Imagine getting isekai’ed into otome game as a background character, watching the main character going down routes as you live your peaceful, mundane life, but you’ve unknowingly been going down a route as well, a route for a hidden character that you didn’t discover during your time playing the game.
That character being the reason the game has a dark content warning.
Gosh anon, that idea is so good!!!! I didn't know it would tickle all the right places in my brain, but when I started I couldn't stop lol. Love it, thank you for sending it in ♥
If this had one of these super long titles that are tmi it would be:
I got Isekai'ed into an Otome Game as a Background Character and now I Have to Finish It with the Secret Yandere Love Interest!!
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A serene smile spread over your lips as you watched the two lovebirds in the corner of your coffee shop.
Swirling the milk into a cup, it created a little white heart surrounded by foamy coffee, its aroma drifting into your nose. Had someone told you that the little things like a cup of coffee made with love and care were enough to give you the peace of mind you always wanted in your previous life, you would have laughed at them. For you, it had always been the hustle, the making money, finding a partner, and creating a family. Make everyone proud while being successful, whether it costs you nights of sleep or days without proper meals. But looking at yourself now, it all seemed so far away now, and you let out a content sigh before setting down the cup in front of the customer at the bar.
"You seem happy today," your regular at the counter noted, picking up the cup and taking a moment to appreciate the aroma just like you had. A smile sneaked onto their lips, too, after they took a sip, and you couldn't help but feel your heart swell with pride and happiness when they gave you a satisfied nod.
"I am! I'm really getting accustomed to my new life here, it's... been a while since I've been so content."
The truth behind everything that happened to you was something you couldn't speak about lightly. Not when it turned the life you knew upside down, leaving you to start over completely. One day you were an employee of a well-known company, responsible for sales and reports and everything stressful. And the next, you were in your favorite, cozy video game, running the coffee shop the main character liked to visit with all the romance options in the game.
Isekai was the genre that came to mind when you thought about your situation. Luckily you were spared the memories of your death in the real world, the circumstances blurry as you barely remembered going home late from work, only to wake up in this very different universe. Perhaps you were just comatose, and this was a dream. Still, by now, you had managed to slip into your role as the barista of the small coffee shop, a barely mentioned background character, just fine.
Your eyes jumped back to the couple in the corner, giggling and teasing each other over a group project, and you felt an immense relief you weren't reincarnated as the main protagonist and had to go through the years of studying and trying to establish connections with the love interests again. You already did that in your old life, and it wasn't as romantic and fun as the game made it out to be. You only played it because it got your mind off things, the art was pretty, and it had the exact amount of cozy time management you needed to relax. But living as the main character in it? No, thank you!
"Jealous?" your regular teased, and you chuckled, shaking your head. They tapped their—now empty—cup, and you took it from them, replacing it with some water until you had the next cup of coffee ready for them.
"I just think it's cute. I never had someone so interested in me they'd take me out for coffee and share their cake with me when I was younger."
Your words tasted a little bitter on your tongue. Still, you genuinely couldn't wish for anything but the main character's happiness. It was just the feeling of being loved, desired, and wanted that you missed, even though your new life was more than satisfactory despite you feeling a little lonely sometimes.
"Well, it's never too late to start," they chuckled, taking up their fork and cutting off the tip of their strawberry shortcake, including the big chunk of strawberry on top, picking it up and holding it out towards you.
"Oh, I wouldn't dare--"
"I insist! As thanks for the amazing coffee every time I come here."
Nudging your lips with their fork, you let out an awkward chuckle. It was okay, right? They wouldn't sue you for eating the cake they paid for, would they? This was just a silly little game. What could go wrong with you accepting their kindness?
Opening your lips, you let them feed you the cake, taking a moment to let the sweet and fruity notes mix with the fluffy whip cream before you were sent straight to heaven. Not to toot your own horn, but your baking skills had improved so much since you started working at the shop. Who knew you had that in you?
Occupied with the moment of bliss as you let the cake flavor mix in your mouth, you hummed happily before devoting yourself back to making the coffee with a smile on your face. Unaware of your regular fixating on the fork you had just eaten from, staring at it like it was some strange artifact. Your phone dinged softly in its drawer, and you checked it briefly to see the notification pinging up, saying, "Achievement unlocked: Cake-Master - Provide the most delicious cake to your customers."
"Excuse me!" the main character called out to you, stepping up to the counter, and you directed your attention to her, ignoring the little game notification you've been receiving since starting your new life here, the love interest not far away before the two began fighting over who was going to pay the bill this time lovingly. Of course, the love interest won, but you wouldn't have expected it any other way. Seeing the blush on the main character's face after her romance option told her he'd "always take care" of her made you grin like a little fan, and you cheered them on in your head.
By the time you returned to your regular, their knuckles had gone white with how hard they were gripping the fork in their hand, their eyes following the couple who was about to leave. For a moment, it made you wonder if they had a crush on either of them, their sweet interaction surely uncomfortable if that was the case. But you didn't remember there being a jealousy scene in the game. You'd know, almost playing it 100% before your death. There apparently was a secret route you never got but were trying your hardest to achieve. Now you were left to wonder what it entailed.
But the second you returned, they looked up at you, expression softening and the tension disappearing, and you chalked it up to having witnessed a cringe moment that they had gotten so awkward. "Thank you for the cake, that was really nice of you! Do you want another fork?" you asked and were met with a headshake and a smile.
They quickly began eating their cake and complimenting your baking skills, stroking your growing ego when they rubbed their belly.
"I never had a cake that good!" they proclaimed, and you laughed out loud, overjoyed that you had made them so happy.
"Say..." they suddenly spoke up again, leaning on the counter and watching you with gentle eyes. Your heart set out for a second, tension rising as you didn't know what they were going to ask. Ever since you opened the coffee shop, the main character, love interests, and this regular had come by constantly. If you were honest, you enjoyed their visits more and more. Their presence felt like it belonged here with you, and you were a part of something bigger after all, washing away the small, lonely part of you.
And maybe... just maybe... this was how your happy end would play out.
"Are you this nice to every customer?"
Halting your movements, you set aside the brew head that you used on the espresso machine, despite having to clean it, thinking about your answer for a moment. It was a strange question to ask someone who worked in customer service. Still, you appreciated your regular, so you didn't want to give them a snarky answer.
"Uhm, well, I am just trying to make everyone feel welcome! But of course, it's a bit different with my regulars! After all, they come here often, like a second family. So I guess I'm a bit nicer because you really get to know and appreciate these people that stay to chat and tell stories."
"I see," they muttered. "Family, huh..."
After that, you suddenly were swamped with sudden orders, excusing yourself to fulfill them, chatting and laughing with even the people that were just passing by. Maybe you really were just nice? Perhaps this new environment had made you more relaxed and gentle than the harsh world you lived in, and it was showing? But their question was shoved into the back of your mind as you kept fulfilling orders and earning your keep.
Once the rush was over, you returned to your regular, only to find their seat empty. Strange, you thought. You could have sworn that you felt their eyes on you the whole time you were away, but luckily, they didn't walk out on their tab, leaving the money and a folded-up napkin beneath their empty cup for you to find. You quickly stored away the bills, trusting your regular with knowing what they had to pay after so many weeks of the same order.
You were about to throw away their napkin when you noticed some red marks on them, unwrapping the paper to find a note scribbled in what you had to assume was ink.
"You're so beautiful when you laugh."
The surprise wore off quite fast, and you smiled, thinking nothing of it but that it was a nice compliment from your regular. Still, you ended up throwing the napkin away—not knowing if it was dirty, after all—taking the coffee cup and plate to the sink to clean them, overseeing the red tip on the fork that was too dark to be from the strawberry.
The rest of your day was uneventful, and by the time you were closing, you were tired and ready to tug in for the night, wrapping up your business at the shop quickly before walking home. You didn't have a chance to look at your phone since you glanced at the achievement notification, so you took it out, startled when you saw a dozen new messages.
Achievement unlocked: Happy new life - Be content with your new life
Achievement unlocked: A fork for two! - Share a fork with someone special
Achievement unlocked: Jealousy - Make someone special jealous
Achievement unlocked: Soothing - Calm someone special down with your presence
Achievement unlocked: Family - Have someone be moved by your words
Achievement unlocked: The nicest person in town - Be beloved by all, but especially by someone special
Achievement unlocked: Blood in the cup - Have someone hurt themselves at your coffee shop
Achievement unlocked: Wonder-Barista - Complete twenty orders in less than thirty minutes
Achievement unlocked: Strange compliment - Receive a compliment through unusual means
Achievement unlocked: Blooming infatuation - Have someone special fall in love with you
Achievement unlocked: Shop-Pro! - Close the shop twenty times after making a profit from your work
Achievement unlocked: Tired - Hard workers deserve to relax
You blinked a few times, surprised by what you were reading and a little weirded out by some of these achievements. They gave you some extra coins in your shop till and reputation with the townspeople, so you usually didn't mind them. But to say some of their descriptions were weird was an understatement. You couldn't even remember someone getting hurt at your workplace that day.
By the time you reached your apartment, you decided to ignore the strange notifications and just let the day come to an end with a hot bath and your favorite show. But you were startled when your phone suddenly began ringing loudly, even though you had turned off the sound back at the coffee shop after the first notification. The first messages that appeared before you were more achievements, and you stopped turning the key in your door as you read them.
Achievement unlocked: Follower - Have someone special follow you home
Achievement unlocked: Welcome home! - Arrive at home, not alone
Achievement unlocked: Wherever you go, I'll be watching you - Ɨ ΔΜ ΔŁŴΔ¥Ş ŴΔŦĆĦƗŇǤ ¥ØỮ
Lifting your head, you looked around you, glancing over your shoulder and into the courtyard below. No one was out; everyone was at home eating dinner and occupied with their lives. Confused, you swiped all the notifications away before another pop-up appeared.
ALERT!
You're about to enter X's route. Do you want to continue?
> Yes
> No
Panicked at this point, you pressed "No," but nothing happened. You kept tapping it repeatedly, not understanding what was happening with your phone. But nothing changed, the notification staying in place. The sound of something breaking inside your apartment tore your focus away from your phone, startling you.
You must have finally managed to close it, the pop-up disappearing just as you unlocked the door to your apartment, still having held on to the key when you were surprised by the sound. Darkness and silence greeted you from inside, everything seemingly normal.
Majorly confused, you shook your head, slowly entering the hallway leading inside. "Hello?" you called out, reaching for the light switch. The light flickered on, and... there was no one. Holding your breath, no sound reached your ears, and you groaned, realizing you got freaked out about... nothing.
This wasn't some kind of horror game, and the story never had a murder-solving subplot. True, the ratings for it were kind of strange—it being rated as 18+ on the website—but seriously, what should happen in a cozy little city like the one the game played in? You didn't even think they had a police station here.
Pushing off your shoes as you shrugged off the weird feeling from before, you walked up the hallway to your living room, turning on the light before coming to an abrupt halt. There were broken pieces of glass underneath your living room window, but what really freaked you out came into view only when you lifted your head. You could look into the mirror of your cabinet door from your position, red marker dripping from it as if someone had hastily scribbled on it just seconds ago. You weren't sure it was a pen anymore, judging by its deep red color and the fluidity of it.
Content warnings: thigh job, smut, p in v, fem reader, noncon, dubcon, murder, degenerate stuff idk
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You woke up one day as one of the hundreds of maids and servants employed by the Kingdom of Thralkeld. Originally, you were just a regular waitress and college student, barely scraping by through a system of rarely paid rent and skipped meals.
Being a broke student was fine, for a while. You found respite through a silly otome game; Sinner's Escape. A dark romance where the MC is a runaway princess from a savage kingdom who seeks refuge in Thralkeld. Your, or rather her, love interests included a poor baker, a knight, the king, and the king's butler. Ultimately, she would end up with the King on most routes, though you personally liked the butler for his calm and responsible demeanor. He held a sinister way of disposing of rivals that was calculated and silent.
The others were far too messy. Especially the king, Alric, who was an obsessive man, constantly fawning over the MC with lavish gifts and a falsely immature personality. You hated how fake he was. How could a player possibly love a character that makes the MC fall for a fallacy?
Behind all the cutesy acting and baby talking was a cunning and violent man.
You lived your life as a maid rather conservatively, however; doing your chores, following orders, and then locking yourself in your shabby room until your shift would begin once again.
You weren't quite sure when King Alric took notice of you.
Perhaps it was when you were forced to bring him breakfast in bed when he was 'sick.' A ploy he mustered up to make the MC dote on him. She was here, staying in one of the rooms as an honorary guest - or rather as a very pretty stray he picked up.
She sat atop his bed, playing with his blonde hair with a sweet smile on her face. His head in her lap, arms wrapped around her waist and piercing blue eyes holding a deceitfully pitiful look.
"I've brought the master's breakfast, my lady."
She thanked you politely, and you bowed, glaring at him in passing.
Had he noticed? Probably. You hoped not.
At another point, you had gotten in an argument with the infamous butler.
"You can't just leave all your trash for us to pick up! It isn't fair." You shouted.
The butler was rather spoiled, something you hadn't caught onto when playing the game. He was just leaving his garbage everywhere! And none of the maids could say anything for fear of retaliation.
"Your tongue should match your status."
"Your tongue should match your face. If you were handsome maybe I'd let you scold me, but you're ugly and mean and gross and totally uncool!" You were certain you'd get called a witch for your odd language and uncharacteristic yelling. Maybe even stoned, or at least fired.
What you hadn't expected was a laugh to sound from behind you.
The king, with all of his pearly white teeth, was actually laughing, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. When had you been employed into his staff? What a hilarious woman!
Suddenly, you began noticing the king's presence every time you would utter a grievance (or a cruel opinion). Subconsciously, Alric found himself seeking out your theatrics. Passing by the kitchen, the maid's chambers, or even the back corner of the garden where the laundry is tended to became a habit whenever he needed a good laugh.
You are rather honest about everything; something he is simply no good at.
King Alric began requesting your presence for afternoon tea. Your speech and unfiltered conversations were a relief to him, who was so used to pleasantries. He could speak as degenerately as he wished to, and you would simply respond as normal without judgement, unless you wanted to be judgmental.
Ahh, how wonderful it is to speak with someone who doesn't fear my status.
"You hate that butler of mine, don't you?" He chuckled, offering you a cup.
You shook your head and politely declined the cup. "I don't hate him. He's just a jerk."
"Yes, sometimes I wish I could just snap his neck." King Alric closed his eyes, as if truly pondering the scenario. "He speaks far too plainly with my possessions."
You raised a brow, but spoke anyway. "I wouldn't snap his neck, personally. But one good punch to his face would def set that guy straight."
"Def," he smiled, "You have such an interesting manner of speaking."
The MC was gone soon after. You weren't quite sure where she had gone. You were certain she would have followed the king's route, though you supposed she may have been mingling with the others and finally made a different choice.
Another argument had ensued between the butler and you, this time sparked up by him.
"You are seducing the king, you filthy rat." He accused, a pointed finger hitting your chest.
You could only stare in confusion, smacking at his hand and stepping back.
"The fuck are you talking about?"
"How could he have possibly fallen for such a foul-mouthed cretin, when that beauty was right at his fingertips." He muttered the last part, almost inaudibly, though you caught it.
Before you could respond, King Alric's arm slunk around your waist, pulling you into his chest in a warm embrace. You noticed a light smell of vanilla.
"Are you bothering my favorite maid?"
You couldn't see his expression, but judging by the one on the butler's, you were certain it couldn't have been good.
And that was when it hit you; if the MC was no longer his love interest, did that mean he could choose someone else? Was it possible?
You shuffled out of his arms, a nervous smile painting your lips. "Haha... I'm just gonna... Get back to work."
The next time you saw him was only a week later, the king's boisterous voice booming as he entered the crowded kitchen. You were boiling ginger when he pulled you against his chest once again, barking at the other maids and cooks to leave.
The smell of vanilla was gone and replaced with something more metallic, but you couldn't exactly prove it.
"I have good news, little princess."
You gasped, turning around and pushing him away - which was futile. "Princess? That could get me executed!"
He sighed. "Since when did you care about how we talk?"
"Since you started giving me nicknames like little princess."
King Alric dropped his head atop your shoulder. "Well, I have good news, little princess." You grumbled, but let him speak anyway. "It seems my butler has resigned. And I'd like to give his position to you, as my personal maid." You could feel his smile against your ear.
"What? Your personal maid?" You shook involuntarily, gripping at his shirt. Butler positions are for life, no intelligent man would resign such a permanent and high-class job. In the game, the butler was so loyal, he was willing to share the MC with the King if it meant staying under his employment.
A particular route suddenly came to mind. It was one of the rarer endings, a bad one where the king goes berserk and kills quite literally everyone.
That was the one and only game ending in which the butler was no longer at Alric's side.
"He's dead," you whispered, eyes widening with realization.
You hadn't meant to speak your thoughts aloud, truly you hadn't. But the moment came so suddenly.
Sure, you hated the butler as you had grown to know him, but ultimately, he was your favorite character. He was a pious little shit whose arguing became a steady comfort within the chaos of a new life.
Before you knew it, tears were brimming against your face, trailing down and wetting his shirt as you clung to him.
"Shhh." King Alric whispered, holding you tighter. "How'd you know I killed him?" He slowly began trailing kisses against your neck, ending at your jaw with a wet tongue snaking its way across. "You always suspected me, huh? I noticed it. When we first locked eyes."
You mustered a little huh.
"You looked at me with such reverence. As if you knew I was faking for her affection."
A large hand clasped at your chin, forcing you to look up at King Alric with big, worried eyes. "What happened to her?"
His eyes darkened, his lids lowering as if entranced by your beauty despite his sinister anger. His thumb and pointer finger squeezed harder at your cheek.
"She and my butler are spending time together. Peacefully."
Ducking down, King Alric connected your lips, shoving his tongue into your mouth and exploring the wetness. He lowered his hand to your neck, never squeezing, only resting. If you resisted, you wondered if he would do it.
You didn't want to find out.
The plushness of your skin against his fingertips sent Alric reeling, a dizzying hotness spreading to his groin and flaring his skin with goosebumps.
"You're the only one," he muttered in between breaths. "The only one who accepts me - the real me."
"H-Hold on, Alric. You can't just-"
The words were shaken out of you when two large hands pushed you back. King Alric was in a frenzy, and the tight squeeze on your shoulders forced a yelp to escape your lips.
He was shocked.
"My name." Alric's voice was barely above a whisper.
Despite the absurd situation, you found yourself laughing, an exasperation present that worked up your confidence. "Yeah, your name."
There was a silence, and all you could do was scrutinize his now unrefined attire until your eyes landed on the growing tent in his pants. It looked almost painful, and a strange pooling in your stomach brought you back to reality.
"You're not real," you mustered out. "This is a game. It's all pixels. You don't exist, the butler isn't dead, and I'm definitely not about to..."
Your voice trailed off, the king's head cocking to the side in confusion.
"I'm not real?"
"You're not."
"Have you gone mad?"
"Maybe."
Alric smirked, encasing your hand beneath his, fingers guiding yours to the swell of his trousers. The softness of the fabric and stiffened bulge a clear indication of his desperate need.
"Is this not real?" You almost heard a whine in his voice when he asked this of you.
Your silence was deafening, and as the spoiled brat he is; took it as a confirmation to continue.
"Turn around." His voice was commanding, authoritative in the way you would expect of a true king. Alric spun you on your heels, pushing your maid's skirt up to situate himself behind you. His hand rubbed smooth circles against your ass cheeks and love handles. "Why don't you feel how real I am?" He whispered into your ear, nibbling at the tip before biting down.
Alric fumbled with releasing his dick, the appendage slapping at your thigh and the precum dribbling down your leg.
When you felt the tip go near the crevice of your thighs, you squealed but protested. "Not inside! Anything but inside."
Alric used his free hand to turn your face to look back at him, a thumb pressed into your bottom lip and cooing. "Anything for my little princess."
Your maniacal king honored his word, shoving his length between your legs instead of inside your aching pussy.
Slowly, he moved forward and backward, simply relishing in the feeling of your plush thighs rubbing against his dick oh so perfectly.
"God, you're amazing."
"You're doing so good for me."
"Juuust like that, princess."
The feeling of your clit rubbing against his shaft was nothing short of euphoric, sweet moans the only audible sound from you as you gorged yourself on the king's cock.
You hiked the front of your skirt over your forearms, a nimble hand reaching for Alric's tip and rubbing small circles.
Alric's head fell back, his grip on you tightening. "If you do that, I'll..." Your body began moving in sync with his, allowing yourself the stimulation he provided.
His speed increased; what was once long, dragged out movements became desperate bucks, short and quick and ever so pleasurable.
"I'm cumming, princess." Alric pressed his front into your backside, his large chest engulfing your frame as he chased his high, you not far behind him.
"Fuck, fuck fuck fuck..."
The milky white substance leaked from his tip, covering your hands and the inside of your maid's skirt. He continued, however, allowing you to feel the building pressure and release. The sounds of your perfect moans swallowed him whole.
And you were worried; because the feeling of his warm cum coating your hands and legs made you want to know what it would feel like inside of you.
"Why don't we continue in my chambers, little princess?"
who me? oh I'm just thinking about dean winchester being touch starved . . .
💻 : touch starved! dean soft x reader
masterlist
touch starved! dean who always leaves his hand lingering on whatever object he hands just to feel your hand touch his for a little longer.
touch starved! dean is the kind of person that will stare at your hands until sam nudges him to focus on what someone is saying about a case.
touch starved! dean that loves it when you help him with his injuries just because he feels your warmth on his skin.
touch starved! dean that leans into you whenever you fix his hair or hug him after not seeing him for so long.
touch starved! dean who wants to rests his hand on your thigh so bad that he twitches while driving in the impala with sam in the back sleeping.
touch starved! dean who needs more than both your skin brushing against each other
touch starved! dean who poured everything into the kiss you shared with his hand on the back of your neck, one on your waist, his body against yours, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.
touch starved! dean who feels at peace every time you're sleeping next to him and your limbs being tangled together.
Set in 1944, Battle of the Bulge (also known as the Ardennes Offensive or Unternehmen Wacht am Rhein). This is a very dark, historical piece so please be wary before you read. This will be 1/2 since it is taking me so long. Thank you all for your patience ❤️
Edit: I am so sorry to most readers, but the reader would be white/ white passing due to the time period. Please request a black reader in my request box or my DMs for another time period post. I had not meant to be exclusive rather than inclusive with this piece. Thank you @lionesses-are-cool and @flutterdraw-ackerman for pointing this out. Please send me a request in my request box or a dm. I’ll make you both a proper time period piece.
