favop😋

☠

Sigh. 

For the first time ever in your life you are miserable at a party. 

To say you had been excited leading up to today would have been an understatement. The initiation party after rush was one of the biggest events in the greek system and you had led the charge this year in planning the party.

Nevertheless, any cheerful enthusiasm you held had been trampled on by the disaster that had taken place earlier in the day with Choso. 

If getting out of going wouldn’t be more trouble than it was worth you would have faked being sick. It’s not like you hadn’t already stressed yourself into a headache.

Yet here you were suffering through, completely sober. Not even being able to bring yourself to drink away your problems.

How could you even pretend to enjoy yourself when your forced smile cracked as soon as the mental image of Choso’s icy expression looped through your mind?

Your chest got a little tighter each time you remembered and it frazzled your nerves.

Just about everyone and everything annoyed you right now.

Even the party: Hunter vs Hunted, one of your favorites, was soured. 

Typically the theme entailed girls dressed up as various exotic animals or woodland creatures and the boys dressed as safari game hunters or woodsmen. But this time around, no thanks to singular frat boy hivemind, they all got the bright idea to collectively cosplay as Ghostface.

Taking a new meaning on Hunter. 

They couldn’t carry knives on campus of course so they all carried around metal bats which they probably stole from the baseball team.

Sure, let’s all dress up as the masked serial killer while he is still on the loose. 

You rolled your eyes. 

The pilfered bats were a hazard waiting to happen too. You could only be thankful that the party was at Dean’s frat and not your own sorority so him and the rest of those idiots could fuck their own shit up once they inevitably got way too hammered and started swinging them around. 

You mostly just wished they hadn’t changed the plan without telling you. 

Then at least you could have dressed up in line with the horror theme and wouldn’t have had to wear this sexy Bambi costume which although skimpy, the fur parts made it way too hot to be wearing in a crowded party indoors. 

On edge and not being able to leave, you did the next best thing and sequestered yourself in the kitchen pantry. 

It was spacious and a lot cooler than the rest of the house.

You made yourself look busy in there by restocking snacks and making sure there was an ample supply of red cups ready to go around for the keg. 

When someone did notice you tucked away, you gave the best fake smile you could muster and made-up an excuse not to join in on whatever drinking game they were playing promising you would ‘catch up in a minute.’ 

Fortunately for you, most of your friends and sorority sisters were a bit too faded by this point to notice you missing and never joining in. 

Maybe a bit longer and you could slip out unnoticed? 

That was your plan at least until you felt Dean throw an arm over you from behind.

“There you are babe!”

Urgh.

The overwhelming ick and nausea you felt from him touching you rivaled your worst hangover. 

You immediately shrug him off.

“Come on babe don’t be like that. Get a freshman to take over.  We're gonna play rage cage.”

You threw Dean a wary look.

You try to tell him you aren’t in the mood but of course your selfish dickhead of a boyfriend ignores you.

Dean then proceeds to pull your arm and lead you out of the pantry through the kitchen. 

On a different day you probably would have just given in, easier to go along with the flow than cause an issue. Today however was different and the last thing in the world you wanted to do was play fucking rage cage with a bunch of horny frat boys who were just trying to get girls drunk enough to fuck.

“Goddamnit, Dean I said no!”

Your tolerance had boiled past its limits.

You forcibly snatch your hand back, knocking some empty bottles over on the counter in the process which come crashing down to the floor shattering into pieces. 

Your words and movements dripped with so much aggression you surprised yourself, Dean and the people around you who had turned to see what the commotion was. 

”No? No? You’re really telling me no Y/N? After you’ve been acting like a fuckin’ bitch all day since I crashed your make out session with that freak.”

Immediately self-conscious, your eyes darted around the crowd of people that had now turned their full attention toward you.

You hated confrontation and never wanted to be that couple fighting at a party.

Ducking down quickly, you begin to pick up the shattered pieces of bottled glass on the floor. 

The pounding of your headache against your temples grew feverishly and the harsh fluorescent kitchen lights started to make you feel faint, you hoped Dean would just let this go if you backed down. 

“Look, we’ll talk about that later, ok? Just please don’t be an asshole Dean, I really don’t feel good right now.” 

You pleaded with him, quietly trying to quell the situation. 

But true to his infamous asshole nature, Dean wasn’t going to let you off so easily. He wanted to humiliate you as he felt you humiliated him in front of his friends earlier with that nobody loser.

”Now, I’m the asshole?” Dean questioned to his frat brothers smugly.

“Hey, maybe I am for having a girlfriend like Y/N, who would slut herself out for a grade in front of the entire quad!” 

Dean had all but yelled that last part out. Your drunken clown of a boyfriend didn’t care if he caused a scene at your expense.  

Now you had the full attention of everyone in the kitchen. 

You took a shaky breath as you stood up and felt the crunch of broken glass beneath your heels.

An unfamiliar sensation of rage rises within you.

It really wasn’t in your nature to be angry even when you were upset, you mostly just cried but now you were pissed to say the least. 

He has some fucking nerve. 

Especially when you knew no one starting on the football team studied at all and were all automatically passed through whatever easy bullshit major they signed up for.

“Dean–”

You start yet pause for a moment, trying to keep your cool.

“–you know how hard I study.”

Twisting the proverbial knife in your back to wind you up further Dean continued.

“Yeah, Y/N That's what’s so pathetic about it. You get Bs. That pussy ain’t even good enough for an A. I would know.”

Collective gasps, snickers and whispers arose from around the kitchen. Word had spread of your fighting as more people gathered in the doorway.

Typically this is where you would have run off crying. However, you were exhausted mentally and emotionally. You had already cried for a good hour today while getting ready. 

The only emotions you had readily available to tap into was the hidden well of resentment and ire you held for Dean.

“And how would you even know what good pussy is Dean? You can’t last longer than two pumps, is it not all the same for you?”

You snapped back. 

Your fists had formed into a tight ball.

You are so enraged you can’t even feel the prick from the broken glass bottle still in your hand puncturing your skin.

How long has it been since you stood up for yourself? 

You can’t remember the last time you even fought with anyone like this but it felt good seeing the smug look on his face fall as his friends around him jeered and laughed.

“I know how to settle this Y/N.”

Dean mused as he yanked one of your sorority sisters nearby toward you.

“How ‘bout we ask Aaliyah then, eh? She got more than 2 pumps last weekend after you left the party to go chase after Ghostface–”

Your head snaps to your AKA sister in question, Aaliyah, who looked like she saw a cursed spirit as all the color drained from her face. Her eyes shamefully hit the floor before they met your gaze. 

She couldn’t even look at you which only further solidified Dean’s accusations. 

So Dean himself confirmed he’d been cheating on you? Cool. 

With your own Sorority sister, who you considered one of your besties since you both rushed together? 

Even better. 

Blood slowly trickled out of your hand to drip on the floor from how rigidly you held onto the glass but the small red puddle went unnoticed as your whole vision was already saturated with the color red when you looked at Dean who hadn’t even finished his disrespectful tirade. 

“–Although on second thought, it was probably an excuse for you to go suck off that loser freak TA of yours right?”

More heckles erupted from the crowd around you and you don’t think you have ever hated someone so much in your life as you hated Dean right at this moment. 

Sure you were upset with Aaliyah but your fury was purely focused on Dean. 

He had some nerve to start so much shit earlier over an almost-kiss when he was fucking your good friend behind your back. 

“And how fucking out of her mind was she then, huh Dean? Would she even remember? You pathetic piece of shit...”

You get directly in his face. 

“...that limp dick of yours fumbles orgasms like you fumble passes. That’s why we lost the big game last week. And guess what? That's also why we’re now OVER!”

Dean’s bulky build towers over you but he might as well have been 3 feet tall to you as the razor edge of your words eviscerate him.

“So who’s the fucking loser now Dean?”

Everyone in the room was stunned into silence by the venom dripping from someone they had never even heard raise their voice before.

You don't notice anyone else's reactions though as suddenly you became hyperaware of the large fractured piece of bottled glass cutting into you. 

Your eyes flickered back to Dean as your hand twitches.

For a fleeting moment you felt an inkling urge to drive the glass in your hand directly into Dean’s smug ass face.

Yet whatever dark fury burned in you was instantly snuffed out as you felt a flood of cold bitter beer splash down on you from Dean’s red solo cup. 

”Why don’t you cool off for a bit dear,” Dean cooed at you, mocking you and your now ruined Bambi costume as he and the frat boys around you started to roar with laughter.

That was it. 

You were done. 

Dean had succeeded in humiliating you. 

Any contention or further will to fight within you had dissipated the moment you were doused in beer. 

The glass in your hand drops onto the ground as a dull ache radiates from your wound that continues to seep blood onto the floor.

“I hope you realize this is the last time an AKA will grace this sorry ass frat for a party. I’ll see to that. Enjoy the rest of your night fellas!”

The icy air of your words contrasted with the perfect pageant smile you gave them and it unsettled those around you especially as they all notice the blood gushing from your hand. 

The crowd immediately parts as you leave. No one dares utter a word to you as you exit the party through the side kitchen door. 

You can feel your phone go off as you get a flurry of group texts and missed facetimes. Most of your sisters weren’t even in the kitchen to witness the scene.

You respond to the group chat to tell them just to stay and enjoy the party and turn your phone on ‘do not disturb.’

You just wanted to be alone. 

You’d deal with the fallout tomorrow.

☠

Choso wore a twisted grin hidden under his Ghostface mask.

The hunter vs hunted party meant a perfect time for him to hunt. 

Leaning against a building Choso was shrouded in the dark cover of shadows far removed from campus lights.

Old habits, he mused. There was really no need for him to hide at all tonight. 

He could actually walk around openly as Ghostface now without causing alarm seeing as how most of those fraternity morons were dressed up like him tonight. 

This made things even easier. 

Choso scanned the area for his next prey. 

Someone, anyone alone would do. 

Choso had been itching to spill blood since he had the enticing inclination to slash your boyfriend’s throat earlier.

Currently he wanted nothing more than to see a violent geyser of blood spurt from his next victim. Having it be a shithead frat guy would only sweeten the kill so he had stalked close to frat row for his latest victim.

There.

Seeing movement in the distance, a lone figure, Choso cautiously advances trailing in the shadows towards them until they come into focus under the street lights.  

He nearly does a double take when he recognizes it's you.

Shouldn’t Miss-Perfect-Social-Butterfly be having the time of her life right now with her cretins being crowned queen of the frats or something?

Choso thought bitterly. 

That is, until he got a good look at you. 

You were wet and shivering as you failed to sniff back the tears pouring down your face.

Despite his desire to stay angry with you, his jaw involuntarily clenches as he had never seen you this upset before. 

Something had happened.  

Choso confused look turns deadly as vision travels down to see you nursing the hand you cradled to your chest. He recognizes blood running down your forearm to stain your already soiled costume.

A territorial urge swelled within him, not knowing you had inflicted your own injury. 

You were his prey. 

It was unforgivable for someone else to spill what was his to enjoy.

Choso immediately concluded the cause of it was Dean.

Boyfriend or not he would gladly gut that motherfucker at the drop of a dime. 

He hadn’t forgotten how roughly he had dragged you off earlier. 

And more importantly how you had let that asswipe drag you off. That honestly had fired his temper more than anything. 

A storm of conflicting feelings, Choso yearns to see more of your blood splattered on the ground as much as he secretly covets to have you writhing underneath him.

Should he approach you? 

No. Not yet.

Although, he would never have a more perfect chance than now to kill you if he was ever actually going to go through with it.

Securing his knife on the inside of his robe, Choso silently propels himself after you. 

Never falling too far behind, he vigilantly watches you from a distance as both your protector and predator.

☠

A warm shower was just what you needed but you were pissed you had to wash your hair 3 times to get the smell of Milwaukee's out, which proved insanely hard to do with one functioning hand. 

You could have killed Dean. 

No actually though, as you remembered the dark seething compulsion you felt. 

You weren’t sure what had gotten into you earlier.

Pushing those thoughts to the side though you focused on the gash in your hand, it was pretty gnarly. 

You were just thankful the first aid kit in your sorority house had enough gauze and tape until you could get to the campus nurse tomorrow. 

You probably needed stitches as any sudden movements had the fragile skin of your palm bleeding again.

Returning to your room in a comfy pink cotton bra and thong you throw your towel over a chair.

You start to reach for your fluffy robe when you see Choso’s black track jacket on your desk. It still had the small coffee stains on it from earlier but you opted to slip into it anyway.

Truthfully, you lied to him.

You hadn’t just been carrying it around waiting to give it back to him.

You had worn it more times this past week than you would willingly admit to anyone. 

You even took it on purpose instead of your actual jacket this morning not actually thinking you would run into Choso but when you had seen him, you knew you wanted him to see you in it.

With a sigh of frustration, you dove face first into the pillows of your bed as you curled into his jacket. 

It was your only comfort at the moment. 

Your mind wanders and you can’t help but think of how better a boyfriend Choso would have been to you.

Dean would never let you wear his jackets, no matter how cold you were. He said you were too air-headed and would ruin or lose it. 

Not that he wasn’t right, you definitely were accident prone.

But that's why it had meant so much to you when Choso, not even your boyfriend, had given you his own without a second thought.

You only hoped he didn’t hate you now. 

Not that you could blame him if he did.

Even you hated you a bit for even being with a jerk like Dean in the first place no matter how convenient you thought it had been for you. 

How could you even face Choso in class next week? 

Despite your heart crumpling when you thought of Choso’s cold intimidating gaze being cast upon you again, you admittedly had never seen a look that intense before from anyone. 

It was also impossible to forget the ravenous look in his eyes when he was so close to kissing you. 

He looked as if he would devour you whole. 

God, everything about him was so sexy.

His strong jaw set firm, his eyes dark pools that sucked you in even from memory, his lean muscular body.

You wish you had realized how bad you had been crushing on him sooner. Before everything got so fucked up. 

You fidgeted as an ache developed between your legs.

Turning your head to the side you used your bandaged hand to gently push his jacket collar into your face. 

It still smelled like him despite how many times you’ve worn it this week and despite the faint smell of old coffee from earlier.

Squirming on your bed, you tried in vain to keep your legs from sliding against each other creating more friction as your body became increasingly hotter. 

A shameless whine escaped your lips as you huffed his woody masculine scent in and out. 

Your legs rubbed together more eagerly. 

Shit, you were so horny. 

Still laid flat on your belly you lifted your hips up for access as a manicured finger pressed into your clit toying with yourself from the outside of your pink cotton thong.

Choso was so meticulous, so knowledgeable in everything he did you were sure he knew how to make you cum. 

You were desperate for him as you remembered what it felt like when he caught you from falling last week. 

How good would his sculpted chest feel pressed into you now?

Would he look at you with the same want that flared across his features when he had gotten a glimpse of your panties you had intentionally put on display for him? 

You didn’t miss how it matched the look he gave you when he nearly kissed.

“Choso…”

You moaned out loud. 

You could feel the wet spot your teasing was earning you spread over your thong as your cunt continued to drool over your fantasies of him.

Craving more you lifted your ass up higher while your fingers fumbled to slide under the flimsy fabric.

“A-ahhh s-shit Cho– F-fuck!”

You panted as you sunk two fingers into your cunt. You worked to diligently pump them in and out of you as you pressing your palm down firmly over your swollen clit. 

Your face buried itself deeper in his jacket as you gasped and your warm breath pushed back against you as you imagined it was his own tickling your neck.

All your senses screamed with want to be consumed by him and you pined for the feeling of his cock stretching your wet cunt instead of your slim fingers that weren’t cut out for the job.

“F-fuck C-Choso.. Mmm, let me cum.” 

You practically sobbed when you glided a third finger into your pussy, two wasn’t enough to quell the craze that had overtaken you.

Ironically and unbeknownst to you, Choso (who had hidden himself in your closet during your shower), was mere moments away from losing his own goddamn mind.

Wholly entranced, he listened to you wantonly call for him like a sweet siren song and watched utterly fixated on the way you fiercely finger fucked your pussy like it was his own cock.

All the while in his jacket sniffing the sweaty soiled material like some filthy fucking pervert.

Fuck!

When he had followed you back to the sorority house he had finally resolved to kill you, but now he was at a standstill as there was no plausible way this was actually happening in front of him.

The obscene ASMR of your cunt sloshing rang in his ears and your legs quivered obscenely with you approaching your orgasm. 

Your desperate thrusts caused his oversized jacket to ride up to your hips revealing the way your ass bare ass jiggled when you drove your hips down and pushed your digits up deeper into your core that waited greedily to suck them in.  

You chanted out Choso’s name with urgency straining your voice as you climaxed. The bed creaked from you now humping the mattress while riding out your high.

Shit you were fucking sexy. 

Thought you'd just been toying with him for fun all this time...

Until now.

Choso’s grip on his knife tightened as adrenaline surged through his body. 

He could feel the blood pumping through his dick. 

He wanted to fuck you. 

Badly. 

Give you what you’ve both been needing all this time. 

Choso fully bricked, suppressed a hiss through clenched teeth as he palmed the bulge in his pants but remained otherwise still.

He can’t imagine a positive reaction if he burst out of your closet as Ghostface nor could he just take off his mask and pop out of your closet as your TA like he was some fucking creeper.

This was pure agony. 

You never failed to find some way to unravel him.

Choso was so tense, his body coiled so tightly, he couldn't control his thigh involuntarily twitching and his knee recoiled against your closet door.

He cursed himself for the millionth time at the lack of control he had around you, he had never had to restrain himself so much around anyone else.

Ecstasy was etched on your features as you looked around puzzled from where the noise came from.

However, the even louder boom of the front door slamming shocked you out of your blissful daze and stole your attention away.

You sat up quickly and wondered if your sorority sisters were back already.

You glanced at the clock.

10:32 pm.

It was still much too early for them to leave.  

But who else could it be? 

You groaned and reluctantly hopped off the bed, zipping up Choso’s jacket fully to hide the slick between your legs and went out to greet them so you could avoid them coming into your room and return to your solitude as quickly as possible. 

You were tired, frustrated and still horny as hell. 

You only wanted make yourself cum hard enough you could fall asleep and end this miserable ass day.    

☠                                                   

“Girls~! You really didn’t have to leave so early~!” 

You call out to your sisters.

It was a little late for a show of solidarity if that's what they thought they were doing.

You rolled your eyes. 

But it was eerily quiet as you received no response. 

That’s odd.

Walking down the hall you froze once the view from the top floor opens into the foyer below and you see the front door wide open. 

Not a single soul in sight or to be heard. 

“Girls?”

Fight or flight senses kick into gear alerting you to the possible dangers below. 

You might be a bit of a ditz but you studied enough forensics and had seen enough scary movies to know how this shit usually ended.

You turn back to run to your room to call someone but stopped as you noticed your phone on the entryway table by the door. 

Crap.

Steeling yourself you slowly inched your way towards the staircase, stopping at times to lean over the banister for any signs of someone.

“This isn’t funny girls! You know I’ve already had a really shitty night!”

But only the hollow sound of wind whipping through the door answered you as it swayed on its hinges. 

This was an older house.

Maybe you didn’t close the door all the way in the beginning? 

No one in your sorority house ever locked the doors, which now you considered probably wasn’t the greatest tradition to keep up while you were at home all alone and a serial killer was on the loose.

You crept down the stairs trying to silence any creaks as best you could.

“I swear on a stack of Vogues if this is a prank you all of you whores will all be on campus clean-up community service duty for the rest of the semester!”

Still nothing but silence as you reached the bottom of the staircase.

The lights were on in the entire house. From what you could tell the den and living room areas surrounding the foyer were empty. 

You sighed. Maybe it was just the wind.

You close the door and this time make sure to lock it as you clutch your phone and turn to scamper back upstairs when you feel something grab at you from behind.

“Want to die Y/N?” 

You let out a screech as you whip your around to see a figure you recognize as Ghostface reach for you as you stumble backwards into the den. 

Tripping over your own feet, you fall back landing on your injured hand and knocking your head against the edge of a coffee table.

A roar of laughter erupts as you groan dazed from the floor.

“You really are a clumsy ditz, babe.” 

Puzzled and near concussed, you blink through blurry vision to see Dean pull off the Ghostface mask as he crouches down to your level and leans on his metal bat tauntingly.

Pain blossoms sharply in the back of your head and you can feel the puncture wound on your hand open and saturate your bandage.

“The fuck are you doing here Dean?” 

You glared up at him through your one good hand that covered your face as you struggle to get your bearings back. 

You couldn’t catch a fucking break tonight.

“Still being a huge bitch even though I came all the way over here to say sorry, eh?”

Dean hummed, brow raised as he chuckled.

“I thought a little fright would put you in a good mood, Y/N.”

“Nice way of apologizing Dean. Insult me, scare me half to death and give me a concussion.” 

You knew this man was not sorry at all.

