Chapter Text
In this world forever warped by cursed instinct and Dōbutsu-Yūisei[i], Ryōmen Sukuna was a walking contradiction. Hailed as the last King of Reptiles to walk the recesses of Japan and a simultaneous, every day, computer programmer; the twenty-six-year-old possessed two enduring, spectral, faces that struggled to endear him to society. One was forever-delineated in stark irezumi-black marks that kissed the predatory curve of his jaw, scar-marked cheeks and tongue― the other he meticulously veiled beneath ivory pigmented concealer and stylish cosmic blue Ralph Lauren glasses.
Despite adopting the mellower of the two appearances that day, rectangular glasses seated perfectly symmetrical across the bridge of his nose, it did little to detract attention away from fact that his Animalia Genus was punctuated by the predatory sweep of a two-metre albino Porosus[ii] tail, long razor-sharp fangs and deep mahogany-red eyes. His natural appearance was more than enough to brand him a lethal outlier, a dichotomic existence wreathed in nothing but uncontained power, strength and a contrasting cashmere softness that flooded his surroundings with pheromone markers as close to an Omega Nurturer as Hoshoku-Class[iii] hybrids could get.
Society didn’t seem to care that he was one of the world’s rarest reptile hybrids with the scarcest secondary-gender, the majority of Alphas still managed to piss their pants at first sight of his impossibly behemoth build, towering eminence and looming 7’2’’[iv] height. Sukuna had yet to meet a single Apex Alpha taller, broader or more intimidating than him, never mind one with enough strength of presence, courage and raging insanity to make him bare the back of his neck in instinctual need.
It did not stop him from haphazardly attempting to allay the primal fear of both Hoshoku and Ejiki[v] Class hybrids however, his intimidating appearance softened by a thick teal cable-knit sweater, white scarf, worn brown loafers and neatly pressed black slacks that day. The ensemble was an accoutrement he would wear forever if it meant he could survive a single commute to and from Bunkyo City without every Metro compartment he stepped into stinking of burnt-hair apprehension and putrid disgust…
… a seemingly impossible task the Omega learned, long ago, to not vest any real hope within.
Dragging long black-clawed fingernails through the soft cherry-blossom ash mess of his hair, a quiet sigh of frustration echoed past petal soft lips as the albino crocodile absentmindedly pressed his bulky frame further against the side of the 539 to Shibuya. He was struggling to keep himself from suffocating against the train car’s penultimate window, the mess of bodies seeming more than double the usual rush hour evening press as he absently worked drooping pink strands back away from his forehead. No one knew how much he loathed concealing the unique Irezumi scales that marked his face for the sake of public comfort, especially since (no matter how expensive the product or the time he invested in applying it correctly) concealers always dried tacky and caustic on highly sensitive skin.
Nevertheless, just because he had to suffer through a meeting with the R & D Department that day, his little brother mercilessly bullied him into adopting an appearance less formidable and intimidating than the panel of do-gooder Leporidae[vi] ― a genuinely unattainable task no matter how much effort he expended.
Yūji may have had nothing but good intentions, Sukuna snickered softly, but the brat was far too naïve to understand the ins and out of their cursed world. He was not nearly as idealistic as the little strawberry tiger, a fact that often left him wondering why the fifteen-year-old-year acted more naïve and Omega-like than his genuine Omega brother. But then again, it was a reasonable compromise considering the baby Alpha only presented little more than six months before. As the youngest of the Ryōmen, there was no doubt Yūji lacked many a stable Alpha role-model in his life.
It would have been nothing more than nightmarish growing up in the shadow of an Omega so terrifying he would rather tear through flimsy Alpha pretenders with his teeth than―.
Startling slightly when an audible gasp and restless murmur echoed through the sardine-press of commuters, Sukuna barely managed to hold back a vicious growl the moment an uncoordinated and surprisingly solid weight ran right into the centre of his back. The unexpected jolt shoved him further against unforgiving Metro ice and steel, a dazed forehead cracking near-deafeningly off smooth glass as he watched a filamented dance of underground lightbulbs streak dazedly in and out of his vision.
“F-fuck!” Sukuna groaned, a trembling palm coming up to soothe the blossoming ache reverberating painfully through the depths of his skull. Every sway of the train had him scrabbling for new purchase, senses absolutely reeling the next second careless shoes trampled over the twin rows of erect scutes protruding on either side of his lashing tail.
“Nggh!” He was desperately curling the appendage closer than it was previously, white scales and leathery skin looping around his left thigh twice as the unexpected trespass into his already drastically reduced breathing space shuddered like searing fire all the way to the top of his spine.
