The air in the temple hung thick with tension—heavy, expectant, like a storm that hadn’t quite decided whether to break.

Suguru Geto stood at the center of it all, robes draped elegantly over his shoulders, fox ears flicking once in irritation. His tail swayed behind him, slow and deliberate—a warning sign anyone in the cult had learned to fear.

In front of him, two very powerful, very guilty Alphas knelt.

Satoru Gojo—snow leopard hybrid, strongest sorcerer alive—had his head bowed so low his white hair nearly brushed the floor. Beside him, you, a wolf hybrid with strength rivaling his, mirrored the same submissive posture. Your tails, usually proud and expressive, now lay limp and still.

Neither of you dared look up.

“You failed,” Geto said simply.

His voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.

Gojo winced. You swallowed.

“It was—” Gojo started, then immediately faltered under the sharp flick of Geto’s gaze.

“Our fault,” you finished quickly. “Entirely.”

There was a pause. Then—

A firm tug.

Both of you jolted as Geto grabbed your tails—snow leopard and wolf alike—and yanked you forward across the polished floor. It wasn’t cruel, but it was deliberate. Humbling.

“You think being strong excuses incompetence?” Geto’s tone sharpened, though his eyes glinted with something far more complex than anger. “Or is it that you two were… distracted?”

Gojo made a small, strangled noise.

Your ears flattened. “…We miscalculated the timing.”

Geto’s brow arched. “That’s one way to put it.”

The truth hung unspoken: your ruts had hit at the same time. Unplanned. Unavoidable. And instead of completing your mission, you’d been forced to retreat—together—leaving the task unfinished.

Unacceptable.

Even for his favorites.

Especially for his favorites.

You both dropped lower, foreheads nearly touching the ground now.

“Please,” Gojo said, uncharacteristically soft. “Give us another chance.”

“We’ll fix it,” you added quickly. “We’ll complete the mission—properly this time.”

Geto looked down at you both—two Alphas who could level cities, reduced to desperate pleading at his feet.

And the thing was…

He liked it.

Not the failure. Never that.

But the devotion? The way they always circled back to him, orbiting him like he was the only gravity that mattered?

That was exactly why he’d let them follow him in the first place.

His tail flicked again, brushing lightly across your shoulders this time—not punishment, not quite forgiveness either.

“Stand,” he ordered.

You both obeyed instantly.

Geto stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the faint warmth of his presence, the subtle scent that marked him unmistakably Omega—and, in your minds, unquestionably superior.

“You will redo the mission,” he said. “Together. And this time…”

His eyes narrowed slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“…you will maintain control.”

Gojo straightened, a grin already creeping back despite everything. “Yes, boss.”

You nodded firmly. “We won’t fail again.”

Geto hummed, satisfied—for now.

“Good,” he said, turning away, robes swaying behind him. “Because next time…”

A glance over his shoulder, sharp and amused.

“I won’t be so gentle.”

Gojo leaned toward you as you both watched him leave, whispering just loud enough—

“…worth it.”

You elbowed him.

But you didn’t disagree.