Someone sober enough had probably informed Dean that you did have the power to essentially kill their fraternity’s social life, cucking his entire house for the foreseeable future. They likely sent him to make things right with you ASAP. 

But even with all that on the line your tool of an ex was such a huge dick he couldn’t even do the bare minimum to give you a decent apology like an actual human being (not that you would have accepted it).

“I see I was right about one thing though.” 

Dean got your attention as he pointed down at the moisture running down your legs.

You immediately pull Choso’s jacket down further to cover yourself. 

You couldn’t give a fuck what he thought at this point. You’d confess to fucking the entire Forensics department if got him out of your face.

“Sure Dean, think what you want okay? Just fucking GET. OUT.” 

You felt dizzy from the pressure thrumming in the back of your skull.

“Yeah and if I say no whore? Then what?” 

Dean slid a clammy hand over your knee which sent another wave of nausea through you, your head spinning.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to stop his hand traveling lower before you suddenly noticed Dean’s body being ripped away from you entirely.

The scene that followed occurred in a whirlwind as your head felt like it would explode trying to focus on anything.

Your eyes strain to keep up with the action only registering fractions of it through your blurred vision. 

You see…blood?

Is it yours?

No. It’s flowing from Dean’s shoulder.

Another person?

No

…Ghostface?

Yes.

Your double vision struggled to pinpoint exactly what was happening as Dean and the masked Ghostface fought for dominance, somehow ending up back in the foyer. 

Dean was barely able to keep the large hunting knife from sinking into his chest.

Was this even real?

Were you really about to witness a Ghostface crime scene in action?

Were you next?

You felt like you were witnessing it all play out through someone else’s body as your mind floated off and you felt more disconnected. 

Your awareness faded in and out.

There was no doubt, you definitely had a small concussion. 

“Y/N!”

“Y/N!”

“Y/N!”

Your head snaps up as you finally hear Dean shouting your name although it sounded like you were in a fishbowl.

He had somehow gotten leverage and evened the odds with the killer as they both now had a hold of the blade’s handle.

“Y/N! Pay attention you ditzy ass bimbo! Don’t just sit there looking stupid, get the fucking bat.”

You scanned the floor around you. 

Sure enough, there was the scuffed metal bat shining back at you resting by your knees.

Your injured hand grazes it and you see a red trail of blood smearing across it as the cool smooth metal soothes your ruptured skin.

“Y/N, what the fuck are you daydreaming about?! Get your ass over here!”

You grip the bat’s handle, ignoring the pain to use it and the coffee table as leverage to push you up off the floor.

You sway on your feet as your blood pressure drastically drops from standing too quickly. 

Your head feels light. 

Your body feels light. 

Surprisingly too, even the large heavy metal bat now feels light in your injured palm. 

“Fucking finally, Y/N!”

Dean yelled as he saw you on your feet.

“It’s not like I’m trying to fight off a killer here or anything dumb bitch.” 

Dumb bitch?

Oh yeah, he means you.

God, Dean was fucking annoying you just wished he would shut up sometimes. 

You couldn’t even think straight. 

What were you doing again? 

Right, the bat. He told you to bring it to him.

You wanted to sit down again. You were so tired.

You couldn't rest though as Dean’s voice was ringing in your ears. 

You just wanted him to shut up more than anything so you willed yourself forward. 

“Give Dean the bat, Give Dean the bat.”

You lowly repeated in a mantra like state.

Your vision was spotted with black dots swirling like the pain in your head.

GiveDeanthebatGiveDeanthebatGiveDeanthebat

You gripped the handle in both hands.

You were going to give Dean the bat.

“Y/N! Goddamn bitch move your lazy fuckin–”

C-R-A-C-K!

The slick sound ricochets throughout the entryway and reverberates in your ears.

C-R-A-C-K!

You feel warm droplets of moisture spray on you.

C-R-A-C-K!

The bat and Dean’s motionless body both simultaneously hit the floor with a thud. 

You closed your eyes.

You felt… relief? 

Like you could breathe again as the hazy veil that had shrouded your thoughts lifted and the throbbing in your head slowly receded. 

You weren’t sure how to describe what you were feeling but it was some mix between euphoria, exhilaration and… freedom?

Well, you were finally free of Dean for good now.

You couldn’t help but be amused by that thought as you wiggle your toes in the warm red liquid that pooled around them. 

A child-like giggle resounds from you. 

Was this post nut kill clarity?

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the hallway mirror you noticed blood and chunks of brain matter strewn all over Choso’s jacket. 

You wouldn’t be able to go without washing it now.

You frowned at the thought of his scent being washed away as well as you unzipped it, checking to see if the stains seeped through the lining too.

You had made such a mess. 

Quick movements out of the corner of your eyes reminded you of the fact you were not alone.

The actual Ghostface killer stood mere feet away from you, his intentions clear as he visibly heaved and extended his knife out to the side approaching you.

You sighed exhausted. 

“I’m not going to be able to blame this one on you, am I?”

Ghostface shook his head, confirming what you already knew.

☠

Choso felt his own adrenaline reach a frenzied peak.

He approached you with the animalistic stature of a predator who was sizing up another. 

You were a killer now, no longer simply his prey.

Proving as much as eyes showed no remorse for the life you had taken.

Yet given what he had walked in on just minutes ago and how distraught you were leaving the party, there was nothing for to mourn anyway.

The only emotion shown was concern for the on coming threat of him as you backed up to keep from his advances. 

Heh, that could just as easily be him right now bleeding out on the floor.

He mused as he side stepped Dean’s body to stalk closer towards you.

Choso smirked, he was only disappointed he wasn’t the one to kill him.

Although he couldn’t deny how beautiful you looked creating your own work of art.

A bit abstract and not as precise as his own methods. 

Nevertheless, Choso continues to be amazed by how his cute and clumsy little undergrad just showed him a darkness he had only previously recognized in himself. 

Choso watches you back away until your ankles hit the bottom of the staircase.

Your feet and hands were slick with blood and you couldn’t find your footing on the steps nor support yourself on the railing so you were forced to scooch up the stairs. 

Yet given your injury even that proved difficult for you.

What would he do with you now?

“W-We’re even right? You saved me, I saved you.” 

You tried to bargain as you saw him crawl up the staircase after you.

Ghostface cocked his head to the side considering your words as he reached you and stopped your escape with a strong gloved hand digging into the flesh of your hip. 

Ghostface suspended himself over you covering your frame entirely and his metallic blade glared in the light as if it would pierce into you at the slightest whim. 

Were you going to die like this? 

Despite the danger you couldn’t help but be a bit turned on.

Especially as Ghostface’s touch reminded you so much of–

“Did you get off on killing your boyfriend, Y/N?” 

Ghosface taunted, speaking for the first time.

“...or were you already this fucking wet from fantasizing about someone else, hm?”

Your eyes widened.

Your mind raced too fast to reach a succinct conclusion. But you were disappointed to hear a voice box distortion instead of the actual person's voice beneath the mask.

Your flurry of jumbled thoughts are paused when you feel the cool caresses of the flat metal side of his blade drag across the skin of your stomach leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

Your chest heaved slowly with steady intensity as your breath shuddered. 

“Are you turned on now Y/N?”

You look away from Ghostface as he taunts as you. You feel more self-conscious considering who you think is under the mask.

Just how fucked up was it you were turned on from murdering your boyfriend in cold blood to save a serial killer who might have been the guy you had just been masturbating to who was also the serial killer Ghostface and very likely about to kill you now? 

Very. 

Very fucked up was the answer.

You would have been ashamed if you could bring yourself to care.

Choso’s jerks your face back to him as the hand with the blade parts your legs. 

The lust in your eyes and your drenched cunt were all the answers he needed.

“AHH!”

You cry out as you feel the smooth metal come down to slap your clothed cunt hard, sliding over your pussy lips. 

You fight the urge to close your legs. You can’t or the sharpened edges of the knife would stab into your thighs.

You bite your bottom lip to the point of drawing blood. 

This does not go unnoticed by Choso as he brings his gloved hand to your lips to soothe the bite. 

His soft leather covered thumb hooks to guide your jaw open, exploring your mouth as you openly moan. 

“Tsk, Tsk, we can't have you breaking skin and wasting more of that pretty blood that belongs to me.”

You shiver at his words dripping in possessiveness and your mouth encloses around his thumb, sucking as your tongue still squirms under its pressure.

A strained hiss comes from Choso and his eyes roam down to admire the slime trail of sticky fluid your clothed cunt dripped his blade.

Before Choso can get a peak at your pussy your hands fly down to cover yourself. 

Amused, Choso gently removes his hand from your mouth to palm your inner thigh as his thumb slick from your spit rubs circles into your flesh.

His coaxing has you spreading your legs wider as he brushes up against the hands covering your cunt.

“Show me Y/N.”

He breathed out.

You pouted and shook your head.

“Is my little slut a liar then? I recall you telling me you didn’t mind if I saw your panties.”

Your suspicions confirmed you gasped in realization but Choso could no longer control himself as his hunting knife returned to your body to trail up your stomach this time the pointy edge hovering over your soft skin.

Your stomach sucks in to create distance between the blade and your skin causing your chest to push up through your arms but it's exactly what Choso had wanted.

Whoosh

With a swift slash through the air his blade slices your bra in two and its straps fall back down your shoulders laying bare your breast and hardened nipples to the cool air.

Exposed, your hands instinctively move from you core to cover your tits.

You see Choso pull back from you to sit up fully.

No longer touching you as he opted to imprint into his memory the imagery of your wet puffed pussy glistening through the soaked and now nearly transparent thong which clung to your lower lips like second skin.

He shifted his mask as the voice box moved from over this mouth.

“Y/N” he sighed.  

Hearing his actual voice had you whining with need again.

Choso couldn’t keep his hands off you for long as he grasped hold of your thong and slipped his fingers between the fabric covering your cunt.

Choso rubbed the sticky moisture on the thin fabric between his thumb and forefingers while his knuckles bullied into your clit, causing your toes to curl.

“Mmm C-Choso.”  

Your hands went from simply covering your tits to messaging them, pulling on your nipples, as you couldn’t hold back the sounds from the pleasure you felt from him touching you.

Shit. He wanted to ruin you.

Choso’s knife returns to your throat applying soft pressure dangerously close to breaking skin.

“So tell me what you want then, Y/N?” 

Choso knew you wanted him but he wanted you to say it. 

He needed you to admit it to him outright before he could really believe it.

His knuckles had stopped teasing your clit and your body trembled as you bucked your hips into his hand and pouted.

“I want you to hurry up and decide if you’re going to fuck me or kill me before my sorority sisters get back Choso!” 

Choso smirked under the mask. 

Becoming a killer turned you into a bit of a brat.

But he knew how to handle you.

Heh, fair enough.

Driving the knife into the staircase behind your head he pulls you up, swapping positions and seating you on his thigh.

He pulls his soiled track jacket off of you and you shiver as the cold air hits your back. 

“Mm, Fuck me Choso”

You sighed longingly, arms encircling his neck.

“Mm, Should I though?”

Choso questions out loud as you melt deeper into him from his hands roaming your body.

One settles on your hip under the band of your thong and the other peels you back by your hair so Choso can see your eyes blown out fully with lust.

“Or should I make you wait like I’ve been waiting ever since you first stumbled into class in that slutty green skirt?”

You cried out and our tongue lolled out of your mouth when he yanked your panties roughly by the front, pulling the material between your pussy lips.  

Your clit was cradled in the steamy fabric and you clutched the front of his robes for stability as your eyes rolled back.

“Do you know how much you made me suffer thinking about that pretty pussy of yours? How many times I fisted my cock? How much blood I spilled to forget the way you looked in those slutty outfits?”

Choso's own desire was apparent in his raspy voice.

You shake your head and tears spill as he pulls the fabric tighter over your clit. 

“I-I w-wanted you too,” you sniffled out.

“Then prove it,” Choso breathed out huskily.

“I want that needy cunt of yours to beg me by fucking herself real nice on my thigh like she did on your mattress earlier.”

You could have combusted as he all but admitted he had in fact been watching you from your closet, still you couldn’t help but obey his orders.

The frantic way your heart pounded in your chest couldn’t trump the unbearable arousal between your legs.

You braced yourself on his shoulders as you began to rock your hips down on him.

“That’s it baby.”

Choso encouraged you as you heard a loud rip and realized he had cut away your thong when you felt him snatch the material right off of you.

Your plump pussy lips parted when pressed onto his thigh and you felt the rough material of his heavy robes directly chafing against your clit. 

Surrendering to pleasure you circled your hips to grind down on him as Choso started bouncing you on his leg.

The impact of your weight forcing your clit down while his thigh pushed up into you shaking.

“S-shiiiit D-daddy!”

You cried out arching back. 

Choso could have busted in his pants completely untouched when he heard you call him daddy. 

You didn’t know how much you had him wrapped around your perfectly manicured fingers. 

He would kill every single one of those bastard frat fucks on campus on a whim if you asked him to.

He would do anything for you.

Choso's muscular thigh flexing underneath your cunt felt amazing but your hole was screaming to be filled as it gaped around the phantom thought of his cock penetrating you.

“N-Need more. S’not enough Daddy”

You beg, whining into the mouth opening of his mask.

Your breath enters through the material as your hot tongue presses against the cloth barrier hungrily. 

His own tongue responds in kind, entangling with yours through his mask and you moan deeper into the opening.

You feel so good yet are still frustrated that you alone are naked while you couldn’t even see a sliver of skin from him still in his full Ghostface attire.

You move to lift up his mask when he stops you, breaking the makeshift kiss.

“Now, now Y/N.”

Choso playfully chides. 

“Can you think of nothing but my dick? You’ve forgotten so quickly this is still a crime scene?”

You panted as you looked over your shoulder and spot the gruesome remains of Dean’s lifeless body and half bashed in face. Blood stained the foyer rug and pieces of tissue splattered on curtains, walls and even the fake plants.  

Right.

You still had no idea what you were going to do about that situation but Dean was already dead. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Honestly you felt as if you might die as well if you couldn’t get Choso’s dick inside of you soon.

Your hips never stopped grinding down on his thigh as you returned your attention to him.

You knew if Choso couldn’t even kiss you, he couldn’t fuck you either as those same rules applied to both potential sources of DNA. 

“S’fine.”

You pout.

“I-I had your jacket, y-your DNA could c-come from that.”

Your injured hand came to cup the slide of his masked face and your other rubbed the outline of cock over his jeans, feeling the precum soil through them despite the thickness of the fabric. 

Blood from your hand smeared onto the pristine white Ghostface mask as you pulled your foreheads to touch.

“I’ll admit Dean was right, w-we w-were sleeping together...”

Choso chuckled.

“...and then get me expelled for sleeping with a student on top of a motive to connect me to your victim?” 

He gave your ass harsh smack. 

Your cheeks clenched and your panting grew more ragged as you chased your high against him. 

“Y/N you gotta think with that sexy little head of yours not that needy little cunt if you really want me to fuck you. I know you’re smart. This should be easy for you.”

You groaned. 

Thinking was virtually impossible right now. 

You wanted to give up and resort to begging again but Choso calling you smart (something your recently deceased ex never did) and now rubbing your thighs encouragingly, had made you so happy you wanted to make him more proud of you. 

You reluctantly stopped your hips, ignoring the fiery ache shooting through in your cunt but you wanted to cum from his cock not his thigh.

You closed your eyes and exhaled a shaky breath.

Focus Y/N, you willed yourself.

Focusing became harder to do though when Choso became impatient and had nuzzled his masked face into your chest.

His mouth latched to your nipple through the black cloth, swirling his tongue and grazing his teeth against your bud causing it to swell.

“Oh!” you smiled sweetly down at him and his abs tightened as he held you closer to him.

“We get rid of the body! Clean up and make sure there's no crime scene to be found!”

“That’s correct,” Choso praised you as if you answered a question in class correctly.

 “Now, most importantly, how exactly will we get rid of the body, Y/N?”

“We…w-we..”

Your fingertips grazed your lips and you bit a nail as you pensively considered your options. 

You looked like you were thinking so hard on this.

So fucking cute.

“Come on baby, tell me.”

Choso was the one begging you now while he lifted your hips just enough to pull up his robes and position you to straddle his dick straining against his jeans. 

You were so close to the answer. He knew it would come to you and he wanted to be inside of you as soon as you got it.

You clasped your hands together and gave him one of your pageant winning smiles he grew to love. 

“We make a kill room!”

“Smart girl” Choso said as he lifted his mask and his lips came crashing down on yours.

☠

“Shit-Shit-Shit!” 

You cried as you lower yourself onto Choso’s cock. 

You had begged and pleaded him for this but Choso was so much bigger and longer than you expected. 

You never had a problem taking dick before but not only was Choso huge he had 3 rows of frenum ladder ball piercings on his long veiny cock that dragged against your gspot when you tried to force him inside you.

You still had about an inch to go and his fat cockhead was already pressing against your cervix.

“Fuck baby, you really been keeping all this good pussy from me?”

Choso spread your cheeks to assist you down on his enlarged length but your walls vice gripped his cock preventing him from guiding you down further.

Choso grunted, he was going to too cum fast if you didn’t ease up.

Pulling you back, he captured your lips again devouring them as he violently pushed his tongue into your mouth in a sloppy kiss, dominating you completely. 

A tremor shot through your cunt as your hips jerked and your legs quivered.

“My slutty girl is so sensitive she came from just kissing?”

Choso teased knowingly pulling back to allow you air and lapping at the drool from the corners of your mouth.

It wasn’t just a kiss. 

Without the hindrance of a mask Choso’s kisses felt like he was eating you alive and set your body ablaze.

Your orgasm came with enough intensity to loosen your walls allowing you to finally sink down to the base. However your legs are still vibrating and unable to support you riding him.

You fall forward into the crook of his neck. 

“C-can’t D-daddy” you babbled into his neck drooling.

Choso wanted to tease you more. He wanted to goad and praise you enough so you would ride him in earnest until your pretty face sobbed for him to fuck you but time was of the essence now.

You both probably had a good hour and a half left before the cops broke up the party and members of your sorority started heading back. 

He needed to finish you quickly and he silently promised to take his time with you later.

Rising up, Choso positioned his arms under your thighs to keep you seated on his cock as he walked up the few steps to reach the landing in the middle of the staircase. 

Placing your back carefully against the wall he glides his hands over your sweat and blood laden skin to lift your legs onto his shoulders. His grip settles onto the fat of your ass and he marvels at how his fingers sink into them.

Choso allows you time to get adjusted to the new position as he now held you in a standing mating press.

“Ready?”

You nod and Choso takes that as his greenlight to rigorously fuck you into the wall with such vigor you felt it quaking behind you.

There was no possible way you could have ever been ready for that though and your hands dive into his hair tugging at the roots under his man buns as if you intended to scalp him. 

Your reactions fuel his cruel thrusts as Choso greedily drinks your guttural screams into his mouth. 

They sound more heavenly than any he had heard before even from his own victims.

Slamming you down on his cock, Choso manhandled you like you weighed nothing to him.  

His piercings and engorged veins continue to scrape the walls of your core with every stroke as you gush around him soaking his robes.

Choso wanted more of you.

He didn’t think he would ever get enough.

You felt so fucking good he could fuck you like this for hours and he cursed the dwindling time he had before he needed to remove himself from the warm comfort of your mushy cunt.

The hallway echoed with sounds of his hips sadistically ramming your body further into the wall as well as the sloshy vulgar noises his cock tore from your tight creamy cunt.

“S-so c-lose Cho–” 

Were the only words you could croak out as your cries become lodged in your throat.

The pleasure you received being folded between Choso and the wall had you salivating like crazy. Drool was pooling in your mouth faster than it could dribble out down the sides. 

You locked eyes with him. 

The wild glint in them was so primordially feral you can’t believe you ever mistook the restraint he tried to maintain around you for shyness. 

Frankly, there was nothing timid about him. 

The cold confidence of a true killer radiated off of him and into your core as each of his thrusts felt like they were stabbing into your womb.

Your whines turned into horse croaks as you desperately gasped for air.

Like a killer he showed you no mercy as his long cock shifted your guts up and into your lungs.

Choso was quite literally murdering your cunt.

“Yeah Y/N? Is my girl gonna cum all pretty like on this dick?” 

Too cockdrunk to reply, your pussy readily spoke up for you as your walls clenched and spasmed. White stars flood your vision as your body vibrates against him as you cum hard, gurgling his name.

Choso’s hips stuttered and his moans increased as he fucked you through your orgasm and chased his own. 

He knew better than to cum inside you, he wasn’t wearing a condom and didn’t even know if you were on birth control. 

But your cunt was like a drug to him so Choso resigned himself to cleaning you up after as he gave one last thrust, injecting you with his hot seed that scorched your insides and sent you spasming all over again.

It took a few minutes for Choso to catch his breath but he gently released your legs down to touch the floor as he pulled out of you.