Yandere 1940s Imagines: Oh My Little Soldier Boy
Yandere WW2 Soldiers x Nurse Reader
TW: character death (unnamed), horror, death (detailed in intro), horrors of war, tragedy, feeling of hopelessness, yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship dynamics that should not be romanticized, depressing material, war, forbidden romance due to interracial relations of this time, mentions of racism (due to time period and Jim Crow Laws), and HISTORICALLY ACCURATE (without use of slurs)
Reader is white/ white passing in this piece
Intro:
No matter how many times you washed your white sleeves, they were permanently stained with blood. The air reeked of dust and decay despite how you had thought a hospital would be. Yet you had been shocked of the true conditions of a field hospital with low staff and round-the-clock patients who were near their deathbed. The constant torrent of smoke from artillery fire was your loyal companion outside the cries and groans of the injured men that entered the tents. Each arrived in an endless wave of death and grief.
You had come to aide the front lines after you saw all the posters for you back home, but you failed to understand what exactly the job entailed. And now you had front row seats to the horrors of war.
You did your best not to sob as your hands clasped the only remaining hand of a young man who was no older than eighteen. Most of his limbs were blown off by an artillery shell and he had already lost far too much blood before he had even arrived onto the cot in your tent. His youthful face was a mess of blood, snot, and tears as he cried himself hoarse with what remained of his strength. His hand desperately gripped yours for whatever comfort you could offer him in a tight yet weak squeeze.
“Mom! Mom… please, I want to go home!” His sobs twisted at your chest, his blue eyes wild and glazed from the adrenaline that barely kept him alive. His voice trembled in pure fear, “I don’t want to die, mom. I’m so scared… I don’t want to die.”
You pressed your forehead to his in an attempt to calm him. You couldn’t find it in yourself to promise him he’d make it because he wasn’t going to. You’ve been through this rodeo far too many times before to know how this would play out. Yet that didn’t make your job any easier. You quietly shushed him as you guided him to leave like a mockery of an angel. An angel of death that did their best to comfort the men you did not have the power to save no matter how much you wanted to.
His words of terror repeated over and over like a mantra until the sound of his voice slowly drifted into a whisper and he finally went still. You did your best not to break down at his forever still face. Then you used your palm to close his dull blue eyes into a permanent expression of sleep. You didn’t even know this young man’s name. You never knew their names since the cots were filled as soon as they were empty again. A lot of the patients you had weren’t even old enough to drink, let alone vote. But they were old enough to die.
No one spoke of how this was the most difficult part of your job. No one talked about how horrible it was to witness the death of men who were barely adults yet fought in a war for the cowardly leaders of their countries. The death toll only increased as the war went on and you felt the inescapable feeling of hopelessness choke you. Could you truly make a difference here or have you wasted your time since you decided to come to Europe rather than get married like a normal girl your age?
Yet your patients never let you stew in your sorrow. No. They’d never let their precious nurse fall into darkness alone…
Sergeant Hank Carter (Texas, Rancher)
“Ya did the best ya could, darlin.’ Don’t let it get ya down. Come here, my arms are nice and warm.” Hank’s southern drawl called out to you from his cot in the corner. His tan hands outstretched for you. “Ya can lay yerself on my chest, don’t be shy now.”
Hank was the staff sergeant of the extreme combat division. A reliable and honest man of a tall build with broad shoulders, chestnut brown hair, and warm, honeyed eyes. He was filled with southern charm and a voice that commanded attention, but he was always gentle with you. Especially since you had patched him up so many times over the last two years. And he was still in tact minus his constant run ins with trench foot. He was lucky you always saved his toes from falling off.
“Ya’ve had yer hands on me so many times, I swear yer my wife, darlin’. Not that I’m complainin’ one bit.” He’d always teased. “Maybe after all this, I’ll make ya my wife.”
Hank was a very traditional man who wanted a simple life with you despite your gentle rejections since he was merely just another patient in your eyes no matter how handsome he was.
Hank was rather protective of you when it came to the other patients since he saw the way they looked at you. You’d often hear him reprimanding not only his squad, but the others around him.
“Now y’all know she ain’t a piece of meat, so don’t treat her like one. I’m lookin at ya, private.”
Unlike most of your patients, Hank would willingly die for you without hesitation. He’d always rush to shield you from artillery or gun fire with his own body when the stakes were high in the field hospital. He didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if you didn’t survive. You were the light in his dark world… the light at the end of the tunnel. A reason to keep fighting in a war that seemed endless.
You often had his warm, strong hands on you whenever you treated his bullet wounds, his honey colored eyes filled with absolute reverence.
“After this ‘ere is over, marry me. I’ll make ya the happiest woman in the world, I swear.” Hank softly told you. “I have a ranch house in Texas that has plenty of space for ya and some kids. I’ll be so good to ya.”
Good luck trying to get him to leave you be, because he’s rather determined to live that idyllic life with you no matter how many Nazis he had to kill. No matter what unspeakable horrors he had to see just to see your face and to feel your gentle touch in him. Hank would do anything to be yours… anything.
Captain Richard Rose (California, Actor)
Richard had been a rather handsome man before he found himself in your care, but the blast from an artillery shell stole his entire life away. He’d no longer be able to be a handsome actor in Hollywood since the right side of his face was now permanently in a scowl. He was a monster. A man with a broken face. The fallen captain of his platoon that had charged into no man’s land without a plan.
Richard would often try to hide his face from you whenever you came to treat him. His blue eyes filled with shame. How could you bear to look at him? The last nurse, one of the newer ones, had fainted at the sight of him. He must be hideous now.
“Don’t look… don’t look.” He’d mutter in a tone you could only describe as utterly defeated. “I’m hideous.”
Yet you’d always reassure him and gently treat his horrific disfigurement. Your soft hands reminded him of kisses of sunshine. Richard was grateful to you. And the more time he spent with you, he fell for you. You were the only one to still treat him like a human being. The only one who didn’t flinch at his face or shy from looking him in his only remaining eye. In his mind, you were his salvation.
As Richard grew more comfortable, he’d rehearse a few lines he used to say in his best works. He was so happy you’d smile and listen to each one. It made him feel more human after he had suffered such a horrible loss of his livelihood. Yet you proceeded to go out of your way to give him hope in his darkest hour and Richard was forever grateful to you.
“There’s a place in Pennsylvania. It’s called Valley Forge General Hospital. I think it is in Phoenixville.” You softly told him as he hung on your every word. You swore Richard looked at you like you hung the moon. “They might be able to repair you, Dick.”
He held your hands as he did his best to kiss them with what was left of his lips. You could feel his visible teeth touching the skin of your knuckles through the gauze you had just wrapped around his head. If you recommended it, he’d go there. He’d fix his face and then he’d return to Hollywood. Maybe he wouldn’t get lead parts anymore, but he could play a villain! Anything to make enough to support you… you’d say yes if he proposed, right? You were always so sweet to him… he’d treat you well!
Richard was also deeply insecure because a lot of the other soldiers also gave you attention. Better looking soldiers. Able bodied ones. Look at him and only him! Richard made more money than all of those scrubs could ever dream of! So choose him! Please.
Private Terrence Jones (Georgia, Dock Worker)
“Ma’am, you don’t have to do so much for me. I’m fine, I swear.” Terrence always tried to brush off his injuries. He was determined to prove he was just as capable as a white man in this time of war. Although he didn’t enjoy your care. It was nice not to be treated like he was lesser than everyone else for once.
Terrence was a handsome African American man from Brunswick, Georgia. He was tall and stocky, as well as an extremely respectful gentleman. More so than any of your other patients.
Terrence wasn’t treated the best at the field hospital due to his ethnicity, so he was shocked you’d actually help him. There were too many injured to all fit into the segregated area so he was overflow into the regular field hospital… so he was often neglected by the white medical staff. So much so that he nearly had his foot amputated from untreated trench foot. Yet you reassured him that he was just as worthy of treatment as the others. He was also a soldier and a patient under your care so you would do your best to make sure he had the same chance of surviving. Plus, there were very few black nurses staffed to properly treat all the injured black soldiers in the field hospital. It was ridiculous how segregation and Jim Crow laws were still present in this time of dire circumstances.
Terrance would always shy away from touch, no matter how much he sought it out. He didn’t want to cause any problems. Nor did he want you to face any discrimination from treating him. Gods he couldn’t bear for you to be called any names that would be along the lines of heinous ones he was designated. Terrence couldn’t bear for you to be treated horribly just for doing your job. He would not forgive himself if you were harmed in any way, even if it was merely verbal abuse. You were one of the few people here that were kind to him. You had saved him from being a cripple, Terrence felt an obligation to protect you in anyway he could.
“I don’t need much. Honest, I swear.” He’d mutter while you bandaged his foot. He was glad his blush wasn’t visible due to how dark his skin was. He’d be so embarrassed if you knew how he truly felt. Of how he loved you despite the societal pressures. “I don’t want to cause you trouble, ma’am.”
“Terrence, I can’t let your feet rot off. You said you were a dock worker and I don’t think they’ll let you work without them.” You sighed while you rewrapped his feet. “So just let me treat you.”
Terrence protects you from any soldiers or nurses who try to make comments about how you treat him and other soldiers of color. Even if it would make him have a harder time in the hospital or out in the field, he still would stand up for you. Terrence would defend your honor!
“You don’t know anything about her! She’s a good nurse and I won’t let you run your mouth about her. Don’t you dare call her that.”
Terrence would sometimes share little tidbits about himself. Like his love of southern jazz music and how he worked at J.A. Jones Construction Company shipyard. He even told you about how he helped construct some of the Liberty ships.
Unlike the others, Terrence knew you’d never be able to have a good life with him no matter how much he wanted to be with you. He would never subject you to ridicule and disrespect for your entire life if you chose him, no matter how much it hurt his heart. Terrence’s love was selfless. He may never be able to have you, but Terrence would do anything for your happiness.
Scout Carmelo Marino (New York, Butcher)
“Ciao, Bella! Did ya come to patch me up? Ya sure know how to make a man weak in what’s left of his knees.” Carmelo was the biggest flirt of all your patients. He’s also the loudest, not just because he’s an Italian American from New York City, but because he is Carmelo Marino.
Carmelo was a field artillery scout so he had the in raid of dangerous job to gather intel and to check terrain for artillery planning. But the young man bit off more than he could chew.
Carmelo had his left leg amputated after he bravely scouted ahead of his squad’s tank for landmines, only to step on a German S-mine or ‘Bouncing Betty.’ He was extremely lucky to only have lost a leg and had some shrapnel lodged into him, but other than that the experience didn’t deter this strong willed flirt.
“I’m glad I lived so I can see your beautiful face here, Bella.” Carmelo winked. “Are ya rationed, sweetheart? I’d like to make a pass at ya if you’re not going steady. I’ll take ya back to New York and show ya my family’s butcher shop on Mulberry street. We got the best meat in Manhattan. Even make our own prosciutto.”
Carmelo sometimes would feign more pain than he actually had just to steal you away from the others. He couldn’t bear to have your heart swayed by another man.
“You’re breaking’ my heart, Bella! I’m in agony over here.” Carmelo held his chest as he put on a show for you. He knew his peers were rolling their eyes at him. “I think a little kiss on the cheek would make it better.”
Carmelo loves to brag so he can make himself more appealing to you, but deep down it’s because he’s terrified you’ll pick one of the other men here. He was only a butcher after all. He didn’t make a lot of money, but he was definitely the only one who always got you to smile. Even though he didn’t know how he’d continue living with only one leg, nor was he sure if he’d ever have the life he once had, Carmelo was determined to not make you worry about him.
“I’ll show ya around downtown Manhattan if ya fly back with me. I’ll show ya all the stops. Just picture it. You. Me. And the swanky stork club.” He winked. “I might fall on my arse, but I used to be a good dancer. Since I don’t have a left foot anymore, I won’t have two left feet.”
Carmelo made it his mission to make you smile and laugh no matter how much his peers rolled their eyes at him, because Carmelo loved you.
He’d often crack jokes or make faces just to see that pretty smile. If he was sent home after this, he will be sending you a fat stack of letters until you reply. Carmelo was determined to make you his!
He may be the son of immigrants from Italy who own a mom and pop butcher shop, but Carmelo was willing to give you the world. All you had to do was say yes and he’d whisk you away… whatever you wanted, he’d do everything in his power to get it for you.
Hey look, I came back again with stories no one asked for. Enjoy a short psychological thriller set in the 1940s post WWII.
Yandere Short Stories:
Your One and Only
Yandere WWII Veteran x Wife Reader
TW: plot twist, character death, lying, unhealthy relationship dynamic that should not be romanticized, psychological thriller, mention of war, mention of NAZI germany (brief), cuckoo bird symbolism, and yandere behavior
Sunshine streams through the window as the first rays of dawn kiss soft cheeks. A soft hum fills the air as Johnny wakes first. (Your name)’s dream-filled eyes fluttering when soft lips press against smooth skin. These were kind of kisses that were as soft as romantic as the movies in Hollywood. Yet (your name) couldn’t shake off the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Her Johnny kissed her a lot, but not nearly this much… but maybe he was just happy to see her after being in France for so long fighting in a war they had no business being in?
He’s only been home for three months yet she couldn’t help the way she felt deep down. She felt like he wasn’t her Johnny. Yet she did hear men didn’t return the same they once were before war… so who truly knew. Maybe she was just overthinking? Yeah… that was it!
“Darling. Oh my beautiful darling.” He chuckled as his calloused hands roam her sides, bringing her back down to reality and free from her anxious thoughts. “I’ve been wanting this for so long…”
“You’re so touchy today, Johnny.” A laugh bubbled out of her as his hands went from gentle touches to tickles. “Johnny!”
He gave her a warm smile, his blue eyes warmth and full of utter reverence. “There it is. That pretty laugh. My whole day is made now.”
They rose up to get ready for the day, but Johnny’s attention was drawn to the bird nest outside. The one (your name) had raved about last week since there were two eggs in there. One blue one and one speckled one. There was only one baby bird that hatched so far, but he couldn’t help but be in awe of what he observed from the bedroom window.
The newly hatched chick began to push out the smaller egg. Its body using its legs and back to toss the little egg out of the nest until it splattered on the ground below. Now there was only one baby bird in the nest as it opened its mouth to loudly chirp for food. He hadn’t realized how much he had in common with a creature of nature… with the parasitic cuckoo bird.
He could recall his twin brother’s desperate face in that dirty trench in France. How he had such terrified eyes as he held his bleeding leg as artillery shells went off a few hundred feet from them. It was only logical to put him out of his misery with a shot to the head point blank. He would have died slowly if he hadn’t been such a good brother. The real Johnny would have likely been a cripple for life and (your name) didn’t deserve such a weak husband… one that would be so careless to get harmed while they fought against the Nazi regime.
It wasn’t hard to switch dog tags or take Johnny’s identification cards and his golden wedding ring that was just half a size too tight. Being an identical twin came with its perks and Joseph Ackers took full advantage of it. How would anyone know he wasn’t really Joseph when there were piles upon piles of dead bodies in that godforsaken war? When he had the same voice and the same face as the ghost of a fallen soldier?
Johnny had always been the favorite child growing up. Johnny was kind and mild-mannered while Joseph was rough around the edges and a hothead. Johnny had good grades and a good job while Joseph had gotten involved with some mobsters at a young age. They couldn’t be more different despite having the same face and voice. Yet they both had been in love with the same woman… and Joseph would never forgive Johnny for marrying (your name) first. It was only fair Joseph took what he fully believed was rightfully his. His beautiful (your name)…
“Johnny? Are you alright?” Johnny was brought back from his musings by the soft melody of (your name)’s voice. He paused before he gave his wife his full attention.
“I’m fine, darling. Sorry, I was caught up with the birds. It really got me thinking…” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. An act he was going to play for the rest of his miserable life. So long as he had (your name)’s love, he would commit to wearing the skin of a dead man and forgetting his own identity. So what if Johnny haunted him? So what if he’d never be able to be himself again?
It was worth everything if he was (your name)‘s one and only. Joseph would take this secret to the grave and even to hell.
Pairings: Sylus x Non!MC Reader, Zayne mentioned, Reader is a hunter too.
Genre: Angst, hurt no comfort, no happy ending (sorry).
Gist: Sylus finds you, but realizes he has lost you forever, and he suffers.
WC: (around 2.5k)
a/n: my lord I did NOT expect the first part to receive so much love...thank you all. Here's the second part, I am so sorry I was horribly sick. Also sorry if this doesn't live upto anyone's expectations, but I promise I'll get better at this. Also, I am trying to tag everyone but I am so horribly sorry if I missed anyone; I am still getting used to Tumblr lol.
It wasn't like Sylus to zone out during meetings. The leader of Onychinus was sharp, attentive, with astute observational skills and thoughts that were ten steps ahead from everyone. But recently, for a few months, everything had become white noise to him. His thoughts in a complete disarray, his sleep schedule fucked up—not like he had a great one to begin with, anyway. But it was still better when you were there.
Ah yes, you. The light of his life.
Now gone.
It's been three months since you've disappeared from his life. Three months since his whole life seemed to have turned upside down. Three months since you seemed to have completely vanished from the face of earth, because the leader of Onychinus has not been able to find you. Every lead led to a dead end.
The day he realized you were gone, he had deluded himself into thinking it was for some mission. He returned a week after your birthday, his mood delirious and spirits lifted high because his mission with Miss Hunter was a total success and they had managed to get their hands on some of the rarest Protocores.
But he had returned to an empty mansion.
Your toothbrush, your makeup, your skincare, the trinkets you had collected, your favorite novels from his library, your pyjamas— everything was gone. But everything he gave you was still here. Weird.
He tried dropping you a text, a call— neither of which went through.
It must be for a mission, he told himself. After all, there were a few times when you were suddenly deployed for an emergency mission at a place with bad cell tower.
He waited for a week.
The dread started settling in around the second month. You had never been gone for even a week, much less a month without any sort of communication. You always, always found time to let him know any sort of update. Were you in some sort of danger? He started combing through cctv feeds, connections and almost everything he could get his hands on to find you. Intel from the Hunters' Association didn't show you being deployed for any mission, no mention of your name in the register of the dead ones (he exhaled heavily in relief after checking that), but no one could find out where you were.
He found nothing. You had just disappeared into thin air.
By the time the third month rolled in, Sylus looked visibly wrecked. He wasn't, by any means, a stupid. But he found himself thinking quite the opposite when it took him so long to figure out that if you were on a mission, it wasn't one assigned by the Hunter's Association, but one you created to disappear from his sight. And in hindsight, he very well knew the reason why. He treated you like a backup plan, his biggest mistake till now.
But he couldn't help himself; he had been waiting for Miss Hunter for years. So when he had finally found her, his soulmate, he went all out to show his appreciation for her. And in the process, he had neglected you— the one who was by his side all along, who helped him in every step of his plan, cheering and loving him throughout. Caught up in all the delirium, he had failed to notice how he lost you bit by bit.
Or maybe he did notice, but he thought you'd understand— after all, you had always been understanding. He thought he'd make up for everything later. He didn't put in any effort to reassure you either.
But later changed to too late, and now you've disappeared. Now, your absence tightens around his neck like a noose.
Sylus internally cursed himself almost every minute of the day. Scouring through every intel like his life depended on it, his eyes constantly went back to his phone, hoping for a text that would never come. Hoping that you'd come back. Hoping he still has a chance to right all of this.
So when Luke and Kieran came back with the discovery of your actual location amidst a meeting, he disappeared into thin tendrils of black and red like a ghost within an instant— he had to explain himself to you.
---------------------
Adjusting to Chansia City hadn't been much difficult, and the air here was cleaner than Linkon. You had thrown yorself into a diligent clockwork routine of eating, fighting Wanderers, submitting reports and sleeping. Your had worked yourself to the bones in the first few weeks to avoid spiralling into a heartbreak. The nights were the loneliest— your hands subconsciously reaching out for a certain someone, you woke up at ungodly hours, crying and unable to go back to sleep. The first month was especially hell.
But things soon started taking a turn for the better. You made new friends, and got close with a certain famous golden-green eyed doctor. You were determined to not let your heartbreak tie you down from enjoying the other things of life. Especially, your friendship with Zayne Li was a fresh change of air— he listened to your rambling, supplying cracked dry humor at the right spots. Trying out new cafes and pastries with him and laughing at his absolute distaste for carrots almost made you forget your heartbreak.
Almost.
Because even then, Sylus lingered at the back of your mind. Small things that would've been otherwise insignificant reminded you of him— a stupid crow plushie, a vinyl record, boxing gloves, even reading glasses. At times, you'd lose thoughts of your surroundings and daydream what it'd have been like if all this never happened. Or if he cares at all. Does he think of you? Probably not, you think, bitterly; he has his soulmate now.
Which is why when you first see a familiar figure with a shock of white hair and carmine eyes staring at you from the other side of the road after you part ways with Zayne (you both met for a small coffee break at a cafe), you slightly freeze and wonder if you've finally lost it.
But you haven't, since the figure approaches. Sylus exhales heavily as he stops in front of you, and for the first time in a while, you notice that he sees you. Like really sees you; it's been a while since you received that gaze from him. A sound between a heavy exhale and a scoff leaves your lips when he draws a little closer, looking visibly confused about how to go on— it was certainly a rare sight. You had half a mind to turn around and bolt when his voice stopped your thoughts.
"I am sorry, sweetie...please".
So he does know what he did. You didn't know if that was better or worse.
You simply stare at him, your hands in your pocket and that unnerves him even more; you look so unreachable while being within a foot's distance. Is this how you felt everytime you saw him with her?
He continues anyway, almost babbling— again, a rare sight, "Please give me a chance to clear up this misunderstanding. I know whatever I did was horrible but I promise it's not what it looks like—"
Your soft but firm voice cuts through, freezing him. "I am afraid there is no misunderstanding here, Sylus".
"What do you mean?"
"The misunderstanding ended the moment I left."
His eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. "What?"
"It ended the moment I realized I wasn't the one for you. I was simply standing in the way of fate".