“You―!” The Porosus spat, grasping uselessly at the tiniest amount of human reason to not bare his fangs and tear through human flesh to appease the sudden onset of offensive rage. It wouldn’t be the first time someone ran head-long into his back during rush hour, he reminded himself…nor trampled over the articulate sweep of his tail. But it was the first time the perpetrator didn’t immediately scramble back or grovel in blubbering mess at his feet.
The towering Omega could already feel his shoulders stiffen in delayed aggression, a raspy growl hissing violently between clenched teeth as heeled boots took far too long to remove themselves from compressing smarting scutes. The belated courtesy didn’t seem to appease the oldest Ryōmen by any means, a ridiculously warm body pressing far too close to the defensive protrusion of osteodermic ridges running all the way from the base of Sukuna’s tail in two symmetrical rows, beneath his jumper, scarf and neck to poke through the darker cherry-ash undercut of his hair.
The fucking degenerate didn’t even deign the crocodile’s obvious discomfort the proper respect it deserved, getting so close the temperature sensitive spines practically burned with mammalian body heat far hotter than his usual 30°C. The instinctive back-and-forth grind of a purring cheek, deliberately brushing Irezumi-black marked skin that peeked out from the edge of the Omega’s wide teal sweater neckline, more than enough to ratchet up the usually placid hybrid’s already simmering rage.
“T-the fuck are you doing?” Sukuna’s baritone practically cracked with pheromone ferocity, torso jerking forward in a desperate attempt to dislodge the limpet as predatory slit pupils expanded and contracted ruthlessly inside sharp mahogany irises. Was this fucker actually trying to scent mark him in the middle of a rush-hour train ride? To attempt to claim him in the midst of a tangled press of hybrid bodies―.
―or was Sukuna too out of touch with Hoshoku Etiquette to clock some poor sap self-soothing their panic by imprinting on the closest Omega.
“Gomen, gomen―.”[vii] An annoyingly sing-song voice interrupted his thoughts, the underlying breathiness in the masculine tenor careless and blasé enough the purring intonation registered as far from apologetic. Before Sukuna could turn around and offer his sincerest reply with a fist to the face, a juddering screech and flying marigold sparks accompanied violently engaging Metro brakes. The resulting jerk threw another wave of bodies up against the two of them, a ridiculously hard forehead colliding painfully with the curve of his shoulder as time slowed to a definitive crawl.
“Genuinely didn’t see your tail there,” the man continued raspingly, voice tapering off in a gravelly slur as handsy palms came to rest against stocky Omegan hips. Sukuna snarled at the sheer impertinence, mind spinning with outrage and fading reason as he fought back against the crushing weight of an audacious bastard begging to be put in place beneath his feet. It was just… Sukuna could barely move, only able to see a brief glimpse of his own reflection gazing back at him from the 539’s icy window.
The delayed frost creeping across the reflective surface was a strong reminder they were only just entering the chilly thaw of spring; the hazy distortion only serving to illuminate the Porosus’ impossibly towering height and heft all the more.
It was seeing his face inscribed with such wide-eyed vulnerability and naked need that averted slowly lidding carmine-mahogany eyes, usually dormant Omegan instincts practically howling in confused wakefulness as a surprisingly strong grip mercilessly spun the twenty-six-year-old around the moment a veritable flood of passengers disembarked at the Daikan-Yama underground terminal.
Though the small opening in the suffocating press of bodies was momentary, a two-metre crocodile tail lashed further up the flex of a strong thigh as a wild keen of desire spun to life against the back of the twenty-six-year-old’s lips. No one had ever managed to move him if he didn’t want to be moved, never mind bodily shift his feet when he was as close to feral with fury as he currently was.
There was something quietly dichotomic unravelling in the deepest part of his soul, something equally as panicked as it was enthralling. His knees were already threatening to buckle at the slow manifestation of a sharp ozone-and-ice-spark scent, unholy sharp teeth valiantly grinding against the moan rolling so smoothly over the lazy flick of a forked tongue. The Irezumi marked appendage was already pressing along the predatory drop of equally deadly canines and bicuspids.
It was the first time Sukuna ever found himself overwhelmed by a sensation not unlike the evolution of a cloudy winter storm giving way to tempestial lightning strikes; hoarfrost winter breezes and a nebulously fragrant cosmic-blue magnetism blooming bright purple across pure Alpha redolence. It was the perfect complement to Sukuna’s softer mountainous ash, dirt, oakmoss rain, red cashmere and lethal Omega sweet-mint scent.
Deep mahogany eyes were growing unbearably heavy with rising intoxication, the usually unflappable King forced to tip his head back against cold glass to gather his senses as he struggled to breathe through the tell-tale spark of enchaining lust. A deep flush was already unravelling uncontrollably beneath the sprawl of stylish Ralph Lauren glasses, Sukuna sure he would never again be as happy to allow Yūji to paint his face for an inane staff meeting as he currently was.