You groaned immediately at the loss after being so full as you still tried to regain your own steady breaths.

Not missing a beat, Choso moved with reverence as if he was worshiping your form from the kisses he peppered down your chest and belly.

“Eyes on me, baby,”

Choso ordered, glancing up at you. 

You nodded your breath hitching once he reached below your belly button and he threw one of your legs over his shoulder again.

He shamelessly breathed in the scent of sex wafting off your pussy.

The musky mixture of his cum and your juices combined with sweat and blood entered his nostrils and sent his eyes rolling back into his skull.

You shuddered. 

You wanted to feel his mouth on you more than anything but you knew you couldn’t both remain like this in the open hallway for much longer.

Seemingly forgetting all concerns of time, Choso’s thumbs lightly ghost over your battered pussy lips as he slowly peeled back the slippery folds.

His chest swoll with pride seeing how much of his cum you had taken inside of you. 

Choso's tongue salaciously darted out to catch the drippings that seeped out of your messy little cunt.

Despite your concerns, you can’t resist bucking up towards his face as he brought your hips off the wall towards him. 

“Be patient princess, let me enjoy this.”

Choso open handedly spanks your pussy, landing a direct hit on your clit which has you shaking as your squirt spritz onto his face.

His thick tongue rolls out of his mouth like a man starved licking his lips at the feast before him

“Goddamn, I already love her so much”

He cooed into your cunt while looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Go out with me, yeah Y/N? I’ll treat her right. Just let me have a taste of her everyday.”

You almost came on his face again from the utter display of depravity he was showing you, not missing the fact he was so pussy drunk he was technically asking your cunt to be his girlfriend instead of you. 

To be fair you were both way past the point where he needed to ask you out anyway as he was an accomplice to your homicide and soon-to-be cover up.

“Okay Choso, I’ll be your girlfriend,”

You grinned at him.

Choso thanked you by gently placing a kiss on your clit before nose-diving into your folds like a mad man between your legs.

Seeing how sensitive you are it wasn't long before he had you thrashing on his lips from the nasty way he heartily ate your cunt out.

The suckling, bubbling and squeaking sounds of him inhaling your pussy nearly had you at your peak again.

Yet you were snapped out of your pleasure when you heard the grandfather clock in the hall ring signaling it was midnight. 

Fuck what if the party got broken up earlier than expected?

“W-we don’t have time for this Choso.” You plead anxiously as you pry his head out of from between your legs.

The sounds of the clock chiming and the sight of Dean’s body still laying in the entryway made you more nervous with every passing minute it remained there.

His eyes narrowed dangerously on you as he nuzzled his nose back into your cunt hooking it under your clitoral hood.

“Oh? My sweet girl gets one kill and thinks she knows better than me what we have time for?”

His expression dares you to pull him away again as he drags the flat of his tongue lazily over your clit.

“Please Choso…”

Choso relents as he feels you tense up more, he wouldn't be able to enjoy himself unless you were.

“You trust me right Y/N?” 

“Yes”

You breathe out as his fingers play with your puffed pussy lips.

“Do you have the key to the basement?”  

You nod.

“And you know exactly where the supply closet is, baby?” 

You nod again.

“Perfect. This won't take long at all then.”

Choso assures you as his confident words calm your worries.

“So now just relax princess and let me take care of you. This isn’t my first clean up job babe…”

You weren’t sure if Choso was talking about your cunt or the dead body, but you didn’t doubt he was experienced in both.

“Give me 15 minutes to see how many times I can make you squirt on my tongue. Then we can finally make that dexter kill room you like so much, yeah?” 

You nodded once more and Choso wasted no time drowning his face back into your cunt.

You sighed contently.

He was already the best boyfriend you ever had. 

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ

A/N: How was that? Did I do our emo kang justice? Lmk! (y'all better lmk cause y'all busted my balls for days over this lmfaoooo)

Also ding dong Dean is DEAD thank fuck. Whew I made that man as horrible as possible so you could kill him. Tbh, I would kill a nigga just for pouring Milwakees in my hair alone, that shit smells and tastes like cat piss lol.

Also here if y'all wanna see a cute lil pixivi I made of me bimbo!reader x Ghostface!Choso.

You know the original idea for this was actually based on a fic I was writing where Choso, Yuji and Sukuna (all brothers) all transfer to your university and bimbo!reader (no bf this time) clearly likes Choso but his oblivious emo ass has no idea and keeps being a dick to you cause he thinks you are just making fun of him. LOL! I may in the future still end up writing a version for that since this ended up going in a completely different direction with Ghostface thrown into the mix.

Y'all this fic was way too fuckin long. I know theres likely errors/redundancies still so I will comb through it later and I may edit/reword somethings too but general content will stay the same. Tbh, what took so long is the last scene cause I decided I cannot write a smut fic with Choso where that man isn't acting completely deranged and unhinged over the taste of pussy. He's munch, he can't help it.

Reblog for Ghostface!Choso to be your personal munch, but likes and comments are appreciated all the same!

Next up on Kizzatober, Werewolf!Toji from Thrilling Ghouls! (PWP)

a small snort escaped from the other side of the door, “yea ryo ive been shitting for two hours.” 

his crimson eyes fluttered into a roll before he twisted the knob again, “okay brat then why is the door locked, let me in.” 

needy bastard. “kuna you can wait for like two minutes, im almost done.” you added the final touches to your face before adjusting your dress again. kinda short. eh its fine. 

he leaned against the door frame, arms crossed “almost done what? I can smell your body wash, did you wanna go on a date ton-” 

the door swung open, revealing your finished look. hair done and neat, makeup on point, gold jewelry layered all over your body, and your new brown mini dress that hugged your body perfectly. 

sukuna paused, looked you up and down, eyes immediately turning hungry. 

“black shoes or brown shoes?” you cocked a brow at him. 

“fuck, you look gorgeous baby.” he answered completely ignoring your question, “where we goin’?” 

you puckered your lips and smiled back at him, “thank you. okay so black or brown?” 

“brown. and give me like fifteen minutes, I'll be ready.” he bee-lined straight to the bathroom before your manicured hand pressed against his chest, stopping him right in his tracks. 

“ryo you can’t come to girls night. I've told you this like a thousand times.” 

girls night? It was like someone shot him in the chest right then and there. not only were you looking absolutely beautiful on a night the both of you had off, you were going out with your friends. instead of sukuna. not to mention how much they hated sukuna. the burly mans shoulders tensed,

 “nonono, the hell you mean girls night? I thought WE were going out tonight.” it was almost pathetic how whiney his voice sounded. to anyone else it would've been a once in a blue moon sight, unfortunately for you it wasn’t. 

“ryo I told you last night that I was going out with them.” 

“did not.” 

“did too.” 

“did not.” 

“ryomen i literally told you before we went to bed and you said ‘okay ill drive you.” you pushed past him and slipped on your brown kitten heels, before admiring your full look in the mirror. 

“There's no way I said that, I was out cold before you even shut off the light.” he followed your trail like a sulking puppy`. a large six foot something sulking puppy.

“sukuna i promise you i’m not lying.” you paused with your purse and keys in hand.  

“fine. but if i get handsy in the car, you cannot blame me. you look so hot.” he grabbed the keys from your hands and opened the front door. 

you tsked, “mhm mhm no touching while my girls are in the car.” 

“what.” 

“we’re picking them up, remember?” 

“you’re shittin’ me.”

-

after thirty minutes of being interrogated, looped into gossip, and asked the ‘you’re a guy what do you think?’ question approximately fifteen times,  sukuna finally got to the restaurant. 

your girls murmured a bunch of rushed thank yous before quickly hopping out of the car and heading into the restaurant. sukunas hand still gripped the wheel, 

“thank you for dropping us off kuna.” you leaned over the center console and gave him a peck on the cheek, causing him to turn his head. 

“call me if anything.” he responded in a low mumble. 

“i know i know.” you smiled before turning to open your door. 

“wait.” you paused and turned to look back at your boyfriend who was already outside of the car, he made his way around to your side and opened your door. He held your hand in his large gruff one before pulling you into another kiss, he pulled away just an inch from your mouth, his breath still on yours,

“i’m fucking the shit out of you when you get home.” 

you felt the warmth pooling in your cheeks, you bit back a smile and mumbled back 

“promise?” 

sukunas hands gripped at your waist, before dropping to his sides, a slow huff escaped his nose, “pinky.” 

you snorted before walking off, feeling the sting of sukunas hand slapping your ass as you did so. 

-

sukuna knew as soon as you called three hours later, slurring every other word, that he would be eating his words that night.

 after dropping off your equally drunk friends, he carried you into bed, taking his time removing your make up because he knew you would yell at him if he didn’t, then taking off your heels and dress, changing you into one of his shirts.

“ryo.” 

“hm.” 

“my friendsss saidd they loveeyou.” 

“really?” shocking. considering they mean mugged him all night. didn’t even bother to say his name properly.

you nodded slowly under the sheets. 

“why’s that?” 

a hiccup escaped your lips, eyes fluttering shut “they said… youmake mee glow.” 

“they’re idiots.” 

you snorted, “loveeyouu.” 

“i love you too brat.” 

he couldn’t even be mad at you for blue balling him all night.

theres always tomorrow.

posting schedule rivals coryxkenshin atp

Now, Shiu Kong must have known what he was walking into.

He must have-

Or at least one would think—hell, Shiu himself had assumed so and mentally prepared himself for about fifteen minutes outside the barn house before walking inside to tell the two of you to keep it down (those sensitive horse hybrids were complaining!) But he had never expected- fuck. This was all that damned Kusakabe’s fault.

It’d been about two months since Fushiguro Toji was added to his farmyard roster. Ever since his supposed ‘best friend’ had gone and dumped the proud bull hybrid on Shiu’s otherwise idyllic farm. It was meant to be temporary - just a few days watching over him until Kusakabe returned from a Hybrid Farms Convention in Tokyo. Meant to be…

But he was bigger than the rest. Broader. Gruffer. With pierced ears and the sleekest black coat on his lower half. 

So Toji had drawn gazes - one of which being from you, his most prized cow hybrid, specifically.

And Shiu couldn’t have that.

Especially not given the fact that you were the sweetest, softest thing…oh, alright you were his favorite. A part of him almost expected that having a prime bull hybrid around so many unmated cow hybrids would be nothing but trouble. But he just didn’t expect Toji to go after his favorite- anyone but you.

Thus he’d spared no expense keeping the two of you apart. 

Yet in the end it hadn’t mattered how many padlocks (twenty, at the last count) or planks that Shiu had fastened on Toji’s separate enclosure—because a padlock is only as good as it’s locked. And only three days into Toji’s stay, he’d forgotten to lock that damned thing before leaving the farm on an errand- was about halfway out of town by the time that he’d remembered. 

And turned that truck around in the middle of the highway.

Of course, by the time that Shiu actually arrived at the farm and thrown those barn house doors open - much like he had done tonight - the two of you were already tangled up n’ mated. With you humming delightedly into Toji’s neck—bite marks down every inch of it. The creamy scent of pheromones wafting out of the barn house and saturating the farmyard air.

And Toji himself hadn’t spared you an ounce of mercy.

As teeth marks were indented all along your supple skin; especially ‘round each areola of yours which Toji pinched. Letting milk flood out of Shiu’s beloved cow hybrid. Looking straight at him.

Fuck.

Shiu remembers it as clear as day.

Did he mention that he was rock-fucking-hard then? He probably shouldn’t have mentioned that…

Because it only makes him think about how hard he was right now, too. 

He was staring at a vision that was quite similar: Toji was ramming into you like there was no tomorrow- so fast that he’s only seeing the blur of his angry cock and the smack-smack-smacking of skin-on-skin. Except this time you were on all fours.

So Shiu was given the perfect view of your pretty tail swishing from side-to-side. Only growing more agitated as Toji grows faster.

The farmer watches as Toji’s hand wraps around your tail and drags you backwards- so disrespectful. A few more bite marks. A few more shakes of your pretty thighs - he gets the sense that you’d be collapsing onto the floor if Toji wasn’t helping hold you up. And once again Shiu’s struck by just how pliable you are underneath the other man.

“C’mon now-” Toji grunts. “Giddy up. Almost there.”

You’re shaking even harder. Your skin was glistening with sweat. Your eyes dazedly drift towards the other man - and he knows by that glint in your eyes- he knows it. 

He knows that you’re about to cum.

And you’re throwing your head back with what he assumes to be a moan announcing your crescendo—“Shi- oh.”

Oh.

Were you about to…?

Oh fucking-

And Shiu considers himself an intellectual man - he really does. He’s usually quick with his quips and isn’t the most inerudite of the rowdy bunch down at the bars; but this…this leaves his brain blue-screening and his mouth hanging stupidly open. Almost in a mirror of yours.

He can only stand and watch - cock throbbing in his denim overalls - as you’re tremblin’ all between Toji’s harsh thrusts. The way he fucks you is rude—as if the sound of the other man’s name on your lips almost spurs him on further.

He had to remind you who your mate was, after all.

You’re growing limp once your wave of bliss is completely bated. And it’s with a deafening slurp! that Toji himself finishes.

Polishin’ off what Shiu assumes to be your sweetest inside with his long, clingy ropes of cum- so much so that he’s seeing a ring of white start to formulate around Toji’s length. Lucky fucker. Shiu’s mouth goes dry as Toji pins your hips to the hay-littered ground and fucks and fucks his cum into you ruthlessly.

After a few prolonged minutes, he finally sets your waist free and lets your body droop onto the floor completely.

And between pants, Toji manages to whisper- “What the fuck?” Though his keen senses had already picked up on the fact that the farmer had intruded on your little…rut session, it’s only now that Toji’s finally turning.

The veins on his neck popping and prominent. Eyes greener than the brightest field - narrowed. It was as if he was finally seeing the farmer as more than simple amusement or some guy to poke ‘round with his horns sometimes - a challenge.

Was it just Shiu or were Toji’s horns looking extra sharp tonight? 

“And remember that.” Shiu speaks with courage that he did not have—to hell with not biting the hand that feeds. Shiu might’ve been the farmer but he was less than a pigsty in Toji’s eyes. Or so he felt. “Next time your pretty girl cums, she’ll be saying my name.”

Toji doesn’t even pull out of you before he snipes- “Next time you say shit like that, they’ll carry you out in a wheelbarrow.”

“And replace me?” Shiu snorts. “You think she’d milk for anyone else?”

“Pig-”

You, pointedly, kept your mouth shut to avoid saying anything more inflammatory.

And you best believe that he’s stepping back from those barn house doors as soon as he could - what was that he said about considering himself an intellectual man? He’s letting the doors slam behind him and waiting for a moment outside until he hears the two of you start it up again—those horse hybrids and their beauty sleep be damned.

With that said, Shiu takes a deep breath and heads back to his farmhouse.

The time was 12:28AM and he spends the next hour rubbin’ his cock raw to the memory of you almost moaning his name.

.

.

.

“…What did you just say to me?” And something must’ve shown in Shiu’s tone, because his friend groans from the other end of the line—‘oh, c’mon man-’

And never in his life has he let out a louder sigh. Pointed, too.

Because here Shiu was carrying on his early morning duties - ensuring herd checks and watering some of the trees, just going into the barn house to do some milking - when he gets a phone call—and from who else? Kusakabe Atsuya himself.

Now, Shiu has long since gotten used to dreading Kusakabe’s phone calls. The man’s his best friend, but a phone call from him was never bound to end well - he’s the entire reason he has a massive bull hybrid mated with you in the first place. So needless to say it didn’t start off on the right foot. But then the words left his mouth—

“-Tokyo Hybrid Farm Convention-”

And Shiu almost ended the call then and there. 

But Kusakabe must’ve had an inkling. Because he yelped out a few pleas- “Wait wait wait wait- please, I promise you’re going to want to hear this.”

And Shiu had no choice but to groan and comply. At least hear the man out. “Alright, but you better be quick. The cow hybrids need to be milked before noon.”

“Oh please- you and I both know that you’re just impatient to see your ‘pretty girl’, yeah?” Kusakabe hurries before his best friend loses his patience. “Anyways—hear me out- there’s a Hybrid Farm Convention in Tokyo-”

“I’m not-”

“And this time it’s for the hybrids.” Kusakabe cuts him off. Then basks in Shiu’s stunned silence for a few seconds, “And I know I ended up dumping Toji on you for a few days…and eventually…permanently, but let me make it up to you by getting him a new hoof-trimming chute. And maybe while I’m there I can even get him fitted for a new bull ring.”

Shiu rubs his chin in thoughtfulness. “I have been meaning to get him a larger one…”

“Then it’s settled.” Kusakabe says gleefully. “I’ll get you the ring and take Toji off your hands for a day.”

“Can’t it be a few days?” Shiu grumbles.

“No way, man. He’s all yours- consider me the babysitter.” 

“Whatever- better than nothing.” 

“So I’ll pick him up in an hour or two, yeah?” Kusakabe affirms, and from the other end of the line Shiu can hear some shuffling. A truck door slamming. “I’ll have him back to you around midnight.”

“Take your time.”

And with just a few more words shared, Shiu’s ending the call. He stands at the door to the barn house in a way far too reminiscent of the night before—and from here he can see you nuzzlin’ up to Toji for warmth as the early morning sunlight creeps into your hay-scattered abode. It really was a heartwarming sight, the two of you - if only Toji wasn’t glaring at him as if he wanted to trample over him.

However, this time, Shiu was the one with the upper hand. “Guess what, hotshot?” He goads at the bull hybrid, and it works to make his ol’ golden nose ring huff. “You’re going to be going on a little field trip today.”

Toji scoffs and rests his chin on your head.

“Oh no- I’m afraid this one’s going to be a bachelor’s trip.” The most wicked smile twitches at his lips. He watches Toji’s brows furrow and his front legs start to kick at the ground as if about to charge. “You’ll be going to the Hybrid Farm Convention in Tokyo with your old pal Kusakabe, isn’t that exciting?”

The look on Toji’s face was ‘most certainly not’.

“Then we can replace that old-fashioned ring of yours with a new one. Make that ugly mug a little more handsome, hm?”

“My ass is more handsome than you.”

“Real mature.” Shiu shakes his head as Toji flips him off and struts away outside—his midnight-black hair gleams under the morning sun, and the muscles of his upper half are almost Herculean. Shiu follows your gaze to the bull hybrid. 

With a fond chuckle, the farmer then walks over to you and runs his fingers across your scalp. Reaching that one spot he knew you loved so much- scratching behind your hybrid ears. “I don’t know how you put up with him, pretty girlie.”

“He’s really not that bad once you get to know him.” You’re softly nuzzling into him.

Shiu shudders as he thinks back to last night. “Yeah, well I think I know him a little too- hey, are you feeling a little warm?”

“Hmmm?” Absent-mindedly you’re humming.

“I’m serious, girl.” Shiu’s brows furrow- and he’s taking his hand off of your scalp to feel the temperature on your forehead. “I think you’re a little warm.”

Eyes closed, you’re only pushing against him- yearning for his touch. And Shiu tries not to think about that too hard. “I was just in the sun, Shiu.”

“Yeah but…” Now that he thinks about it- you were particularly touchy today—almost needy. And he’s sure he wasn’t imagining the scent of soft sweet cream that lingered in the barn house today. Although that wouldn’t make sense - cow hybrids were prone to one heat cycle a month, for about a week give or take.

And you’d just finished your cycle two weeks ago…Shiu would know.

He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep those past few days. And as if that wasn’t bad enough- immediately after your heat, Toji’s rut had started up. 

The farmer turns his head and looks at the little homemade calendar hung up at the end of the barn. It contained all the dates of the hybrids’ heats and ruts and when he might expect them next—and not to brag, but it had a 97% accuracy rate. The 3% was when Toji wanted to piss him off and somehow manage to draw his rut out a little longer.

But according to that- you should be in the all-clear. He furrows his brows at the color-coded green zone. What can he say? Shiu Kong liked pretty things, okay?

Aforementioned Shiu Kong looks at you. “Maybe…hm, maybe it’s just a little fever, pretty girl. That brute must’ve worn you out.” You’re shyly bumping your shoulder into him, and he runs his hand across your body. “Now then I need you to get some rest, okay? Go sleep and I’ll bring over your breakfast- oh.” Just then, his hand dips up to the swell of your chest where your tits were. “And I’ll milk you tomorrow depending on how you’re feeling, does that sound good?”

Almost dazedly, you’re nodding with a smile. “Mmm s’good, Shiu.”

A thrill zips down his spine - he ignores it. “G-good. Go on now.” And right before he himself leaves the barn house, Shiu says. “And do try to convince Toji that it’d be good for him to get a new ring. The fool doesn’t realize the power he has in emptying Kusakabe’s pockets.”

Shiu gently closes the door to head back to his duties.