His face blanches. "Kitten, that's not—"
But you were done holding your heartbreak in. While your looked calmed, your insides felt like shattered glass as words finally tumbled out of you, "You two are destined to be together. She is literally your other half, Sylus— you both are soul bound. I was simply a thorn in between you two, and you certainly made that crystal clear with the way you behaved after you found her. You—"
He has the audacity to cut you off in-between. "No kitten—"
"Do NOT call me by the pet names you've used for her."
Sylus is momentarily speechless, but he is desperate as he continues after a pause, "Okay, but please let me explain. Please." You don't say anything, so he takes it as a chance to continue, "Yes she is my soulmate, and we were together, but that was in another lifetime. Not this one. I just need her for my plans".
"Does she not hold the other half of your soul? 10.5 grams, the red string of fate...whatever they call it. The menu at the Elysium told me everything I needed to know. Everything is for her, Sylus. She is literally the centre of your universe. Why did you never tell me that?" Your voice breaks at the last word as tears threaten to escape your eyes, but you blink them in— he doesn't deserve your tears.
Sylus shakes his head as he steps forward, "That means nothing. Not in this life. I know my actions misled you, but please trust me—"
"I don't trust you, Sylus", you interject, your lips quivering with the effort of not breaking down. "Not after I know what it's like to be treated as your afterthought." A broken laugh escapes you, and the sound shatters Sylus. "I saw your connection with her firsthand. I know you'd choose her over me in a heartbeat, and you're drawn to her like...the universe was made for you two to be together. I am willing to take the brunt on behalf of both of us, Sylus. I am giving you an out— go back, walk away. Why are you fighting what's predestined?"
Desperation laces his crimson eyes as Sylus scrunches them close and opens them, seemingly trying to grasp at whatever straws he could. His voice comes out hoarse as he speaks. "I'll make us work, please. Can we not go back to how we used to be? Please?"
You shake your head as you step away from Sylus, and his face pales. "No Sylus, we're done. It's over."
He catches your wrist by surprise, panic clear in his actions. "No, no please. Don't do this to us. Please. I'll make it work. I promise."
Your voice is soft, broken when it comes out. "When was the last time there was an "us", Sylus?" He swallows thickly as you continue, "Go away. There's no us anymore."
He almost begs. "Please... How do I prove to you that you are indeed the only one I want? Tell me. I'll do anything and everything you say."
But you shake your head as you gently move his hand off of yours. You felt really bad when you looked at Sylus from up close— he looked hollow. His eyes looked empty. But you also remember that this man looks at Miss Hunter like she hung all the stars in the sky. And why wouldn't he? He was destined to be with her. You were just a blip in the process, an insignificant variable. Exhaling loudly, you put a few steps between you both as you speak. "Tell me, when exactly did you think of this? Of bothering to give me any explanation or reassurance?"
Sylus remained silent, his eyes silently simmering in a plea because he knew the answer to this question very well.
"Exactly", you point out, exhaling heavily through the nose. This was beginning to tire you out. "You'd have never bothered if I didn't walk away."
Sylus clenches and relaxes his jaw in defeat as you continue, a finality in your tone as you speak. "You and I both know where you're supposed to be, and it's certainly not here. Take care of her." Because as much as you hate whatever happened between you and Sylus, you could never hate Miss Hunter. She had been nothing but warm and kind to you, always greeting you with stars in her eyes whenever you had engaged with her. Whether she is aware that she was a part of the reason that you were heartbroken, you don't know and don't wish to know either. Because that's all she was really, a part of the reason.
The reason being if your man gets swayed easily by someone else despite making promises to you, he isn't worth your time.
And Sylus and her were destined to be each others' anyways. There was no fighting it.
So you turn around and walk away, leaving a small part of yours with him forever while Sylus stands there utterly wretched, his breaths hitching and heavy as he sees your figure disappear.
----------------------------
Sylus wasn't handling the break-up well.
Not that he had handled when you went missing well either, but his grip on himself back then was far better than whatever he is facing right now.
"Never knew boss could be so... affected by her absence." Kieran whispers to Luke as they both pick up the shards of yet another glass that Sylus has managed to crush in his bare hands while checking Mephisto's feed. He had ordered Mephisto to tail you in a long while, since earlier he was a little too preoccupied with Miss Hunter's safety. Mephisto had left with an indignant squawk, as if he was mocking him for his poor actions.
The results had Sylus clenching his teeth in agony.
In a long while, you looked like you were whole again. You were smiling, glowing in a way he hadn't seen you glow after Miss Hunter came into the scene. You seemed at peace, and it gnawed at Sylus that he wasn't the reason behind it.
That, and your close proximity with Zayne, who also happened to be Miss Hunter's childhood friend.
He could only watch you from afar, and it felt like his heart was being wrung dry and battered. You had become the notes of a song he couldn't recognize the tune of. And because of his own actions, someone else was filling the gaps in your songs. Someone that wasn't him.
Perhaps this was universe's way at getting back at him for mistreating you, he thought bitterly. Chewing on glass would be better than this.
It didn't help that Sylus couldn't help but watch you through Mephisto, as if losing the sight of you meant losing you forever. Yet maybe, in an ironical twist of fate, he had lost you way before you had walked away— when you were right in front of his eyes. And now, he has to witness you becoming close to a man who bickers with you about sweets and human anatomy.
Oh how the tables have turned. If this is how you felt everytime watching him and Miss Hunter together, Sylus was ready to rip his heart out.
"Well, he had it coming." Luke shrugs as he whispers back, dumping the glass shards in the bin. "He was always with Miss Hunter..." Luke trails off as Kieran nudges him quietly, and they both scamper out of the living room. Right beside it, Sylus was in his study sitting with another glass of wine. He could perfectly hear the twins, and their words twist the knife lodged in his gut. The glass in his hands shatters quietly this time, blood dripping on the surface of the desk. His eyes reflect on the shards— they were empty rubies, the lustre within them gone.
He couldn't care less about his empire or Miss Hunter; everything of him and around him was in a complete disarray. His reflection in the mirror haunts him with illusions of you both brushing together while giggling. The second-hand coffee machine in his kitchen that you had thrifted with him makes him want to hurl out his guts. The dresses that you left behind, the one you had personally modelled for him when he simply pulled you into his arms and showered you with kisses, now blind him with their shine. You left and took his soul with you. Ironic, because he seems to only notice it now.
Too late. Too fucking late.
He has lost the light of his life forever.
_____________________________________
Epilogue:
You rub the sleep out of your eyes as you pick up the package on your doorstep. It's fucking 4 in the morning, for fuck's sake. You tear open the package which reveals a small black bracelet with an animal which has the head of a dragon and the body of a... bird? Crow?The clutch was wired in the shape of a tiny datura. Along with it is a letter in an elegant handwriting, one you knew by heart.
My love,
I can only hope my last attempt at apologizing will be accepted by you. I am not worthy of your forgiveness, but then again, I wasn't worthy of your grace either. For everything you've blessed me with, I'll be born carved with love and regret, penanced to be doomed– and I curse myself to burden this henceforth till doomsday.
A part of me is always yours forever, regardless. And that makes everything bearable.
Yours forever,
Sylus.
You clutch the box to your chest, a sob escaping your lips as you look around. The sun is yet to rise, and there's a faint scent of daturas in the air as you finally break down.
The eight-year-old Segment was unlike any child you had ever met.
When you were in the Akademiya with Zandik, you had gathered bits and pieces from what he told you about his childhood to somewhat imagine what a little Zandik would look like. It was… difficult to envision, not because you couldn’t form a picture, but because the thought of him being hurt so deeply as a child hurt you too. But when you finally saw the slice of his child self in front of you, you quickly realized the reality was far more cruel than you could ever think of on your own.
His eyes were… empty. For someone so young, not even a glimmer of light could be seen within the redness. It would have comforted you more to see even anger or sadness, but there seemed to be nothing of the sort. And yet, it did not deter you from attempting to befriend him, despite Eight’s initial lack of interest.
He was the child, and yet you were the one wandering after him like a lost kid. The Segment would just stare at you before excusing himself. Perhaps he was confused about why you were speaking to him in such an excited tone. Perhaps he did not know how to deal with it. All he knew was that the others had told him to treat you respectfully but not to bother you, and Eighteen specifically gave him a look every time you tried to usher him closer.
But in the end, a child was a child. A child would think and behave like one no matter how much they buried themselves, and that was also true for little Eight. You had noticed Eight frequently spent his spare time writing and doodling in his notebook, although he would always shut it if you got too close, obviously still guarded around you. At least he had gotten comfortable enough to let you stay in his room. Still, it was easy to piece together what he was doing in there. So, one day you slipped him a drawing of an Aranara you had drawn yourself.
Eight recognized the creature immediately, and you witnessed more emotion than you had seen before, with his eyes widening and mouth parting. He closed his notebook shut and tentatively reached to brush his small fingers against the drawing, and you pushed it closer to him encouragingly.
“Have you ever seen one like this? You know, there are the round ones and-”
“The ones that are skinny with long hats.” Before you could finish your sentence, Eight interrupted you. It was like a switch had been turned on.
“And then there are some with flowers on their heads-”
“And the ones with leaves on top.” It looked like he really was an expert on Aranara facts.
“You know a lot, don’t you?” You beamed at him with interest, and suddenly the child felt a bit shy. It was rare anyone took interest in him or anything he liked, but at the same time, knowing a lot had once gotten him in trouble a long time ago.
“I didn’t expect you could… be so detailed,” Eight said, changing the topic as he brought your doodle close to his face, examining the detail as his nose almost brushed it, in true childlike wonder that he always kept hidden.
“Well, in the Akademiya, you’re usually asked to sketch out your observations like wildlife or architecture, even potential machines and inventions, so I know a bit.” He only continued gazing at the messy Aranara. “You can keep it, if you like.” Eight glanced at you, slowly nodding as he finally set the paper down. He looked a bit more relaxed now.
“Now… would you mind if I see your drawings?” You pressed the tips of your fingers together, brightening with hope. Eight already guessed you had been itching to ask him that for a while. At first, he would have rejected you, but now he felt a bit more… comfortable.
The child Segment didn’t need to answer, only opening his notebook to the first page and leaving it there for you. You clasped your hands together with a resonant ‘thank you’ as you pulled a chair to sit next to him at his desk.
“Some Aranara have hats of different shapes and colors. Some of their hats cover their faces. Others have leaves drooping down instead of hats,” you read aloud from the journal. Each description was accompanied by a drawing. “Some also have bowties or carry around weapons. They’ve also picked up habits from humans, such as cooking or living in houses.”
For someone who didn’t seem to feel much, Eight watched you intently as you examined his notes. Maybe he subconsciously looked for approval. At the very least, you looked to be absorbed in his words, allowing him to feel a bit proud of himself.
“This is some really good research. Thank you for trusting me with it,” you said softly, hand reaching out to hold his, until you stopped midway and drew back. Perhaps it was best not to push things so quickly. “Though… I do think some of these sketches could use some color.”
“I would,” the boy nodded in agreement, “but I don’t have anything to color them with.” A spark of sadness flickered in your heart, knowing that he was chained to the mindset of a child and was not even allowed to indulge in it.
“Well, why don’t I get us some colored pencils and we can fill them in together? Adding a bit of color is sure to add some life, hmm?”
And so a few days later, you were once again sitting near Eight with his notebook open. You had made sure to order the most high-quality coloring supplies for little Eight. Even he could not hold back his excitement, observing them up close one by one and picking out the ones he’d use for the Aranaras. In all honesty, he was more focused on coloring than you, and seemed very intent on making sure everything was accurate… But you didn’t mind. You only gave some pointers here and there and answered his questions on whether the color he chose was good or not.
“Thank you,” Eight said eventually. He couldn’t remember the last time he expressed gratitude for something, because the only thing other people ever did was hurt him.
“Anything for you, sweet one.” He didn’t respond to the pet name, and you quickly worried you had overstepped, before Eight nodded and went back to coloring.
Perhaps if he had just had someone who supported him when he was young and took interest in him, things could have turned out differently.
—
One day, you had called Eight to the kitchen, and he was immediately greeted with a delicious smell.
“Oh, you’re right on time!” You called for him and ushered him closer. He took in the mess of the kitchen before he noticed what was making his mouth water. A tray of baklava sat there, sliced and ready to be served.
“You all still like to eat, don’t you? I thought I’d make something for all of your hard work.” You were busy cleaning with your back turned. “I invited you to have the first bite. Help yourself.”
He and the other Segments would go to the Fatui’s cafeteria, and although it was nice, it didn’t really have food from Sumeru. They would never bring up their dissatisfaction, however. But now, one of his favorite treats from his homeland sat in front of him. The older Segments might have lingered around you some more, but him? The child couldn’t help but want to dig in as soon as possible.
“Thank you.” Those words were starting to become familiar to him again. Eight’s fingers pinched a piece of the dessert and took a small bite before immediately devouring the whole thing. It was probably the best thing he’d ever tasted. He glanced at you before taking another piece, and another…
“Do you like them?” You finished cleaning the area and washing the tools as you made your way to the table. “It’s been a while since I made any so-” You paused when you noticed at least a third of the tray was gone, and the child had stuffed cheeks.
Eight blinked at you. You blinked back. You were at a loss for words before you burst out laughing at the sight.
“Y-You don’t need to eat that fast, you know. I can always make some more.” You grabbed a tissue and began wiping around his mouth. You remembered Zandik being a fast eater back in the Akademiya, but you didn’t know he could gobble stuff down this quick. Eight stiffened as you tenderly wiped off the crumbs and fussed over him, and though it felt weird, it wasn’t weird enough for him to push you away.
“Hmm… I guess I’ll portion the rest for the others. We can give Eighteen the least for being a big meanie. Hehe, don’t tell the others, alright?” Your little accomplice nodded, chewing the dessert slower, not only savoring the flavor but… your kindness too.
Eight had started to open himself up to you, slowly but surely.
—
Little Eight had begun to seek you out on his own, cling to your side, to grab onto your sleeve and look up at you with expectant eyes. With that, the boy had become oddly observant of you.
“You don’t look well,” he pointed out.
“Hm? Oh. I’m… I’m fine. Just a bit tired but-” Before you could finish, Eight grasped your clothes and led you over to sit down. Of course, you couldn’t refuse him. “Really, I don’t-” Eight pressed his small hand against your forehead.
“Your face is warm, and you’re sweating a bit. You should stay here. I’ll get one of the others and the medical record.” It was almost jarring to see a kid assess the situation with such calmness. Perhaps he already had experience with this from Regrator, though. Or maybe he just had to grow up quicker than other children.
“But… you don’t need to do all this. I can take care of myself…” He should just be allowed to be a child, you wanted to say. He shouldn’t have to be in this dreary lab with experiments of this nature.
“I want to.” Eight was surprised those words left his lips as easily as they did. He had thought he had become numb to the suffering of others. He knew something was wrong with him for that. But when he looked at you, it made him upset that you were in pain.
“… You’re very sweet. Thank you.” The others had told you that the child Segment had already lost his compassion, but every day, you learned that clearly wasn’t true.
—
The eight-year-old carried around his notebook like it was a lifeline, clutching it to his chest. If he had to put it down, he’d always make sure it was within his line of sight. You knew that his notes were important to him, but you couldn’t help but feel that there was something else to this behavior.
You found out the answer one day, when you were in Eight’s room. He was searching for his notebook in front of you when he opened his drawer to reveal a few copies of the same black notebook, before grabbing one of them.
All of the notebooks looked the same, so you had no idea he had multiple. But it didn’t strike you as unusual at first. You just assumed he had filled up that many notebooks with his ideas, and naturally, you wanted to see.
“Do you mind if I read these?” You pawed at the covers.
“You can, if you want. But you probably already read most of them.” That made you pause.
“What do you mean?”
“Those notebooks all contain the same content. I just wrote most of the important stuff in all of them.” So… he was making duplicates of the same thing?
“But why?”
“Sometimes I misplace them. And then sometimes one of the others throws it out.”
“Throw… throw them out?” You repeated, as if you were in disbelief, but Eight seemed to be unaffected.
“It’s mostly Eighteen that does that. But I don’t want to lose my ideas, so I just write them down in multiple places just in case.” Your jaw was left slack as Eight calmly flipped through his current notebook.
“A-And what does he say?”
“That it’s childish. Or a waste of time. Things like that.” He didn’t think about it when you didn’t respond, but before he knew it, you were up and pacing around the room. “What’s wrong?”
“He can’t do that to you!” You had never spoken to him this loudly, which took him off guard, and you recognized that and took a deep breath. “That… is just wrong. I will not let him do it again. I’m- I’m going to speak to him right now!” Eight realized that this was the first time he saw you truly frustrated, and it was on his behalf, too. You almost burst out the door before he called for you.
“Wait,” the child requested. Never one to ignore Eight, you listened. “You don’t need to do that.”
“Yes, I do. If I’m here, no one is doing that to you. Why, I might as well go and throw out his property and see how he likes it!” Eight felt a bit of warmth prick his face at your outspokenness. But he really didn’t want to start a fight with Eighteen, which would probably escalate to the others, with Thirty-Five telling them not to hinder his work, Forty-Five laughing, Sixty-Five being tired, and the original Zandik… what would he do?
“I’d prefer it if you stayed with me.” You opened your mouth and closed it again, expression softening.
“Well then… I guess me and Forty-Five will do something to get back at him in secret instead then.” You couldn’t help but give in to Eight, especially when he was learning to be so genuine with you. You sat on the edge of the bed with him and rubbed your hand on his back. However, you still looked troubled.
You thought back to the days you spent with the original Zandik back at the Akademiya. Eighteen was the only Segment you had a concrete understanding of, considering he was a replica of the one you knew so deeply when you were young. You had seen his bitterness firsthand, the desire for himself and his ideas to be acknowledged, only for it to never happen, sending him deeper into his resentment for the world. He would grip you, stubborn tears rolling down his face that he silently asked you to ignore. Perhaps if you had remained in the waking world, you could have done something, but…
“You know, um, Eight,” you began, and the Segment gave you his attention. “About Eighteen… I wouldn’t say he hates you. He just…” The child’s eyes bore into you as he watched you fumble for words. “I guess… He might be a little jealous of you.” That seemed to surprise the little boy.
“I don’t understand. There is nothing I have that he doesn’t.” Eight furrowed his brows, carefully thinking, and a part of you was flattered he was taking your opinion so seriously. “Eighteen has his own lab, office, equipment, proposals, funding, experiments… I don’t really have any of that.” Well, there had been proposals he had been drafting for Pantalone, some with your assistance, but he had yet to present any of them… Most of his duties included assisting the others with their tasks instead.
“Well, all of that is true but… Eighteen doesn’t have your mind.” Perhaps deep down, Eighteen wished he too could be a bit “childish.” Although Eight had clearly gone through something rough, he managed to retain something Eighteen could not. Could Eighteen ever find something and pursue it with pure wonder and excitement as a child could? He couldn’t. Instead, the older Segment was only trapped within the harsh reality of this world’s cruel rules and laws. But how could you explain that to a little boy?
“By which I mean, he doesn’t have the proper mind to appreciate your dear Aranara. And it’s a shame, because he wants to, but… can’t.” You tried to word it as best you could. “Of course, what he did is still wrong, but…” You trailed off, really not knowing what to say, but Eight only leaned into your embrace. He could understand that this was your attempt to make him feel better. Honestly, you had already done more than you knew, because Eighteen always seemed to be in a far better mood whenever you were around. And whether he liked it or not, the older Segment still stayed with him for a lot of things.
The original Zandik, the one who was fascinated with you more than any sort of research, had once told him that your warmth could fill an entire room. Obviously, that didn’t make sense in the literal way, so it was metaphorical. But only now did Eight understand what the older man had meant by that. Actually, now he understood why all the other Segments trailed after you, looking for attention.
You were truly a warm person.
His eyes flickered from you to the floor, and back to you again, as if he was making an important choice. Within the span of a few moments, the tiny Segment turned to fully embrace you, arms wrapping around your body, making you softly gasp. Without hesitation, you gently reciprocated and held his smaller body. Eight always did like when you patted the top of his head.
The child really liked you a lot. Maybe you could convince the others to let him take a trip to Sumeru? Or at least get one of his proposals approved? But for some reason, those things didn’t seem as much of a priority now, when compared to spending time with you.
just imagining each and every segment (even the original zandik) playing the piano for you and each having a unique song made for you.
you, his muse; are his inspiration.
i literally wrote this under like 3 hours.. so it will be terrible, i’m really bored so i’m doing this to pass time and because i still need to think about what to do for the pierro one. i haven’t written like this since i was like 15 and was bad at it (im literally still bad at it it’s just so much less cringey) so apologies are due.
┈┈・ ✦ ・┈┈
8: you can’t help but comfort the segment as he is still new to the piano, trying to make a song for you and making many mistakes but he still tries his best to his ability. he would often look up at you with teary eyes even after being comforted, hoping you appreciated his effort
↳
for someone like 8, he had no care in the world of what others thought of him, you on the other hand were an exception.
“a-am i doing okay?” he whispered in hopes he wouldn’t disappoint you, knowing you would never be upset at him.
“you’re doing wonderful my dear, you’ve made so much progress in so little time! i’m so proud of you!” you exclaimed at him while smiling sweetly, in return he showed you his bright smile as he sniffled and wiped away his tears. “i’m happy to hear that.. i will make you a song that shows my love for you!” he beamed with his eyes closed, you could help but smile ear to ear; your adoration for him as clear as a sunny day.
♡ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
18: although he is not new to the piano, he isn’t exactly number one when it comes to skill, above average but there is room for improvement; although you’ll never hear him admit to it
↳
you sat next to 18 as he played the piano listening to the words that came out of his mouth. “at the akademiya, i never had time for the piano; i was rather occupied with pursuing my own goals..” he recounted as the notes swayed with romantic allure. “for someone who rarely had time for such futile things, you sure do know how to play like a professional.” you mused with a closed smile. “are you mocking me?” he scoffed playfully and you couldn’t help but laugh, even if he sounded annoyed, you could still see the adoration in his eyes.
two people of different backgrounds enjoying the notes being played in the air, as the song he made for you filled up the room with nothing but admiration.
♡ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
25: the only time you’ll ever hear 25 play the piano is when there is free time and when he notices you’re feeling down, which unsurprisingly isn’t uncommon due to what tends to go on in the laboratory.
