, they were more than eager to do it.

To pump you full during the day and keep you soft and warm at nights.

The pinching pain soon evolved into something sharper – more heavenly, heated, with nerves of your cunt finally sending ripples of ecstasy up to your curling feet.

And they saw it too – a gentle crease appearing on your forehead and eyes crossing in unbearable pleasure. Their lips curved in a sly smile, feeling your hips slowly moving with theirs. With cunt swallowing them deeper and short breaths evolving into pinched moans.

"How do you feel, sugar? How does it feel to have us right in your womb?" Sukuna licked a long stripe of your neck before digging his teeth into your skin. His hand slipped down, pushing a little pouch of your belly. 

You whimpered, feeling his fingers circle their cocks through the plump skin. "S-so good–nghhh–feels sooo good–ahhh."

Their thrusts became faster, harsher, with two plump heads slipping smoothly through your drenched cunt. Soft crackling of a fireplace was soon muffled by filthy squelches coming from your sweating bodies, and crying moans rolling through your lips.

You felt sticky, feverish, bruised, with their cocks kissing your swelling womb and Toji’s body pressing you to Sukuna. He was heavy, with big palms digging into the back of your thighs and chest glued to yours.

"Fuck, baby, look at me," he whispered, and Sukuna squeezed your cheeks, lifting wet cheeks towards another man. "Oh, our sweet little witch, you look so fucked. Already drunk on our cocks, hm? Come on, baby, let’s make you cum."

Your clit burned under his thumb, swelling in overwhelming pleasure. Something warm started to coil in your belly. Although it might as well be their fat shafts sliding through your clenching cunt and bubbling precum at your womb. You could almost feel them in your lungs, heart, throat, and when both men suddenly sped up, something inside you burst. 

You could barely breathe, feeling Sukuna’s chest glued to your back and Toji’s arms curling around your bodies. His face nuzzled into the one side of your neck, while Sukuna dipped into the other, caging your senses with their musky, heavy scent. The one that made your body limp and dissolve into their touch.

Their cocks thrusted faster, meaner, sliding in and out in a messy pace and completly losing the harmony. Sukuna’s head caught on your entrance the moment Toji kissed your womb, and soon you became a crying mess, with lips swelling from their kisses and mind slowly driving away.

"I–I’m so close–mhmmm–gonna cum, I’m g-going to cum–ahhhh," one of your hands slipped into Toji’s hair, the other wandered back to grip Sukuna’s. "P-Please come inside, p-please please please, pump me full."

Something within them snapped, and soon their touch lost any sense of gentleness. No, it evolved into something much more lustful, maddened.

The need to see your body tremble beneath their fingers and feel the spasmatic clamps of your cunt. With honeyed sweet gushing out of your stuffed, reddened hole and walls still stretching under the swelling fatness of their cocks.

"Our pretty girl, milking us fucking dry, clamping on our cocks like a bitch in heat–ngh." Sukuna groaned into your neck, rolling your swollen nipples between his fingers. "Go on, sugar, cum for us, let us make you a mommy."

Emerald eyes caught your gaze, and soon a pair of warm lips crashed, for the hundredth time during this evening, in a messy kiss. "If I knew you ain’t old hag I would–ahh–knock you up sooner," his fingers pressed your clit for the last time, before both of their cocks nuzzled into your womb. 

The long-held warmth finally spilt all over your belly, sending heavy waves of pleasure through your body. Your cunt gushed out in sweet cum, drenching all three of you in liquid honey.

And when they came – you could feel it on your tongue. Fat ropes of cum, stuffing your cunt full till a few droplets spilt out from your swollen hole. Your lower belly rose, with their cocks still smooching your womb softly, coating it in thick, white spurts.

A moment had passed before Toji’s body fully lay down, and you almost fainted. Silence stretched pleasantly, with Sukuna’s fingers brushing away lost strands of your hair and Toji’s cheek lowering down to your chest.

Something pleasant, rather domestic, linked your hearts like a thread, and a long night has passed before you actually slipped away from between their sleeping bodies. 