He flips Toji off behind his back.

.

.

.

At 12:21PM on the dot (Kusakabe said he’d be here half an hour ago) his best friend’s truck is parked in his vast farmland. And Shiu helps Toji into a hybrid trailer—he could have just gone in the passenger-side seat, but Shiu didn’t trust Toji one bit to not just open the door and jump out. Perhaps even outrun that truck at the first instance of missing you.

Honestly, he might just do the same with the trailer too…

But Shiu doesn’t tell Kusakabe this - instead he’s letting the man load his prized bull hybrid. And then clapping him on the shoulder, “Alright- he’s your problem now.”

“Just for today.” Kusakabe rolls his eyes. “A day longer and he might just drive the truck himself getting back to his mate.”

He whispers, “…I wouldn’t count on him not to do that today, either.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Shiu amends. Looking at the huffing n’ puffing Toji inside the trailer, arms crossed. “Just that he’s a romantic.”

“That he is.” Kusakabe tips his hat and waves himself off. “Alright- midnight, yeah?”

“Like I said- take your time.” He says, eagerly- perhaps a little too eagerly.

The other man gets into the truck and slams the door shut - the force causes that hunk of rusted metal to wobble and creak, like an old man’s laugh. Shiu gets the sense that the entire world seemed to be laughing at him at that moment—including his best friend. Was he really that obvious? 

Shiu walks up to Kusakabe’s window and leans against it. “What the hell are you laughing at?”

“Oh- nothing.” Kusakabe has the audacity to wipe off a mirthful tear. “Just that it reminds me of back then. Bet you’re really happy to have some alone time with your pretty girl, huh?”

“You say that like it’s been ages since Toji’s been here.” Shiu scoffs. “She’s known me longer- probably still likes me better too. You know she only lets me-”

“-milk her.” Kusakabe interrupts. Amusement on his features at the familiar words, “Yeah yeah. You’ve said it once before, man. Or maybe twice. Thrice. Fifteen times-”

“Whatever, man.”

Shiu kicks off the side of Kusakabe’s truck and gives it a customary slap on the bonnet. 

“Drive safe. Even if you get stranded this time, I’m not coming to pick you up.”

“What a friend.” Kusakabe starts pulling the truck ahead and calls out as he goes. “Take care of the pretty girl when her mate’s not around~”

“You know I will.”

And as he watches the truck pull away with Toji inside the trailer—the bull hybrid lets out a mournful sound. It’s as Shiu feels a soft head rest against him that he realizes you’d joined him in the farewell; longingly watching your mate be hauled off. 

“It’s just for the convention, pretty girl.” Shiu mutters to you. He reaches to scratch behind your hybrid ears but- the faint heat radiating off you makes him pause. “Is…it just me or has your fever gotten worse?”

“Mmm, dunno.” You murmur thickly. You push deeper against his body and Shiu’s suddenly hit with a lingering scent of dairy and fresh flowers, presumably from last night.

“If this gets any worse then we might have to pay a visit to Dr. Shoko…”

Fervently, you’re shaking your head. 

Although you liked the cool and composed otter hybrid, Dr. Shoko, actually visiting the doctor was another thing. And so Shiu let it slide - for now - as he advised you to stay out of the sunlight and get some more rest—he’ll bring some cool drinks over after he’s done tending to the horse hybrids’ hair.

Shiu watches as you totter off into the barn house once more.

He’ll have to keep a close eye on you…

.

.

.

3:18PM

The farmdog hybrids were particularly energetic today - Shiu spent just about two hours straight neglecting his tractor maintenance to throw frisbees with them. Ah, to hell with that old thing. Maybe next time he’ll accompany Kusakabe to those Tokyo conventions and see if they have discounts on tractors. 

Although he knows he shouldn’t have been so careless - but you can’t blame a farmer for letting loose! Especially not when - usually - whenever he did this sort of thing—it’d only end up with Fushiguro Toji trampling all over the frisbee for the sake of it.

Especially not when it’s exactly what got him to notice the state of you in the first place.

Shiu had thrown the frisbee too far. It had landed somewhere by the pond, and Shiu didn’t want Ino getting his coat all muddied again- so he told the canine hybrid to stay put as he himself trudged through all the vegetation and too-soft earth. Ah…remind him to unweed this mess sometime soon. Spike rushes stuck to his boots, and water lilies waded towards him as the farmer determinedly made his way to the frisbee. 

Just bending down to get it when-

Letting out softly—“Oh.”

When Shiu spots your curled-up self on the side of the pond bank—all cocooned amongst the lush vegetation like a little treasure just for him. He tries to shake that thought out of his mind.

You startle awake once he steps on a twig attempting to get nearer to the frisbee- “Easy there.” His deep tone soothes you. “Easy. Easy. It’s just me.” You’re following the voice and settling down once you recognize him. “What’re you doing here, pretty girl?” 

“Just resting.” You respond. Now that you were sure there wasn’t any danger, you’re settling back down into your comfortable position. “The water helps keep me cool, y’know?”

“That pesky fever’s still bothering you?” Shiu reaches down to measure the temperature on your forehead - and sure as day, he’s feeling the heat simmering. If he wasn’t mistaken—it was just a tad hotter than what he remembered it to be when saying goodbye to Toji. “Hm…it doesn’t seem to be getting better on its own. How about a visit to Shoko’s?”

“Shiu…” You whine.

“Now now, missy.” He tuts. “I need you to be healthy- not only would Toji kill me otherwise, but I wouldn’t forgive myself either.”

“I’m feeling fine…really. It’s just a little hot.” You insist. “Today’s been really hot- I promise m’gonna feel better once the sun goes down.”

“Hmmm. Alright.” Though Shiu still didn’t seem all that convinced. “But you won’t cool off with water just by looking at it.” 

“What do you-”

But those words are getting stuffed back into your throat once Shiu takes a little run-up and throws himself into the pond. Creating a resounding splash! and sending a wave of water into the air—like translucent sun-glittered frogs that take a soaring leap and land on you. 

You’re yelping as the cool water lands on you- “Shiu—! You little-”

And then jumping in after him.

He throws his head back and lets out a deep, joyous laugh. And if he smelled the soft fragrance of honey suckle and fresh cream…then he imagines some of the other cow hybrids are ready for milking again.

.

.

.

6:21PM

Shiu wasn’t celebrating—honestly.

Even he wasn’t that tactless.

It’s just that it was a little quiet without Fushiguro Toji around to cause trouble with the other hybrids, or with any guests, or with Shiu…or with practically anyone that wasn’t you. He wondered whether you realized the sheer extent of his special treatment. Which was why he decided to spoil the lot of you - especially you - today.

And for this Shiu’s apples were amongst the most famed in these parts - he hears they went for thousands of yen each in Tokyo. Lush and luxurious. Like biting into a piece of heaven—he knew that the hybrids were particularly covetous of this rare luxury. And luckily for him, they’d just been harvested today. 

So why not give you lot a little treat?

Those stingy middle-men would be here to load up the apples tomorrow morning; so before that he herded his hybrids to the picturesque orchard. Where the apple trees embraced the groves from either side, the tops of their branches nearly winding into the sunset-painted clouds and pulled them back, and beneath them lay crates upon crates of apples like treasure pots at the ends of rainbows. Those apples seemed to gleam even brighter as the sun dipped beneath the horizon; gilded. 

And Shiu kept his hands on his hips, a proud smile on his face, as he watched over the hybrids picking apples and digging through crates. All except for…

“Where’s…”

Brows furrowed- Shiu turns around and spots you slumped against the wooden entrance to the orchard. Those towering pillars were intertwined with vines, and amongst them you looked like the prettiest rose. 

“Something wrong, my girl?” He walks towards you, handsome features pinched in concern. Immediately, Shiu’s hand goes up to feel your temperature once more. “Fuck-” And almost as soon as it makes contact with your forehead, he’s pulling away—

“Shiu…”

“You’re burning up- pretty girl, why didn’t you tell me that it’d become this bad?” He hisses. And then he’s reaching down to gently clasp your hand. Those caramel-brown eyes of his are just so soft…“C’mon- lets get you to Shoko’s before she’s off—”

Yet oh-so-stubbornly you’re shaking your head. “Promise m’okay, Shiu.”

“But-”

“It’s not a fever.” And the hairs on his body stand on end at those words. If not a fever, could this be…“I think it must be the heat or something- that and Toji did wear me out a little last night.”

His jaw clenches. “I’m sure. But I still think it would be good to go for a check-up.”

You’re averting your gaze from his. “I’m alright. Trust me.”

And though Shiu was clearly displeased by this turn of events—how could he ever say no to his favorite girl? It was almost embarrassing how easily he’s bending to your will- and letting out a sigh he attempts to make sound annoyed rather than fond. “Oh, alright…but at least try one of the apples. I’m sure they’d be good for you.”

“Of course-” Then you take a step - and the faint dizziness that’d accompanied your fever makes you nearly fall into Shiu’s chest. Thankfully the farmer catches you easily with his scarred palms darting to your waist, his broad arms wrapping around your body- and the tips of his fingers graze where your tail starts.

And both of your breaths hitch-

“Hey boss- can we dig into the pears too or are those off limits?” Ino’s blissfully oblivious tone shatters whatever strange atmosphere had seemed to concentrate between you two.

And you both jump backwards as if electrocuted.

“The uh- the what-” Shiu whirls around at the farm dog hybrid, “Not a chance. Don’t even think about touching those.”

“…Oops.”

“Those are ¥5000 a pear-” He pinches his nosebridge and groans- as his most trusted dog hybrid scampers off with an armful of pears. As he does so, Ino’s dropping one on the grass that Shiu’s bending down to pick up. Wiping off the non-existent dust on his denim overall, Shiu pulls a pocket knife out and cuts a clean slice of pear in mere seconds.

Calm and controlled.

Somehow, just seeing how competent he was with it made something at the pit of your stomach- twinge.

Before you know it, Shiu’s holding the tempting slice out to you. “Eat.” When you look at him in hesitation, he chuckles handsomely. “They’re about to raid the pears anyway, so you might as well eat.”

And so you do - he watches every minute expression of yours as you bite into it. That glimmer in your eyes. That smile.

Fuck…

Chomping on the luxurious fruit, you’re soon raising your nose into the air and sniffing.

Shiu raises a brow, “Something wrong? It’s not rotten, is it?”

You shake your head and continue sniffing. “No, it’s just…” Your ears twitch towards him- and he finds it so cute how they move almost all on their own. “Something smells good.”

“The pear?” 

“No.” Shaking your head once more—the way you look at him then is just…different. “Like apples. And caramel. And honeysuckle.”

Shiu scratches behind his neck. “Well, I don’t know about the caramel- but we are in an apple orchard.” Gesturing at the sprawling land. “Help yourself.”

You smile and rub yourself against him lightly, soon joining your friends.

This was proving to be quite the strange day- fuck, were you getting hotter?

.

.

.

11:59PM

“I should have taken you to Shoko’s in the morning—”

This is all Shiu’s fault.

This is all Shiu’s fault.

But to understand just how badly he’d messed up, one would have to rewind the clock to about two minutes and twenty seconds ago; it’d been a long day at the farm. Exhaustibly so. Even more so than usual, Shiu was dead-tired—it was practically subconscious the way in which he’d scrubbed himself clean and slipped into his favorite pair of pajamas (the ones with the cows and barns on them). 

And he’d just - just - sat himself down on the creaky sofa in front of the TV, to get in at least five minutes of his favorite cheesy soap operas before he zonked out before it…when the front door started rattling.

Wait…rattling?

Knocking.

Shiu sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he heaved himself to a stand- “Yeah, yeah m’coming…don’t break the damn door down.” He’d at least expected Kusakabe to give him a call before he returned and started trying to leave him doorless- but ah. 

Shiu was grumbling a few choice words underneath his breath as he swung the front door and screen open. Only to be met with—

“Pretty girl?” In split-seconds, every ounce of sleepiness leaves Shiu as he darts to hold your faintish body. Your head was drooped, and your breaths were coming out rapid. You were supported by only some of the other cow hybrids. Immediately his hand is flying to your waist, and he’s throwing one of your arms around his shoulders- before giving up on any inhibitions and pulling you into a proper princess carry.

A worried Ino and the others trailed after. “The cow hybrids let me know that there was something wrong, boss. So I brought her here.”

“Good thinking. Thank you.” Shiu just barely has the thought to murmur. He hurries to sprawl you out across where you would be most comfortable: his bed. “We need to contact Dr. Shoko immediately.”

“It’s not her time of heat yet, right?” Ino asks from the doorway. Behind him were some of the other members of the barn house looking in concern.

“No.” Shiu shakes his head. He glances up and sees the commotion- “It might be a fever, or maybe it was too hot out? I don’t know—fuck, I should’ve just taken her in the morning when she first told me.”

“Should I get the truck ready now, boss?”

“Sure. But I don’t want to move her much right now- poor thing.” Shiu looks on sadly at the way you’re gripping his soft pillows and smushing them to your face—breathing them in. “I’ll call Shoko and see if there’s anything we can do from here-” Reaching over to his bedside cabinet and picking up the phone, “You guys get some sleep, and I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

“You’ve got it.” Ino nods- and then he’s herding the rest of the barn outside. 

In this little bubble of his bedroom, this little nook of the farm which smelled like fresh cream and honeysuckle, and had the air of sluggish mornings that made one’s eyes droop; it was just you and Shiu and the ringing tone of Shoko’s clinic.

Ringing once.

Ringing twice.

It cuts and Shiu’s trying Shoko’s personal number this time. She picks up almost instantly- “Hello?”

“I’m not going to ask about the integrity of your sleep schedule, but I need your help-”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

And as Shiu lists off your symptoms - the clamminess, the rapid heartbeat, the puffs of pheromones now filling up his bedroom, and more importantly…the wetness between your thighs (he wasn’t a lecher- he promises, it just-so-happened that Dr. Shoko had asked him to double check as part of your symptoms) - he himself starts to get an understanding of your diagnosis. You were in heat. But-

“But wasn’t her heat just two weeks ago?” There’s a shuffling of papers on the other end of the line as Shiu realizes Shoko must’ve gone through your file at home. “And she isn’t known for having any irregular heats.”

“Could this possibly be triggered by something external?” Shiu asks.

“It is possible.” She answers. “Have there been any changes to her environment? Something that may trigger a stress response in her?”

“Well, just today I had Toji go out with my friend to a convention- could it possibly be the distance?” He suddenly feels a drop of guilt at possibly being connected to why you feel this way.

“Hmm, I don’t believe so. Mating bonds are of the nature to be most volatile in close distances, rather than when they’re apart.” She hums thoughtfully. “You said that her mate was away today, right? And this started just today? Have there been any…other changes?”

Shiu raises a brow. “Other?”

And he can’t see her, but he gets the feeling that had they been in her office- then Shoko would have her fingers crossed and a grave expression on her face. “Yes. Has she been close with any other hybrid on the farm? Perhaps nuzzling up to them? Perhaps giving off her scent?”

The tips of Shiu’s fingers, clutching the phone, feel utterly numb. “…Yes.” Him.

“Well then. I believe the matter is quite simple, Mr. Shiu.” Tell him. “It is a strange phenomenon in which the hybrid seems to have two mates.”

“…” He can’t quite seem to close his mouth. “What?”

“Precisely.” Shoko speaks as if merely commenting on the nice weather or a particularly good football goal.

“B-but—” Shiu clutches the phone and tries to keep his volume from rising so as not to awaken you - you’d fallen asleep wrapped in his sheets now. Nose stuffed into the fabrics coated with his natural musk. “I thought hybrids mated for life? With only one-”

“Most often, yes. But there are rare cases in which a hybrid might find themselves connected to two others, or even three. Sometimes these connections may be latent and only make themselves known when triggered by a heat or time apart from her original mate.” His jaw just keeps dropping. “And it seems that in your cow hybrid’s case, in the absence of one mate she found her second mate’s connection activated. This is likely what caused her to go into heat.”

“So it’s official-” He begs. “She’s in heat now-”

“Yes, and I suggest you just let her do what needs to be done with her second mate in order to get it out of her system, otherwise she may feel rejected.”

And it seems that the conversation was coming to a close- for there was a note of epiphany in her words. But before Shoko could end the call, he questions once more. “And about the…double mate thing- does that also mean that the second mate is mated to the original mate?”

There’s a pause.

“Well, I suppose that’s up to you, Mr. Shiu.”

Wait how did she—

And then she ends the call.

Shiu holds numbly onto the phone for a few seconds - the silence felt deafening. Before a sudden stirring makes him dart his eyes over towards you. 

Like an angel.

Your face was half-pushed into one of Shiu’s pillows - also patterned with cows and barns - and that blanket of his had twisted ‘round your body like a snake now—clammy with your sweat. Your fingers were clawing at the old creaky mattress, and your knees were pushing higher, and between them were- oh.

Were another one of his pillows.

And fuck- he’s never felt more jealous of an inanimate object in his entire life.

You were reeling your hips back—thrusting them forwards again- grinding down on the pillow. Wetness was seeping between those pretty, shiverin’ legs of yours and staining the cover. From here he could see a dark splotch starting to stain the silken fabric - smelling like the sweetest honey scent.

And it makes his mouth water.

“Baby- baby…” Shiu lovingly pats your leg, dawning you completely awake. He could see now that you were in the throes of your heat - but those eyes of yours were completely alert. “I need you to get comfortable, okay? This is gonna last about a week.”

“I’m in heat?” You blink. “Dr. Shoko said you’re my mate, Shiu.”

“So you heard that, huh?” He lightly chuckles. “Just know that we don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to. Heats don’t necessarily affect humans-”

“Then why’re you so hard?” Though that tone of yours was utterly innocent - the look in your eyes wasn’t. You knew what you were doing to him—and you’re only hiking up the temperature between the two of you as you’re leaning in. 

On wobbly arms, you’re pushing yourself up n’ leaning in so close-

Oh, how he’s dreamed of this exact scenario so many nights before. In this very bed. With his hand wrapped around his cock.

And Shiu knows he’s talking out of his ass - it’s the inhibitions taking over now…“You’ve got me there- but what about Toji-”

“Isn’t he your mate, too?”

And then your lips are on his.

.

.

.

Fushiguro Toji feels a disturbance in the force.

He can’t quite explain it- it’s nothing that he’s seen or even something that he’s felt. Nothing tangible to give reason to this madness. It’s just that something was…off. Kusakabe notices the hybrid squirming in his seat - yes, it seems that he trusted the bull hybrid enough to let him ride shotgun - and turns on the radio.

Just Toji’s luck, it was Scotty Doesn’t Know by Lustra.

“Turn it off.” Toji scoffs and crosses his arms.

“Why? Remind you of a certain someone~?” Kusakabe asks in-between singing at the top of his lungs.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

And even though Toji is merely looking at the smaller man- he shrinks into his seat. Did he mention he’d sharpened his horns for today? Kusakabe whimper, “O-oh nothing…nothing, just that ah- the lyrics might be a little reminiscent of ah-”

And Toji was even more infuriated because of that nagging sensation- that strange…fuck. “Spit it out.”

Kusakabe lets out a squeal and looks as though he utterly regretted letting the hybrid sit next to him. “J-just the fact that Shiu mayormaynothaveacrushonyourmate—” It’s out before Toji could even register it. “Pleasedon’tkillme-”

“If I kill you who’s driving?” Toji had now unbuckled his seatbelt despite Kusakabe’s protests. Snooping around the truck and trying to trace that little- scent? “What is that infernal- fuck. And I already know that farmer’s got a thing for her - though I’d pay for him to actually try. Would love to see his face as she rejects him.”

“Really? Because she was looking all cute and cuddly and a little feverish this morning.”

“What.”

And then it hits him—that scent. Fresh cream and sunny days and honey-

You were in heat.

“Fucker, step on it.”

Kusakabe whirls towards him. “What-” But before he can finish, Toji’s grabbing onto the steering wheel and damn-near crashing them on the highway as he speeds ahead.

The radio trills: ‘I can’t believe he’s so trustin’.

While I’m right behind you thrusting.’

.

.

.

“Mmm—” Shiu’s lips are hot and persistent- letting off the most sensual mwahs! as he continues the pattern down the side of your neck.

Listen, Shiu Kong might not be a hybrid like you, but if he kept his nose pressed against your sultry skin then he could almost feel it—those pheromones. 

It was wafting off your skin like an atmosphere that was entirely your own, a gravitational pull constantly tugging him closer; the sweetened scent of honey and freshly-whipped cream. It made him blush. It went straight down to his cock.

Fuck that- it was taking over him.

A guttural groan rips out of Shiu’s chest- he kisses a pathway down the middle of your body until he’s reaching your core. Once he does, he gives the hottest wettest kiss of all to your cunt—“Oh, baby. Lean back a bit f’me, yeah?”

And then he’s pressing an open palm on top of your stomach. Pressing you to recline on the bed.