↳
it was one of days where things just weren’t going your way, which led to 25 basically kidnapping you by throwing you over his shoulder since you refused to move from your bed. “you truly can be a headache at times, are you aware? you should feel honored that i’m taking time out of my day to amuse you.” he muttered as he arrived to the music room
“then why not keep doing that?! you could’ve let me stay in bed, but yet you chose to do this” you huffed as you kept smacking his back and kicking your feet in hopes he would drop you, to no avail he sat you up next to him as he started to play the piano, an unfamiliar tune entering your ears. you perked up, the tune sounded romantic and it was all you could focus on. “i will indulge you this once, so pay attention to this new melody i have created.” he said, and you did exactly what he asked you to do, 100% of your attention was on his fingers, the way he played without hesitance had you in awe. he smirked seeing your face light up, it seems like he accomplished his goal.
♡ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
35: the last segment you expected to ever show such trivial emotions, the last to make you a song. he was not one to indulge you, in fact he would laugh at you if you even suggested it, so imagine your surprise when he told you he made you something
↳
“so are you gonna sit down or what?” he grumbled even after you were in the middle of doing just that, you never understood him and you have a feeling he didn’t understand himself either, but you would rather be struck down by the heavenly principles than say it out loud. “is there a reason you made a new melody?” you mumbled. “i want to see the results of how you will react to this small experiment.. think of it as some minor research.” he gleamed, he would never admit it but he cares for you as much the other segments did. he just showed it in his own way.
he played the piano, he took notice of how your heart rate went down, your shoulders dropped, you leaned closer, your muscles became less tense, your breathing became slower.
the signs that you were relaxing, the sadness within you being forgotten, mission accomplished, he smirked.
you closed your eyes and leaned your head on his shoulders, the tune continuing to play.
the experiment was a success.
♡ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
45: a rational man who knew what you liked when it came to music, he knew you were a sucker for the sounds of a piano playing.
he told you he wanted to show a new song he wrote for you. excited, you dragged him to the music room, eager to hear what he wrote
↳
“come on! i can’t wait to hear what you wrote this time!” you jumped as you led him to the seat in front of the piano, the man chuckled at your eagerness, something he loved about you. “mama prema, your never ending energy will always surprise me.” he chuckled as you blushed at the nickname, his fingers pressing the keys as you watched intently, different from 8, he was skilled and was able to play the piano without looking down, not even a blindfold would make a difference.
you couldn’t help but smile, the man in front of you was the light of your life and would drop anything to attend to you, the way he smiled at you lovingly was something you will never get tired of, it was one of the only times you would see this specific segment without the bird like mask.
you both were caught up in the moment, it felt like it would never end, and you were thinking that you never wanted it to end.
♡ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
65: the most quiet of all but very gentle when it came to you, he has been teaching you how to play the piano and wanted to see if you were able to play the song he made for you, so he took you to the music room to try it out… it went better than expected
↳
“am i doing it right?” you asked as you slowly played the piano, afraid to make mistakes. “you’re doing fine, relax… i’m not gonna get mad if you make a simple mistake.” he chuckled, standing behind you slightly jumped as you felt him place his fingers on top of your, guiding your fingers on the keys. “i recognize these notes.. it’s the love progression, you wrote me a song?” you whispered, your face slowly becoming warmer; the realization that he made this for you and wanted you to hear it by playing it yourself. your breathing hitched and you looked at him in awe. “you made this..for me?” you said as he nodded. “it is not often you get shown appreciation, it is deserved” he mused as he sat down next to you.
both forgetting why they were there originally, chatting idly as time passed by.
♡ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Zandik/85: the original, the one who’s been there since day one, he was a hopeless romantic and it wouldn’t the first or last time he made you a song
↳
as he played the keys, you swung your legs as you sat on top of the piano. “zandik, the way you play the piano will never fail to amaze me.” your face beaming as he smiled. “these songs are all inspired by you after all, my muse.” he teased.
you hummed in response and focused to the tune of the song, stealing kisses from zandik once in a while,
the music room has become the place of comfort for the both of you, indulging only one person, and that person was you.
all the songs he made for you were embedded with a secret language only the two of you knew. not even the other segments were aware of this.
there were times he would measure your natural heart rhythm and compose to the beat of it with exact precision. he held you in high regard after all. even near death you will always be his priority.
EXTRA EXTRA READ ALL ABOUT IT CALEB’S IN HIS FEELINGS AND HE CAN’T GET OUT OF IT…
Sypnosis: Caleb x non!mc — you find out he only used you in this marriage of three, and only had a child with you to prove to the world that he, Caleb Xia, had moved on. 7k words. Warnings: HURT NO COMFORT no seriously, x reader is a stretch. mentions of pregnancy, birth and cheating. selfish caleb. i like exploring his ego. A/N: Sorry for the wait. I smoked 7 cigs in the process of writing this (working through my 8th now as I do the formatting). this stemmed from a little ask that was just too angsty to write a simple blurb on. highly suggest listening to mitski while reading this/earrings by malcolm todd (of which the title originates from) for the maximum angst experience.
There were three of you in this marriage, so naturally, it was a bit crowded.
Part of you felt unbelievably happy to be at the altar with Caleb Xia, yet another part of you couldn’t ignore the nudging feeling that something was very wrong with your husband-to-be.
To the spectators of the wedding, Caleb seemed perfectly composed. Not that most of them would know him any better than you did of the man you were about to dedicate the rest of your life to. The audience of the simple wedding at the courthouse consisted of your family and friends, and for Caleb…well, the only three people who he invited were Gideon and…
And her. MC. Of course.
You’ve always had an idea of who she was. It was hard not to acknowledge the woman your husband was obsessed with, is still obsessed with. You knew how much MC weighed on Caleb’s heart, and you could only guess how much that weight doubled when MC, instead of marrying him, married some cardiologist friend of hers. And you could piece together that you were nothing more than a trophy of proof for Caleb to show that he had moved on.
Yet, you still naively believed that, just like any good fairy tale, Caleb would eventually fall in love with you.
But one look into his empty, loveless eyes, as he signed your marriage certificate, told you otherwise. The chaste, brief kiss you exchanged felt like more of an obligation to show to the wedding guests rather than a genuine embrace of a husband and wife.
But then again, you didn’t think you expected much more.
In fact, Caleb looked happier when after the ceremony, MC bounded up with him with a grin, patting his hair and congratulating him for getting married and finally, finally moving on. To which he blushed and replied to her with something inaudible to you.
So from the very beginning, there’s always been three there has always been three in the spaces you occupied with your husband, three at the altar (you wondered if Caleb had imagined it was MC standing in your place on your wedding day), three in the bed (you could even imagine MC lying in empty space inbetween you and Caleb as you slept, and three at the table (at first before Caleb had learnt more about you, the dishes he served were all reminecent of MC’s favourites). You knew MC haunted, haunts, your marriage. But like any good wife, you looked the other way and hoped for the best.
Although it was not that you expected for Caleb to start acting like your husband right off the bat (you told yourself he needed time to heal). Not that you expected him to treat you like MC. Not that you never stopped praying that the underdog (you) of the story may prevail eventually. Yet the silence in his cold, gray penthouse, the lack of physical touch between the two of you, the meals consumed in harrowing conversation (you’d have to give it to him for always trying to ask you how your day was everyday), the nights spent so far away from each other, was slowly convincing you that this marriage was nothing but one of convenience. All you did was try your best to keep holding onto the hope that maybe things would change with Caleb for the better.
About two years into the marriage, Caleb surprised you by asking if you could have a child together.
You were shocked he was the one to ask.
Your remembered first attempt at intimacy had gone miserably. You could freshly recall on your wedding night when Caleb had loomed over you in the darkness of the bedroom, his chest heaving - though he hadn’t moved to do anything, anything at all - with spots of tears forming in the crease of his eye. After ten minutes of silence, he rolled off you.
‘I— I’m sorry…I- I can’t.’
You had told him it was okay. And you never mentioned it again, so you were coloured surprised when Caleb meekly asked you, as if he thought you might get upset, to try for a baby.
Fortunately for him, it only took about three times before you presented him with a positive pregnancy test. Fortunately for you as well, since each attempt was very awkward, terrifyingly so. You had no idea where you should have out your hands, your legs, if he even wanted your hands on him— and neither did Caleb know what to do with his touch. You’d think he didn’t want a baby by how hesitant he was acting. However, eventually when you did hand him that test with two pink lines, Caleb’s face practically glowed. You had never seen your husband, in all these years of marriage, look so…happy, so much more like his actual age than the cold, gloomy colonel you were married to. For the first time, you saw the sunny Caleb that you only got to know through photos stuck in dusty albums in the corners of your home. He hugged you, kissed you, and laughed in relief.
Relief?
Honestly, you were somewhat relieved too. Usually, Caleb would be away for prolonged periods of time, always muttering about something to to with the fleet, a mission, training, before departing for sometimes weeks at a time, but ever since you got pregnant, Caleb cut back on prolonged duties and stayed by your side if he could. There was one thing you could never complain about him, was that when it really came down to it, Caleb was not a bad husband by the books. He constantly cooks, cleans, cares and caters for you, and even more so now, he’ll drop whatever is on hand at moment’s notice to come running to you if you said you felt the slightest bit of discomfort. Plus, with all the baby essentials Caleb had purchased, they had really livened up the house much more. You watch as he assembles them without the need to look at the instructions whilst sitting on the floor of the living room. As he fusses about with you taking the right supplements, about getting enough sleep…it’s cute. It’s the closest feeling you’ve ever experienced to having a real husband, despite being married for well over two years now.
On a muggy afternoon, you inched out of Caleb’s grasp (he has now found it in himself to sleep closer to you with one hand usually over your stomach if you allow it) and wobbled your way to the walk in closet for some airier clothes. As you sifted through the racks, you accidentally knocked out a few photos from Caleb’s colonel service coat, which fluttered down to the bottom of the closet. Crouching down (whilst you still could), you inspected the photos.
Oh.
It was a laminated photo of your baby’s ultrasound. Not just that, but on the edges of the photo, written neatly in his handwriting in pen, were the words: [name]’s ultrasound appointment on xx/xx/xxxx.
Adorable, you thought, that Caleb carried this around with him. You privately wondered if he would proudly show it off to his co-workers or his underlings. You hoped he might, maybe even boast a little about how lucky he and his wife was. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, wondering if this marriage was finally taking a step into the right direction.
But right next to that photo was that necklace. When U Come Back. You knew very well the story behind that necklace, how MC had given it to him before he left for the aerospace academy. How he used to wear it, 24/7, but had at least the decency to stop wearing it at all times and only keep it on him, after he married you. Yes, at least he had the decency to now never take off your wedding bands. Your eyes glazed over the necklace again. Bitterly, you wondered if he’d ever want to carry a photo of him and you someday.
Nevermind. You dried your eyes quickly. At least in this marriage, both he and you, are getting something that you both wanted, something that you will both cherish more than anything.
A bouncing baby girl.
He wanted your baby. He needed your baby. He wanted to be a father, because he wanted to be a father, a nurturing, loving figure, right? And not for any other reason? Right?
Right.
Two weeks later, whilst tidying up the kitchen, your hand bumped against a bright yellow lunchbox patterned with little apple stickers, long forgotten beneath a pile of documents and papers. Fondly, you picked it up.
In the very earliest days of your marriage, you had done the domestic, wifely thing of making your husband a lunchbox before he departed for work every morning. And he had returned an empty box everytime, down to the last grain of rice being picked clean. You still remember the fuzzy feeling of seeing Caleb smile at you, thanking you for such a delicious meal, how his subordinates had all fawned over the presentation, how delicious it was, how lucky the colonel was to have such a lovely wife…
So why not do it again? You thought merrily, after all, you haven’t made him a packed lunch in a while. Maybe showing up at his work with a delicious lunchbox might perk him up. Excitedly, you got into your car and made your way down into central Skyhaven.
Entering the fleet HQ, you were immediately guided to your husband’s office.
You were about to turn the handle and step in - usually there weren’t much visitors in his office in the middle of the day - but a chorus of loud voices stopped you.
“And to Caleb! The newest dad-to-be!”
“The first of all of us to be a father, actually.”
You heard a round of clinking cups. It must be Caleb, inviting his flight school friends to celebrate the impending birth of your child. At his office though…strange. But it must be because he’s been so busy, he hardly had any time to go anywhere except his workplace and his home.
“Woah…no, no more.” You recognised that as Caleb’s voice. You could imagine his hand gliding over to cover the surface of his glass.
Drinking? In the middle of the day? Seriously? You snorted, hand going down on the handle again, But at least it’s to a good cause. Caleb being a new dad and all.
“But seriously. Here’s also to your marriage not being a total disaster!”
Your stopped before you could push against the door.
“It’s not. A total disaster.” Caleb said, his voice a bit slurred though not completely drunk.
“Yeah, yeah…we all know you had the hots for MC, but she ended up marrying that sexy doctor instead of the big bad colonel, didn’t she, oof—!”
A thud. Caleb had probably slammed whoever said that against the wall. A series of ‘ooohs’ followed.
“Kidding, kidding…”
“You better be.” Caleb dusted his hands off, sinking back into his seat. “I’ve long moved on from MC. I even have proof.”
“Oh yeah? Don’t tell me it’s—”
He pulled out the ultrasound picture that he kept in his uniform pocket, showing it to everyone in the room.
“I had a child with my wife. Can’t you see how much I’ve moved on already? I can have a child with someone who’s not MC. See?”
Tears stung your vision.
So thats what he was using that picture for.
Not for a happy memory’s keepsake, no. But to show the world that he, Colonel Caleb Xia, the yearner, the lover, the oh-so-perfect man…has moved on from his sweet MC.
…
You quickly threw the lunchbox you made away, and fled the building. You needed to get away from him, in that moment. You didn’t want to linger on in this kind of feeling anymore.
…
Time passes a lot quicker, you found, when it wasn’t just you in the house all day. With Caleb by your side (more or less constantly in the final few months of your pregnancy) the days had quickly passed. And before you knew it, there was a living, breathing infant in your arms.
The birth was easy, and again, you were grateful for Caleb’s support (he never left your side in those six hours, plus you’ve heard far too many horror stories of baby daddies bringing their Xbox, or not showing up at all…) though admittedly you swore at him multiple times and eventually snapped at him to wait outside. However, part of you feared he might react to an actual baby, his and your baby, with regret and hesitation. You couldn’t shake the fear that Caleb might feel prejudiced against a baby you made with him instead of one borne from him and MC. But those fears quickly evaporated when you saw Caleb crying, sniffling, holding the little pink bundle in his arms.
Both Caleb and you were overjoyed, though also albeit scared, naturally like most first-time parents. He was seriously dedicated at every step. Again, you’d have to give it to him for being a good dad.
After returning from the hospital, he never allowed you to get up in the middle of the night to soothe the baby. He never complained about doing the messy work that came with babies, often willingly taking care of all her wants every day as if trying to prove a point. He now even tries to come home earlier and go on less long-distance fleet missions to spend more time with the baby, something he’s never done for you in the time you were married. You watched as he poured his whole heart into being a good dad for a tiny little girl. A perfect masculine figure. Ever so sensitive to what she needed.
But what about what you needed?
Sometimes when you come home after a day out with your friends or a solo trip somewhere, the moment you open the door to your home, you feel as if your entire world is behind that doorway. That despite all the freedoms Caleb has given you in this marriage (the financial freedom, ‘you can go anywhere you want’ , you can do whatever you wish), your world had drastically shrank to the man sitting in the grey parlour, who wasn’t even facing you.
On other days, he wasn’t even there.
Gone to MC’s. Emergency.
….you weren’t exponentially surprised by the reason. Caleb frequently rushed to MC’s house to deal with her emergencies. At this point, you simply shrugged it off and continued on as you usually would. Only that when you went to the nursery to check on your daughter…
The crib was empty.
Your heart dropped. You had frantically dialled his number. No response. You racked your head for thousands of possibilities. Did someone take her? Did he mention he was taking her anywhere? Did he…did he take your child? Taking off with MC to a place where you’d never find him again? Did Caleb pack up and leave altogether? With your baby?
You told yourself it couldn’t be true. That he’d never do something like that. He wouldn’t. That Caleb is a good, kind man. But to what distances he would go for MC, you had no idea. All you knew was that you’d like it to be you instead of her.
Ten minutes later, you were banging the front door of MC’s house.
Surprisingly, it was her husband, Zayne, who answered.
“[name]? What are you doing here?” Zayne asked, surprised.
He didn’t even get to answer before you shoved past him, calling Caleb’s name.
“Caleb, Caleb?!” Your mind flashed with possibilities of where he could be. Maybe he was already gone. Maybe he took MC and drove up to the airport already. But surely not, his car was parked outside, and, and…
There he was. In MC’s backyard, sleeves rolled up, that stupid grin on his face as he…tacked a nail into a piece of plywood, MC hovering over him with a tray of lemonade. You stopped in your steps where the stone of the house met grass, calming down, as you watched your husband beam up at MC, sweat glistening down his muscular arms, droplets forming on his healthy skin, a damp V soaking the top of his t-shirt. Time seemed to slow as Caleb reached up, took a sparkling glass, smiling at MC gratefully, a smile so bright you’ve never seen in all those times you ever offered him something.
“Caleb!” You snapped, finally loud enough that he whipped his head around, MC too. “Caleb! Where’s our daughter—“
Before you could even hear his reply, a beaming MC gasped in delight and smothered you in a hug.
“[name]! You’re here too! That’s perfect, you should stay and have dinner! Ooh, I’ll tell Zayne to set an extra space at the table.” She spun around, shouting into the open patio doors. “ZAAAAAYNIIIIEEEEE?”
She talked at such a fast pace, you barely even got to get a word in on how you didn’t really want to stay for dinner, how you just wanted to demand where your daughter is and go home. In that moment, you didn’t even really care if your husband went home with you. But just as you opened your mouth…
“Aw, pips, there’s no need, I’m almost done with building this part already.”
MC pouted, that little, pathetic, faux-childish pout she always made at her dear gege.
“C’mon, Caleb, staying for dinner is the least you could do for me, after rushing over on such short notice to build Zachary’s treehouse.” She said, referring to hers and Zayne’s son. She turned to you and smiled, dropping her voice to a whisper, “Zayne is so useless when it comes to things like this, and my gege is the best!”
She turned back to Caleb. “And bringing your adorable little daughter too! I’ve been dying to meet her. You know I’ve asked you so many times already.”
You paused. “Wait a minute. You…asked Caleb to…to bring…”
“Yes!” MC replied, “I know she’s only a few months old, but all I’ve been asking Caleb is to let me meet my adorable niece!”
It was almost laughable. The ‘emergency’ that required Caleb’s immediate attention was the construction of a treehouse for MC’s son. You couldn’t help but wonder how many other of these such trips to her house that Caleb took were also something else, something less significant but labelled as an ‘emergency’.
You turned to Caleb, absolutely pissed.
“You. You took my daughter just like that? You took her without asking me?”
“I told you I was going to MC’s—“
“You didn’t tell me you were taking her!”
“I thought you would have assumed—“
Right. Like you should assume, like every other little bit of your marriage, you should have assumed that Caleb’s judgement was right. That your husband is doing his best for you. For this marriage. That you should assume every step he did, he was thinking of you first, and not MC. You should always assume. You’d be happier off that way.
But obviously, you were much more headstrong than Caleb let on. You were no longer the nervous blushing bride that had once optimistically stood by his side.
“You have no right to take her and tell me, her mother, to just assume anything about the safety of her own child.” You replied, in a tone that surprised Caleb so much, that he wasn’t sure how to reply.
MC, caught in the middle, immediately pushed in to diffuse the tension.
“Aw, don’t be like that, my sister-in-law.” She smiled, holding onto your arm. “Don’t blame Caleb, it’s my fault. I asked him to bring the baby.”
“No, no.” Caleb cut in, standing up and putting a hand onto MC’s shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself.”
He turned to you, frowning. “[name], I think we’ve just blown this way out of proportion. No one’s been hurt and you’re acting if I’ve kidnapped someone!”
“You know that’s not what I—“
“Come on.” Caleb gently took your hand, herding you towards the house. “Our daughter’s fine. She’s asleep upstairs.”
He led you past the living room, past the kitchen where a frazzled Zayne stood, wordlessly watching as Caleb led you up the staircase and into the nursery, familiar with the layout as if it was his own house, to where your daughter was sleeping peacefully in their son’s old crib.
“See?” Caleb sighed, “Nothing’s wrong. You got all worked up over nothing.”
You wanted to yell and him and tell him that this wasn’t nothing. That somehow ‘nothing’ always seemed to be associated with his behaviour with MC, and that none of what happened concerning MC in your marriage could just be swept under the rug like that. Maybe that’s how he preferred it, you thought bitterly.
“I want to go home.” Was your only reply.
Caleb’s shoulders slackened. “C’mon, let’s just stay for dinner…”
“I want. To go. Home.”
Your husband seemed to give up this case, and sighed. “Alright.” He replied, “Let me get my jacket.”
Suddenly, both of your heads turned, as you heard MC rap her hand against the nursery doorframe.
“Caleb…can I just speak with you for a second before you go…?”
You wanted to question if she had been lurking outside, listening, but Caleb cut in front of you.
“Of course.” He replied.
He took MC by her shoulder“We’ll just be a minute.” He called to you.
“You don’t mind, do you?” MC asked graciously.
“Sure.” You replied evenly. “I’ll just be in here. Come get me when you’re done, okay? I’ll dress our daughter to leave.”
You saw Caleb nod, before escorting MC down the stairs. You made sure they both saw you close the nursery door.
You mad good on your promise to stay in the nursery and dress your fussy little daughter (who was looking more like Caleb by the day). Five minutes later, gently creaking open the nursery door, you snuck outside, thinking they’d finished their conversation already. But you realised they hadn’t gone far. As you stood on the stairs with your back against the side of the wall, you could clearly hear Caleb and MC talking in the living room behind the staircase.
Their words made your heart beat out of your chest.
“Is your wife always so…uptight?” You heard MC mumble, her voice suddenly sultrier than before.
“No, she’s just…” You heard Caleb began.
I’m just what, Caleb?
“…she’s just emotional, that’s all.”
You heard MC snort. “Emotional? Hardly. I seem to remember that at your wedding, she was ever so meek and crittery, so nervous, so deferent, so grateful to marry the big strong colonel…” She sighed, “And I thought that, y’know, hey! She might do a lot of good for you. She’s like a squeaky mouse, just like another version of me, how I was your ‘pipsqueak’…” Her voice suddenly dropped to a whine.
“I thought maybe you found a better replacement.”
You heard sounds that indicated that Caleb stepped forwards to hug her.
