"Let go? As in you're firing me?" you look at the pink slip and then back to your boss.
He looks just as tired and as worn as you feel and doesn't look as happy about this either.
"It's not just you, but over half the staff here. The higher ups are wanting to downsize this location. I tried to ask for more time but-" he stops, pulls his glasses down and sighs. "I'm sorry, I have thirty four other employees I gotta have this talk with today. I know it's not enough time and the compensation check won't last but two weeks."
He searches for a pile of envelopes on his desk and flips through the stack until he stops at yours.
"Along with the compensation I got them to throw in holiday bonuses. I'm really sorry," he shakes his head and hands you the check.
You nod, knowing that he probably did the best he could. As far as bosses went, he was one of the best. Always put on a pot of coffee for the night crew, bought lunches for us once a week, and actually listened to our concerns and got shit fixed.
"Thanks Bert," you hold out your hand and he shakes it. "I know this isn't easy for you."
He looks out at the warehouse and you can see him getting misty eyed, "You've all been the best a crew a man like me could only hope for. When Martha passed away last year, each of you came with me to her funeral. We had no one but each other and on that day, I realized I had all of you too."
"Martha was good to us, she even made Sam that scarf a couple winters back," you smile, tears starting to threaten the corners of you eyes.
Bert laughs, "I hope he grows into it, she made it a bit too long for a toddler."
The both of you talk and the more you do, the more bitter sweet you feel about being fired. You offer to help with the terminations knowing that it must being eating him up but he refuses.
"I want to give everyone my goodbyes one on one, they deserve that much. You should go home, night's still young and so are you," he smiles with a tear in his eye.
You give him a quick hug and wish him well as you leave his office. Another name in called over the speaker ushering in the next employee to be let go.
~~~~~~~~~~
"They fired you?" Nicki, your bff, your ride or die, hollers.
"They're downsizing," you grimace as you shove away yet another drink some rando bought you.
"That can't be legal, they have to give you more notice right?" she asks.
"Whether it's legal or not, I'm unemployed. I can't afford to pay Brittny to babysit Sam and I'm barely making enough to afford my classes. I'm fucking screwed," you scrub your face and groan.
"Or," Nicki starts, "Here me out, you come work with me at the nightclub. Pay is just as good, maybe better, free food and drinks, medical and dental, and the bouncers are super nice."
You take a sip of the soda you order, not much of a drinker since you've had your son," But the DJ is an ass?"
"The DJ is an absolute ass," Nicki confirms.
She had complained about him on several hundred occasions, about how popular he is and how it's gone to his head. A Naga who was born in the human realm and raised by some elderly woman, or so the story goes. He's a bit of an oddity as far as Nagas go too. Every one that you've met has long hair, takes pride in their appearance, and tends to be kind unless provoked. But he's the exact opposite.
He has short shaved hair, wears a long neon green hoodie, and is the biggest asshole for no reason.
"But you shouldn't even have to deal with him, it's rare that anyone but Susan deals with him. Please at least think about it, ok? We're hiring and you need a job. That compensation can help with other expenses right?" She smiles at you and holds your hands.
You know she's got a good point but are you really that desperate to work at a nightclub?
Sam just start elementary school, you're working on your bachelors degree, gas prices have gone up again and you're still paying off your car.
Yeah, you really are that desperate.
"Fine, I'll at least get a feel for it. Are you working tomorrow?" you sigh.
Nicki grins and nods, "You'll love it there, I promise."
You roll your eyes and smile, knowing damn well you'll hate it.
~~~~~~~~~~
It's nearly five in the morning when you get home and Brittany is waiting for you with a mug of hot tea.
"Any problems?" you ask.
Brittny frowns and grabs Sam's backpack, "I went through it like you asked and... Well, I think it's best if you read it."
It was a letter from the school addressing Sam's social concerns. None of the kids he went to preschool with are in his class or lunch period and he's having a hard time making friends.
"He acted normal when he got home up until bedtime. Usually he puts up a little stink and asks to stay up just a little bit late but nothing. He just went up to bed," Brittny's shoulders sagged.
"Thank you, I'll have a talk with him about it. You should go home and get some rest," you smile.
Brittany nods but is slow to leave. She stops when she gets to the door and sighs, "I'm sorry, I- I have to quit soon."