The Porosus’ entire world was tilting a hundred-and-sixty-degrees to the left, hybrid instincts struck absolutely silent the moment predatory black pupils dipped down to finally catch sight of the softest spill of gravity-defying arctic-white hair he had ever seen. Strange how terrifyingly glowering features softened the moment the Alpha flared his pheromone rich scent, the bastard’s surprisingly tall frame practically preening with unspoken lethality and barely contained grace.
Though he was thirty-centimetres shorter than Sukuna and stick thin in comparison to the Omega’s genuinely terrifying bulk, those snow-kissed pale cheeks were dusted with the most luscious shade of strawberry-heat Sukuna couldn’t help but want to disperse with the tip of his tongue. The Alpha’s unbearably smirking lips (covered in an enchanting sheen of clear gloss) was turning excruciatingly smug the moment those features, partially concealed by a blindfold as thick and encompassing as Sukuna’s palm, tipped to the side with poorly telegraphed mischievousness.
It was the sight of his abyssal blindfold that drained the fight from Sukuna’s soul, a disarming reminder there was still had some honour ingrained in the twisted darkness of his soul. He sure as hell wasn’t going to tear into someone who had no ability to see it coming, especially not when the bastard’s blindfolded stare was curiously guileless, readable and cub-like with the forward flick of feline ears―.
No, not feline, Sukuna corrected. The bastard was far too dangerous to be anything but Apex, his rounded ears undoubtedly bearing the distinct Panthera white dot Sukuna was more than familiar with. His theory was only further confirmed when an unfairly long and plump tail, unbelievably as luxuriant as it was long, swayed in and out of obsessively tracking mahogany eyes. Artfully dipped in a stretch of solid black before fading into a snow-like spill of black and white arctic spots, there could be no denying just what he was looking at.
“Snow leopard?” Sukuna murmured, contemplating just how such a rare and unusual Animalia Genus ended up in the midst of an Ejiki dominant Tokyo―.
“Hmmmnh~? Panthera Uncia, yes. Eyes up here though, gorgeous.” The fucking tease purred, practically preening under Sukuna’s razor-sharp attention. How the fucker knew he was staring at the hypnotic back-and-forth sway of a contented leopard tail and not the bastard’s blindfolded eyes, Sukuna didn’t know. But his gaze obeyed the command instinctively, the predatory sharpness now infusing the hybrid’s grin speaking of an unravelling ravenousness that was becoming impossible to sate―.
“Are you in the middle of a fucking rut?” Sukuna blurted rather rudely, the realisation striking him over the head like lightning. There could be little doubt the Uncia was in the midst of his mating cycle now that he looked closer. Or, at the very least, rapidly descending into the tail-end symptoms of what must have been a debilitating one. How the fuck was the weaker masses around them not descending into utter chaos right now? There was no way they would be as calm and controlled if they could smell what he currently was.
But then again, no one seemed to notice the man’s lethally possessive posturing but Sukuna. His purring timbre and zeroed in attention was only blooming into more undeniably sharp and encompassing pheromone markers, the programmer left unusually flustered when those predatory black nails, tapered and clawed much like his own, came up to knead the softness of his sweater like the Alpha was fighting not to rip through cashmere fabric and score the flesh it concealed beneath.
Sukuna was quick to slap the offending appendage away, a shiver racing all the way down the bow his spine as the white-haired passenger merely tilted his head to the side in confusion― hands hanging uselessly in the air like he didn’t know what to do with them now that he been denied.
“Keep your hands to yourself.” Sukuna ordered breathlessly, disorientation right on the edge of spilling over as he tightened his grip on the leather messenger bag strap slung crosswise over his torso.
“If you’re good, I’ll escort you to a safe place.” Though his voice was surprisingly deep and inflectionless in a way that often terrified those lower on the food chain than him, Sukuna watched swivelling leopard ears prick forward with curiosity. The Alpha was far from intimidated by his growly order, the artificial hiss of Metro doors sliding shut somewhere behind them barely enough to capture either of their attention as the train trundled on its way to the next stop.
“You’re willing to protect me? Why?” The Alpha frowned even through the stretch of an abyssal black blindfold, tail curling and uncurling rhythmically untill it finally succumbed to instinct and wound around Sukuna’s left wrist. The only reason the Porosus allowed it was because the leopard’s dazed tenor had begun to reverberate with a subvocal purr, the sound (akin to an Alpha’s approval and unfurling contentment) particularly lethal to an Omega who was only experiencing it for the first time in his life outside family.