“MC…nothing and nobody could ever replace you.” Caleb said gently.
They were silent for a long time. Wetness had began to gloss your eyes.
“Well…on that happy note…” MC mumbled, “I have some news for you.”
“Hm? What is it?”
“I’m…” She giggled, “I’m expecting.”
“You’re what?!” You heard Caleb exclaim.
“Shhhh! I said I’m expecting. I’m going to have another baby.” MC replied hushedly.
“Oh wow…congratulations!” Caleb laughed. “Guess I’m ready to be uncle to another mini-zayne, huh?”
MC let out a small happy sigh. “Not quite.”
“What do you mean? Do you think this baby’s going to look more like you, or—”
“No, no…”
A pause. MC gazed up at your husband, clasping his hands.
“Caleb…the baby is yours.”
…
You couldn’t bear to hear the rest of the conversation. You sprinted back up the stairs, going back into the darkness of the nursery. You hated yourself for it, but you couldn’t help but sob, sob over this marriage which you’ve always held hope to, this marriage which, admittedly, up to that moment you were still clinging onto the hope that things may turn to the better, that your fate might change, that this wasn’t all a mistake, that your marriage wasn’t just a helpless fantasy on your part…
But look at you now.
Crying on the floor of the house which belonged to the woman who your husband was obsessed with. Crying with a baby that was only born into the world to prove a point for your husband, to prove that he had moved on. Or worse, your poor baby daughter wasn’t even born to prove a point anymore, she had only served to prove a lie, a lie that was quickly unravelling at the hands of the man who demanded her existence.
Caleb…oh, Caleb.
Your tears stopped when you heard someone coming up the stairs. Immediately, you dried your eyes and stood up, trying to slow down your breaths and calm yourself down. You refused to face your husband like this. You refused to make a scene. Not now, anyway.
“Ready to go?” He asked, pushing the door open.
You didn’t turn for a second. In that moment, time seemed to stop.
Slowly, you turned to him, your daughter held tightly in your arms.
“Sure.” You smiled, “Let’s go home.”
…
Home. Such a funny word.
As you watched the glowing skyscrapers pass you in the passenger seat, you suddenly felt very calm. The air was wet from rain, and a cool summer breeze had began to sweep through the night. You thought you might feel rage, or resentment, but instead…all you felt was a strange sense of sereneness. You were disappointed at Caleb, sure, but not as surprised as you thought you’d feel.
Which felt worse than being angry.
You’d rather feel that rush of adrenaline, make a scene, throw something at his face and scream at him and cry and slap him, maybe, but no, no, all you felt was a churning pit of emptiness in the pits of your stomach. Your belly empty, while MC’s swelled with life. His life.
“What do you want to have for dinner when we get back home?” Caleb asked you, breaking the silence.
You shrugged, wondering when, or if that all, he was going to confirm for you what you had overheard.
“Don’t be like that.” He nudged you with a half smile, “You can pick anything. Anything at all to eat, it’s up to you.”
You didn’t want to eat with him. Even the thought of sitting at the same table, across him, made you feel sick. The thought of your mouth wrapping around the utensils that once touched his mouth, his mouth that once warmed MC’s tongue. Biting into food prepared by his hands, his hands that once traveled across MC’s naked skin. A sickening scene.
You didn’t want anything to do with him.
“I’d rather you decide.” Came your firm reply. “Since you seem to decide everything that goes on around here.”
Caleb sighed, a long heavy drag. “[name], I don’t know what you want me to tell you.” He spun the wheel, pulling into the familiar street. “So can we please just drop the attitude?”
“What attitude?” You asked, fluttering your lashes as often MC did when she wanted to appease her dearest gege, “I really don’t mind what we eat. Why would I?”
“[name].” He said more seriously, “Please. I don’t want a scene. Our baby’s asleep in the back and I’d really like to keep it that way.”
Right, so you’d be fine having an argument if our daughter wasn’t here. Speaking of children…
“MC’s looked glowing today, don’t you think?” You mentioned, sliding out of the passenger’s seat almost the second Caleb rolled the car into the driveway.
He shot you a strange look as he unlatched your daughter from her baby seat in the back. “Yes…she did. Why do you ask?”
You shrugged innocently, unlocking the front door, “Nothing, I just meant that motherhood agrees with her.”
Caleb said nothing in reply. You watched as he carried your daughter inside, not a muscle in his face giving away a single hint of suspicion or anxiety. You knew what kind of man your husband was. It wouldn’t be so easy to gauge out the truth from him, or any semblance of emotion he didn’t want to express for that matter. But you were expecting this.
“Do you think she’s going to have another one?” You said coquettishly, shrugging off your coat.
He couldn’t help it this time. You watched from behind as his shoulder twitched, ever so slightly, for not even half a second.
“I wouldn’t know.” Caleb replied, his tone ordinary, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she did. She and Zayne are a happy couple, after all.”
Your husband would have made a great actor, you thought humorlessly. You wondered if he was tearing himself apart inside.
“Actually.” You raised your hand, smiling. “I don’t want dinner.”
Caleb turned, cocking an eyebrow at you. “What? But you—”
“I’m not hungry anymore.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” You nodded, one foot on the stairs. “I’m going to bed early. It’s been a long day.”
“But it’s only—“
“Goodnight, Caleb.”
“…goodnight.”
…
Weeks had passed. You’ve continued to act as if nothing had gone wrong. Caleb went to work, came back from work, cooked, played with your baby girl (who was now crawling all over the place) and went to bed. The only aspect that he felt…off, about, was how pacified you acted now.
You didn’t pepper him with questions about his day anymore.
You weren’t there to ask if he was feeling alright the moment he came home.
You couldn’t even bring yourself to stand closer to him.
It was as if the marriage had undergone mitosis and split itself in two, as if the straining cell it had once been has finally pulled away from the other half. All that remained was two individuals, standing inches apart in the kitchen, sitting a meter away in the living room, sleeping in beds that felt miles away from each other at night.
Your scents didn’t even mingle together anymore. The air in your home felt stagnant. You were sure that if you hadn’t got used to it, if you weren’t you for a second and you had visited your current home for the first time, you would assume that there were no inhabitants in it at all.
You could imagine it now. The edge of the scissors pulling the winding umbilical cord into a taught triangular shape in the sterile air, about to snap shut, about to separate the two entities, mother snd baby, to deliver individuality and freedom to both…there just needed to be a little push. A little force. Just a little more, and you would be able to forever sever this rotting chord that ties you to this marriage .
Every day, Caleb would come home and wonder what changed your demeanor so much. And you’d wonder when your husband would grow the balls to tell you that MC is pregnant with his baby.
He didn’t on week one. Or two. Or three. Or four. And as you can guess…
He didn’t speak a word when MC posted a gender reveal (week 19) online, the cutting of the triple-tiered cake revealing flamingo-pink insides. Caleb liked that post, you saw.
He also didn’t mention a word when MC announced a baby shower (week 28), which you were also invited to (the gall. can you imagine the audacity?). You had acted perfectly amicable, presenting MC with a hug and a basket of gifts. Caleb had gone to congratulate Zayne. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony.
By the time the date hit 30 weeks after you overheard their conversation, you had had enough.
If Caleb was going to be a coward about it, then you would force him to confront the truth.
…
Week 34 was fast approaching. You knew a normal pregnancy would end at about 37 weeks to 40, so when Caleb, suddenly, in the middle of your morning shot up from his seat after answering a call, you were surprised.
“What’s wrong?” You asked.
“MC had th—her baby.”
“Already?” You hummed. “It’s a bit early, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Caleb gasped, practically sprinting to put on his jacket hanging by the bannister, “That’s why I need to go see her. Now.”
“No wait!” You stood up, grabbing his wrist. “I’m coming too.”
“No.” He replied. “You shouldn’t. Someone needs to stay home with our daughter. And I won’t be long.”
“No, no!” You chirped merrily, picking up your daughter from her high chair. “Let’s bring our baby. After all, she should get to know her new half-sister.”
You enjoyed watching the colour suddenly bleach from his face.
“What?” His tone was chilling, shaken, almost boyish.
“You heard me.” You fished out the car keys from the little ceramic dish near the front door. “Come on.“
“[name]—“
“I thought you were in a hurry to go.”
“[name].” Firmer, now.
“So let’s go.”
“[NAME]!” Caleb yelled. It was the first time he had yelled at you.
“What is it?” You blinked back.
Caleb’s eyes were bloodshot. His shoulders heaved.
“How long…have you known?”
“I think the better question is, Caleb,” Your face, he thought, was frighteningly unreactive. “When were you planning on telling me?”
He threw his hands down, turning away from you. “I was going to tell you today. After the baby was born.”
“So you can force me to face the consequences of your actions? If I like it or not? Is that why?”
“No! Don’t put words in my mouth.” He faced you again. “I was going…I was going to…”
“To what?”
“To work something out.”
“And how was that going to end?”
“I—“
“I’ll tell you how that was going to end, Caleb Xia.” You stabbed your finger against his solid chest. “It would end in me having to make sacrifices. It would end up in me in pain, over and over again, just to cope with how you’ve decided to treat me! I will be the one at a loss while you, you will get what you’ve always wanted. Every decision you’ve made was never for me. It was always either for you or for MC! I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth when you tell me that you’ll ’work something out’. I know you’ll give me the short end of the straw. You already have, for every day we’ve been married. Yet you never realise, because of course in the end whatever happens would work out for you, because it always fucking does!”
“[name].” Caleb breathed, “Calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to—“
“I’ll be home as quick as I can.” He said, pulling on his shoes at the door. “And then we’ll settle this.”
You laughed.
“Oh, Caleb.”
You watched as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.
“I’m sure you’ll find yourself right at home.” You said with a smile.
…
“Caleb, come quick!” MC giggled, waving her hand to usher him in. “I just sent Zaynie to go out to the cafe to buy me some lunch.”
Caleb looked over at the bassinet, where a tiny wriggly baby wrapped in white lay. His lips broke out into a smile, a little wider than when he had first met his daughter with you, before gently, very gently reaching into the blankets, prying them apart, to reveal the scrunched up face of his new daughter.
He instantly folded, a finger stroking her wrinkly cheeks.
“Hey there, sweetheart…” Caleb cooed, as the baby made an uncommitted sound.
She was tiny. Wrinkly. But to Caleb, she was one of the cutest things he’s ever seen. She was part of him, and part of MC, after all.
Caleb took an awed breath in, as she fluttered her eyelashes, opening her eyes to reveal…
Big, green eyes.
Her eyes were green.
A bright, mocking, hazel.
Just.
Like.
Her father’s.
Zayne.
…
“What the fuck?” Caleb spun to MC, “You said—“
“Well…” MC smiled devilishly, a telltale sign that she knew the entire time, “I assumed wrong, I guess.”
“But you told me it was from that one night when—“
“There’s no way I could have conceived her with you from just one night, compared to how many times I’ve fucked Zayne around the same time.” She noticed Caleb wince in uncomfort at the mention of her activities with her husband. “You were right. Aren’t you always, gege.”
“But—“
“Caleb, the baby isn’t yours.” MC snapped.
He stood by the beside, shellshocked.
She exhaled out of her nose, smoothing out her blankets. “There is no ‘but’ to it.”
Caleb let out an exasperated breath. “I can’t believe you lied to me. You lied to be about something this important!”
“I had to!” Suddenly, her voice turned an 180 and became a pitiful, little cry.
“Gege…I was trying to help you…you married [name] and seemed to be so upset all the time, so I had to think of a way to get you out of that marriage. And see, now…” She smiled, “She’s out of the picture and will never bother you again.”
“You don’t understand!” Caleb shook his wrist out of her grasp, “I would never have…have put [name] through all this if it wasn’t my child to begin with.“
“Come on, Cay, you’re just being selfish now.” MC picked at her nails, “It’s all for the best. You didn’t enjoy being married to her in the first place anyway. I can’t believe you went through all the trouble of having a kid with her just to prove that you were over me. You’re so pathetic, gege.” She chuckled.
Caleb felt as if he could not move. MC’s voice seemed to become a distant echo, until…
“Gege?”
He snapped back into reality. Caleb frantically began pulling on his jacket, turning his back to MC, his shallow breaths filling the room.
“Gege, don’t go.” She said softly, “It’s all for the best. You’ll still be an uncle to the baby. To our family. We’ll be together again, aren’t you happy about that?”
Caleb’s hand tightened on the door. He turned to look at MC, with the most hollow look in his eyes she’d ever seen him possess. Emptier even than the time she renounced him as her gege.
“No.” He replied curtly, pushing the door open.
“Caleb Xia.” MC barked. “Xia Yizhou!”
For the first time, Caleb didn’t look back to her.
…
Caleb wasn’t sure how many speed limits he broke while making his way home, but from the look of the bumper, he should be expecting a few tickets soon.
He was in a daze as he got out of the car, almost stumbling to the front door of the house, unlocking it.
He was ready. To apologise. To kneel before you and beg for forgiveness.
Anything at all.
To go back to the beginning. To make things right, as they should be between a husband and his wife.
To be a family. You, him and your precious baby, that you gave him.
He opened the door.
The house was silent.
Almost empty.
Empty…
The empty table. The empty living room. The empty bedrooms. The empty nursery. It was as if the house had reversed to its first day Caleb had moved in, where every inch was shrouded by plastic wrap and packed in cardboard. When no life had been breathed into his home.
A home without love is just a house, after all. How long had Caleb been trying to change that?
How long had he stayed, in denial, that his goal had actually been long fulfilled?
Where are the people who made his house a home?
“[name]?” Caleb called out. “[name]? Where are you?”
A prickling feeling creeped up against his spine as Caleb made his way back into the kitchen, where you had the fight just before he left. The plates had been cleared away, leaving only a sticky note taped onto the table.
You finally got your dream. I hope you can be happier with MC and your family with her. It’s all for the best. Love, [name] :)
Caleb fell to his knees.
A choked cry echoed through the house.
What dream? What family?
What had he forsaken to chase after his selfish needs?
megumi’s different when he’s sick, really different. but you can’t say you mind.
your usually stoic, collected, unemotional boyfriend is suddenly all over you, clingy as a koala. it’s pathetically adorable.
your hand is flat against megumi’s forehead, checking for a temperature, and he’s blatantly leaning into your touch. a kiss pressed to your knuckles, another to your palm.
you get up to make soup and he pulls you back towards him with surprising strength, for someone who’s sick. a surprised squeak leaves your mouth as you’re tugged into his warm arms, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck.
“don’t go,” megumi mumbles, pouting.
you laugh quietly, hand threading through his hair. “i’ll be back in a minute, baby. just gonna make you something warm so you feel better.”
he huffs, tightening his hold on you. “you can do that later. ‘s cold without you.”
“i’ll give you more blankets?”
“it’s not the same,” he grumbles. then he sniffles, a quiet, sickly sound. it tugs at your heartstrings, and you wonder whether he was faking it just for the attention.
you exhale, amused yet unrelenting. “i’m sorry, gumi. i have to, okay?” somehow, some way, you untangle yourself from his tight embrace and stand up.
megumi whines, reaching for you, and you fight back a smile.
“i’ll be really quick, baby. promise.” you press a peck to his warm forehead, tucking him more properly into the blankets before slipping out of the bedroom.
not even a minute goes by before you feel megumi’s presence in the kitchen. you smile softly as his arms come around your waist, chin resting heavily on your shoulder.
“you should be in bed, baby.”
“i know,” he mumbles almost guiltily, breath warm on your neck. he watches you cut the vegetables, spiky hair tickling your skin. “it was just really cold without you. horrible.”
“horrible indeed,” you humour him, reaching back to scratch his scalp. he exhales, eyes droopy as he melts into you. “i told you i’d be back soon, no?”
“but you were taking forever,” megumi groans earnestly, eyes opening to peek at you.
“i was away for one minute.”
“a minute too long.” he says, sniffling and shutting his eyes again. “i almost died.”
you giggle, pouring the finished soup into a bowl. “i’m really sorry,” you say as you lead him back into the bedroom, pulling him behind you like a sad puppy. “won’t happen again.”
“good,” megumi huffs, satisfied.
his eyes trail over you as you get him settled in, cocooning him in blankets and pressing the bowl into his hands. you know exactly what’s coming next.
megumi locks his gaze on yours. “is it cuddle time now?” he asks hopefully, eyes wide and shiny, lips downturned as though he might burst into tears if you refused.
the sight of him like this is so unexpected, so precious. you almost give in. almost.
“nope,” you say, trying to sound as firm as you can muster. you press the soup bowl further into his hands as his bottom lip quivers. “drink first, then cuddles.”
“and- and you won’t even feed me?” megumi warbles, sniffling sadly. “i’m dying, you know.”
“you’re not dying,” you sigh, sitting down next to him. “but fine, i’ll feed you. only cos’ you’re sick.”
the biggest smile breaks onto his face, eyes clearing up immediately as he hands you the soup bowl. your megumi wouldn’t smile like this in a million years, and you try to savour it.
he’s almost giddy with affection as he presses the soup bowl into your hands, cozying up to you and pressing his face into your chest. “you’re the best,” he mumbles happily.
you can’t wait to tell your boyfriend about this when he’s well again.
" he's so loud.. " 𝓶egumi grumbled into your nape, annoyance prominent in his tone.
𝔂uji was snoring loudly, large bulky arms draped over you and megumi's waist as a result of his rather uncontrolled sleeping habits of moving around a lot. his head rested on your bra, mouth agape and drool pooling in your cleavage. " it's annoying. "
" when are you not annoyed by something? " you asked, combing through his pink strands. you felt his hands tighten around your waist, squeezing gently. he just let out a low hum at your statement — not confirming nor denying.
time passed, yuji's snores turned into hiccups as he prepared for a yawn, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "g'morning..." the kiss he put on your lips was lazy and gentle, full of sleep.
"morning, yuu. how'd you sleep?" he murmured a "good" against your lower lip before kissing you again, your hands molding his face gently. yuji loved your attention when he first woke up, it was the most awaited thing once he opened his eyes. it was simply routine.
megumi watched over your shoulder, leaning up on his elbow. he didn't say anything, just... observed. he had that familiar, faint dent in between his dark, thin eyebrows. he looked the same as he always did, but more annoyed than just plain grumpy. yuji eyed him, curious but in a teasing way. " jealous? "
" stop, " he got a hold on your jaw, turning you to face him. yuji stuck his tongue out at him, which megumi saw out the corner of his eye but chose not to comment on. " you haven't given me any kisses today. "
" yes, i have, " you corrected.
" mm, " he kissed where your jaw met your earlobe, trailing down to the corner of your lips. " it sounds like you have favorites to me, " he murmured.
" told you. he's jealous! " megumi pushed two fingers to his forehead, moving him back to prevent the chances of his interrogation of your favoritism being interrupted. you hadn't taken megumi to be the jealous type at all, if you were being completely honest, but you weren't complaining at all.
you puckered your lips. " no. you come get a kiss. i'm not kissing you. "
" ooh, picky. " yuji's commentary got him a pinch.
you gave into his demands with a slight laugh — there was only so far you could push megumi to be outwardly needy for affection. the kiss was special in comparison to your other kisses. more sweet, more savory, more apologetic for the fact that he was accusing you of favoritism. your hand gripped his jaw, tongues brushing against each other, relishing in the aftertaste of each other's chapstick.
they were both your favorites — your lovely boys to kiss, to love, to do anything and everything with. you pressed kisses to both their faces, alternating.
ONE LUCKY EGG MYDEI FIC AND MY LIFE IS YOURS‼️‼️🗣🔥🔥
LUCKY EGG
Yandere!Mydei x Reader
The gentle hum of the Lucky Egg Dispenser filled the room as you inserted the coin, anticipation building in your chest. The machine whirred, shaking slightly before dispensing a shimmering, golden egg that pulsed faintly in your hands. Its warmth was comforting, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement.
3 days later.
“Let’s see what companion I’ve got” you muttered, carefully setting the egg on the table.
You barely had time to step back when the egg’s glow intensified, filling the room with blinding light. Before you could shield your eyes, a deafening boom shattered the tranquility, sending shards of light and energy flying across the room. The force knocked over furniture, cracked walls, and shattered your window.
Coughing amidst the settling dust, you squinted to make out a tall figure emerging from the smoke. His hair flowed down his shoulders, gleaming in the scattered sunlight. His golden eyes locked onto yours. His body, adorned with an aura of untamed power, stood proudly amidst the chaos he had just caused.
“Finally” the man said, his voice smooth yet commanding. His gaze softened slightly as he took a step closer. “You’re the one who summoned me.”
“What… what the hell was that?!” you exclaimed, gesturing wildly to the wrecked room around you. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? This place is unlivable now!”
His expression shifted, almost sheepish, as he glanced at the destruction. “It was… unintentional. But none of that matters. You’re mine now, and I’ll protect you with my life.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose, frustration bubbling up. “I don’t even know who, or what you are, and now I have to deal with this! I’m going to have to move into a temporary apartment while they fix everything!”
The man’s brows furrowed, concern flashing across his face. “If it’s inconvenient, I’ll assist in any way I can. But first—” He reached out to you, his golden eyes unwavering. “Tell me your name.”
You hesitated before answering, feeling an almost magnetic pull toward him. As you told him, he repeated your name softly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Perfect. I’ll make sure nothing ever harms you.”
Still reeling from the mess, you decided to focus on the practicalities. Looking at him, his imposing stature, confident demeanor, and the sheer energy radiating from him—you had a thought. “You seem… powerful,” you said reluctantly. “I can’t keep you here doing nothing. Let’s get you some gear. If you’re going to be sticking around, you’re coming with me to the dungeon runs.”
His smile widened. “I’ll prove to you that summoning me was the best decision you’ve ever made.”
You weren’t so sure about that yet, but at least you could put his abilities to use. Grabbing your things, you motioned for him to follow, his gaze never leaving you as you headed toward the weapon shop.
The bell above the weapon shop door jingled as you stepped inside, the smell of steel and wood filling your senses. Mydei followed silently behind you, his golden eyes scanning the rows of weapons with an almost predatory focus. The shopkeeper gave him a wary glance, likely sensing the sheer aura of power radiating from him.
“You can pick anything you want” you said, gesturing to the displays. “But keep in mind, it has to be something you’re comfortable using in a dungeon.”
Mydei strode forward, his movements fluid yet purposeful, until he stopped before a rack of spears. His hand hovered briefly over a longsword, but he passed it by with little interest. His attention landed on a sleek spear, razor-sharp blade etched with faint golden runes.