Your stunned silence zaps any sounds from the room until Brittny stutters.
"I uh, I just found out this morning and I'm so scared and I-I haven't even told Quin, but I'm pregnant," she nervously grins.
You blink and shake your head, "No, that's great Brit! That's amazing news and Quin will be happy. You've been trying for years now and it's finally happening!"
You rush over and give her a gentle hug and she cries, "I can work until I can't ok? Or until Quin makes a stink about it, werewolves can be so overprotective about this sort of thing."
After several minutes of excitement and crying a knock at the door startles you both only for it to be Quin to pick Brittny up. You give her a thumbs up confusing her husband but you smile and wave them off. You can't help but to be happy for them regardless of how frustrated you feel. You know once he finds out she's pregnant that you'll be lucky to keep her around past the first trimester.
You consider heading to your computer to work on some school work but decide against it. You're just too tired and too frustrated to focus. Instead, you raid the fridge to snack on leftover macaroni and a slice of cold pizza. Stress eating disguised as an early breakfast you decide.
Eventually you decide to throw on a pot of coffee and go through Sam's backpack. It was messy as usual but lacked the normal amount of doodled on pieces of construction paper and there was a noticeably large number of random rocks missing he'd usually stock from the playground.
You slunk over to the couch slash makeshift bed you sleep on during the weekdays and groan, "Looks like we're both going through it."
Silent little steps wake you from your almost slumber and you look up to see Sam sleepily walking down the steps.
"Hey buggy, you're up early," you smile at him as he teeters over to you.
"Mmhmm," he hums before clumsily climbing up the couch and falling hard onto your lap.
"I heard you went to bed pretty early too. School wearing you out?" you ask, trying not to prod too too much.
"No..." he trails off and sighs.
You consider asking a few more questions but you're not even sure what to ask at this point. So you do what you do best and put a temporary band aid on the situation.
"Do you want some pancakes for breakfast?" you smile and kiss his forehead.
He spins around nearly smacking your face with his head, "Yes yes yes a thousand times!"
You grab him and haul him over to the small dinner table that's nestled between the kitchen and living room and plop him down on "his" chair. He squirms with glee on his sticker and paint encrusted worn out chair as you grab a box of pancakes.
"Ok, blueberries or chocolate ch-"
A series of hard knocks at your door interrupts you and you quickly run to grab your son and shove him into the pantry. Some would call this level of panic and care a bit overboard but you're not in the nicest part of town and no one knocks like that at 6 in the morning.
Grabbing your pepper spray from your purse and a kitchen knife just in case, you make your way to the door and look out the peep hole. It was Nicki.
You unlock the door and glare at her, "I almost thought I'd have to stab someone today. What are you doing here?"
"Ok, phone is dead but I was talking to Susan and she wants to hire you. She even is offering double the usual pay but-" Nicki gives you a concerning smile as you let her in.
"But?" you fidget with the knife.
"You'd be a certain DJ's glorified babysitter," she cringes with a smile.
"And what does double pay look like exactly?" you ask.
"Triple your previous job," she says.
You drop the knife and the both of you gasp and laugh. She starts going over some of the details she knows about the Naga to you as you pull your son out of the pantry and make him chocolate chip pancakes.
On a couple occasions you remind Nicki not to cuss in front of Sam to which she accidentally cusses even more. On the plus side though you've learned that your charge is basically a big brat with a snake tail who has a habit of whining and throwing tantrums if not babied.
"And his name is Nico, and from what I've heard in passing he hates when people try and call him Nick or Nickolas because they think Nico is just some cutesy pet name," she adds.
"I bet you two get along then," you snicker.
"Why because Nickie ain't short for Nicole but it's my actual fucking name too?" she raises a brow before cussing under her breath and telling your son to not copy the bad word she said.
"I was going to say because you're both bad mouthing brats," you laugh.
"Oh no, he's worse than me. It's a miracle if you can get him to talk without every other word being fu... fudge," she sighs and knocks back some coffee you handed her earlier. "Point is, he's a massive man child in need of a firm hand and someone to tell him when to shut up."
"Thus the high pay?" you ask.
"Yes but there's another added bonus too. I kinda told Susan you're in school and she's offering to pay on one condition," Nickie smiles.