And somewhere, during those long hours of their touches changing between the gentle caresses and harsh slaps, you decided that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t clean their memories.

That maybe keeping them close didn’t sound that bad.

Especially as they promised to give you a whole coven of little witches – oh!

©liahcharms all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, feed AI, translate or modify my works.

I had so so much fun writing it! I really hope you enjoyed this little snippet of my local folklore, although the og story was a bit different...

I got a few requests for Hades!Sukuna so... I'll start working on Hades!Sukuna x Persephone!Reader fic <3

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With everything else he had going for him, the fact that he sounded like that was just unfair.

You believe the man’s name is Suguru…you aren’t completely sure because you were too busy gawking to pay attention to anything he was saying when he introduced himself. 

Admittedly, when the woman at the front desk asked if you would be okay with a male masseuse, you were not expecting this. Him.

He was—god. He was hot.

Tall. Long black hair pulled into a bun at the base of his skull. Sharp jawed with even sharper eyes; seemingly purple when the sun hit them just right. His peculiar eyes matched the colour of his uniform, and although it was loose-fitting, you could still make out the shape of lean muscle underneath.

A murmur of your name brings you back to the present, and remembering he asked you a question, you nod.

“Yes, I’m comfortable.”

“Good,” He hums, and you swear you feel it between your legs.

God, maybe you were ovulating or something.

The towel is pulled down to the small of your back, and you shift as cool air feathers over your skin.

“Are there any areas you want me to avoid?”

You merely shake your head, not trusting what would come out of your mouth if you tried to answer him.

“Anything you want me to focus on?” 

Your thoughts immediately veer into whorish territory that has you shaking your head as if to physically expel them. 

Suguru moves around the room and a match strikes as he presumably lights another candle.

It takes a while to find your voice again, “My back and shoulders, if you don’t mind.”

A chuckle filters through the room. Deep and amused and sexy as all get out, “Of course not. It’s my job after all.”

You flush at the reminder and hear him move closer. The tips of his shoes come into view as he stops beside the bed.

“Let me know when you want to stop.”

That’s the only warning you get before his hands are on you. Work-worn and skilful, he lathers fragrant oil over your skin and works it deep into your pores. 

For a few minutes, his hands are tentative. Slow and studious as he notes your reactions to each touch and stows them away for later use.

He listens to the sigh that leaves your lips when he massages your shoulders. The groan when he works down the length of your back and the stifled giggle when he traces his fingertips along your ribs. Then once he has enough marked down, he grows more sure of himself. He maps out every curve and contour of your skin with kneads and rubs that have your eyes threatening to roll back. Knowing exactly when to ease up, when to be firmer and apply pressure and where to press and hold until you grunt in relief.

Whatever tension that tightened your body loosens under his touch. And you’re sure you’d leave as nothing more than a satisfied puddle by the time he was done.

The massage is steadily lulling you to sleep. But just when your eyes start to flutter shut, he moves to massage your legs. You blink when he pulls them apart, fingers pressing past soft flesh to smooth out all the knots underneath. Suguru skates up the soles of your feet, past your calves and the backs of your knees, then higher, higher until he gets to your thighs.

Your body stiffens again, and he must feel it because he stills for a moment. “Is everything okay?”

You try to give him an affirmative hum, but you’re shaking, and a particularly hard quake wracks through you when his hands move to your inner thighs.

He pauses when you don’t answer, and you have to clear your throat to get rid of the lump that attempts to form.

“I’m fine,” you say. While your voice comes out a little thin, you think you sounded convincing enough. 

You really hope you did.

“Good,” he answers and you allow a small sigh to leave you, “I’m going to move to your glutes now.”

Wait what? 

The sheet is pulled up over your ass, and you have no time to react or dwell on the cold because his warm palms immediately land on your skin. Both chasing and leaving more goosebumps in their wake. 