“This one” he said, his voice calm but firm.
You raised an eyebrow. “A spear? Are you sure? Most people stick with swords for versatility.”
He turned to you, the faintest smirk on his lips. “With my strength, range and precision are all I need.” He lifted the spear effortlessly, testing its weight and balance before giving a satisfied nod.
The shopkeeper hesitated but eventually approached. “A good choice” he muttered, ringing up the weapon. You paid for it and turned to Mydei.
“Alright, let’s see if you can actually back up all this confidence in the dungeon.”
The dungeon was a chaotic labyrinth of shadowy corridors and roaring beasts, yet Mydei moved through it with calculated ease. His spear spun like an extension of himself, piercing enemies with a precision and force that made your jaw drop. Monsters that usually took you and a full party several minutes to defeat were falling in mere seconds.
You could barely keep up as his movements blurred, the sheer power behind each strike sending shockwaves through the dungeon. Each time you tried to cast a support spell, the battle would already be over, leaving you scrambling to follow him to the next group of enemies.
By the time you reached the dungeon boss, it was over in a flash. Mydei’s spear impaled the massive creature straight through its core, reducing it to shimmering particles before it could even attack. You stared at him, wide-eyed, as he calmly wiped the blood off his weapon.
“That was… insane” you finally managed, still catching your breath.
He glanced at you, his expression unreadable but his tone steady. “You expected less?”
You let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “No, I guess not. With your build and the way you handle yourself, I should’ve known.”
He stepped closer, his golden eyes locking onto yours. “If it’s for you, there’s nothing I can’t do.”
You felt a slight heat rise to your cheeks at the intensity of his gaze and turned away, trying to focus. “Well, we’ve cleared the dungeon faster than anyone else probably ever has. Let’s just turn in these points and get out of here.”
As you both exited the dungeon, Mydei suddenly stopped and turned toward you. Before you could ask why, he bent down slightly and swept you off your feet, cradling you effortlessly in his arms.
“Hey! What are you doing?” you protested, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck for balance.
He glanced down at you, his golden eyes calm yet unwavering. “You’ve been walking for too long. You’ll tire yourself out.”
“I can walk just fine” you huffed, squirming slightly. “Put me down!”
He didn’t budge, holding you securely as if your protests were nothing but a formality. “No. It’s easier this way, and I’d prefer it.”
You sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing with him when he was like this. Mydei had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t care about how unconventional his actions seemed. If anything, he seemed completely at ease carrying you through the bustling streets, ignoring the curious stares from passersby.
“You know,” you muttered, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks, “you could at least ask before doing this kind of thing.”
He tilted his head slightly, his expression softening. “Next time, I’ll ask. But my answer will still be the same.”
You groaned but eventually relented, leaning back slightly in his arms as he carried you toward the guild. Mydei’s habit of picking you up without warning was frustrating, but the way he carried himself—calm, strong, and entirely focused on you made it hard to stay mad at him for long.
Later that evening, the two of you stopped at a bustling tavern to eat. Mydei had already insisted on carrying you part of the way there, drawing curious glances, but the moment he stepped into the establishment, the room fell silent. His presence commanded attention, his towering build, sharp golden eyes, and the air of strength surrounding him were impossible to ignore.
Once seated, he ordered a feast that left the waiter blinking in disbelief. Plate after plate of roasted meats, stews, and fresh bread piled up on the table, and he devoured it all with the precision of a seasoned warrior fueling up after a battle.
The murmurs started soon after.
“Who is he?”
“He looks like a knight from some noble family.”
“Did you see the way he defeated that boss earlier? He’s not human, I swear!”
Some bold individuals, including a group of giggling girls, finally approached your table.
“Excuse me,” one of them said shyly, her cheeks flushed. “You’re… incredible! Are you a mercenary? Where are you from?”
Mydei paused mid-bite and turned his gaze toward you, silently asking for permission to answer. You blinked, caught off guard by his gesture. After a moment, you nodded hesitantly.
“I am not a mercenary” he said simply, his deep voice calm but commanding.
Another girl chimed in. “Then are you part of a guild? Or maybe a knight’s order?”
Once again, he glanced at you before responding. “No.”
The girls exchanged curious glances, their excitement undeterred. “Wow… You’re so strong and mysterious!”
A few men from nearby tables joined in, clearly intrigued. “You’ve got the aura of a seasoned warrior. What’s your training like?”
Mydei looked to you again, and you sighed. “You can answer that one.”
“I’ve trained my entire life for battle” he said plainly, his tone leaving no room for further questions.
Despite his succinct answers, the onlookers continued to hover, the girls swooning over his every word and the men admiring his presence. Yet, each time someone addressed him, his gaze would return to you, as if seeking approval.
It wasn’t long before the constant attention began to wear on you. You leaned closer to Mydei and muttered, “Maybe we should wrap this up before they start asking for autographs.”
He nodded, finishing his last plate with a calm efficiency that only added to his mystique. As the two of you stood to leave, the crowd parted instinctively, watching with awe as he followed you out.
The moment you stepped outside, he broke the silence. “You seemed… uncomfortable.”
You raised an eyebrow at him. “You think? You’ve got half the town fangirling over you.”
“They’re irrelevant” he said firmly, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’re the only one I care to hear from.”
His bluntness left you momentarily speechless. With a sigh, you shook your head and started walking, already dreading the next time you’d be in public with him.
As the two of you walked down the quiet street, you heard a faint, distressed meow. Looking up, you spotted a small cat clinging to the highest branch of a tree. Below, a young child was crying, calling out for their pet.
Without hesitation, you stepped closer to the tree and glanced at Mydei. “Give me a boost. I’ll get it down.”
He frowned, his golden eyes narrowing. “You’re too short. Let me handle it.”
You huffed. “I can manage just fine.”
Before you could argue further, Mydei effortlessly plucked you up and set you on a sturdy lower branch, his strength making it seem like you weighed nothing. You climbed up carefully, reaching the trembling cat and scooping it into your arms.
Once back on the ground, you handed the cat to the crying child, who beamed with gratitude. “Thank you, thank you!” they said, hugging their furry companion tightly before running off.
As you brushed dirt off your hands, Mydei’s voice broke the silence. “You should eat more.”
You blinked, turning to him. “What?”
“To grow taller” he added casually, his expression serious. “You’re too small. A stronger build would help in dungeons.”
“Excuse me?” you snapped, glaring at him. “I don’t need advice from someone who thinks carrying me everywhere is a solution to everything!”
He tilted his head, unbothered by your irritation, and before you could continue scolding him, he stepped closer and pulled you into a hug.
“Hey! What—”
“It wasn’t meant to offend you” he said, his deep voice softer now. His arms tightened slightly, holding you close. “I just… don’t want you to be fragile.”
You sighed, the warmth of his embrace and the sincerity in his voice defusing your anger. “I’m not fragile, Mydei.”
“You are to me” he murmured, his tone unwavering.
Before you could respond, the soft glow of the streetlamps dimmed as the night deepened, casting long shadows across the cobblestone road. Mydei adjusted his hold on you, scooping you up as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Seriously? Again?” you muttered, too tired to fight him this time.
“It’s safer this way” he said simply, his golden eyes scanning the darkened street ahead. “You should rest.”
As he carried you home, the sound of his steady footsteps and the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing lulled you into a sense of calm. Though you’d never admit it out loud, there was something oddly comforting about the way he always insisted on protecting you, even if his methods drove you crazy.
It was a sunny day at the zoo, and you thought it might be a nice change of pace for Mydei to experience something calmer for once. He was quiet as usual, observing the animals with mild curiosity. His warrior-like aura felt out of place among families and tourists, but he stayed close to you, his presence drawing the occasional glance.
As you approached the lion exhibit, a commotion broke out. The gates to a new lion’s cage had somehow failed, and the massive beast leapt out, snarling in rage. The crowd screamed, scattering in every direction as the lion’s piercing eyes locked onto you.
You froze, the realization of its trajectory sinking in too late. The lion lunged toward you with a deafening roar.
But before it could reach you, Mydei stepped in front, his movements faster than your eyes could follow. With one hand, he caught the lion mid-air by its scruff, halting its momentum entirely. The beast thrashed and roared, but Mydei’s grip was unyielding.
Effortlessly, he turned and hurled the lion back into its cage as though it weighed nothing. The heavy clang of the gate slamming shut echoed through the stunned silence.
You grabbed his arm immediately, your heart pounding. “Mydei, let’s go! Before someone—”
But it was already too late. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the remaining crowd as people started pulling out their phones.
You tugged on his arm urgently. “We can’t stay here. Come on!”
Without resistance, he let you drag him away from the scene, his expression calm as if nothing unusual had happened.
Back at home, you flicked on the TV, only to find footage of the incident already playing on the local news. Blurry videos showed Mydei’s effortless handling of the lion, and the commentators were speculating wildly about his identity.
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is exactly what I was trying to avoid!”
Mydei, sitting beside you, tilted his head. “Should I have let it attack you?”
You sighed. “Of course not, but maybe next time don’t—” You paused, realizing how absurd it was to scold him for saving your life. “Never mind. Just… try not to stand out so much?”
He didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on you instead of the screen. After a long moment, he said softly, “Standing out doesn’t matter. Protecting you does.”
Your face warmed, and you quickly looked away, deciding that arguing with him was pointless.
With your house finally repaired, it was time to move back. Mydei carried most of your belongings effortlessly, his usual habit of treating you like you were delicate extending even to the furniture. As you arrived, one of the repair team members approached with a wide grin.
“Y/N!” the man greeted warmly. “Long time no see!”
You blinked in surprise. “Oh, hey! It’s been a while.”
He chuckled, crossing his arms. “Guess fate brought me to fix your place, huh? We really pulled it together for you.”
“Thanks a lot. It looks amazing!” you replied with genuine gratitude.
The man’s gaze shifted to Mydei, who stood silently by your side, his imposing aura impossible to ignore. “And who’s this? Your bodyguard?”
Before you could answer, he smirked mischievously. “Wait, don’t tell me… is this the guy you ditched me for? You know, after that engagement I proposed in middle school?”
You froze, feeling your stomach drop. “What? That was a joke! We were kids—”
But the damage was already done. Mydei’s golden eyes darkened, his sharp gaze locking onto the man. A tense silence hung in the air as the atmosphere grew heavy.
“You proposed to them?” Mydei’s voice was low, cold, and dangerous.
The man, clearly oblivious to the brewing storm, laughed. “Relax, man. I was joking.”
Mydei’s expression didn’t waver, his focus still trained on the man as though weighing his worth. You quickly stepped between them, raising your hands. “Okay, that’s enough! Mydei, he’s just messing around. It’s nothing.”
After a long, agonizing moment, Mydei exhaled slowly, his gaze softening slightly as he looked at you. “If you say so.”
The man blinked, finally sensing the tension. “Uh… right. I’ll just… get going then. Nice meeting you, big guy.” He gave an awkward wave before quickly retreating.
As soon as he was out of earshot, you sighed. “You didn’t have to scare him like that.”
“He disrespected you” Mydei said simply, his tone still cold.
“It was a joke!”
“Even so.” He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. “No one should think they can claim you, even in jest.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling a headache coming on. “Let’s just get everything unpacked, okay?”
Without another word, Mydei scooped you up, again, and carried you inside, leaving no room for argument.
“The highest-ranked individual in the dungeon remains undefeated. Known for their sheer strength and mastery over battle, Barette dominates the underground labyrinth, ruling over all who enter.” The news anchor spoke.
You leaned back against the couch, arms crossed. “Sounds like a king of the dungeon” you mused absentmindedly. “That must be cool.”
Beside you, Mydei sat in silence. His golden eyes were fixed on the screen, but his mind was elsewhere.
“Cool?” he repeated, his voice quiet, contemplative.
You nodded. “Yeah. If you’re at the top, you can do whatever you want. No one can stand in your way.”
For a moment, there was no response. Then, Mydei exhaled a soft chuckle. “I see.”
That was the last thing he said before he disappeared.
Days later, the news returned with a different story.
“A new ruler of the dungeon has emerged. In an unprecedented display of skill, a single individual has conquered its depths alone, surpassing all challengers before them.”
Your breath caught as the screen showed grainy footage- bodies of defeated opponents littering the battlefield, and standing amidst the wreckage was a lone figure. His spear gleamed under the dim dungeon lights.
Mydei.
You barely heard the rest of the report over the sound of your own heartbeat.
“You were right” came a familiar voice from behind.
You turned slowly, finding him standing in the doorway. His armor bore the marks of battle, his hands still wrapped in the scent of blood and steel. There was no arrogance in his expression, no need for praise, only quiet certainty.
“A king of the dungeon can have whatever they want” Mydei murmured, stepping closer. “Tell me what you desire.”
You hesitated, but his gaze remained steady, unwavering.
“I’ll obtain anything for you.” he continued, his voice almost gentle. “So long as you stay by my side.”
In which a certain lonely fox spirit ties the knot... or knots!
Kitsune!Jiaoqiu x f!reader
wordcount: ~7200
TWs: Lost in the woods trope, manipulation, drugging, forced marriage, heavily implied murder and cannibalism, graphic descriptions of violence and wounds, eye trauma mentioned, drugging, transformation (u lose ur sight but earn uh... some other body parts...), he also turned out a bit yander-ish and ooc lol, erotic horror basically, reader is not okay… this one is pretty dark.
As usual, thank you all, my dear sweethearts, for your support!
NOT SUITED FOR MINORS. Not proofread. Author does not endorse or condone any of the actions depicted in real life. Also, English is not the author's first language, so there might be some mistakes.
Please remember that you are responsible for your own media consumption.
“For fuck’s sake! I should’ve turned back like an hour ago…”
However, the trouble was that you no longer knew where that "back" was.
The playful chase after a fox kit with eyes gleaming like chips of amber had led you off the mossy path. By the time you noticed the absence of your friends' laughter, the path had vanished without a trace. The pressure in your belly turned into vicious cramps, and you cursed yourself one more time for not staying in the hotel today.
Time stretched and blurred. Was it minutes or hours spent pushing through ferns that clung like pleading hands? Panic rose in your throat, thick and sour, but you kept going forward through moss and fear, clinging to the desperate logic that if you walked in one direction all the time, you would eventually find something. The air grew heavy, sweet with decay and fog, wrapping around your mind like a muffling cloak.
Then the trees parted.
A clearing, choked with waist-high silver grass, cradled a sight that stole your breath. A temple stood there, its wood weathered to the grey of old bones, its curling eaves sagging under the weight of centuries. Flanking the stone path that led to its gaping maw were towering statues of nine-tailed foxes, their snarling muzzles worn smooth by endless rain, moss clinging to their empty eyes.
“Welcome, human.”
The greeting rang out like a melody, smooth and warm, coming from the farthest statue. Your heart hammered against your ribs when you spotted a figure behind it.
There he stood, a vision of vibrant colours against the thick fog. Red kimono, faded to the color of dried blood at the sleeves and hem, gracefully draped his slender frame. His hair was a cascade of rose-gold silk, framing a face of androgynous beauty, pale as moonlight. Over his eyes was a blindfold of the same deep crimson. From his head, two luxurious fox ears rose, and from behind, nine magnificent tails swayed with a hypnotic rhythm. He held a slender pipe close to his lips, its bowl still warm with tobacco.
"W–wh..." Your tongue betrayed you, refusing to form the question clawing up your throat. Were you just slowly dying in the forest, this beautiful man merely the feverish delusion of a failing mind trying to ease the agony of death?
The man in question lowered his pipe.
“What have you forgotten here?” he asked, his head tilting as if listening to the beat of your heart.
“I-I got lost,” you stammered, voice small in the immense quiet. “I was following a fox... k-kit, and… came here?”
“Oh, I see…” A charming smile graced his lips, and his nose twitched, sniffing the air. His ears perked up under the edge of his blindfold. You noticed the slightest blush creeping up his cheeks and stepped back, immediately creeped out for some reason.
“Do not fear me. I am Jiaoqiu, the… keeper of this place.” He took a careful step closer, his free hand lightly brushing the mossy statue for support. “You must be weary, little one. Come, share a meal with me, and I shall help you find your path home.”
You should’ve refused immediately. Every instinct whispered that this was wrong. I mean, how often do you come across a blind fox man in a creepy old shrine in the middle of the woods?
But you were so tired. And he seemed so... fragile and lonely. Like a relic left behind, forgotten by the world. What harm could he possibly do?
“I don't want to intrude,” you heard yourself say, half sound, half breath.
“Nonsense.” The word was soft, almost affectionate. “Intrusion implies you are unwelcome, dear.”
Inside, the air was thick with the ghost of old incense. Jiaoqiu moved with a careful grace, his foot subtly finding a small unevenness in the flooring, his sleeve knocking gently against a low brazier as he gestured for you to sit. When he went to the other room, he almost walked into a paper-panel door, and the pity rose again, swallowing the feeling of unease.
After a minute or two, the fox spirit? god? monk? man came back with pots and plates and a black-lacquered box filled with cooked meat. The lunch (or, perhaps, diner) was hearty: slices of tender meat in a fragrant, spicy broth served with rice, some fried vegetables, and a cup of tea that steamed with the scent of herbs.
"The forest provides," he murmured, settling across from you with the same careful grace. "Birds. Rabbits. Deer. It remembers its keeper, even if nothing else does." His ears twitched toward you as you lifted your chopsticks. "Please, do not stand on ceremony. A meal shared is a bond forged, however fleeting." He tilted his head, his blindfolded gaze seeming to rest on your face when you took the first stripe.
The meat was rich and gamey on your tongue, the broth complex with spices that burned pleasantly. You dined together, talking about everything and nothing at the same time, but when you asked about this place, his smile turned downward.
"You know," he said, his blindfolded face tilting toward the ceiling, "this place was not always so empty. Once, the village below worshipped here..." He paused, as if savouring the memory.
"There was a battle, long ago. The mountain wolf spirits grew bold. They had swept through the village like a tide, killing my people. So I went to meet them." His tails swayed gently, hugging his hips and waist. "I was... overconfident. They trapped me. Bound me with spirit chains that burned. For three full moons, they kept me, feeding on my power."
His voice remained calm, almost amused.
"On the fourth full moon, I broke free and avenged my people. But..." He touched the blindfold lightly, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. "I stumbled back to the village in darkness, blind and bleeding, asking them for help. Instead..." That smile again. "They looked at me and saw weakness. A blind god is no god at all, they decided and cursed my name as I stood there, still dripping wolf blood, still half-dead from saving them."
The meat in your mouth suddenly felt strange. You chewed anyway.
"One by one, they left. Packed their belongings and moved to the cities, to the coast, anywhere but here. Even my bride…" His voice softened, almost lovingly. "A human girl with eyes of deep blue like the moonlit sky. She swore she would never leave, and I believed her. Foolish of me, wasn't it?"
You made a sympathetic sound.
"She fled before the ceremony," he continued. "Didn't even make it to the vows." He laughed softly.
"That's… terrible," you said, and meant it, heart softened with the heavy feelings that made your throat tighten.
“Is it?” He smiled again, and this time, you caught a flicker of amusement that had no place in a sad story. “They built this shrine. Worshipped here for generations. And then they left, as mortals do.”
“I'm sorry,” you whispered with all the sincerity in it.
“Don't be.” His tails swayed, and you realized you'd been staring at them, wanting to touch the lush fluff. “Four hundred years is a long time to be alone. But loneliness,” his voice dropped to a confidential tone, “teaches patience. And patience, little one, is always rewarded.”
This sincerity from a lonely keeper almost made you tear up. Something twisted in your chest, and words spilling out like water from a cracked vessel. You talked about your boring job, your lonely apartment, this spontaneous trip, and the friends you'd made. Jiaoqiu listened with his head tilted, his ears tracking your voice, and something in his expression deepened as you spoke.
"One suffered from solitude as well?" he murmured. "How curious, the way the world balances its scales. Two empty vessels, brought together by a stray fox and a fading path." His smile widened, just a fraction. "Perhaps the forest did not misguide you after all."
You opened your mouth to respond and realized that something thickened in your throat, blocking words that wanted to come out. The room seemed to sway, gently, like a ship at anchor. You tried to stand, but your legs failed you as the paralysis spread from your core and outward. You toppled sideways, landing on the tatami with a soft thump, staring up at the shadowed ceiling. You could still see. You could still hear.
You could do nothing else.
Across the room, Jiaoqiu rose. His hesitant grace was gone, and in its place was something predatorily fluid, the movement of a creature that had never been hindered by blindness.
He crossed to you in three silent steps and knelt at your side. His cool hands found your face. His thumbs traced the arches of your brows, the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips. He pressed one thumb gently against the seam of your mouth, parting your lips just enough to feel the wet heat within, and a soft exhale escaped him, as though he had touched something sacred.
“By touch alone–” Jiaoqiu breathed, and his voice had shed its sorrowful veneer entirely, leaving only husky appreciation, “–you are exquisite. A true beauty.” His thumbs lingered at the corners of your mouth, wiping a small smear of sauce. He brought the thumb to his own lips, pink tongue darting out to taste the residue with a delicate slowness. His expression softened into something dreamy, distant, as though the flavor had unlocked a memory he had been nursing for centuries. “It seems the forest has outdone itself this time.”
Jiaoqiu reached up and slowly untied his crimson blindfold. The sockets beneath were closed, lids resting carefully. But you felt his attention on you like a weight – intense, absolute, undimmed by the lack of sight.
“Let me make us equal, my dear.”
.
.
.
Looking back with the clarity of hindsight, you realize it would’ve been better not to wake up at all.
First was the scent – cloying layers of old cedar smoke, damp mossy earth, and the sharp metallic tang of fresh blood mingling with the heavy musk of arousal and sweat.
Next came the sounds – wet squelching, rhythmic and relentless, accompanied by animalistic huffs and the occasional guttural moans that vibrated straight through your spine.
Then the sensations hit – the rough weave of tatami digging into your bare cheek, the silken drag of heavy fabric under your naked skin, and a burning ache where your pussy was stretched.
You tried to open your eyes, but darkness pressed in from all sides. The blindfold was tight, silk knotted securely at the back of your head. You tried to scream, but a rigid bamboo gag stretched your jaw open, drool already spilling from the corners of your mouth in humiliating strings. You tried to jerk away, to clench, to do anything. Still, your body refused, limbs heavy and syrupy, every muscle locked in helpless paralysis while your nerves screamed with overstimulation.