“Good girl.” Shiu rumbles. Low. “Now squeeze those pretty legs around my head- yeah, just like that. Tighter.”

“Tighter than that n’ you’ll suffocate.” You gasp.

“What about it?”

Using his own strong arms - so fucking beefy from years of work at the farm - Shiu wraps your thighs around his sweaty head. His sharp, straight hair tickles your inner thighs; so much so that the farmer has to tell you to settle down. “Easy there- eeeeasy there, girlie. I’ll make you feel good during your heat.”

“I’m not a damn horse.” You huff.

“Yeah, because you’re gonna be the one riding, huh?”

The gasp that flutters its way up to your throat doesn’t get the chance to escape- because the question on Shiu’s tongue curls around your cunt. He’s letting the squashy end of his tongue dip between your swollen pussylips—giving you a loooong lick where you were most tender. Those cushiony tastebuds of his were massaging you already- and the way he’s twisting his tongue so deliciously as he enters—

“Oh.” You’re arching off the mattress, thighs plastering to the side of his face. And yet your pussy’s openin’ up for him so invitingly. “Keep going, Shiu…”

“Had no plans of stopping soon.” Gurgling wetly between your legs.

His tongue was just so soft and smooth.

The way he’s adjusting it in and out makes your mouth just water. In and out. In and out. Shiu notices that every time he hooked his tongue around the outer rim of your entrance made your pheromones surge. Fuck—that heat of yours was affecting him, too, and leaving him sippin’ on your pussy like an aphrodisiac.

Lavish lips plastering aaaaall over again and again- “Mmmm, my pretty cow hybrid. No idea how I lasted this long without this.” Breathing through his nose - he didn’t want to waste a single second of this. His usually-deep timbre shakes with pleading desire. “And what can this do?”

You’re squealing once you feel thick fingers curl around your tail. “That’s my tail…”

“I already know that, pretty girl.” Shiu shakes his head fondly - as though you’d been the one to say something ridiculous. And in-between lapping away at your leaking pussy, he tugs softly on your tail in order to bring you closer. “But what can it do-”

“Well she likes getting it pulled during doggy position.” 

Both of you would have recognized that voice amongst a thousand bull hybrids - ten thousand. That stature. That scent of freshly-cut grass and something deeper…something more alluring.

“And sometimes if you bite it she starts clenching like crazy.” 

Fuck.

Because neither of you had heard the door click open - except maybe in what felt like a distant dream. Something worlds away.

You’re feeling a sense of déjà vu. 

Shiu’s feeling cold sweat breaking out as he realizes that he hadn’t actually locked the door. In fact. 

Whoever had opened it must be gripping it so hard that its oak frame was starting to splinter-

Both of you experience a pang at the pit of your stomach- a draw. And Shiu gapes as he looks down at himself—what the fuck was that…? He’s looking up at Fushiguro Toji standing in the doorframe with the same shocked expression.

“The hell do you think you’re doing with my girl?” Toji spits, scarred lips twisted.

“Listen, man-”

“You’re not going to make her cum eating her out like that.”

“I…what?”

Toji manages to make Shiu shut up. This must surely be a dream? And it’s just about enough time for the other man to cross the distance between the door and the bed - kicking it shut behind him - and make himself quite at home on the bed. The mattress creaks under the weight of the hybrid; and you yourself are letting out a soft moan. 

He sits beside where you were sprawled-out, facing Shiu.

“You see…my pretty girl here-”

Shiu mutters underneath this breath. “Fuckin’ stealing my pet name too, now?”

But Toji has the courtesy to ignore it - for now. “-has a certain set of rules she needs to follow.” 

At this, the other man’s brows raise in interest. Satisfied at the attention; Toji himself traces his dominant right hand over your stomach, your hips, before lowering down to your cunt and holding those puffy pussylips of yours open. Pushing them apart. Pryin’ them apart. 

Both men gulp at the way you’re clenching around nothing.

“See…she might look all innocent and sweet- but she’s a proper little slut.” The words almost make Shiu flinch - and the bull hybrid takes great care repeating them. “Your…pretty girl is a proper- little- slut. And I know that she likes being fucked like one.”

And before either of you can make a move - Toji’s swiftly craning his head down and spitting a great glob of saliva on your cunt.

It trickles over your exterior and smears along your inner thighs- and Toji takes his sweet, sweet relish in swipin’ off some of that excess and popping it into his mouth. “So?” Toji asks. “Eat her out.”

Eat…Toji’s own mate out? Like this?

“What?” Toji has the audacity to look shocked. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been eyeing her- don’t act like you haven’t been fantasizing it. You’ve wanted her even before I arrived at this damn farm.”

Shiu’s lips tremble- he almost wants to because hell, he’s been given the permission now. And yet…“Is this some sort of trick? You’re not gonna use those horns on me afterward, are you?”

“No, not at all.” The other man replies - almost too breezily. He raises his brows at Shiu expectantly. And stares deep into Shiu’s eyes as he says. “So? The fuck are you waiting for-”

Those mere words make Shiu’s cock stand painfully erect.

However, there’s a reason they claimed that Fushiguro Toji was a ruthless man. 

Because humans always did move far too slowly for the bull hybrid’s liking. And he wastes not a second more before pawin’ at the back of Shiu’s sweaty scalp - taking just a moment to bask in the utter shock upon his features - and shoving—

Straight between your pretty, pretty thighs.

Which he honestly didn’t have to do because—well fuck, you didn’t have to ask Shiu twice to eat you out. Shiu lets out a strangled grunt that turns into a moan. 

And without further ado, he’s back latched onto your pussy- those handsome cheeks of his hollowing out as he sucks n’ sucks. And you don’t know whether he was doing this for you or himself. 

Shiu ate you out like he was going to die of thirst if he didn’t.

“Fuck-” He hisses. With every movement of his face, he nuzzles himself closer. “Fuck fuck fuck—more.”

Syrupy breath sticking against your pussylips. 

And his tongue was even worse-

“My pretty girl. More.”

He’s slithering it aaaaaaaall along your outer cunt - lapping up every wad of slick you were gifting him - and then rubbing his textured tastebuds along your exterior when it just wasn’t enough. Because your cunt was practically an aphrodisiac for him.

It’s as if the heat was contagious.

Because the longer he’s spending between those gorgeous legs of yours - the more he’s blabbering like a damn fool. The murkier his eyes are growing. The harder and harder his hips are coming crashing—! down on the rickety wooden frame of the bed—pathetically dry-humping it in time with the thrashes of his tongue. Slipping right between your velvety folds and yearnin’ to taste the honey between.

That thick silkiness of his tongue was just dizzying.

He was cleaning up the mess that Toji’d made earlier—tasting him, tasting you. Shiu’s face grows warm as he remembers.

That dextrous tip of his tongue delves between your pussylips - entering that cute hole - and is lapping up everything you’re giving him. “Babydoll, fuck my mouth even deeper.” Needing more. “Even deeper.”

“F-fuck- shit, shit shit.” You’re trilling out. “You’re practically nose-deep. How can you possibly go any deeper?”

With a needy whimper, you’re letting your hybrid tail swish towards him - and without further ado Shiu takes it and wraps his fist around it. Giving a gentle tug. Fuck.

And when he actually discovers that he’s able to manhandle you further onto his mouth with that tail of yours- nothing’s stopping Shiu from increasing his strength to give you a mean haul. “Mmm- yes- oh, Shiu. It feels so good, Shiu—!”

“But not good enough, right?” Toji speaks over you, in a haughty tone.

Your hybrid ears twitch in confusion.

And before you know it, you’re feeling the sensation of Shiu’s slithering tongue disappear. 

You whine out in disappointment. And you already know that that mate of yours must have something to do with it-

Sure as day; Toji has his fist gripping Shiu’s jet-black hair and reeling him back. The other man obviously had his face twisted into something ferocious, and the tension made the atmosphere pinch. But underneath that…there was an undercurrent of sweetness…the mottling of Toji’s gleeful pheromones mixing with his lustful ones.

And Shiu’s, too.

And if you weren’t mistaken- was that a faint blush on the tips of his ears?

It seems that Toji notices, too. “See anything to blush about here?” Then his eyes dip down to you. “Oh…right. Heh.” Leaning in oh-so-closely to the other man; Toji whispers in a gravelly tone into his ear. “But if you stand around blushing and bein’ a wuss for too long, then just know that she’s not gonna wait. She’s gonna dry up~”

He spits once more.

So disrespectful.

And then turns down to Shiu and warns. “Don’t eat her out just yet. Rule number one…” Your heartbeat races as he speaks those familiar words - Fushiguro Toji never was one to care for rules…unless it was in bed. “No running.”

“I’d never run from this pussy.” Shiu frowns.

“Not you, nitwit.” Mercilessly, he’s planting a smack at the back of the farmer’s head. “Her. Don’t let her run.”

Seemingly getting the green light to start up his sensual ministrations again- Shiu slowly starts lapping between your pussylips once more. Proddin’ his thickened tip into the deep orifice of your cunt. “B-but she’s not-”

“Look.” Toji interrupts. Just as you were starting to buck and lift your hips off the sodden mattress. “Look at the way she’s moving ‘round.”

“But that’s just-”

“But this pretty cow hybrid is in heat—and you can’t just leave her uncomfortable like this, can you?” Those dazed eyes of Shiu Kong’s open wider. He faintly nods. “So aren’t you the farmer?”

He nods again - looking as though he was about to faint.

“So herd your damn cow hybrids- c’mon- don’t let her run—” Spurred on even further by his words, Shiu’s plunging back in-between your legs and usin’ his tongue for his life.

Opening his mouth wiiiiiide to make sure that he’s able to reach every nook and cranny—the end of his tongue was just so dexterous and somehow managing to slip into spots you hadn’t even known you had. “O-ohhhh, fuuuuck-” Moans just keep bubbling out of your lips. “It feels so good, Shiu-”

And just when it looked as if you were about to buck—Shiu grabs ahold of your hips- so hard that he leaves neat semi-crescent nail marks on your skin. Plopping you back down onto the bed.

Plopping you back down onto his face.

From then onwards, he doesn’t let you move a single inch as he’s thrashin’ away his fat tongue inside your cunt. Stretching that pussy out to his textured tastebuds. 

And Toji had been watching the entire display closely…very closely. With his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock. “Good.” His head threatens to tip backwards as he gives a harsh tug on his thickened length. “And now rule number two: squeeze those gorgeous legs around your head. Doesn’t matter if you suffocate.”

“That- that’s what I said—” Shiu keens.

“Then why’re you speaking?”

Goosebumps run down Shiu’s arched spine. “Oh…”

“A cunt like hers isn’t to be taken for granted.” Toji tuts from above you, and you can’t help but ogle the way his biceps bulge as he pushes down Shiu’s head. “Deeper.” Harder. “Deeper. Don’t waste time talking. Don’t waste time gawking like an idiot. In fact-”

His heated words make goosebumps scatter across your open thighs.

And you whimper-

“-don’t even breathe.”

They’re both driving you absolutely mad—

Toji catches your left ear between his fingers- as it’s been swatting furiously away the more aroused you grew. So soft beneath his touch.

He uses it to urge your mouth down to where his lap was.

“Rule number three…let her fuck back into you- but only if she really…really deserves it.”

“Make the pretty girl work for it?” Shiu looks up.

Toji displays a priggish smirk. “Now you’re getting the hang of it.”

And you don’t know what sort of expression Shiu might have on his handsome face right now - he was much too…preoccupied for that - but you can sense him nod. Short and sharp. As he keeps on lavishin’ your insides with his tongue; the farmer makes note of just how hard you’re clenching around him. “C’mon, pretty girl—” He pushes down your bucking hips. “Clench a little harder ‘round my tongue, would ya?”

“O-oh, now you’re just mean.”

“It’s what you deserve.” Toji chuckles. “Don’t think I can’t smell your pheromones gettin’ even sweeter- you’re loving this.”

You have no counter accusation - it was, after all, painfully true. And then Toji caresses your sweaty scalp with his thick digits—grabbing ahold of the back of your neck. “Now…lets see if you can be a good girl for me, too.”

An acrid sort of sweetness floods your mouth - because in mere sultry moments Toji has his legs positioned so that they’re practically straddling your face. On the mattress; he’s kneeling to the side of your head and letting his pursed, pinkened cocktip swab across your lips.

He’s rock-hard.

Instantly your jaw’s falling open to accommodate him.

And believe- that there was a lot to be accommodating. For Toji was so many countless inches, thick and decorated in a prominent network of veins across every inch of him. They zigzagged across each of his angles n’ ended up being the most prominent where your sweet spots were—Toji meant it when he said he was made for you.

He had a scruff of jet-black happy trail. He was an angry red at his tip. He was dripping precum.

It puckered out from the divot on top of his shaft—then ended up smeeeeared down the insides of your soft mouth. “Fuuuuck…” Toji himself whispers as he eases in. The bedsprings purr as Shiu bucks against the bed harder.

And before you know it, he’s reaching upwards and biting down on your throbbing clit. “Don’t forget about me, pretty girl. You’re not getting off easy. Rule number three, remember?”

“I—oh.” Shiu’s putting his fingers in now - fingers. Two of them. Long and perfectly calloused from years of hard labor to now massage your tender insides.

Both men are manhandling you oh-so-perfectly: Shiu dragging you down by your tail- and Toji using both hands to maneuver your head down. Letting you take up numerous inches of him. Thick and throbbing.

That rounded end of his shaft hits the back of your throat and you’re immediately coughing-

“Easy there.” Toji lovingly croons…“Not.” And you didn’t expect mercy, did you? Soon enough both of them are running their bodies ragged trying to draw out the most reactions from you—Toji fucking his cock into your suckling mouth, and Shiu hooking a finger not against the roof of your cunt to press on your nerve-filled spots- to make you clench. “C’mon- milk me. You can do better.”

“C’mon, little cow hybrid.” Shiu titters. His digits prove so effective in stretchin’ out your insides even more so than his tongue—and those tastebuds of his remain tickling your clit. “Won’t you squeeze me a little harder?”

“She can’t answer.” Toji laughs. “Got her mouth a little full.”

“Bull got her tongue.”

“Mmmm…” With that said, Toji’s flooding your tastebuds with a thick lacquer of his precum. He increases his pace a little more.

“Just a little harder-” Meanwhilst, Shiu whispers to himself as he keeps probing your sweet, sweet insides. “Just a little- a little—” And at precisely that moment; he’s hitting the bullseye. What else but the place marked X: your g-spot? “O-oh.” 

He damn near cums in his pants.

“Just like that.” Shiu continues. “Fuck back into my fingers. I know you can, girlie.”

“Accomplished rule number three already?” Toji asks the other man. “Yer nicer than me- I know that for sure.”

“What can I say? She’s my favorite.”

After a few more thrusts n’ bucks n’ smashes at your favorite spot - you don’t think you can even formulate a coherent thought. You’re being tugged back and forth by both men—and they aren’t showing any signs of slowing down soon enough. “The fourth and fifth rules are a little alike…” Toji rumbles from above you. “The fourth, of course, is to get ready.”

“Get ready?” Shiu asks. Though by the way he feels the heat in the room - your pheromones - flare up, he’s sure you’re anticipating whatever it is.

“And the fifth is to…” The end of that sentence teeters on the edge of Toji’s tongue as he reels his hips back, back, back, baaaaack- “-take it all like a good girl.” 

And that’s exactly what you’re doing.

Letting the entire length of Toji’s cock fill your mouth from tip to base- his fleshy cockhead searches your insides like a flashlight. It’s almost too pornographic the way you’re choking on his length—gagging, eyes watering. 

To which of course, your beloved mate reaches down to pinch your nostrils closed. “Now now…are you the one in heat or am I?”

“Mmmpf- mmm—” You keen. Moans bubbling from the back of your throat but having no way out.

“Oi- I think she’s close.” Shiu breathes.

He could taste it in the sweet treacly syrup leaking out of you - his favorite. He could taste it in the way your cunt walls were pounding faster than ever. He could fucking smell it in those pheromones of yours that just seemed to flare to life-

“S’that so?” Toji asks. “And that brings me to our sixth and final rule: if she wants something, then she can use her words to ask for it.”

“Hardass.” Shiu scoffs.

But they’re both increasing their pace. For competition or simply to drive you mad?

The sloppiest squelches and pops! fill the room—and Shiu watches as your tail starts twitching agitatedly once the pleasure almost gets too much. Oh his pretty cow hybrid. Once you’re so close that you feel like you could burst- “Toji, she’s close—”

“Then ask for it.” Toji keeps shovelling his cock deeper. Deeper. “Fucking ask for it, doll.”

“Toji-”

Slamming into your throat with a final thwack! His balls were damn near leaving an imprint on your chin. “You can ask the farmer to help you with your heat- but you can’t ask me to make you cum…?”

“She did.”

The tension in the room falters - but never bates - as Toji turns to look at the other man. “What?”

“She did-” Shiu hastens to explain. “Ask to cum, that is…” And as if to prove his point—he’s plummeting a few more pushes with his fingers, scissoring them inside you so that those slurping suctioning noises are extra loud. “-right here.”

Toji waits for a beat.

Before he lets out a little snicker.

Before he lets out an entire laugh-

“Maybe you’re not so bad- for you, that is.” And then he’s boring his forest fire gaze down at you. “Hear that? Yer damn lucky that you’re the farmer’s favorite—hah, better thank him.” Toji’s then tugging your ear to watch you squirm just a little.

He lets out a final few thrusts.

And waits until his cock was embedded deeeep into the back of your throat - and your nose was pressed against those tufts of black at his base. Until you were well and fully stuffed full of him. 

“So cum then, my pretty mate.”

And with a few more thorough slashes inside you—knockin’ Shiu’s burly fingers into your sweetest spots, slithering Toji’s length down every crevice of your mouth, you’re crashing into your high. 

It’s quick and searing.

It takes over your body faster than you can register. Burning through every other thought and feeling - you’re letting out erotic moans around Toji’s cock, and they keep getting louder as it keeps prolonging. Longer and longer. The more they’re toyin’ with your throbbing, sopping cunt. 

Those fervent peaks seem to get stronger - and within you feels practically white-hot in sensation. Pulling off of his bulbous tip. “Sh-shiiiiiit—” Keening out. “It feels so good- it feels so good-”

“You’re welcome.” Toji says. Shovelling his pinkish tip back between those lips.

At the same time that Shiu’s panting. “Anything for you, pretty girl.”

“Don’t fucking stop.”

Of course, as your mates they’re practically bound to listen to your every syllable.

And you don’t feel them rest - even take a breath - until your orgasm was well and almost completely disappeared from the horizon.

Tears of overstimulation were now springing to your eyes. Thighs twitching with the faintest splinters of sensitivity. “F-fuck…” Toji’s throbbing tip falls from your lips. It leaves a thin ribbon of slick connecting you to him still. You’re blabbering. “Fuck, I’m getting sensitive now.”

“Hm…Shiu climb up.” Toji says.

Both you and Shiu share a glance—and with something that looked like a half-shrug, Shiu’s attempting to heave himself up from the floor-

Only to be grabbed by Toji by the hand and yanked onto bed.

The farmer’s letting out a little yelp as he’s finding himself bounced onto the springy mattress - right on your other side. Sandwiched between the two buff, broad men- you don’t think you’ve ever felt your heart beat faster…ever smelled your pheromones so potently…

“Shiu, I need those off.” You huff. Batting those teary lashes of yours.

“Oh.” His face twists into something like ecstacy - how many times has he fantasized about those very words leaving your mouth?

And, flustered, the farmer starts unbuckling his overall one-by-one-

“We’re not trying to wait until her heat’s over.” Toji gruffs. And his veined forearm reaches across you - grasping onto the front of Shiu’s overall and giving it a good tug.

Those buckles are breaking free immediately. 

The bull hybrid smiles to himself proudly. “There.”

“I should have half the mind to return you to Kusakabe…” Shiu grumbles to himself, as he takes off the rest of his clothes. That sentence makes the faintest flicker of recognition light up in his brain - really, where was Kusakabe - but it’s evaporating soon enough once you start helping him take his boxers off. 

“I’m warning you in advance, however…” He starts.

“Why?”

“Yeah- are you hiding a 21-incher in there or something?” Toji scoffs.

“No no- it’s not that. I’m…above average- probably.” Shiu waves off, his burning blush creeping up onto his face again. “It’s just that I might have made…a little mess when I was eating you out.”

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean by- oh.”

Oh, was right. Right indeed.

Because of course- Shiu was naturally an impressive size. About eight inches. With a much more tan tip than Toji’s - and perhaps even thicker, too - and a girth that made your mouth water. He was smoother than Toji—less veins ‘round his shaft except for a single prominent one that went around the left side. And he was curved ever-so-slightly upright, too. 