Something sparks low in your belly with each squeeze that’s delivered to the plush flesh. A small ember at first, then the longer he goes on, the more the ache builds. Slowly, it seeps between your legs in a fiery hot rush that has your panties clinging to you.

You feel Suguru's fingers catch along the lace, and your breath hitches.

“Is this pressure okay?”

Your nod is all he needs to work with newfound vigour. Moving between massaging your thighs, your ass and your hips until you can't even stop yourself from squirming anymore.

Heat blooms across your cheeks when he pauses, and you want the ground to swallow you whole because you know he sees it.

The desperation. The want. Possibly even the slick dampness of your ruined panties.

Embarrassment has you whispering an apology even as nerves bubble deep in your stomach, each pop so loud, you're sure he can hear it. But when you try to press your legs together, he stops you.

“Physiological responses are natural, you don’t need to apologise,” he says so gently, it makes you feel even worse. 

Whatever he was getting paid definitely wasn't enough to be dealing with clients like you.

Your chest expands with a deep breath as you try to make yourself calm down through sheer force of will.  You’re slowly coming back into yourself when his murmured question sets you off balance again.

“Would you like me to keep going?”

Something about the way he asks that is odd.

It lacks the professional lilt that all his earlier questions had as he assessed your discomfort. 

This time, it was low. Sensual. And hedged between a purr that would’ve made your thighs squeeze if he wasn't still holding them apart.

You take a moment to gather yourself, then you lift your head towards him, just barely. And yes, the moment you see the look on his face, you know for sure he isn't just talking about the massage.

Suguru’s eyes are dark as they drag over your face. Slow, patiently appraising and hungry as he takes in the flush of your cheeks and the pout of your plump lips. His pupils are blown so wide that only a small circle of violet remains.  

His head tilts in silent question, and you swallow as more heat spurs. Your chin dips in a small nod, and he shakes his head.  

“I need to hear you say it,” He demands in that sexy, soft-spoken rumble. “Out loud.”

You force out a breath and with it, throw your pride aside like it was weighing on you.

“Keep going,” you say. He merely arches a dark brow at you– as if waiting for more. It takes you a hot minute to figure out what it is, but once you do, you whisper the word bulldozes the last flimsy pillar of professionalism branched between the two of you: “Please?”

A beat of silence.

Then he smiles. Monolid eyes shape into small crescents that are a little too sharp at the edges.  Tipping with something dark. Like he's held back long enough, and your go-ahead is all he needed for the mask to crack.

It makes the hairs on your arms stand.

What the fuck did you just get yourself into?  

​

​

You still weren't sure, but you were in too deep to stop now.

You're sat on the edge of the bed, towel and panties long discarded, and your legs spread wide. 

The man between them holds you open, eyes crudely assessing as he stares down the apex of your thighs.

“What do you need?” he asks as his fingers stroke over trembling flesh. You don't answer right away, and eyes flicker up to yours. “I’m here for your pleasure, sweetheart. Tell me what you need.”

The words make your heart kicks little harder, and you feel yourself get wetter. Thighs slick with arousal and dripping down to the sheets below. He watches it all happen of course, but doesn’t rush you to answer.

“Your fingers.” You voiced quietly, and he hums low in the back of his throat. Gripping your skin a little harder.

“Want them inside this pretty pussy?” If he took too long, you were sure you’d cum from his voice alone. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t make you wait. Middle and ring fingers brush over your clit. Featherlight, but enough to make it twitch in need anyway. 

Your hips buck and before you can do something crazy like beg him, he promptly slides both digits into your cunt. The sound that comes out of your mouth makes you slap a hand over it, and he chuckles like he finds the reaction cute.

“You don't have to worry about staying quiet. The walls here are so thick they're practically soundproof.” You don't move fast enough, so he drives his fingers deeper into you as if trying to force the sounds out. You whine against your palm, and he brings his thumb down to work on your clit, “Let me hear you.”

Your hand falls. 

A moan cracks into the air, mingling with the sharp hiss that escapes him.

“Ah, there you go,” he kneels, and you think a part of you dies.