A melodic hum vibrated against your back, where a feverishly warm chest pressed flush to your bound form. The man's breath ghosted hot over your skin as he spoke.
“Ah… the veil lifts at last,” Jiaoqiu murmured, his voice a velvet caress laced with raw hunger. His soft tongue traced the outer shell of your ear before he sucked the lobe into his mouth, rolling the delicate flesh between sharp canines, tugging gently, then releasing it with a wet pop.
“I’ve been acquainting myself with you for quite some time now,” he whispered, the words dripping with twisted affection. “Forgive my eagerness. After four centuries… one grows rather impatient.”
With his words, you suddenly become too aware of your own body. You were lying on your side, trapped. Intricate ropes bound your arms cruelly behind your back. Elbows cinched together, forcing your shoulders back and your chest forward, wrists lashed securely, fingers already numb and tingling as blood pooled in your palms. More ropes crisscrossed your torso in an elaborate pattern, biting deep into the soft flesh of your breasts and ribs, creating diamond-shaped indents that would bruise. Your upper leg had been hitched high and back, draped over his hip, knee bent sharply, the rope looping around your thigh and ankle to splay you open.
And Jiaoqiu was buried inside you.
Not his cock, yet, but three of his elegant fingers, slick with a generous coating of warm oil, blood, and your own slick pumped into your cunt, stirring the thick mixture. The filthy squelch echoed with every thrust as more blood and arousal gushed out, soaking your thighs and pooling beneath you in a sticky mess.
Hot and heavy against your ass rested his rigid cock, throbbing with pent-up need. The swollen head kept nudging insistently at your asshole, smearing thick beads of precum against the tight entrance with every slow grind of his hips, marking you like some kind of territory.
Jiaoqiu inhaled deeply, nose dragging along your skin until his face ended up in the hairs on your temple. A low, feral growl rumbled in his chest.
“You followed a fox,” he crooned, lips brushing the shell of your ear before his tongue dragged open-mouthed along the delicate cartilage, leaving a thick trail of saliva that cooled rapidly on your skin. Then, without warning, he plunged the wet muscle deep into your ear canal, which made your whole body jerk involuntarily against the ropes. He moaned openly at your reaction.
“Poor little lamb… wandering so deep into my forest, chasing my little servant...” His tongue retreated only to lap a broad stripe up your cheek, savoring the salt of your sweat with a guttural groan.
“And all this blood,” he murmured, almost worshipful, “I smelled it the moment you set foot on my soil. That sweet metallic perfume…” His fingers plunged deeper into your bloody pussy, curling cruelly against your walls and stirring the viscous mess until fresh blood trickled out around his hand. “Oh, how I wanted to drag you down and bury my face in your loins, drinking it straight from the source.” Jiaoqiu pulled his fingers free for a moment, the wet sound sickeningly loud.
“So warm… How thoughtful of your body to prepare such a feast on the very night you become mine.” You heard him inhale slowly, then release an ecstatic groan as he suckled your blood and the slick from his digits with audible slurps.
For a second, every sound stilled. Then, without any warning, his sharp fangs sank viciously into the meat of your shoulder. Pain exploded through you like fire. You screamed against the gag as his fangs tore deeper. Warm blood gushed instantly, flowing down your skin in hot rivulets.
Jiaoqiu lapped at the wound greedily, tongue swirling through the coppery flow, then bit again, worrying the torn flesh between his teeth. The sickening give of muscle under his jaws made bile rise in your throat. He gnawed like a starving animal, grinding his teeth deeper, swallowing mouthfuls of your blood with satisfied gulps before finally letting go.
“The way you enjoyed the meal… You praised the rich flavor of the meat, the way it melted on your tongue.” A soft giggle escaped him, charming on the surface, utterly chilling beneath. “It made me so absurdly aroused watching you swallow every bit of them… Did it taste of laughter? The friendly warmth, perhaps?”
The horrific implication crashed over you like ice water. You retched violently against the gag, stomach heaving, but nothing came up, only more drool and muffled sobs. Jiaoqiu laughed softly, his free hand left your hip to grope greedily at your front, pinching and massaging your clit with cruel expertise.
He alternated brutal pressure with feather-light strokes, never letting the sensation settle. Then he pinched hard, twisting the sensitive flesh, grinding it viciously between clawed fingertips. Your body convulsed violently against the ropes, a ragged shriek strangled into a muffled wail.
“She wept too... The one who was mine before you,” Jiaoqiu breathed and pulled your clit away from your body, “but you weep so much prettier.” He released the cruel pinch only to rub the oversensitive nub in rapid circles with his calloused thumb.
“She fed me for one month… the rest of her belongs to the garden behind the shrine. Her kimono, though–” His voice dropped to a joyful whisper as he nuzzled your temple. “It suits you far better...”
His body pressed tighter against yours, molding to every bit of you like a parasite that had finally found its perfect host. You could only sob, trying to dissociate enough to live through this nightmare, but his voice cut through any feeble attempt.
“I need to tell you something, my love, as I may have… embellished certain details about myself,” he confessed breathlessly, words tumbling faster as his control frayed.
“And there shan’t be any secrets between those deeply in love, right? So let me tell you everything, my darling.” Jiaoqiu sealed the promise with a lingering, almost chaste kiss just beneath your ear, as if he were a gentle husband whispering sweet nothings on a wedding night.
“Once, the village lay near this shrine. The people there worshipped me as their guardian,” he continued softly, elegant words flowing like poetry while three of his fingers continued their slow violation of your bleeding cunt. “They prayed for rain, for bountiful hunts, for healthy children…”
His fingers suddenly plunged deeper, twisting viciously, stretching your walls wider.
“But then the drought came. Then the fires. Then the plague. I couldn't stop these calamities, and their gratitude turned to rot.”
He lapped at the bite on your neck, whispering breathlessly.
“They dragged me into this very shrine, held me down on these same tatami mats, and pressed hot irons into my eyes.”
Another shallow bite sank into your already torn shoulder, drawing fresh blood that trickled down your skin. He moaned softly against the wound.
“They burned me blind, then threw my broken body to the mountain wolves as an offering. They watched from the treeline as the pack tore into me.”
Jiaoqiu’s movements grew frantic. The elegant facade cracked further as raw hunger took over. Kisses and bites rained down across your shoulder, neck, jaw, and the sensitive lobe of your ear. His hot tongue lapped greedily at every fresh bead of blood.
“But the wolves were just stupid beasts,” he hissed, voice still deceptively melodic. “And I… I am s-so much more.”
He buried his face into your hair again, inhaling in desperate drags, drunk on the thick metallic scent of your blood mixed with sweat and unwilling arousal.
“I grew my orbs back, though unsseing. I crawled back to the village, blind and bleeding, and I feasted,” he whispered lovingly. “After that… Four hundred years of nothing but wind through empty halls.”
With a shuddering sigh that sounded torn from the depths of his starving soul, Jiaoqiu finally withdrew his blood-coated fingers from your cunt. A thick gush of your blood and slick spilled out onto the tatami with a wet sound.
“But today, everything changed…”
With careful movements that contrasted horribly with his insanity, he untied the rope holding your leg aloft, then loosened the bindings on your arms just enough to flip your paralyzed body onto your back.
The heavy fabric spread beneath you like a funeral shroud, already wet. The ropes tightened again immediately, securing you in this new, even more exposed position with your legs wrenched wide apart, chest heaving, every centimeter of your marked, bleeding, dripping body on full display for him.
His cool fingers moved to the back of your head, and with the ceremonial slowness, he untied the blindfold. The dim, flickering light of the decaying shrine flooded back in. You were in the main hall of the shrine, surrounded by the heavy scent of old incense, rot, and sex. A big fox statue glared at you from the forgotten altar, its eyes angry, painted with the decaying red.
And above you, straddling your waist, was Jiaoqiu. And oh, how beautiful he was in his complete unhinged glory.
His face was a masterpiece of delicate perfection – that kind of ethereal beauty that belonged in ancient scrolls and love poems. Rose-gold hair spilled in wild strands across his shoulders, framing features so delicately perfect they looked stolen from forgotten temple murals. Those fox ears twitched at every wet gasp you forced through the gag, swiveling with predatory focus. High cheekbones flushed pink with excitement, a refined nose flaring as he drank in the thick reek of your cold sweat and blood. Long lashes shadowed his ruined moonstone eyes. His lips glistened, thickly smeared with your fresh blood like cheap pomade, the crimson dripping in slow strings down his chin to splatter onto your heaving breasts. When his mouth stretched into that elegant smile, the sharp fangs gleamed wet and hungry.
His crimson kimono hung wide open like discarded wrapping paper, barely hanging onto his slim shoulders. Pale skin stretched tight over lean muscle, old silvery scars crisscrossing his chest and stomach in brutal patterns that told every story of what was done to him. Blue veins pulsed visibly under the thin skin of his throat and collarbones, throbbing with how excited he was.
But the most noticeable thing about him was the crimson rope that adorned his own body in an intricate pattern that mirrored yours. And between his slightly parted thighs, something hot and heavy nudged insistently against your belly.
Unfortunately, you dared to look down.
His cock lay thick and fully erect across your upper stomach, flushed a deep red at the head, the shaft glistening with a shiny mixture of oil and precum. It was beautifully shaped, gracefully curved upward with a prominent vein running along the side, but the sheer amount of slick leaking from the slit made it look obscene. When the glans twitched, a pearly bead of precum slowly dripped from the tip onto your skin.
Jiaoqiu noticed exactly where your eyes went. That bloody mouth curved into a shy little smile that did not belong on someone who had just been gnawing on your shoulder. A deeper crimson spread across his cheeks as if he were some blushing virgin instead of the monster straddling you.
“Well… is the groom to your liking?” he asked softly, voice lilting with playful elegance. “I’m terribly sorry I greeted you so unprepared earlier. How shameful of me.” He gave a self-deprecating little laugh, as if this were all perfectly normal. “As for now… do I please the eyes of my beloved one?”
He knew you couldn’t answer. The gag made sure of that. And that knowledge only seemed to delight him more.
Jiaoqiu leaned down, elegant even in his depravity, and dragged his hot tongue across your chin, collecting drool and tears. His milky, unseeing eyes suddenly focused on you. The color of tarnished moonstone, yet they stared straight down at you with terrifying intensity, as if they could still drink in every detail of your terror.
Eyes that should not see… and yet you felt stripped bare.
Jiaoqiu tilted his head, letting the dim light catch the ruined orbs, proudly displaying his mutilation like a trophy.
“Look at them,” the fox man breathed, voice dripping with dark arousal. He reached up and traced the edge of one eyelid with a delicate fingertip, almost lovingly. “See what they did to me. I survived the iron, the wolves, the centuries of nothing… so that I could be here with you…”
You tried to turn away from the horrifying sight, only for your gaze to land on what he had dressed you in. The heavy, ancient wedding kimono was spread beneath you, its rich fabric now stained with your blood and slick and god knows what else. The memory of his words made you gag once more, throat convulsing as yet another fresh bile tried to rise.
His hands slid upward, palms hot and reverent as they cupped the soft weight of your breasts. He squeezed the plump flesh until it bulged between his fingers, then found your nipples.
Without warning, he pinched them viciously, yanking the sensitive buds outward and twisting them until pain exploded through your chest. Muffled screams tore from your throat around the gag, spraying fresh drool across your chin and his waiting face. Jiaoqiu threw his head back in ecstasy, throat working as he swallowed your pained wails like the finest wine.
Mad with four hundred years of starvation, he raised one hand. The sharp tip of his claw pressed just below your sternum, biting into your skin, slicing a thin line down from the valley between your breasts, all the way down your stomach, stopping just above your mound. The cut was shallow enough not to kill, but deep enough for blood to well up instantly in glistening beads. Jiaoqiu watched your essence rise with rapt fascination, his blind eyes somehow still tracking the movement.
“Oh…” he breathed, the sound almost worshipful. “Oh, yes. Yes. This is exactly what I craved.”
His tongue traced the entire length of the cut obsessively, pressing into the split skin to coax more blood to the surface. He latched his lips around sections of the wound and sucked hard, drinking from you in greedy gulps, throat working visibly as he swallowed.
His hips ground mindlessly against your stomach, his leaking cock sliding through the mess of oil and precum he was creating, fucking the space between your bodies in shallow thrusts. His free hand kept kneading your breasts, pinching your nipples with cruel force while his mouth remained latched onto your bleeding wound like a leech. His fox ears twitched wildly with every muffled sob you made, nine tails lashing and curling in pure animalistic pleasure.
When he finally pulled back, his expression was dazed and blissful, like a man who had finally found salvation after centuries in hell.
With practiced movements, Jiaoqiu reached for more crimson rope. He worked it around your hips and upper thighs, yanking the cords brutally tight. The rough fibers dug deep into your soft flesh, creating angry red indents that would bruise for days. He forced your legs wider and wider until your hips ached and your cunt gaped open to the cold shrine air.
Jiaoqiu shifted between your spread thighs, so his leaking cock pressed against your exposed slit, the fat swollen head nudging your puffy folds apart. He rubbed it in teasing circles, coating the entire shaft in the sticky mess, dragging his cock up and down your cunt, bumping your swollen clit on every pass before sliding back down to prod at your twitching entrance. Your inner walls fluttered helplessly around nothing, clenching and releasing as fresh blood gushed out around his teasing cockhead.
He leaned over you again, bloody mouth hovering above yours as drool and blood fell from his lips onto your gagged face. His tails curled around your bound legs, soft fur stroking your skin while the ropes bit deeper. One hand gripped your hip hard enough to leave fingerprints while the other guided his throbbing cock, pressing the fat tip harder against your resisting hole.
“I know, I know, my love,” he murmured reverently, pressing forward with more pressure. “But we must consummate our marriage.”
The head of his cock breached your resisting entrance, stretching your swollen cunt around his girth.
You screamed violently against the thick bamboo gag, the sound coming out as a gurgling choke while your body arched sharply off the wedding kimono. The rough tatami scraped your bare shoulders raw as every muscle you could still control strained uselessly against the cruel ropes. Your cunt burned as Jiaoqiu forced the fat of his cock inside.
The searing pain radiated up your spine and down your thighs. Your period blood squelched obscenely around his shaft, coating his cock in a sticky crimson mess that dripped down to his balls and smeared across your ass.
He paused there, enjoying the snug heaven of your pussy, letting you feel every bit of him pulse against your walls. The pressure was unbearable. Your poor cunt fluttered and clenched desperately around the invasion, trying to push him out, but it only made the stretch hurt worse.
“Shh, shh, my sweet bride,” he soothed, leaning down to lap greedily at the salty tears streaming down your cheeks. “The first breach always burns so beautifully… but soon everything will melt together. Pain and pleasure. Fear and devotion. You and I.”
Jiaoqiu stayed buried to the hilt inside your fluttering cunt for a torturous moment, trembling with barely-contained madness while his hot breath ghosted over your forehead. His tails lashed behind him, brushing your bound legs with soft fur as his cock flexed against something soft and needy inside, drooling fresh precum straight against your tender cervix.
“By the time I’m done, you won’t know where I end, and you begin,” he whispered lovingly, “I will stuff this womb so full that you’ll carry my claim for the rest of eternity.”
The first thrust dragged almost all the way out, your puffy cunt lips clinging desperately to his glistening shaft before he slammed back in with a meaty plap. Each following thrust grew harder, faster, more savage, turning into a relentless pounding that made your entire body jolt with unwilling pleasure. The filthy sounds of him destroying your hole filled the shrine. Loud, sloppy squelching, wet flesh slapping against flesh, and the constant drip of your mixed fluids onto the tatami made you whine in embarrassment, while your body betrayed you completely.
A hot pressure exploded deep inside your core. Your cunt spasmed wildly around his cock as you thumbed over the edge, and a powerful gush of clear fluid sprayed out around his shaft. The hot squirt soaked his abdomen, matting his pubic fur.
“Oh, my precious love!” he sobbed, never slowing his brutal pace. “Let it all out, my love! Soak your husband!”
He was completely lost in it, eyes rolling back, mouth hanging open as he panted and groaned with delirious bliss at how perfectly your tiny pussy gripped him.
No one had ever felt like this. No one ever could. You were made for him. Your tight heat was the only thing that could soothe the endless hunger gnawing at his soul for four hundred years.
But it wasn't his mad expression that made you arch and scream at the top of your lungs, no.
It was a violent, grinding pressure that exploded at the base of your skull. Yyou felt skin tear open as two fox ears burst through in a spray of hot blood and searing pain. They were hypersensitive, so every wet squelch of his cock pounding your cunt, every growl he made, every brutal slap of skin suddenly became deafening. The overwhelming sensory input made your mind spin and fracture.
Jiaoqiu threw his head back and howled like an animal, the celebrating sound cracking into something feral as your pussy clenched and gushed around him like a vice made of molten silk.
“Finally!” he gasped, voice cracking with overwhelming joy. “My perfect bride! No longer will I be alone! Never again–”
He suddenly pulled back, sitting up on his knees. With terrifying strength, he grabbed your ass and hips, yanking your lower body up toward him until only your upper back and shoulders remained sprawled helplessly on the tatami. Your ass was raised high, cunt skewered on his cock like a breeding toy. In this position, he had the perfect view of your ruined pussy stretched around his shaft.
His nine tails shivered violently behind him before reaching forward, brushing and coiling possessively around your thighs and waist, stroking and gripping your sweaty skin.
Just like that, Jiaoqiu became feral.
His poetically beautiful face flushed and twisted with raw lust as he watched his cock disappear into your ruined cunny over and over. The nasty sounds of your mating grew louder and filthier with every savage thrust. He relished every single one, ears pinned forward as he drank in the sensation of your body yielding to him so perfectly.
“Ah… So warm, so perfectly ripe,” he groaned, still trying to sound suave even as his hips snapped forward like a rutting animal. “I’m kit you full, my lo–”
The sounds grew muffled as the change grew even more violent.
Hot and thick crimson tears began pouring heavily from your eyes, running down your cheeks and temples in sticky rivulets, staining the tatami beneath your head. Your vision started tunneling, blurring at the edges, shrinking rapidly until everything went completely black.
At that exact moment, Jiaoqiu gasped sharply.
He could see.
Not perfectly, but enough. Enough to see your delightful face. Enough to see your new gorgeous ears. Enough to see your magnificent body taking his cock so obediently.
“I see you…” He whispered, voice cracking completely as tears spilled from his own milky eyes. “Oh heavens above… I see you! I see you! I see you!”
The elegant fox man broke down into sobbing joy while still brutally pounding away at your guts. His thrusts never stopped, but they became deeper, slower, more possessive, almost reverent now.
“You’re truly real… you’re here with me… you’re finally mine,” he cried softly, voice trembling with centuries of loneliness finally shattering. “I’m not alone anymore! We’ll never be alone again–”
Your body was becoming something divine and feral under him, and it was shattering what remained of his sanity. He had been holding back for what felt like centuries, muscles locked tight, refusing to spill until you were remade in his image, a creature who could understand the exquisite torment of having a sense carved out of you. He wanted you to lose something precious, just as he had. Only then would you be his true equal, his mirror, his wife.
But your cunt was too perfect – scorching hot, impossibly tight, rippling and sucking along every bit like a living paradise just for him. It clenched harder with every spasm, milking him so greedily he had to snarl through gritted teeth to stop himself from flooding you prematurely.
Then the tails came.
One by one, they tore violently out of the base of your spine in waves of agony. Your walls clamped down like a vice, milking him so perfectly that Jiaoqiu had to bite his own tongue into blood to keep from cumming right then.
One. A savage thrust that punched your cervix and made your fresh blood squirt around his girth.
Two. His bloody smile widened manically as he felt your body accepting your true form.
Three. He dipped his head and licked a stripe up the column of your throat, tasting salt and copper.
Four. One of his tails curled around the base of a newly emerging tail of yours, stroking the nub, coaxing it to lengthen faster.
Five. He kissed your bloody eyes with frightening gentleness, tongue lapping at the crimson tears leaking from them.
Six. The walls of your channel rippled in a series of milking undulations, and he stilled deep, letting your cunny suckle on his cock so deliciously.
Seven. His sobs were a declaration of love, torn out of his throat, mad and true.
Eight. Another sound of his became a marriage vow, moaned against your twitching ear.
Nine. The emergence of the last tale was a promise of forever, sealed with a grinding roll of his hips.
The moment your last tail fully formed, power exploded through you like lightning in your veins.
Your body went rigid, then, with a feral snarl that tore from your throat, you ripped through the crimson ropes like they were paper. The thick bamboo gag splintered between your fangs as you bit clean through it, spitting fragments across the tatami. Clawed hands shot up, shredding the last restraints as overwhelming need flooded your core.
You lunged upward and wrapped your arms around Jiaoqiu’s shoulders, yanking him down as your sharp fangs sank hungrily into the side of his throat. Blood bloomed hot and sweet across your tongue as you fed on him.
The holy feeling of your fangs in his flesh was enough to make his cock jerk and leak precum directly against your cervix. You pushed your hips up frantically, impaling yourself deeper, grinding your pussy down until every centimeter of him was buried inside your needy pussy and your clit rubbed raw against his pubic fur. Your claws raked down his back, shredding through the kimono fabric and leaving bleeding furrows in his porcelain skin. He moaned like a whore at the pain, hips stuttering as fresh blood trickled down his spine.
“Gut me,” he begged, voice cracking through its velvet veneer. “Carve your name into my ribs. I want to feel your signature on my bones every time I breathe.”
You bit into his neck hard enough to draw more blood, sucking it while your bloody tails thrashed and wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer. Your legs locked around his hips, ankles crossing at the small of his back as you hung on him like a bitch in heat.
His eyes widened in delirious rapture. One arm banded around your waist like iron, the other hand fisting into your hair at the back of your head, claws scraping your scalp as he pressed your face deeper into his neck. He lifted your lower body completely off the tatami with terrifying strength, only your shoulders and upper back still braced against the mats. Your entire weight hung on his cock and his embrace, your legs wrapped tight around him as he held you suspended in the air. The new angle let him drive deeper, the head of his cock battering directly into your womb with every savage thrust.
“Yes… yes, my love,” he groaned against your bloody hair, voice still velvet but trembling. “Mark me. Claim your husband. Rip me open if it pleases you. I am yours as much as you are mine. We are two halves of the same slaughtered beast, finally stitched together–”
Jiaoqiu crushed you against his chest, slamming forth into your dripping cunt with brutal strokes. Your claws raked deeper down his back, tearing more of his kimono and skin alike.