But what really caught your attention was…Shiu had cum in his pants.

Just from eating you out.

“Oh…” Your eyes widen as you take in the dark splotch at the front of his boxers. 

Thick ropey white cum had seeped into it- and Shiu’s hastily snatching those boxers out of your hands to throw them over his shoulder. His hands felt sticky. “But that’s neither here nor there-”

“Of course it is.” Toji says after a moment of contemplation. “I’m adding a seventh rule.” 

Yours and Shiu’s eyes pop open. 

“Shit.”

“Shit-”

“What?” The bull hybrid looks at you both in mock innocence. “I was just going to say that the guest goes first…”

It’s…unexpected. To say the least. But you weren’t complaining - and by the way that Shiu’s reddened length perks up at the idea, you don’t think he is either.

“Um, so how do I…”

Toji angles himself towards you- “Get up a little, doll?”

You arch your hips off the bed; and Toji’s taking the opportunity to sidle his own hips underneath them. He’s manhandling you so that you’re simply sprawled-out on his chiselled front—and oh, how your mouth waters at the sensation of his rippling pecs and abs. The way they’re massaging you from behind at even the slightest movements—was that his v-line? 

And did you mention that Toji just-so-happened to have the cutest ringed piercings through each nipple?

They’re pushing into you from behind once the hybrid hooks both hands underneath each of your legs. And he’s lifting them aaaaaaaall the way up until your knees hit your tits. Spreading you wide, wide open.

A full nelson.

Except…this time, it’s Shiu’s who’s going to be basking between your legs. 

The aforementioned man takes a courageous gulp as he shuffles on his knees between your legs - and Toji’s - to lovingly gaze at you. “Fuuuuuck, my pretty girl…you really are so gorgeous.” Shiu whispers- underneath his breath as though he didn’t even mean for you to hear.

His darkened eyes sweep down your body like a caress. “The way that pussy’s dripping so much- shit, s’like a flood down there. Can you even feel yourself?” You’re squirming at his lecherous words. “And those legs. Trembling. And the way you’re just throbbing- I can see it from here.”

You’re gasping as he presses his hot length down on your cunt. 

Sandwiched between each of your pussylips: Shiu doesn’t think he’s ever seen a prettier sight. “You’re just so dirty, girlie~”

You shudder.

And Shiu could have kept going- it absolutely killed him to tear his gaze off of you. It really did.

But Shiu could sense Toji starting to get impatient if the slightly souring tint in his pheromones was anything to go by- hey, look at that…he’s reading pheromones now. Mentalling patting himself on the back; the farmer starts slide-slide-sliiiiiding his fattened-up cock between your precious folds. “Easy there, girl?”

“Yeah yeah- we’re easy.” Rolling his eyes, you’re getting jostled as the hybrid underneath bucks. And at this point, you’re honestly wondering which one of you was more excited for his entrance…“Just get on with it.”

“Unlike you, Toji, I don’t just- get on with it.” Shiu sounded offended at the mere suggestion. 

And as you both look towards him for further clarification, Shiu nervously bites down on the inside of his cheek and pushes his swollen cock down the slit of your cunt. “It’s just that…” He lets his particularly large tip kiss your hole. “-what if I end up hurting my pretty girl during her heat? I’d never forgive myself.”

“How cute.” Toji snickers. But there’s something that you recognize there—appreciation? “But not if you follow our rules, farmer boy. Remember those?”

Shiu rolls his eyes. “How could I forget?”

“Yeah- recite those.” And you’re gasping once one of Toji’s meaty palms drift up to your face - covering your dazed peripherals. “We’re both going to take turns fucking her using those rules, and my mate’s going to guess which one of us it is—how about that?”

“Mmm, sounds fun.” You smile.

And seeing that gorgeous smile of yours - what else was he supposed to be but putty in your hands? Shiu’s giving himself a few pumps before starting to press into your tight rim.

You’re tight.

So fucking tight.

His brows furrow n’ sweat starts beading at his forehead as he slowly - sloooowly - starts easing his proud cock inside. You’re arching into Toji’s back, whilst Shiu probes into your deepest depths. “O-oh.”

It was something so different.

Although he wasn’t exactly as vein-covered as Toji was; Shiu’s length managed to have the perfect curve that prodded ‘round the roof of your cunt. Somehow directly aiming for those tender spots inside—you’re feeling the pointed end of his shaft draw sensual zig-zags inside and you’re immediately begging for more.

Of course, that’s when Toji’s silently signalling Shiu to pull out.

Replacing the farmer’s cock with his instead.

Thick. Throbbing. Those patterns and groves on his shaft were just dizzying- and Toji’s already rendered your eyes sprinting to the back of your head with but a mere few inches inside you. 

He’s making your first ring of muscle streeeeeetch- and pressing a second overlarge hand down on your stomach to keep you from movin’ around too much. And you don’t need to see him to reach blindly behind you and tug on Toji’s newest bull ring—

“Don’t be mean, Toji.”

“S’not being mean, it’s just the rules.” Toji argues. His words come out in sizzling pants against the side of your face - somehow just his presence seemed enough to make your heat symptoms two times worse. “Now that the practice run’s over…”

Your eyes are fluttering open- only to see nothing past the gaps of Toji’s thick fingers. “That was just the practice run—?” Your poor puckered hole was already pulsating with friction.

But neither of them are answering.

Instead, it just seems that they’re intent on fucking any question or comprehensible thought right back into you—because just you’re feeling a sudden intrusion deep into your core. The bulbous head of it swipes apart your puffy pussylips- and the next thing you know, you’re seeing nothing but stars at the neverending inches of one of their cocks.

Somehow managing to probe even deeper than the first time- whoever this was was so fatly swollen that his cockhead opens up plunging crevices inside you. Perhaps even new ones.

You’re gasping away- “Please.” Both men are impressively managing to keep quiet as they’re easing inside. Not completely bottoming-out…but enough to make your toes curl. “Oh, please that feels so good.”

Hips attempting to chase more- he was going so slow.

But just as soon as you do - almost the very instant that your hips are breaking contact with the skin of Toji’s toned pelvis - you feel one of his hands pin you back down. Preventing you from moving a single inch.

Your hybrid ears rustle with the huff of laughter from behind you—and you know that there’s only one man who’d keep a hand oh-so-possessively on top of your womb as he sinks into your soaking wet cunt. Rule number one, remember?

“Toji-” You’re sputtering out, voice breaking so prettily at the end of your plea. “T-Toji move a little faster- ngh, please—”

Yet another failed attempt at a buck. “Good job, doll.” He gnaws on your ear lobe. “But don’t think we’re done here just yet…”

And then before you know it, he’s pulling out. The action lets out the loudest, sloppiest little plop! of pleasure between your legs- and it feels as though firecrackers are going off through your veins.

You’re practically shaking once another intrusion starts proddin’ between your legs. This time a bit more…timid. A bit more hesitant. A bit more inexperienced and careful—and you don’t have to pay attention to anything more as Shiu creeps your legs around his waist.

Letting his tunneling cockhead push into that wet hole of yours.

Unlike Toji, however, Shiu Kong simply couldn’t keep his mouth shut. 

“Oh…” It’s just about the most attractive thing you’ve ever heard - like music to your ears. But could you really blame the guy? “Legs- rules number t-two, remember?” This was the first proper taste of that syrupy cunt he’s getting—the exact same one he’s been dreaming of for ages…as much as that makes him sound like an utter pervert.

Maybe he was.

Maybe- what even was he? What was his name? Who was he?

Shiu can’t formulate a single thought.

Maybe he should be concerned about that…but for the time being, he’s collapsing his lower half into you. Funneling the smoother length of his cock inside; the farmer is the first of the two to actually bottom out. Thighs against your thighs. Forehead against your forehead. Cocktip against your cervix.

You swear you’re feeling Shiu intrude all the way up to your throat—“Shiu…keep moving, baby.”

“Oh- oh, you seriously want it?” He asks between uneven pants. And even more uneven are those semi-thrusts he’s poundin’ away at the back of your pussy—unwilling to break contact with your sopping womb for even a split-second to thrust back in. “You seriously want this ol’ farmer to fuck you like this? And that’s not just the heat talking-”

“It’s always the heat talking.” Toji scoffs. “This slutty girl’s always in heat. Honestly- who told you it could come early?”

“S’not my fault.” Shiu taps the side of your thigh to signal to you that- oh…you’re getting dangerously close to Toji figuring it out. 

Sure, it seems that he’d deduced by now that there was something regarding the startings of a mating bond between you and Shiu. And what sort of hybrid would come between that? But the fact that Toji himself shared it…

Thankfully in that moment Shiu’s creating a distraction - unintentional or not. Because just a few thrusts and he’s already starting to bead out hot, glutinous cum that sticks to the back of your pussy.

“Shit…” Shiu whispers to himself. You’re sensing one of his hands reach downwards to squeeze ‘round the base of his length—perhaps thinking that that would stop him. But the only thing Shiu’s managing to do is milk out a few more cobwebs of cum that are getting fucked and fucked in by his irregular thrusts. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Time’s up.” Toji cuts him off gruffly. “It’s getting too easy- hurry it up.”

“Yes…sir?” Fuck- he hates to admit it but the bull hybrid was correct.

Ah…you’d expected for the two to alternate between thrusts. But you just didn’t expect it this fast. Because all of a sudden, Toji’s going from merely caressing your front to wrapping his entire left arm around your middle. Oh, those beefy forearms of his were simply indescribable. 

Then Shiu’s reeling his sloppy, cum-glazed cock backwards for one of them to replace it in no time. 

Such plump inches of their shaft. Such impatient semi-thrusts as he leaves your mouth watering. He’s increasing his pace twofold once you’re accommodating him inside, and Toji’s pressing his palm deeper against your face. “Oh-” And you hadn’t expected them to stick to their damn six (or seven) rules so much, either…“Fuuuuuuck. Is it Toji?”

“Nope.” Shiu chuckles. From where he was positioned in front of you, the farmer leans down and kisses your lips. “Still me.”

In punishment, you’re getting a heavy spankin’ on your stuffed pussy.

“Shit.”

“And the rule-” Toji pipes up from behind. “What about the rule?”

“What about the rule, I mean—” It’s just then that you’re realizing - you haven’t been able to squirm a single inch since Shiu had begun swabbin’ your poor insides. “Rule number one- rule number one.”

“Good girl.” Toji laughs. “Next.”

And you’re soon coming to the realization that they weren’t going to make this easy for you: due to everything from their rapid alternations, to the way that both of them were fucking you so stupid—

“Toji-” You’re dragging your nails down whatever body part of Toji’s that you could reach. His biceps flexed underneath your touch. “And the rule is…oh, the rule is…” Brain landing on the closest one that you think you could remember. “Rule number six?”

“Half-correct.” Toji punishes you with yet another spank. The white-hot pain and pleasure that runs up your cunt is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. “That was actually a trick round - no rule.”

You bite. “Silly me…”

“But half-correct deserves just a little bit of a treat, doesn’t it?” Shiu makes your case.

And the ever-mean Fushiguro Toji considers it for a few seconds - before he’s nodding and letting his fingers dip between your pussylips. Rolling over clit in circular motions. “Happy?”

“V-very much.” You respond.

And so the cycle repeats - as both men are fucking into you like damn animals.

“Shiu? Rule number one-”

Thwack! “Half-correct.”

“Toji? Rule number five.”

Thwack! “Half-correct again, doll.”

“Toji? Rule number six.”

Thwack! Thwack! “Wrong!”

“Shiu-”

“Toji-”

Shiu. Toji. Shiu. Toji. Shiu. Toji. 

Over and over again—until you’ve said every rule at least five times, and their names countless amounts so.

It was almost getting too much. There’s another switch; and this time the thrusts are like none before them. They were harsh. They were jagged. They weren’t hitting with any specific target or objective in mind—just with the sole purpose of indentin’ his fat cockhead into every spot inside you, and hitting his hips to yours until you skin was burning-

“Toji?” You’re guessing, “Ruler number- fuck…the one about getting ready-” Based solely on the way that both men had their hands tapping at your hips to let you know when a particularly hard hit was coming through.

“And which one is that?” Toji croons.

“Number four-” There’s a victorious little pebble of precum that Toji’s emptying out into your insides. 

“Mmm, good catch.” And you’re feeling the smile crawl onto your face. “But I’m not Toji.”

Fucking—thwack!

“But how about just a little reward?” And then a hot mouth starts kissing down the valley of your breast - from this angle you could only assume that it was Shiu. 

Shiu was lapping the soft targets of your areolas…just lightly biting…and oh—he lets out a wet gasp as a thin stream of milk flows from your tits n’ into the handsome man’s mouth. “Oh- this might just be my reward.” He says as he keeps massaging your chest, twiddling his fingers over where you were most sensitive. 

“Leave some f’me.” Toji grunts at the other man.

By this point you were a blabbering mess, and it didn’t help that the other two were only growing sloppier by the second. Perhaps it was the heat affecting you three. Perhaps it was the pressure being put on all your bodies - crushed together like this. Hips driving into you again and again and again—

Another globular tip swerves inside you. “I-is it…Toji?” You ask. Your lower lip wobbles at the sudden stretches on places that couldn’t be reached without such a girth - both of them had their merits and it was hard not to long for…both. The mere thought fogs your mind. “And is it…”

Though there could only be one answer. At least for this one.

Your poor tail’s being used as a lever to drag you down onto Toji’s extremely thickened cock until you sat on the bottom of it. “-rule number five?”

Toji kisses the side of your face. “Now that…is 100% correct.”

“And what would you like as a reward? Tell your Shiu anything, pretty girl.” Shiu says—drawing a half-serious scoff from the hybrid.

But of course. There can only ever be one thing.

Your mouth opens and the confession slips out of you before you can think it through fully.

And then there’s a beat of silence- hell, you think even Toji’s hips began to falter. For but a mere split-second before he’s bashing in the soft spongy platform at the end of your cunt—“Oh.” He breathes. “I don’t see why not…”

Thrill shoots through you.

And for the first time in a while - Toji removes his palm from your face. You’re wincing ever-so-slightly at the sudden flood of light, before that expression turns into something akin to yearning as you stare at Shiu’s cock throbbing between your legs. 

He was almost out-of-place with Toji’s fat length already stuffed inside you. 

“Whatever you want, pretty girl.” Shiu whispers to himself as he glides his blushin’ cockhead to drag along your outer cunt. Uuuuup the planes of your thighs. Lingering on that leakin’ slit that was so stuffed. And then squeezing the very tip-top reddened crown of his shaft into your entrance—did he mention that you already had Toji’s fat length stuffed inside you?

Shiu’s expression morphs at the tightest fit-

“Shit- fucking shit, are we sure—”

“Why not?” Toji asks. And Shiu thinks that that’s damn easy for him to say; especially considering that he was already kept hostage inside your gooey inside. That’s where Shiu was trying to be.

He’s attempting to drag you in using your tail.

The other man is rolling his eyes - and his hips. Letting off a few useless semi-thrusts that doesn’t push him even a single inch inside—not with the extremely plump circumference of the hybrid’s length inside. “Oh yeah? Then why don’t you- hah, pull out and try doing it yourself if you think it’s so easy?

“The early bull gets the pussy.” Toji smirks. “Besides- don’t tell me you’re forgetting rule number five already? The one about taking it all also means that you have to- mmm, put it all in-”

“I remember.” Shiu spits. Hands pushing your legs further open and grindin’ his hips close until his happy trail was roughly massaging your clit. “I’m just saying that it’s hypocritical to talk about the rules when even you wouldn’t be able to-”

“Guys-” You shrill above the constant arguing. “Guys.”

It takes you raising your voice loud enough to make the bedroom walls shudder for them to finally hear you.

And once they look at you- you’re huffing up at them. “I’m making my own rule.” Both pairs of pretty pussydrunken eyes widen in unison. “From now on- if you fight then you have to kiss and make up.”

“What-”

“What-”

“Pretty girl…” Shiu attempts to appeal to your softer side.

“Nuh huh.” Shaking your head. “So kiss—and then just fuck me.”

They share a look as if to question whether usurping of the rule-making was allowed…before it seems to dawn on them that yes—if it was you. And Shiu’s shrugging and leaning in - all the while still keeping his pulsating cocktip present between your folds - and Toji meets him halfway with only a few grumbles.

Shiu moans into the kiss.

And with a resounding sluuuuurp! he’s managing to squeeze just an inch or two of his cock inside. Double lengths stretching your walls until you were seeing white-

“Oh- oh.” You’re moaning. Shiu now had everything he needed to reel his bulky hips back and start pummeling you in time with Toji’s own thrusts. “I’ve never felt anything like this before—”

“Me neither.” The farmer manages through clenched teeth. The sensitive underside of his cock was rubbin’ and getting pulled by Toji’s own - those patterns of his veins, and the rock-hardness that mirrored his own - and even the slightest friction was enough to send spirals of white-hot pleasure pouring out of his bawling divot. 

“Tch- fine…me neither.” Toji groans. “But it only feels good because of me-”

“In your dreams.”

Without even being asked to or reminded of the newly-minted rule, they’re pressing a kiss onto each other’s lips—and then yours. Their pheromones twisting and melding into one. Their skin growing even more heated. Their cocks growing faster- 

And faster.

Both Shiu and Toji were moving at sloppy, lust-hazed paces that should not be possible for such a tight cranny. And yet they were managing to time it so that you’re feeling both of them exactly in the best ways: Toji and his deeeelicious veins pressing their patterns onto the sides of your channel, Shiu and his upright curve that spotted all your best nerve endings. 

They’re sandwiching you from above and below, too—Toji and his Herculean build, Shiu and his similar yet broader- and somehow stronger build.

They’re absolutely ruining you.

Ruining you.

Fucking you until your pussy’s feeling rattled and raw- and your eyes have completely bleared over with tears. Brain fried.

So it isn’t long before you’re feeling the pangs of an oncoming orgasm, and letting your mouth open to announce it—

“I-I’m going to cum.” But in actuality it’s Shiu that manages the declaration. And he’s stuffing his face into your tits, suckling out the sweet sweet milk that your hybrid body produces as he strings your gooey insides with his cum. “My pretty cow hybrid, I’m gonna stuff you full.” Looooong ropes of satin. So hard- that Shiu’s forced to hold onto both yours and Toji’s horns as he fucks your overstuffed pussy through his orgasm.

Those veins of Toji’s were making him twitch in pleasure.

You and Toji are crashing into your high rather soon afterwards too.

“Gonna…oh.” As the forceful waves of dopamine flood through every vein and atom inside you—practically make you vibrate with pleasure. You’re letting your eyes fly to the back of your head, and your toes curl as both men thrash that gooey g-spot of yours.

Perfectly synchronized with every peak upon peak of your high.

The prolonged wave of bliss soars—and it’s around the very crescendo that you’re feeling Toji empty his heavy balls out as well. They’d been thwack-thwack-thwacking! near the bottom of your slit for so long now, creating a carnal ache over your outer pussy- and it just feels so good to feel those globs of cum flood your deepest caverns.

Where Shiu had already made a mess before- “Shit…don’t stop.” 

And it’s with renewed vigor that they’re fucking and fucking you through the white-hot pleasure - so good that you’re sobbing. In-between this euphoric experience is when Toji’s keening his hips up into yours- chasing the wetness of your cunt even more—

Not just to fuck his pearly-white droplets of cum inside - but to try and squeeze, fuck, his swollen knot inside.

“Inside—” As you demand needily at your bull hybrid, Shiu watches on in something akin to awe. He starts nudging his hips back as though to give Toji more space-

But you’re wrapping your legs around his hips and dragging him to you. “Rule number one, remember?”

Letting Toji fuck his knot inside you as Shiu has his twitchin’ wet cock stuffed in there, too. The stretch was indescribable.

You think you’re cumming all over again just from it.

“My- my mates…” You’re sobbing out- sandwiched between the two buff men. Shiu leans in to kiss you, and once he’s taking a good long look at Toji too. 

“My mates…I suppose?” He says with a sheepish smile.

Toji looks between the two of you, seemingly having connected the dots. “Does this mean I’ve gotta get both of you pregnant?”

You smile. “Sounds good to me.”

Shiu. “Wait-”

Because heats lasted a week for hybrids. 

Shiu better get his human stamina used to it.

.

.

.

“I’m sorry…what?”

It’s a sentence that Shiu thinks he’s going to have to get used to a lot—telling people that the cow hybrid you’d had a crush on for the past few years but then gotten mated is actually your mate too - and that by association you’re her mate’s mate but honestly not really complaining about it is…for one a long sentence. 

And two, it’s probably going to get a bunch of weird looks.

It sounds like the stuff of a fantasy, maybe even those romance stories; and Shiu’s well and fully aware of how he sounds when he says it.

Which is why he’s telling Kusakabe first - it only seemed appropriate.