His head sinks between your thighs, tongue peeking out to drag a lavish lick up your slit that makes you shudder. Suguru groans against your pussy. Feral, desperate and deep enough that it vibrates through you in dizzying shockwaves. Then his mouth is everywhere, eating you out like it had no purpose before this. And free hand cupping your ass to bring you in impossibly closer.

His lithe fingers swirl despite your walls clenching tight around them. Moving as if they were looking for something.

You realise too late what it is. 

Only he curls them just right, and they find purchase against a spot that has your hand gripping his hair, trying to push him off.

You know what you felt like when you were about to cum, and this wasn’t that. This was too sleek, too intense to be a normal orgasm, but even when you try to warn the man, he doesn't let up.

“Can feel it,” He rasps after releasing your clit with a wet pop, “Give it to me.”

“I—fuck, wait,” Your trembling thighs close around his head as your orgasm hits you hard and fast, and you see him lift his mouth long enough to watch the burst of clear liquid that gushes from you. 

Your lips gape at the sight but he merely goes back and licks up every drop, mouth relentless– almost punishing–while incoherent sobs that vaguely sound like his name leave your mouth.

Your eyes are teary by the time he pulls back with his chin and lips glistening.

“That’s one,” he whispers, and you freeze, because why did he say that like there were a lot more to come? 

While trepidation makes your skin prickle, your pussy, ever the traitorous whore, twitches needily. Already rearing to go again. 

Suguru cups the back of your neck and pulls you into a kiss, messy enough to make blood rush up your neck. He rolls his tongue around yours, flicking it as he did with your clit, making you taste yourself on him.

You hear the rasp of fabric as he moves between your legs, sliding his pants off but when you try to glance down, his hold on your neck tightens.

“Don't,” a few strands of his hair came loose and they brush over his forehead when he shakes his head, “You’ll panic if you look.”

The implication behind that statement, makes you pause. He thought you’d panic if you looked at his cock?

Just how big was he? 

“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow.” he waits until you nod before he covers your body with his, lining the flared tip of his length against your entrance and slowly pushing in. 

You have less than an inch seated inside when the girth makes you claw at his shirt.

“Oh,” you huff. Surprise colouring your tone. “I see why you told me not to look.”

His hips pause with your pained hiss. “Too much?”

“Yes,” your legs wrap around his waist. “Don't stop.”

He groans like you wounded him and sinks deeper, cock stretching you wide enough to make you stop breathing altogether.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispers, but you can’t. Every time you try it's like trying to inhale underwater. It’s too heavy and so suffocating all that comes out is a choked moan. 

Suguru’s fingers apply pressure to the sides of your throat, gently massaging. 

“Breathe,” he says again, broad chest rising then falling, silently encouraging you to match the pattern. His eyes go dark when you comply, sweet sighs fanning over his mouth, copying his. “Good girl.”

He rears back to take his shirt off and you’re graced with tanned skin and sculpted muscle that distracts you long enough to let him deeper. 

Your nails rake down his back once he’s on you again. Cuttingly sharp whereas his touches are soft as he smooths his hands over your skin, coaxing out all the tension that has you wound up. 

Each caress is torturous and deliberate. Shaping over your hips and squeezing your breasts until a mewl echoes. 

“Feels so good,” he breathes, then kisses you again.

It's devastatingly disarming, and he knows it, because when your body relaxes under him, he wastes no time in driving forward and burying himself to the hilt. Your back arches, and he catches the curve of it with his hand, pulling you against him.

“I know,  baby,” his jaw is clenched tight. Hips rutting so his pelvic bone rolls onto your clit. You wind your legs around him tighter and the massage table whines under your combined weight. “Fuck, stretching so tight around me.”

You know you're being loud when he starts moving. At first, you didn't trust him when he said the walls were thick but right now you don't seem to care.

“So full,” you mumble against his mouth, and he grunts, delivering a brutal thrust that jostles you both.