He loved it. Every sting, every drop of his own blood, every desperate bite you gave him only made his cock throb harder inside you. A creature of pure sensation, you could feel him so acutely – the drag of his claws down your spine, the open-mouthed kisses he pressed to your sealed eyelids, the way his tail fur teased the undersides of your sensitive tails.
The pleasure crested violently.
Your cunt clamped down like a fist. At the same moment, Jiaoqiu snarled and buried himself to the hilt. The sudden stretch ignited a fresh wave of agonized bliss, your walls forced to accommodate his cock as it sealed his seed deep inside. Unable to withdraw, he ground against your cervix in desperate circles, rutting into you like an animal determined to breed. He flooded your womb with thick ropes of hot cum, each jet punctuated by a guttural groan. He kept forcing every pulse of semen through your slightly open cervix until your lower belly felt like it's on fire. His hand pressed flat over the slight bulge, feeling the heat of his own essence through your skin, and a sob of pure devotion tore from his throat.
You both trembled, mouths fused in a bloody kiss, bodies locked together in mid-air. Only when the last violent spasm faded did your strength leave you. You went limp in his arms, ears drooping, body twitching with aftershocks as reality crashed back in.
Jiaoqiu gently lowered you down, his own body collapsing over yours with cock still buried deep, nestled inside your filthy cunt. Sweat, blood, and sex coated both of you in a sticky sheen. He nuzzled into your neck, licking softly at the bite wounds, sucking gently to draw fresh beads of blood that he smeared across his lips. Then he moved to your new ears, purring praises between gentle kisses and long, soothing laps of his tongue.
“My perfect wife,” he murmured, voice suave and honeyed once more, though laced with something possessive. “I have never felt anything as divine as your sweetest loins milking my seed while you clawed my back raw…”
His hand stroked over your cum-bloated tummy with obsessive tenderness, pressing lightly to feel the warmth of his load inside you. He traced some symbols over the stretched skin, muttering ancient incantations, while you heaved, the primal hunger still thrumming through your bones.
But as the fog of orgasm lifted, horror and clarity returned. You were blind, the world dark around you. Your new body felt foreign and overwhelming. Panic clawed up your raw throat.
“I want to go home,” you whispered brokenly, voice hoarse and trembling. “P-please… take me home…”
Jiaoqiu’s arms tightened around you instantly, almost crushing. His body went rigid, his tails coiling possessively around your limbs and waist like living chains. A chuckle vibrated against your shoulder. Beneath the tenderness lurked something sharp and furious, something that had marinated in solitude until it had become a poison no antidote could touch.
“Home?” he repeated softly, voice still melodic but edged with anger. His fingers traced your ears with deceptive gentleness, then slid down to trace the seam of your lips, prodding two digits past them to stroke your tongue, as if tasting you through your own mouth by proxy. “My sweet, precious wife… You are already home. I am your home. This full womb is your home. Your blindness is the roof that shields you. My voice is the fire in the hearth. There is nowhere else.”
He nuzzled deeper into your neck, fangs grazing the fresh bites as if savoring the memory. His shaft gave another lazy throb, reminding you that escape was impossible.
“L-let me go,” it was the last attempt, a desperate plea to the gods. Jiaoqiu giggled, and his hold became almost bruising, one hand possessively cupping the back of your head while the other still stroked your belly.
“Why should I?” he whispered, tone turning sickly-sweet. “I would rather gouge out my new eyes again than watch you walk away from me.”
Jiaoqiu then dipped his head to lap at the dried blood around your sealed eyelids, cleaning you with the fastidiousness of a cat grooming its mate. His tails squeezed tighter, soft fur warm but inescapable.
“I will be the perfect husband,” he promised. “I will cook for you every dish you can imagine. I will heal every ache with my own hands, and then give you new, sweetest aches that only my presence can heal. I will play any role… Doting lover, stern master, whimpering supplicant beneath your feet. I will give you pleasure until you forget the outside world exists...”
His mouth found yours again, tongue sliding in, swallowing any further protests. The kiss quickly turned messy, his teeth catching your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. His body pressed you down into the soaked tatami as he lavished you with obsessive aftercare — kissing your lips until they were swollen, licking your wounds until they closed, stroking your new tails soothingly, murmuring endless endearments to lull you to sleep.
And as the black eternity stretched before you like an endless banquet of madness and devotion, you found that you were, against all mortal reason…
hungry.
.
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Series Masterlist: Creatures Features
This time its not a misclick hehehe... It turned out darker than I wanted it to be but oh... sketchy healer(s) my beloved(s).
...
*glares at Baizhu*
Also, I already have some plans of Creatures Features pt. 2 lol. Still need to finish this one though...
❝ i want a perfect body, i want a perfect soul ❞
request: what if reader found Redacted before he could create his Ren persona and how would that play out?
redacted x GN!reader / part one | part two | part three / angst / 1.9k words
a/n: this didn't turn out as well as i thought it would, but it was honestly so fun questioning how he would react ! he is literally in complete denial redacted i love you endlessly
you don’t mean to find him. that's entirely the truth.
all you wanted was a shortcut home, a simple, narrow path paved behind some random old bookstore, wedged between a chained fence and a concrete wall. you've walked this road a dozen times without ever noticing the large metal door halfway down the alley.
the large door was bolted shut, scarred with graffiti, half-sunk into the foundation as if the building was trying to swallow it. it looked like it hadn't been touched in decades.
yet, today, it was open.
just a sliver. a minor crack that could have easily gone unnoticed if you had just continued walking.
you have no business here. surely, it could just be somebody working in the back so late at night. you should head home, quickly, before you step another foot closer.
but of course, your curiosity wins over your common sense once again, and you find yourself tracing your fingers along the lines of the faded spray paint.
it's so strange. the hairs on your arms rise before you even look inside the building. it wasn't fear, it was something quieter. heavier. a gut feeling in a sense.
except it didn't feel like a warning, it felt like preparation.
it's as if your trembling fingers move on their own, leading you to push the door open wider.
a large corridor extends before you, you can feel the cement flooring against your shoes. squinting, you can barely make out the stripped wires that coat the floor in the dark, a flickering emergency light casts a sickly red glow from afar.
you should not enter. turn around. every instinct warns you this is not your place to be.
and yet, you step inside without warning.
your loud footsteps echo through the building in a way that makes you feel like you're forcefully dragged into a spotlight. it's the only noise in the room other than the creaking hinges of the door closing behind you.
the air is so humid, a metallic smell invading your nose. you make out a distinct buzzing the further you walk, like machinery failing somewhere underground.
then you hear it. a quick inhale, the rustling of clothes, and the drop of an object. each sound was carefully heard from behind you.
you sharply turn, heart dropping to your feet. your eyes dart around, squinting to catch whatever you can in the dingy room.
you easily make out a much darker outline against the shadows. the minute your eyes land on it, it immediately moves, it flinches, as if it's been physically struck.
a man, towering over you even from afar stands in the very corner.
his posture is wrong. too straight, like he’s forcefully holding himself upright. holding himself together.
his arms hang rigid at his sides, clenched and quaking. his hair is uneven, black and jagged as if cut by his own shaking hands. his clothes don’t fit right, the sleeves too long, collar stretched, cuffs frayed and torn.
it’s his eyes that make you stop dead in your tracks.
pale blue, a ghostly bright, almost glowing in the dim. the other is shadowed, half-hidden behind strands of bangs he hasn’t bothered to brush aside.
he stares at you like a deer in headlights. is he even breathing?
he's wide eyed as if you’ve done something unforgivable by seeing him.
“…no.” he speaks, voice soft and low, but the word hits you like a truck.
you're completely frozen. afraid.
“you shouldn’t be here.” he gulps, like swallowing hurts. “y'weren’t- you weren't supposed to find this place.”
your heartbeat is deafening through your ears. instinctively, your tone comes out defensive.
“i- didn’t mean to. i just— sorry-”
“don't.” he says, and this time the word cracks. not angry, but panicked.
he takes a step back, almost stumbling into the wall behind him. his breathing stutters audibly, too shallow, too fast. he presses a hand to his chest as if trying to hold his ribs in place.
you lift both of your arms slowly, attempting to show you are no threat. “hey.. i’m not here to—”
“you're seeing the wrong version.”
the sentence is strange. you're confused, and it makes the feeling deep in your gut twist even further.
before you can question what he's talking about, he speaks again, rushed, pained.
“''m not ready. 'm not- finished. you weren’t supposed to see me like this.”
he talks as if he's confessing. as if he's guilty.
you take a single step forward.
he reacts instantly.
“stop.”
you quickly halt, shaking even more than before. what if he doesn't let you leave?
he squeezes his eyes shut, shoulders rising near his ears. you've never seen someone look so… exposed. as if his skin has been peeled back and every single nerve is open to the air.
a long, excruciating silence stretches between you. then, quietly he speaks, desperate.
“…can you pretend you didn’t see me?”
his words ease your anxiety the slightest bit. you crack a soft smile at his seeming "joke".
“i… don’t think that’s how it works.”
the faintest tremor runs through him. his fingers curl into his sleeves, twisting the fabric.
“i was going to be something better,” he murmurs, barely audible. "someone safer... softer. someone you would—”
he stops abruptly.
but the unfinished sentence hangs in the air, heavy and fragile.
someone you would choose.
you blink in pure shock. “you- you don’t even know me.”
“i do.”
his answer is immediate. completely breathless.
your mouth goes dry. “…what?”
he opens his eyes again, and there it is, a faint truth in the way he looks at you.
he’s been memorizing you from a distance. he’s been orbiting your life from outside the visible edges. you are something he’s studied long enough to carve into bone. yet, you still remain unaware of his devotion.
“i know you.” his voice is soft, reverent, almost pleading. “jus'… i needed time. to be something that wouldn’t scare you away.”
you should run, you should be disgusted. you should feel anger or fear or indignation.
instead, you feel something complicated. not sympathy, but recognition. a sense that he’s not lying. a sense that this isn’t malice.
this is longing. shame. a loneliness so deep it’s curdled into an obsession.
“...what's your name?” you gently ask, taking a single, cautious step forward to really see him.
the question startles him, shoulders jerking like you threatened him.
“i…” his throat tightens. “...not yet.”
“not yet? why not?”
he hesitates. carefully observing the closing distance.
“once you know it, i won't be able to go back.”
your confusion is indescribable. you feel lightheaded and uneasy, but your heart is much too big to let go just yet. he's troubled, he needs somebody. it's instinctive the way you step even closer to his large frame, cornering him.
he stiffens, waiting for something. anything. waiting for your judgment, your fear, your disgust. something that proves he was right to keep you away until he was completely crafted.
but you don’t give him any of that. instead, you look at him with sincerity, genuine care.
“you can relax,” you say softly, as if coaxing a frightened animal. “i'm... not here to hurt you.”
“you should be afraid of me.”
you tilt your head. “...are you going to hurt me?”
his fingers twitch. “no. no, of course not.”
“then why should i be afraid?”
he goes silent at your response. it's the first time you're finally getting a good look at him, and what you see in his eyes is startling.
such confusion. longing. the aching, starving hope of someone who has been unseen for far too long.
you breathe in slowly. “you... don’t want me to get to know you?”
his expression shifts. shock, grief, something almost childlike.
“i just want things to be perfect,” he whispers.
your chest painfully aches.
“who told you you had to be perfect?”
a beat passes between the both of you.
“…you did.”
you stare, eyebrows furrowing in bewilderment. “me? i never—”
“not with words,” he interrupts quietly, looking off to the side. “when y'talk to people. when you smile at them. when you let them in. when... y-you choose them. every time y'look at someone else like they matter, i—”
he cuts himself off with a shudder. he turns away from you slightly, as if the confession is physically inflicting pain on him.
“i jus'- wanted to be someone you could look at like that.”
it hits you then — the truth of him. this raw, unfiltered self is not meant to be seen. he's used to covering up bits and pieces of himself to please others. used to becoming somebody worthy, somebody easy to ingest.
he planned it all out. approaching you with somebody so carefully put together it was impossible for you to deny. yet, you were too quick. much too fast to meet his unfiltered truths.
you were unable to meet ren. you're interacting with the ghost before the painting.
“look at me,” you say softly, eyes searching for his own in the night.
he freezes entirely.
slowly, painfully slowly, he lifts his gaze. his eyes shine with pure desperation.
“you don’t have to hide from me.”
he steps closer, almost without meaning to. you can practically feel his breath, uneven against your skin.
“you don't know me.”
you soften, your shoulders finally relaxing. “then let me in.”
his jaw does slack in pure disbelief.
“no, no, you don’t- y'don't know. you-” his hand claws at his hoodie, knuckles whitening. “if you see everything, you’ll leave.”
“you don't know that.”
his breathing stumbles. he looks as if he may cry. he may collapse.
or grab you out of pure hopelessness and beg you to never leave. you genuinely can’t tell which way he’ll break.
“…i don’t want to lose you,” he says finally. his husky voice is so small you barely catch it. “i haven’t even met you properly yet.”
“then meet me right now,” you whisper.
he hesitates. he hesitates so intensely he's unable to even form a proper answer.
trembling. you extend a hand halfway between the two of you.
not reaching for his. not yet.
just... offering.
a question made of flesh and blood.
he reacts as if the action makes him short circuit.
he takes a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a moment before locking them onto yours for the final time in this body.
"i can't. not yet."
his words are fragile enough to break in the air. he speaks as if it hurts. its impossible to deny you, but he must. or else you'll get dragged into the entirety of the mess he's made.
he steps back, steps away into the dark where you originally spotted him in the beginning.
his defiance doesn't upset you, it only encourages you to try even harder to get him to crack. to get him to explain.
"if not now, when?" you say, louder than your usual tone.
"soon." he bluntly states, crouching down.
"y'should... you should go."
"and what will you do?" you question, steadying your hands on your hips. "you're just... going to sit there and... what?"
"i'm not finished here yet." he speaks, voice filled with venom. though, it's not directed towards you, it's directed towards something else. something at his feet.
leaving no room for question, he speaks his final words to you for tonight.
“when you see me next,” he murmurs, slightly looking over his shoulder. “you’ll know.”
and then you're gone. fed up, tired. swinging open the door and clutching your coat.
you leave him in only the echo of his promise…
…and the sense that you were never going to see the same man again.
Synopsis: Your symbiote has slowly learned what life is like for you as a human. It’s sensed a hormonal change in you, a shift known as ovulation; and to your surprise, it catches on fast to your 'needs.'
You’d think the sudden addition of a parasite inhabiting your body would completely upend your life.
Oddly, your mundane existence really hasn’t changed that much. Sure, showers are certainly different, your carnivorous appetite has increased to a debilitating level, but your routine is still the same: get up, go to work, come home, sleep.
It’s actually kind of nice, having someone to talk to on the bus ride home, little jokes whispered in your ear as the phantom-like creature slithers down your neck, hiding from your coworkers and their concerned eyes.
This…thing, alien or parasite, whatever you wanted to call it-- it was almost becoming something akin to a friend. A companion.
You didn’t delude yourself into believing it wasn’t using you for sustenance and safety, but at least it was kind to you, offering compliments on how sweet you were, how fascinating your life as a human was.
It wasn’t all bad.
But sometimes, you did wish you had a moment alone. Time for yourself to pursue romantic relationships, or intimate self-care.
Which is why you ached when reading the smutty, arousing words of a new steamy romance novel on your phone.
“You’ve been rather antsy today; what is it, something ‘human’ related?” The symbiote had a touch of mockery in its tone, snaking out from under your shorts as you scrolled through chapters on your screen.
You had gotten used to it traveling your flesh, running over your skin with its gooey, smooth texture. The sight of its red ‘body’ out of the corner of your eye used to frighten you; now, you’re worried if you haven’t seen it pop out in a while.
“I guess you could say that,” You shove your legs together, eyes focused on the poorly written porn. You knew you shouldn’t have been reading it, not when you were too embarrassed to take care of yourself in front of this ‘thing’. It had been over a month since you touched yourself, since your body was taken over by this extraterrestrial creature. The alien didn’t exactly give you ‘alone time,’ with it being stuck to your body and all. “It’s just a hormonal thing. I’m uh… ovulating. It’ll go away in a few days.”
“How does it work?”
The symbiote crawls back up your thigh, sliding onto your bare hip. You shivered, reacting to its cold touch; you never got used to how close it prodded the areas you said were off limits, testing the waters of how far it could go before you said something.
“It’s kind of complicated-- it has to do with, well, that menstrual cycle I was talking about earlier.” You fiddle with the hem of your shirt, eyes glazing over the enlarged text on your phone. You could feel the wetness pooling in your underwear, clinging it to you. “It makes humans feel different than normal, more, um, needy? I guess you could say.”
You weren’t sure how to word it-- the symbiote certainly wouldn’t understand all of the textbook jargon you could throw at it about ovulating and human eggs, but you couldn’t exactly say that you’re horny because of your body’s cycle, either.
“Ah, needy for what?”
The symbiote could hear a slight shift in your voice, the discomfort you felt on the topic. You had explained sex, romance between humans, almost everything under the sun-- but you didn’t want to delve into any topics that hit too close to home.
The alien slipped up your shirt, climbing beneath it to poke out from your pajama’s collar.
“Physical….stimulation.” You finally respond, biting at your tongue.
The creature forms a humanoid, uncanny face in front of you, shaking as the eyes of something dark and unnatural stay locked onto yours.
“Hmm, how fitting. I had been waiting for you to say something.”
“Huh?”
“Did you think I couldn’t tell the way your body has changed? Hotter. Wetter, even.” The creature moves to travel down your body, dipping beneath your shorts with a purpose. “Especially beneath these loose garments you insist on wearing.” It slides over your underwear, a thick, curling limb pushing tight against your mound. “ This, is the culprit. What you desire to be relieved from, yes?”
You squeezed your thighs, feeling your neediness grow tenfold as the thought of sweet relief tempts your body. Fuck it, you couldn’t help yourself, the addictive pleasure of being touched luring you too much to hold back.
“Yes… I just-- I need something, anything..”
You attempt to slide your hand beneath your pants, feeling the temperate presence of your symbiote already layering itself there.
But a shot of red forces your hand back, a goo-like substance keeping your arms pressed tight against your bed.
“Let me explore this aspect you humans seem to take so much pleasure in… I don’t need you getting in the way.” The symbiote stretches over your body, transforming its own malleable ‘flesh’ into tentacle-like appendages. Two of them restrict your hands, a flurry of others roaming your flesh for a taste. “Besides, it looks as if you could use more than a few helping hands; so many fascinating areas are reacting.”
A rush of ‘tentacles’ prods up your shirt, running over the rising nubs of your nipples, swirling and running smooth suckers over each peak.
“But you don’t even know how to--”
“I’m sure I’ll learn. We’ve made it this far together, haven’t we?” The parasitic creature runs itself beneath your underwear, quick to stretch between your folds, rubbing hard against your aroused clit. You twitch at the sensation, letting it know just where you need to be touched. “If you’d like, you can tell me when I’ve hit a good spot, where I should press harder…”
You nod your head, too overcome with the idea of riding out this pleasure to ignore how odd this was, how strange. You’ve still yet to fully accept the idea that you’re not insane and are truly sharing your body with something inhuman; getting off with the help of your parasitic guest was not something you could wrap your brain around-- not right now at least.
The symbiote is quick to spread itself in you, finding your sopping entrance. It pushes its way in, melding and forming to effortlessly slink against your walls.
“W-wait, hold on--” You cut yourself off with a moan, worried the ‘thing’ might burst inside of you, or gather itself too big than you could handle. But it swells to a moderate size, stretching you and pulsing inside. You rock back and forth in stuttered motions, desperately trying to thrust yourself onto it.
“Right here is where you’re the most sensitive, I can feel it.” The creature wraps around your thighs, grinding itself hard against your tender walls. You can’t help but release a heavy cry, noticing the sudden and quick rise of your orgasm. It had barely been inside you for a short minute, but you always came faster when you were ovulating, persistently aroused and easy to make cum.
You finish hard, desperate, clinging to the bedsheets. How did it know? Easily finding all the right places that your body called to be touched? To be played with and rubbed at?
The symbiote doesn’t slow as your hips do, abusing the sensitive areas inside of you and wrapping itself around your clit. You gasp as another tentacle-like feeler makes its way below your entrance, calling out to your other hole. You can tell the ideas it's having, the way it's traveling closer, nearer.
“Hold on, not there, that’s--”
It pushes its way inside your asshole, thin and wet like it had with your cunt. It slides deeper in without hesitation, repeating in coordinated thrusts as the first ‘tentacle’ did.
You could feel another orgasm building, too intense this time as you tried to pull off the red, sticky limbs holding you down.
“What’re you trying to do? Why, I thought this is what you wanted?” The symbiote continues, and you can hear its voice grow distorted, restless. “Don’t tell me you’re done, when I haven’t even had half my fun… I hope you do remember that I’m the one allowing you to exist like this. Letting you live freely without being completely destroyed by me.”
You babble out pleas, gripping at the sheets that have gotten thoroughly soaked by you and the secretion of the symbiote. It dripped clear stains, coating your body in something that reminded you of cooking oil-- it never fully washed from your skin.
The creature tugged harder on your clit, letting out a strong laugh as you yelped. Your heart pounded in your chest, ringing in your ears as the wet, crude sounds of the symbiote pumping into you resounded in your room.
“Not-- like this. Didn’t mean f-for it like this--”
“I guess that’s too bad. You humans can be so selfish, never knowing what’s good for you. I’m making you feel all the bliss you wanted. And why, I’m learning so much about you too! All these new spots you never let me see.” The symbiote plunged harder, growing its two tentacles thicker inside of you. “Too bad you’re so naive you thought I’d never venture here-- you really never woke up when I touched these spots in the middle of the night, did you?”
You cry out at the sensation of your orgasm snapping, wracking through your body with twitches and shakes. But the symbiote doesn’t stop, grinding out your orgasm until you’re crying from the sheer sensation of it gliding over your body.
You try to slink away, to grip at the slippery red pieces of alien pulled over your hips, playing with your clit and keeping you latched onto the mattress.
The parasite doesn’t budge, nearly melding in with your own skin as it strains tighter around you.
“What did I tell you? You’re mine. I'll decide when you’re finished,” The symbiote pulls its appendages from your chest, wrapping extra arms around your thighs to spread you wider. “And I don’t think I’m quite done playing with you yet.”
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