“It’s exactly as I said.” Shiu states matter-of-factly. “And you can ask Dr. Shoko if you think there’s been any mix-”

“No no, man. It’s not that I don’t believe you.” Kusakabe interrupts him. “In fact, I think it’s great that you finally managed to do something about your feelings- congratulations, man.”

“Thank you.” Shiu watches the herd from the door to the barn house - inside, the only pair were you and Toji. His breath hitches once you’re walking over from Toji to nuzzle up to him. He reaches to scratch behind those silken ears of yours—“But then what was all that about?”

“Ah- no, it’s just…” There’s a truck honk from the other end of the line, and Shiu realizes that Kusakabe must be going somewhere. “I assumed it was actually about the bull.”

Shiu squints. “The what thing?”

“The bull thing. I guess Toji forgot to tell you since you were a little preoccupied. But last night when Toji took over driving my truck we happened to run into…everything.”

Shiu snorts. “Serves you right.”

“And man- I needed this truck to transport this new bull hybrid for ol’ Gakuganji down in Kyoto. You know how he gets. It’s the only one big enough so…” 

And now…now Shiu wasn’t exactly having fun. “…And?” The two of you were looking at him in interest now, clearly having heard something about another hybrid—and Toji especially had had his smirk growing in synchronization with the increasingly ashen look on Shiu’s face.

“And so Toji said it’s alright, but would you mind looking after this new bull for a few days until I get the truck fixed? Just for a few days. I’m actually on the way there right now so thank you. His name is Sukuna and-”

“Noooooooooo-”

Yes, tens of thousands- the view count climbing as he goes stupider and stupider, his eyes twitching closed above the field the camera offers to the strangers watching him get off. Sometimes they send in donations, begging for him to edge himself just a little longer or pinch his nipples. He’s surprised you didn’t think he had a side gig going, considering how many little trinkets and gifts he buys for you.

And he’s worked up enough already over your recent post; god, he tries so so hard not to look because he feels awful, but when he catches a glimpse of your thighs in a bikini on his feed he’s so gone he can’t help but mewl into his palm as the other slicks his cock. This week, you’ve posted a cutely curated set of your recent outings- and Megumi finds himself scrolling through the snaps of stray cats, foamy coffees, and study sessions to a selfie.

In the picture, you’re wearing a cute little tank top- and all Megumi can think about is how soft the sliver of your tits the photo affords him looks; how he wants to stuff his face between them and drool (he’s doing that already, saliva pooling in his mouth) while you pet his hair from above.

And so he finds himself setting up his camera to face the chair he’s slumped on, cock straining and leaking impatiently against his boxers as he wrangles his sweats to the floor; all it takes is a few taps of his keyboard, and he’s live.

His hand palms over the bulge in his underwear, watching the way pre dampens the cotton as the first donations already start flowing in. But he doesn’t care about that, not right now, as he has your post pulled up on his monitor and zoomed in pervertedly to the dip of cleavage in your tank top.

If Megumi was happy to let you stay at your dorm, you’re practically thrilled. Honestly, getting yourself off wasn’t part of your intended plan, but the seam of your underwear caught just right as you slipped into bed and now your fingers are carding messily through your own slick.

Your other hand, the one not circling your clit, is scrolling lazily on your phone through a live camboy website of all things. You can’t even find it within yourself to be ashamed, not when you’re being offered such a glorious array of whining men jerking into their hands.

“Nope,” you breathe, flicking past somebody in too-clear, pristine, professional lighting. “No…” you grimace again, ignoring the advert at the bottom of your screen telling you to ‘meet hot singles now!’

God, is there anything good on here?

Actually, you think surprisedly, landing on a slightly gritty livestream of somebody cracking out breathy moans through the occasional whine, maybe there is. It's like audio porn, but even better, because you know he's actually getting himself off, thick globules of pre snaking over his clenched knuckles while his other hand runs teasingly over his chest and pectorals.

Your index finger presses down onto your clit, applying enough pressure to make your hips lift a little off the bed as your thighs twitch restlessly. “Oh,” you moan to yourself, “mhm-“

On screen, the faceless camboy is repeatedly drawing his hand away from his poor, sensitive tip to watch the way his cock spurts out pre and soaks the messy happy trail crawling across his abs. “Hah, fuck-“ he whimpers, hips fucking into the air, “fuuccckk, feels good, hck-“

Oh, you think hazily, two fingers fucking into yourself, he’s gone totally stupid.

Nice!

He keeps rambling, the microphone picking it up. “Ohhhhmygod,” he slurs, “miss you. You’re so pretty, miss you s’bad…”

You pause, fingers buried knuckle-deep into your own cunt. Hold on- you recognise that voice. It sounds eerily similar. Your brows pinch in concentration as you rake through the people you know; nobody from your lectures, nobody you’ve spoken to in passing, nobody. You’ve been through everybody- well, not everybody.

Megumi.

“Oh my god,” you whisper to yourself, grabbing your phone and sitting upright, “no fucking way.”

The camboy has a catalogue of previous livestreams pinned on his profile, ranging in length from hours-long edging sessions to quick bursts of videos he must’ve spontaneously recorded in a bathroom or another public space that you really shouldn’t be camboying from.

The phone is obviously slung in his hand, his other set of fingers stroking across his abs before pinching the tip of his cock. The noise he lets out hits the microphone sexily, so sexily it makes your thighs snap together.

The first full video you click on is a landscape view. The bedroom is dark and fuzzy, grainy footage showing his whole, naked body (but not his face) as he spreads himself out rather prettily on top of his sheets. The man’s back is arched slightly as he humps into a pillow, his eyes no doubt rolling back in his skull if you go by the noises he’s making.

“Hnngh-“ he whimpers, cock buried within the plush cotton of the pillowcase, “oh fuck, it still smells like y-you-“ he’s rambling, “smells so good, so gooood, fuck, feel so bad-“ your cheeks are hot. That’s definitely Megumi’s bedroom, you’d recognise that neat pile of veterinary textbooks on the shelf anywhere; but, that isn’t his pillow.

It’s yours.

“Can’t help myself, feels too good-“ he pants, mouth muffled against the bed as he desperately grinds his pelvis down. “Wish it was you,” he moans as he cums, hips stuttering against the soft material.

It’s definitely yours, the one you accidentally left at his dorm a few weeks ago after you slept on his couch with freshly-washed hair and the smell of your shampoo seeped into the pillow. “Holy shit.” You mutter to yourself, entranced with the way Megumi’s moaning stupidly about how good it smells on camera to thousands of strangers.

Thousands of horny strangers, as evidenced by the comments.

> Oh my god his whines

> I’m so wet rnnnn ughhghgh

> THE RAMBLING FUCKKKK

You know it’s him, definitely- but you can never have enough proof. At least, that’s the excuse you use to justify why you’re salivating over a lewd video of him wrapping his shaky fingers around his base and tugging. “I wish it was you-“ he breathes, “wish you were here.”

Surely he isn’t talking about you, is he? At least, that’s what you’re trying to tell yourself as you turn up your volume and your brightness simultaneously. “Fuck, you looked so good earlier,” he rambles to himself, occasionally cutting off his own train of thought as his fingers pull harshly. “I wanted you to fuck me so badly it hurt.”

He moans loudly, cracking at the end. “So badly, ngh-“

You’re shocked, honestly, sitting in bed as your best friend whimpers himself to an orgasm. You don’t realise he’s cumming until you hear him whine and his back practically arches away from the chair he’s in, shoving his slick tip towards the camera, and oh, he looks so pretty. His abs get a firm splattering, dripping messily across the sweaty skin, before he shakily drags a hand through the white. Then, the video ends, and you’re left to stunned silence and your own soaked gusset. And, of course, the comments.

> WHOOO is he talking about

> He’s so messy

> nghh his happy trail is sosoooso hot

You can barely face speaking to him the next day, nervously curled up on the opposite side of his couch and anxiously worrying your lip between your teeth. Lest you blurt out something along the lines of “I saw the video of you whimpering and humping my pillow and I had to take a cold shower afterwards”, you take a shaky sip of your water instead.

Now you’re back at Megumi’s place, you’re really registering how much money he must make from camboying. There’s nothing broken, not even little things like the window latches that, at your dorm, have a nasty habit of getting stuck closed in summer. And his clothes are nice too, in a subtle way- casual, but definitely made from a comfy blend of materials that polyester is nowhere near.

Your one saving grace is, dizzingly, that now you know he wants you too- and it’s maybe that (or the lack of sleep) that carries your next words out of your mouth.

“You know you can speak to me about anything, right, Megs?”

“Yeah?” He side eyes you, running a pale hand through his spiky hair. You squint. “Like, anything.”

He nods slowly. “Uh, yeah?”

“Oh, okay,” you say, “so when were you gonna tell me you make your money from being a camboy?”

Megumi freezes. His whole body tenses up on the couch and he looks rather nauseous.

“What?”

You shift into your hands and knees in front of him on the couch, slowly crawling towards his stilled body. “Don’t pretend,” you say, voice dropping into something a little breathy and very evil. Your fingers lightly drift across his thigh, and Megumi jolts. “I saw. That was my pillow, wasn’t it?”

His cheeks go redder than you think you’ve ever seen them- but he’s still silent, processing the fact that you know he fucks his hand every night on camera while whimpering your name. “I’m sorry,” he manages finally, voice thick, “I’m so, so sorry, I just- fuck-“

He dares a glance up, and almost chokes on his own spit. You look sorry for him, a little sad at how panicked he is; your eyes are big and round and, most of all, trusting, and it makes him feel hot. Mortification washes over him when he feels the blood previously flooding his face rush southwards, his sweats filling out the longer you pity him.

Honestly, he thinks he just wants you to take care of him. Maybe that’s why he’s spent so long begging on livestreams, cock buried in your scent or the fingers he wishes were yours.

“Admit it,” you whisper suddenly with a fresh burst of confidence at his blushing, your mouth hovering dangerously close to his. “You like this. Me pitying you.”

Megumi’s breath shudders loudly, his eyes screwed up as he gulps. Say it, Megumi! Something hisses at himself, you know you do. “Yeah. I really do.”

The initial press of your mouth against his is curved upwards as you smile into his tongue. You were expecting him to be just as tentative, but instead Megumi is messy- like he needs you to breathe, gripping you through your clothes with grabby hands.

“Mmpfh!” You squeak against his lips when he nips down- hard- on your bottom lip. He’s breathing heavily now, eyes shut lucidly as he leans into the gentle touch of your palms on his face. The kiss is sloppy; you keep pulling away for air, glossy strings of spit clashing in midair, only for Megumi to gasp and pull your mouth back closer.

It’s not close enough, though.

His hands are fisting in the shirt at your back, clinging to your waist to drag you atop his lap. Megumi doesn’t even realise what he’s done until you gasp, pulling back just long enough to gaze down at his face. All flustered and dazed, lips kiss bitten as he instinctually chases after your lips- how pretty.

You feel bad for the viewers, the ones on his livestreams who don’t get to see the face he makes when he’s all worked up. Your lap is splayed across his bulge, and when your hips lift up to awkwardly wriggle out of your jeans Megumi drops his forehead to your collarbone and whines at the loss.

And it’s that thought about those livestreams that brings your hand down his chest, feeling the fluttering beat of his heart, before playing with his waistband. He physically lurches when your hand, so soft and warm and loving, gently coaxes his cock out.

It slaps obscenely against his stomach, tip a pretty pink and dripping big beads of shining pre. There’s a significant vein striping down the side of the pale skin, curving around the length as it twitches hopelessly in the air under your watchful gaze. Megumi’s fingers are curling into the couch on either side, digging hollow dents into the throw pillows like he isn’t ready to allow himself to touch you.

Your other hand travels up his body towards his face, tilting his chin up towards you so you can take in his blown pupils and the haze already seeping over them like ink. His mouth is clamped shut, lips drawn into a thin line to keep his needy noises locked behind his teeth; so, logically, you have to open him up.

Two of your fingers slide tentatively into the warm, small space of his mouth, and Megumi accepts them like a ship going to the sea, waves battering at his sides. He feels a little like he's drowning inside his own head, being so vulnerable and pathetic under you, but the feeling of your digits gently probing at his tongue keeps him steady.

You’re still across his lap, scooted backwards to allow his cock to rest in the heated space between you as you gently take it in your hand. He moans immediately and his hips buck up. “Sorry.” He apologises thickly around your fingers as you ease them out, warm face dropping against your clothed chest. And yet, his hips don’t stop.

They splatter your hand with pre, almost erratically bucking up into your awaiting fist as you curl it into a tighter hole for him to thrust his length through. You use your other hand to pull at his hair just hard enough for him to turn and look at you, his cheek still pressed up hard against the outline of your tits visible through your shirt. You grin.

“Do you want me to take it off?” Your fingers are already curling into the hem. When you take your hand from his cock to wriggle out of the fabric, Megumi chokes on his own whine and desperately lurches forwards- but while your edging was cruel, the sight of your tits in front of him makes it worth it.

“Wait, slow down-“ You’re only just fumbling with the clasp and giggling when Megumi decides that it’s been long enough and he needs his mouth on you now. He trails sloppy, open-mouthed kisses from your throat to your sternum and soaks the lace of your bra with his spit before you rip the garment away and he connects his lips to your nipple.

At the same time as you gasp softly and arch further into his mouth, your fingers reconnect with his aching cock and resume their prior movements, only this time Megumi’s whimpers are muffled around your chest.

“Never want to think again,” he slurs suddenly against you, glossy spit trickling down the valley between your breasts as he pops back long enough to shove his tongue greedily into your mouth again. “Just… just- fuck, I’m so needy,” he cracks out, your lips parting loudly to welcome his own.

“You are,” you agree, gently bringing his face away from yours so you can look at him. His eyes are heavy and glassy, his mouth hanging open slightly as though their purpose is to await the next lick of your tongue between them. “But that’s okay,” you continue, stroking his head as his mouth attaches itself to your chest again. “You’re allowed to be needy.”

Your hand feels warmer, suddenly, as Megumi cums from your allowance. Maybe he’s been waiting for it, secretly, the permission from you to let go; his release drips hot and sticky across your knuckles, and there’s just so much of it. His cock is still spurting when you push him back against the couch, still messing the sliver of happy trail on his stomach you want to mouth at and ruining his shirt that’s covering the rest of the hair.

He has a forearm thrown across his eyes as his hips continue bucking, little whines and gasps hidden behind the skin. Your fingers trace the hem of his shirt and he shivers. “Off?” You question quietly. When he nods jerkily, you peel it away and oh, it’s even better than the livestream.

You always knew Megumi went to the gym and ate reasonably well, but the refined ridges of his abdomen, splattered with a trail of hair from his navel downwards, makes your mouth salivate. He’s embarrassed by you looking, you can tell, but it really isn’t your fault!

“I see why you have so many viewers now.” You giggle, standing up to unhook your panties and toss them to the side. Megumi watches in nothing less than total awe as your bare body is revealed to him in his living room. It’s an invitation, the way you look at him, he knows that, but he can’t figure out what he wants to do with it.

Bend you over the glass coffee table? He wouldn’t be able to see your tits. Doggy? Same problem as the coffee table, and he doesn't think he could handle seeing your ass move. If you got on top he thinks he’d cum embarrassingly quickly and then pass out, too much for your first time together, really-

He settles on missionary.

Which was probably a gigantic fucking mistake, he thinks as soon as you’re lying beneath him, because his brain immediately blanks when faced with you spread out like this. He’s kneeling in front of you, cock still dripping, but he’s unable to move from shock. “Fuck,” he swallows eventually, shaky hands landing on your soft, bare thighs.

“You’re… so pretty.” Instinctually, you blush; your cheeks are pinker at his sweet little praise than they were when you’d laid back on the carpet, rug cushioning the feeling of your bare spine and sinking comfily into your feet as you drew your knees up. “You too.”

It sort of just slipped out, a casual response to what Megumi said, but it makes him freeze. A slow, slightly malicious smile paints its way across your face as you sit up on your elbows, unintentionally pushing your chest towards him as your legs fall open. “You’re just sooo pretty, Megumi, the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen, it just makes me want to-“

A palm clasps itself over your mouth and you make a muffled, indignant sound of protest. “Stop.” Megumi’s head is hung low as his chest reverberates outwards in his plea, his other hand tightly squeezing his cock; he must be sensitive if this is what a teeny bit of praise does to him, you think, letting your thighs spread further for him to shuffle between.

Your hand reaches up to peel his palm away from your lips. “Megumi,” you whisper, “you can fuck me. You’re allowed to.” His next breath escapes shakily, as his eyes fixate on the way his tip is lined up glimmeringly with the entrance to your pussy.

Somehow, the overwhelming need to bury himself inside you overrides the sense of terror within his bloodstream, and Megumi finds himself slowly pushing himself into you. “Oh,” you moan, hands coming up to splay across his shoulders, “fuck, Megs. That's so good, baby.”

The nickname unlocks something new in him, the feeling of your walls stretching out for him (and only ever him from now on, he decides hazily) while you gasp his name quietly makes his thrusts turn harder, seeking a new level of release he fears- no, knows- he’ll now only be able to reach from this.

The stretch is mean at first, his flushed length scraping past your sweet spots like he’s teasing them for later. Your chest heaves as you breathe through it and let him in, legs wrapping loosely around his lean waist while your hands come up to cup his cheeks and drag him down into another sloppy kiss.

This kiss is messy beyond comparison, spit and teeth and tongue more than lips as the pace of Megumi’s cock thrusting into you picks up. There’s a rushing of blood in your ears when your hand drifts down to rub your clit wonkily, a noise that subsides quick enough and lets you listen to Megumi instead.

And oh, what a thing to listen to!

“Fuck,” he’s moaning, voice cracking on the syllables, “you’re so warm, so tight, wanna- hnngh- stay here forever, god-“

He’s whining and crying, sobbing uncontrollably about how good you feel, how warm and wet you are wrapped tightly around him, and it sends a fresh wave of slick from you that decorates and splashes against his pelvis.

As hard as he tries to hold back and be a goody boy for you, Megumi cums first. The feeling of him spilling into you, thick and wet, makes you gasp brokenly as your nails dig into his shoulders. “Sorry-“ he heaves, pulling out, “I’ll make it up to you-“

He presses himself flat between your thighs, and you’re too dazed and throbbing to do anything but watch the way he’s staring pussydrunkenly at the sight between your legs. It’s almost nasty, just how much is dripping from your cunt down to the floor, in one thick droplet he’s lurching forwards and licking up with his mouth.

“Oh my god-“ you mewl, back arching up as he eats his own cum out of your pussy. Your hands reach down to grip at his spiky hair, more as an anchor than anything else- you don’t need to guide him, he’s good enough, although you don’t think Megumi would pull away if you wanted him to.

He’s completely lost in it, groaning and whining into your pussy with his eyes half-closed while his big hands wrap around your thighs and dig into the flesh until it dimples beneath his touch. You’re whimpering by the time he pushes you into an orgasm, lips suctioned tightly over your sensitive clit, but he doesn’t stop.

“Hah- wanted to do this f’so long,” he’s mumbling against your cunt, shoving his mouth open to lick a flat stripe across the full space you offer him. “So good, so good…”

Your pussy flutters needily around his tongue, his tastebuds coated and lacquered with your slick and his own cum. The concept should be off-putting to him, he knows that, but he can't be ashamed when your hits jerk into his face and he raises his hands to grip onto your plush thighs even more. Megumi barely realises what he's doing before you call him out on it.

"You- you want me to clamp them?" You gasp, watching the way he's smothering himself with your skin. Megumi moans in agreement, in admission. And you oblige.

Your thighs tighten around his head harshly, applying the maximum amount of pressure you can manage; his dark hair gets messed even more, his skull compressed, and yet Megumi thinks this feels like heaven.

Eventually, what little coherence he had left devolves into something close to devotion. He can’t do anything but lie there and gently grind his overstimulated cock into the soft carpet, his mouth smushed against your cunt as he unintentionally drags you into a second orgasm and you sob.

In fact, you’re both sobbing a little. There’s tears brimming in his eyes, saline drops threatening to streak Megumi’s already bright cheeks, while the water collecting at your waterline has already begun slipping down your temples. “S’too much.” You hear yourself slurring. Your voice sounds underwater, like it’s a recording of yourself you’re listening to.

As shaky and weak as you are, your hand manages to fist in Megumi’s hair and pull him back. His long eyelashes flutter a segment open, like he’s checking you’re real and here, before he draws himself up blindly to collapse beside you on the rug as you catch your breath.

A little like a tired puppy, Megumi drops his forehead against your shoulder and buries his face into the damp skin. Your arm curls around his back loosely, heat prickling your skin, and you clear your hoarse throat to speak coherently for the first time since he pushed himself inside you.

“You did really good.” You mumble, eyes closed and head tilted back. “So good.”