“Yeah? Where do you feel it, hm?” his palm reaches for your stomach, flattening over the small bulge his cock leaves every time he pumps into you. “Right here?”

All you manage are frantic nods, and he slides his hand down to grind the heel into your clit. Your body tries to buck, but he's so close you can't do more than shiver. 

You're wringing his cock dry. Swallowing every inch and squeezing until his balls draw up. They slap against your ass, messy and loud with your slick, only to get drowned out by your panicked gasp.

“I’m close,” you warn, and he nods in response, pace turning desperate as he chases his own high.

The once comforting blend of scents filtering through the air makes your head swirl.

“Cum with me,” he demands, and there's not a lot you can do to hold off any longer. Pleasure hooks into your spine, and Suguru holds you against his body. The tremors shaking you pass into him and back again.

His grip on your hip is bruising as he spills rope after rope of his cum as deep as he can go, shuddering with his release and letting out breathless moans and gasps that almost send you off the edge again.

Cum spills down your thighs when he pulls out, and he's pushing you back down when you try to get up.

“I’ve got you. Relax,” he says, and hell, he doesn't have to tell you twice.

Your body feels heavy against the bed when he walks away. Water trickles then he’s back again. You can’t lift your head to make sure but you feel the heat of him. And the heat of the cloth that's dragged between your legs as he cleans you with practised ease. When you flinch, still tender and sensitive he only coos and kisses your knee.

Suguru lifts you and readjusts your position on the massage bed, making sure you’re comfortable before draping the towel over your torso again.

“I don't have an appointment for another hour,” he informs you and your lashes flutter, eyes bleary and drawing low with sleep. “You should get some rest. I’ll wake you up in a couple minutes.”

You manage a small nod while he shuffles through the room.

It takes a little longer for him to return, but when he does his uniform is back on. Unwrinkled and neat. Hair without as much as a strand out of place.

He touches you again, massaging your shoulders in slow circles that have you drifting closer to dreamland and continues the treatment as if nothing had happened, lazily working his hands over your limp body.

“Finally relaxed.” He hums his approval when you soften under his touch, tracing his fingers over your sternum.

Yeah, definitely coming back next month. You think.

Though next week was probably closer to the truth. 

art by @/aransmind

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When I was planning for the story, I knew I wanted to incorporate the trope of 'right person, wrong time, so from the beginning, I was already set on making it a bittersweet ending. This made the initial draft a reincarnation au, but as I continued with planning and outlining the story, it didn't do Toji's character any justice, and he seemed rather flat, which was not what I wanted to, so I had to scrap most of it, all except for the 1945 (which is the timeline the story is in!)

Here was the thought process on why I ran with the 1945 setting:

Huge potential for minimal dialogue, but more focused on details, which help form the relationship between the reader and Toji + good for world-building.

Easier to incorporate 'sharing of food' and 'food' as a love language because it's a time of scarcity

Makes mundane moments 'feel earned' in spite of the looming dread of war.

YEARNER TOJI AGENDA! must be raised

Though most of the details are researched to ensure historical accuracy, I drew inspiration from my great-grandmother's stories during her time living through such a period (minus the romance), so all the sensory details were easier to picture.

Ngl, I also giggled when I was writing the scene where Toji referred to the reader as his wife (which, interestingly, was one of the few scenes where I changed the details the least).

I am happy that you enjoyed the persimmon scene too! Honestly, at first, it felt like I didn't develop it properly since it's not a dialogue-heavy scene, so I have to make sure that THE MICROEXPRESSION AND BODY LANGUAGE WILL DO IT JUSTICE AND I'M GLAD IT DID WHEH!

Okay, so about the letters... This is actually my favourite one to write, but it's also the same one that made me ugly cry so much that I had to pause in between writing it... I have never felt more devastated than when writing the letters, and I wrote the damn thing <//3

I wanted to tie the letters to the overall detail tying toji and reader together, which is food! I feel it also makes sense that toji is not one to say i love you outright, so he and the reader have this coded language that only they can understand, which is where "I'll be back for dinner" came to be!