Fuck but the bastard smelled good, Sukuna couldn’t help but whine. There was no denying he was potently virile, enticing, unclaimed, playful and so fucking dangerous―.
“It is not only Omegas who get assaulted when vulnerable...” Sukuna came back to himself just enough to answer the man’s question, trailing off with a deepening frown as he dazedly fished his phone from his messenger bag. He’d need some assistance if he were to help the Alpha and Yūji was the closest name he could think of that would be both strong and generous enough to offer it unconditionally.
It was more than surprising the leopard was as coherent and controlled as he was, never mind Sukuna himself barely holding on to what felt like the last of his sanity. If he wasn’t careful, he’d start leaking slick in the middle of the evening rush hour. And that was something the Omega would never forgive himself for, even if there was precious little he could do against it in the presence of the first potentially successful heat partner he ever met.
Sukuna had been raised with enough integrity to not take advantage of another man’s inability to give consent― especially since he had watched a similar situation nearly destroy his little brother not too long ago.
“I don’t understand…” The Panthera returned his appeasement with a frown, rut-flushed features open and etched in disbelief as the pink-haired Omega ignored him in leu of scowling down at his unlocked phone instead. “Aren’t Omegas usually warned to stay away from biiiggg―baaaaad rutting Alphas?” Snorting softly at playfully expressive hands fluffing the air for emphasis, Sukuna barely softened the edge of a viciously amused grin as a black nailed thumb flew over a dimly lit screen before bringing it up to his ear.
“Definitely not in my case, fool.” The Omega disparaged. “I could tear you apart with nothing but my claws and you’d never see it coming.” The burst of laughter his teasing words drew from the Alpha was overwhelmingly bright and amused, almost as if the sound had been genuinely surprised from the bastard. Its guilelessness was strangely more than enough to appease Sukuna’s growing anxiety when Yūji didn’t answer his call.
“Ungrateful Brat,” Sukuna accused instead, though whether he meant Yūji or the bastard next to him… was impossible to tell. He was shivering when the Alpha became restless in both scent and movement again, deft movements quick to unwind the white scarf he wore around his neck to unceremoniously wind around the Alpha's surprisingly plaint shoulders instead. The Panthera even tipped his head back to allow Sukuna better access, his quietly predatory contemplation and stillness definitely not the leopard’s usual state of being that the Omega could see.
“I won’t be able to guide you home personally,” Sukuna frowned, sweet-mint and spring-melt scent contrasting openly with a burst of needy and pacifying oakmoss ash as the twenty-six-year-old turned his attention back to the government’s mandatory health app now open on his phone. “But I can get you to the closest Emergency Rut Facility at the next stop. It probably won’t be as comfortable as your own den, but they’ll have everything you may need.”
Though the snow leopard didn’t show much indication he was listening beyond the soft inclination of an increasingly heavy head, Sukuna couldn’t help the amused curl of his lips as the hybrid buried most of his remaining features in the programmer’s scarf.
Sharing such an intimate piece of clothing, especially one that had been saturated by the scent gland at the base of an Omega’s neck for the whole day, was probably shamelessly forward and deeply frowned upon. But the albino crocodile couldn’t fight his instincts and not assert some claim over the enticingly icy-ozone scent. Though, he was reluctantly forced to pull his wrist from the possessive curl of the man’s tail and bodily pull the snow leopard outside the Meiji-Jingumae station a few minutes later.
Their destination was less than a block away, the Porosus both strangely relieved and bitterly disappointed when they were forced to part ways at a looming medical facility. Their parting was perfunctory and silent at best, the Panthera, it seemed, having slipped deep enough into his rut by that time that it become too difficult to speak or form coherent thought.
Standing on the other side of a group of Beta attendants specifically employed to forcibly separate Alphas from non-mated Omegas, even under threat from deeply possessive Alpha pheromones and growling dissatisfaction, Sukuna had no choice but to retreat. Emergency Rut Facilities like these, after all, allowed no Omega passed their threshold unless they were openly claimed and had neutralized pheromones.
It was a good thing, he supposed, as spending any more time in the leopard’s presence was sure to ignite an out-of-cycle heat of his own.
****
[i] Dōbutsu-Yūisei – 動物 優位性: Animal Superiority
[ii] Crocodylus Porosus: Southeast Asian Saltwater Crocodile
[iii] Hoshoku - 捕食: Predator Class
[iv] 7’2’’: 7 Foot 2 Inches (in reverse this time for my readers) – 2.2 Meters
[v] Ejiki - 餌食: Prey Class
[vi] Leporidae: Rabbits
[vii] Gomen - ごめん: Sorry (informal)