If a fresh sheen of tears starts to leak out onto your skin where Megumi is buried, you don’t comment on it. He wouldn’t say it out loud to you, not in a million years, but he feels safe. In an odd way, considering he’s naked and spent next to you in his living room with your taste still coating his tongue.

“Maybe…” you giggle, eyes still lazily shut as your fingers trace shapes across his bare back. “You should livestream it next time.”

He groans and tightens his arms around you. “Absolutely not.”

masterlist

a/n: thank you all so, so, so much again!! + this post was mainly inspired by @lipstainedgemini ‘s lovely posts about camboy megumi! <33

tags: (join in pinned!!)

Suguru had sat you down on a Sunday, which you had thought was cruel timing. Sunday mornings used to be yours, slow and warm, coffee and his records and the particular blue light that came through the windows of his apartment on the Shimokitazawa side of the city. He had used that gentleness of his—the kind that had hooked you in the first place, the kind that made you feel like he was doing you a favor when he broke something in you.

"I feel like I'm suffocating you," he had said, which you both knew was not quite what he meant. You're suffocating me. He was too kind to say it plainly.

You had held it together long enough to get out the door.

That had been seven months ago.

You have, in those seven months, become a person you do not entirely recognize. You are aware of this. You are a fashion student, after all—you are trained to observe, to analyze, to understand aesthetics and composition and the way things are put together and taken apart. You apply this skill now to Geto Suguru's life in your absence from it.

It started small. The way these things always do.

You had kept his Instagram followed, of course. His main—@suguru.ink—which he kept public for his work. Clean grids of tattoo photos, the occasional candid shot from a coffee shop or a bar. Easy enough. You didn't even have to try.

But then he'd switched his personal account to private.

@its.suguru. One hundred and twelve followers. A lock icon.

You had made the alt before the thought had fully formed. It took you maybe twenty minutes: a new email, a new account, four weeks of posting photos stolen from Pinterest—aesthetic city shots, some food, a carefully curated collection of jazz album covers—and then a follow request sent to his personal from @mn.archives, a faceless account that looked like any other twenty-something whose personality lived entirely in film photography and good coffee. Two hundred and sixteen followers, because a number too low looks suspicious.

He accepted within a day.

You tell yourself this is just so you know he's okay. That it's concern, residual and tender, the way you might still check the weather in a city you used to live in. You scroll through his grid at eleven PM with your knees pulled to your chest and you look at the photo he posted last Thursday—some bar you recognize, neon light catching the silver of his earrings, Haibara's arm slung around his shoulder—and you feel something so complicated you can't name it. Not grief exactly. Not quite anger.

Want, maybe. Plain and embarrassing.

The tattoo was not your best idea. You will admit that freely, in the privacy of your own thoughts.

You had passed by his work plcea approximately forty-seven times in seven months, which you know because you have routes home that all bend toward this specific block on purpose. You had a habit of slowing down outside the window—frosted glass, the clean black font of the shop name, sometimes the amber glow of light inside—and telling yourself you were just walking. Just passing through. Just appreciating good signage, actually, as a design student.

The appointment you booked under a fake name—Watanabe Mika, which you chose because it felt forgettable—was a small floral piece. Lower back. Simple. Classic. Something you could attribute to a late-night Pinterest spiral rather than the slow, spectacular unraveling of your dignity.

There is one flaw in this plan, one thing you had somehow managed not to factor in.

You are terrified of needles.

You sat in the chair and stared at the ceiling and told yourself it was fine, it was fine, it was—

"Breathe."

His voice, right behind you. Low and unbothered, the way it always was.

You had not accounted, in all your meticulous planning, for the fact that you would have to talk to him. That the fake name would crumble the second he walked into the room and said it like he'd never heard it before in his life.

"Watanabe-san?"

You had turned, and his expression had done something complicated for exactly one second before settling back into professional neutrality. His hair was up—messy bun, a few strands loose around his face—and he had new ink on his forearm, something geometric you didn't recognize. Which meant he'd had it done after you. The thought sat in your chest like a splinter.

"Hi," you said. Brilliant.

"Hi." A pause. "Small piece?"

"Lower back. Florals. I have a reference."

He had nodded and reached for his gloves and you had spent the next forty minutes lying face-down on the table with your back exposed and his hands steady on your skin and tried very hard not to make a sound that wasn't about the needle.

You managed. Barely.

The tattoo healed beautifully. Sometimes you twist in front of your mirror just to look at it.

His favorite coffee shop is a place called Kōhī to Yoru—coffee and night—that operates out of a narrow building near the university. He started going there maybe three months into your relationship, the two of you sharing a corner table and his headphones, and you have continued going there with the particular audacity of someone who has decided they were there first, actually, in some cosmic sense, even if that is not strictly true.

You go on Tuesday mornings and Thursday afternoons, which are the days his alt account has, on multiple occasions, shown him holding an iced coffee that matches the shop's specific shade of pale green cup.

You bring your sketchbook. You work on your thesis collection. You sit with your back to the door and wait for the sound of it opening—the particular way the bell above it chimes—and when he comes in, which he does, not every time but often enough, you feel your whole body go still and warm and stupid. You look down at your paper and draw the same seam line you have been drawing for six minutes without noticing.

He always orders the same thing. You know his order the way you know the smell of his apartment, the exact pressure of his hands, the specific timbre of his voice when he's half asleep.

You don't look up.

You're very good at not looking up.

The club situation, in retrospect, requires more explanation.

There is a bar-club hybrid in the entertainment district called Sable that Suguru frequents. You know this because Satoru has a fully public account and zero impulse control regarding location tags, which means you have a near-perfect record of their Saturday nights without ever having to try very hard. You don't follow Satoru. You don't need to. His posts are public and his captions are aggressive and he documents everything.

You do not go to Sable every Saturday. You're not insane.

You go maybe twice a month. On weekends you've verified—through Satoru's stories, through a brief and agonizing scan of his tagged photos—that Suguru will be there. You get ready carefully, the way you used to when you were going to see him, and you tell your friends, who know nothing, that you just feel like going out. That you love this place. That the DJ is good.

The thing is, you're not lying about the DJ. The DJ genuinely is good.

And you are, by any objective measure, devastating when you make the effort.

You keep your distance. That's the important part, the part that keeps this justifiable. You don't go near him—too obvious, too much—and you have what's left of your pride to protect. You position yourself well, and you dance, and you drink, and you exist in the same airspace, and you watch, peripherally, the way you've gotten very good at watching things peripherally.

What you also do—and this is the part where you stop being able to fully justify yourself—is notice the women.

There are always women. Suguru is—you don't need to describe him to yourself. You know exactly what he looks like in a room, what he does to it without meaning to, that particular quality of his presence that functions like gravity. You know because it pulled you in and kept you there for sixteen months and you have not yet figured out how to get far enough away that it stops working on you.

So. The women.

You don't interfere directly. That would be messy, obvious, humiliating. What you do is more surgical than that. A girl drifts toward him at the bar—you're there first, materializing at his elbow under the pretense of ordering, smiling at the bartender, turning just enough that your body language reads as occupied space. A group approaches the table where he and Satoru are sitting—you're walking past right then, somehow, and you catch Gojo's eye (Gojo who knows you, Gojo who looks at you with an expression you have learned not to examine) and you smile like you ran into him by coincidence, and the moment breaks before it can start.

You are very good at this.

You have gotten very good at this.

You think you're slick.

This is perhaps the most important thing to understand about the last seven months: you have constructed, in meticulous and loving detail, the story of yourself as someone who is merely adjacent to Geto Suguru's life. Someone who passes through the same spaces by coincidence, drawn there by taste and habit and not by anything more embarrassing than that. Someone who has moved on cleanly and simply no longer intersects with him—except in these small moments that don't count, that you are careful to keep deniable.

You believe this story.

You are, perhaps, the only one who does.

Geto Suguru notices everything.

This is not vanity—it's fact, the baseline condition of someone who has spent years being precisely observed and has therefore learned to observe in return. He notices patterns. He notices the particular quality of attention a room gives a person. He notices when something stops being coincidence and starts being something else entirely.

The first time he saw you at Kōhī to Yoru, he thought: oh.

Not with surprise. With something more like recognition. Like finding a word he'd been looking for in a language he already spoke.

You had your sketchbook open and your head down and the line of your shoulders had that specific tension you always got when you were pretending to concentrate on something other than what was in front of you. He had ordered his coffee and taken the table by the window—not your corner, deliberately not your corner—and watched you not look at him for eleven minutes straight. And he had felt something settle in his chest like the click of a lock finding its latch.

There she is.

He had not broken up with you because he stopped wanting you. He needs to be clear about this, at least to himself, in the space where honesty costs nothing. He had broken up with you because wanting you and watching you want him back had started to feel like too much weight in a place he didn't know how to hold. He is—he will say this plainly—not good at being needed. Something in him retreats when it feels cornered by someone else's love, some reflex toward distance that he's never fully understood and never fully fought. He had watched you learn his rhythms and bend yourself around them and he had known, somewhere underneath the warmth of it, that he was shaping you into something that orbited him, and you deserved better than a center like him.

He had thought, in the careful logical part of his mind, that breaking up would free you. That you'd pull yourself out and go build something that didn't require making yourself small.

He had not, apparently, accounted for yoy.

@/mn.archives had followed him about two months after the breakup. He noticed because he got the notification at 2 AM on a Tuesday, which was exactly when you used to lose sleep to your phone.

He had looked at the profile for a long time.

The photos were too curated. Jazz records and film photography and that particular aesthetic that looked like a constructed personality rather than an actual one—assembled from the outside in, like a mood board rather than a life. No face. No name. mn.archives. He had scrolled back through their last few conversations once—just once, he told himself—and found a message you'd sent months before the end, mentioning a vintage archive account you'd been thinking about making.

He had accepted the follow request.

He still posts to that account knowing you're watching. Sometimes he tags places he's about to go, just to see if youll show up. You always do.

The tattoo appointment had required real effort not to laugh.

Watanabe Mika. He'd seen the name in the book when he was reviewing the day's schedule and he had known before he walked into the room. He doesn't know exactly how he knew—maybe the handwriting, you always pressed too hard with pens, like you were trying to leave a mark on whatever you touched—but he had known, and when he said the name and watched you face do that thing where you're trying to hold it perfectly still, he had felt something he'd classify, if he were being honest, as pure delight.

Forty minutes. His hands on your back. The way you'd gone absolutely rigid when the needle started and then forced yourself still through what he knew, because he knows you, was genuine fear. You hadn't made a sound. He'd been almost proud of you.

He wanted to say: you don't have to do this.

He wanted to say: I already know.

He said neither. Because there is something he enjoys—something he is not proud of but does not particularly want to stop—about watching you work this hard. About being watched this carefully. About being the thing someone builds an entire architecture of ordinary life around.

The club thing is his favorite.

He sees yoy every time. He spotted you the third Saturday you came to Sable—across the room, dancing with that particular careless ease you put on when you're trying to look like you're not paying attention to anything—and he had taken a slow drink and thought about how long you'd been doing this without knowing he saw. He had done a rough calculation. Yiu'd been at it for months.

The girls you redirects: he lets you. It would be simple enough to close the gap, to make himself reachable, to let someone else in just to see what you'd do. He doesn't.

Satoru, who is not an idiot and has never pretended to be, had said once, watching you materialize near the bar at precisely the right moment: "You know she's here."

"I know," Suguru had said.

Satoru had looked at him for a long moment. "And you're just going to let her keep doing this."

It hadn't been a question. Suguru hadn't answered it anyway. Satoru had made the face he made when he thought Suguru was being spectacular and specific kind of idiot, which was fair. Satoru was usually right about these things.

He still has your key.

This is the part he doesn't examine too closely, doesn't turn over in his hands and look at straight on. He still has the key you gave him fourteen months into their relationship—the little silver one with the small scratch near the head from when you'd dropped your keychain down a flight of stairs and laughed so hard you couldn't breathe, had grabbed his arm for balance and left half-moon marks in his jacket. He had kept it after the breakup, which he had told himself was oversight. He'd meant to return it. The moment had never arrived, and the key had stayed on his ring, and here they are.

He goes, sometimes, when he knows your out.

He knows your schedule the way he's always known things about you—not through tracking, not through architecture and alt accounts, but through the simple accumulating weight of attention. He knows you have studio hours Monday and Wednesday evenings. He knows you go to your mother's on Sunday afternoons and usually doesn't come back until after seven.

He lets himself in quietly. He moves through the apartment and he moves things—small things, careful things. A mug shifted slightly on the counter. Your desk chair at a different angle. The throw blanket refolded. Nothing you could be certain about, nothing that couldn't be chalked up to your own distracted hands in a busy week. He just wants you to feel it, in some wordless way you can't name. He wants to leave a shape in your space.

He also takes things. He is aware this is not something he can justify cleanly. Small things—a note torn from your sketchbook, a hair tie from the bathroom counter, once a grocery list written in your handwriting that he'd found tucked under a bottle of wine. Things you might not notice. Things you'd never be sure about.

The first time he went to the drawer beside the bed—just to look, he'd told himself—he had found his hoodie. The charcoal one you used to steal, folded near the bottom like you'd put it somewhere you didn't have to see every day but couldn't bring yourself to throw away. And underneath a novel you was reading: a photo strip from a machine in Harajuku. The two of you, making faces, the particular light of that afternoon still somehow caught in the paper.

You hadn't thrown any of it away.

He had stood there for a moment and felt something so complicated that he hadn't tried to name it. He had taken the photo strip. Replaced it with a different photo—same machine, earlier in the same day, just you, mid-laugh, caught without knowing—so the space wouldn't feel empty if you looked.

He keeps the photo strip in his wallet.

He does not call this obsession. He doesn't call it anything.

It's a Thursday night when he finally goes back, and this time he doesn't have a reason.

Not to rearrange anything. Not to take something. No careful justification assembled in advance. He doesn't know what that means and he has, tonight, decided to stop caring.

The city is quiet the way it gets past midnight, that particular held-breath stillness. His key makes no sound against her lock—he knows the angle by now, the specific lift-and-turn that keeps the mechanism from clicking too loud. The door swings open onto darkness and the particular smell of her apartment, warm and layered, something floral and underneath it something that is just you, unchanged across seven months, the thing that had always made the back of his mind go quiet.

He moves through the space without turning on a light. He knows it better than you might expect. He knows the creak of the second floorboard from the hallway and steps around it. He knows to angle left around the ottoman you perpetually fail to put back in the right place. He knows the bedroom door sticks slightly at the top corner and needs gentle pressure to open without a sound.

It gives way.

You're asleep. He can tell from the doorway—the slow, even rise and fall of you breathing, your hair against the pillow, one hand curled loosely near your face. The window lets in just enough city light to see you by. Gold and still.

He leans against the doorframe.

He watches you breathe.

There is something terrible about this moment. Something tender underneath the terrible. He knows that. He is not without self-awareness—he has spent years being precisely, painfully self-aware, and it has never once made him behave better. You have been watching him for seven months from what you believed is a safe distance. He has been watching you from what he knows is not one. And maybe that says something about both of you, about the particular shape of whatever this is, two people who were never going to fall cleanly out of each other's gravity no matter how carefully he tried to cut the line.

You shift in your sleep. A small sound, something that almost forms a word and dissolves before it arrives.

He is still there.

There she is.

He stays until his shoulder starts to ache from the doorframe, and then he stays a little longer.

The city light filters through the half-open blinds in thin silver bars across your bed. Suguru stands in the doorway a moment longer, letting the quiet settle into his bones. Your breathing is deep, slow, the kind that only comes after exhaustion has finally won. He crosses the room without sound, shedding his jacket onto the chair by your desk. The hoodie you still keep is visible when he glances at the open drawer—charcoal, folded like a secret.

He sits on the edge of the mattress. The shift of weight makes you stir, but you don’t wake. Good. He wants this part slow.

His hand finds your ankle first, thumb brushing up the bare skin of your calf. You’re wearing an oversized t-shirt—his, he realizes with a low pulse of satisfaction—and nothing else. The hem has ridden up to the curve of your ass. He traces higher, palm warm against the back of your thigh, then slips under the fabric to rest at the small of your back, right over the fresh ink he put there himself. The skin is still slightly raised, healed but sensitive. He presses lightly.

You make a soft, wordless sound, shifting onto your stomach more fully. Your face stays buried in the pillow.

“Suguru…?” The name is barely shaped, thick with sleep, more breath than voice.

He doesn’t answer. Instead he leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Shh. Go back to sleep if you want.”

His hand slides lower, between your legs, finding you already slick. A low hum leaves his throat. Even asleep, your body knows him. He circles your clit with two fingers, unhurried, coaxing. Your hips twitch once, instinctive, pushing back against his hand.

You whimper into the pillow, still half-gone, thighs parting just enough to let him in. He takes the invitation, pressing one finger inside you, then two, curling gently. The wet sound is obscene in the quiet room. Your breathing changes—shallower, quicker—but your eyes stay closed, lashes fluttering against your cheeks.

He works you open like that for long minutes, slow thrusts of his fingers, thumb stroking your clit in lazy circles. Every time you clench around him he feels it in his own cock, already straining against his jeans. When you start rocking back against his hand in tiny, unconscious movements, he withdraws, ignoring the protesting noise you make.

Clothes off. He doesn’t rush. The belt buckle clicks softly; the zipper sounds louder than it should. He strokes himself once, twice, spreading the bead of pre-cum over the head before lining up behind you.

You’re on your stomach, legs spread, t-shirt bunched at your waist. Perfect.

He pushes in slow, one long glide until he’s buried to the hilt. The stretch makes you gasp, eyes flying open for a heartbeat before they flutter shut again. Your walls flutter around him, hot and tight and so fucking wet.

“Fuck,” he breathes against your nape, staying still for a moment, letting you adjust. Or not. He doesn’t ask.

He starts moving—deep, measured rolls of his hips that press you harder into the mattress. Each thrust drags against that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. You moan, low and broken, still sounding half-asleep, face turned to the side now so he can see the flush on your cheek.

One of his hands slides under you, finding your clit again, rubbing in tight circles while he fucks you. The other braces beside your head, caging you in. He drops his weight more fully onto your back, lips at your shoulder, teeth grazing skin.

You push back against him, needy even in your drowsiness. “Suguru…” His name again, softer this time, wrecked with pleasure. Your hand reaches back blindly, fingers brushing his hip, urging him deeper.

He gives it to you. Harder now, the slap of skin on skin filling the room. He angles his hips until every thrust makes you cry out—short, breathy sounds that go straight to his cock. Your pussy clenches rhythmically around him, fluttering, pulling him in.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “Let me feel you.”

He fucks you like he’s memorizing you all over again—slow drags followed by sharp snaps of his hips, grinding deep when he bottoms out. Your breathing turns into soft, desperate pants. You’re dripping down his cock, onto the sheets. He reaches down and spreads your ass with both hands so he can watch himself disappear inside you, the obscene shine of your arousal coating him.

You come without warning, sudden and shuddering, a broken moan muffled by the pillow as your walls clamp down hard. He doesn’t stop, fucking you through it, drawing it out until your thighs shake.

Only then does he pull out, flipping you onto your back with easy strength. Your eyes are open now, heavy-lidded and dark, but still hazy with sleep and orgasm. You look at him like you’re not entirely sure he’s real.

He doesn’t give you time to wake up fully. He hooks your legs over his elbows and slides back in, folding you nearly in half. The new angle makes you keen, nails digging into his shoulders. He sets a punishing rhythm—deep, relentless, the headboard knocking softly against the wall.

Your t-shirt is pushed up to your collarbones. He bends his head and takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, tongue flicking. You arch into him, gasping. The other hand finds your clit again, rubbing fast and firm.

“Come on,” he growls against your skin. “Again. Want to feel it.”

You do. The second orgasm hits you harder, back bowing, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as you pulse around his cock. He fucks you through every wave, hips stuttering only when your nails rake down his back hard enough to leave marks.

He pulls out at the last second, stroking himself roughly over your stomach. Thick ropes of cum paint your skin, your tits, the underside of your chin. You watch with dazed, half-lidded eyes, lips parted.

For a long moment the only sound is both of you breathing.

He leans down and kisses you—slow, deep, tasting sleep and sex and the faint salt of your sweat. You kiss him back like muscle memory, one hand sliding into his hair, holding him there. When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours.

You don’t speak. Neither does he.

He reaches for the t-shirt you’re wearing—his t-shirt—and uses the hem to wipe his spend from your skin with surprising gentleness. Then he tosses it aside, pulls the blanket over both of you, and tucks you against his chest like no time has passed at all.

Your breathing evens out again within minutes, slipping back toward sleep. He stays awake longer, fingers tracing idle patterns over the floral ink on your lower back, feeling the steady beat of your heart against his ribs.

Outside, the city keeps breathing. Inside, the two of you fit back together in the dark like pieces that were never meant to stay apart.