Your mind freezes for a moment...
"Nickie, say that again," you stammer.
"That Susan would pay for you schooling?" she repeats, her smile widening.
You take a deep breath in and hold it for a moment, "What's the condition?"
"So it's more like a lot of micro conditions, basically you have to keep him from partying with the guests when he's not DJing, keep him away from the bar, and kind of destroy his weird gaggle of girlfriends by pretending to be his fiancé," Nickie's smile turns into sympathetic flat line.
"I. Have. To. What?" you ask.
"Yeah, that's... that's going to be the harder one right there," she grimaces.
"And why is it worth it to her that I do all this?" you rub your forehead and groan.
"Nico's on kind of a probation period of sort. He kind of got in big trouble last year, no one knows the details but since then he's been acting up even worse. Susan is just done with his attitude, that and she also kind of has him under contract for the next five years," Nickie explains.
"So what, she wants me to straighten him up before his probation ends? What if it doesn't work?" you ask.
"Then he gets sent to the other realm and he'll have to wait ten maybe twenty years before he can try and come back here. Kind of messed up since he was born, well hatched on this side," She sighs.
You tap your foot and tighten your shoulders as you quickly consider the pros and cons of this deal. You glance over at Sam who had grown bored of your conversation a while ago. He had a milk mustache and sleep crusting his eyes still. The money you had would run out soon between bills, rent, gas and life in general.
"Fine, but I'm going to need a new sitter first," you sigh.
Nickie volunteers on her off nights and says she'll ask a few of the other girls to interview with you for their off nights. She gives you Susan's number and begs you to call her as soon as possible before leaving.
"Does this mean you'll be at home when I get back from school?" Sam asks as you shut the door.
"Looks like it buggy," you smile at him.
There's a mess of emotions on his face and it's causing your stomach to churn, "What's going on at school?"
Sam fidgets with his shirt, "Nothing just sc-"
"Sam," you give him the Mom look and wait.
"I'm the... I'm the only human in my class," he admits. "And um... they're really nice, just maybe a bit... I don't know... bigger, longer, shinier..."
"Stronger? Rougher maybe?" you throw in.
"Yeah... And it's like fine when they play games with each other and it looks fun but I can't catch the balls they throw because they throw too hard, I can't play tag because they can fly and run really fast, and I can't play hide and seek because some can cast spells to find me!" He throws his hands up as he wipes away the almost tears from the corners of his reddening eyes.
"Oh bud, look before I get settled into my new job I'll go up there and talk to-"
"No, please don't. I just... I don't want to move classes!" Sam protests.
"Ok... So what do you want us to do?" you ask, mussing up your son's hair.
Sam's brows furrow and he sighs, fidgets and groans, "I don't know!"
You can't help but to let out a little snort before kissing his forehead, "Well how about you wash up and get ready for school and have a good brain storm about it ok? I'll pack an extra snack in your lunch today ok?"
He mumbles but eventually drags himself from his chair to the stairs. You turn the radio on and listen to local traffic report before the same old song that's been requested over and over again plays for probably the eighth time this morning.
You pack up Sam's lunch, pour some coffee into a canteen, and shove a few snacks into your purse. Sam descends from the stairs in a rush wearing his favorite astronaut shirt and mismatched socks. For a moment you considered just walking him to the bus stop but that little bug in the back of your brain said drive him to school.
"Wait a few and I'll take you," you yell as you fly up the stairs and change into the nearest cleanest clothes you had. You swished some mouth wash as you grabbed your keys, purse and Sam.
In the most rushed mother moment you spit out your mouthwash as you unlock the car.
"Ew" Sam cringes as he shoves his backpack in the car.
"Says the kid who wipes his boogers on his shirt still," you tease him.
"Says the lady who eats canned fish," he holds his nose and pretends to vomit.
"At least I don't put ketchup on my eggs," you shrug as you start the car.
You and Sam continue the game of who is the most cringe and weird up until he gets to school. It was your greatest game to get him to relax a bit when something was upsetting him, though now it's more like a band-aid... tape really, just something to hold over the troubles.
You wave Sam off as he runs up to the school and a group of kids greet him instantly. There's a few orcs, a goblin, naga, and a couple of fae kids. You see Sam poke at one of the orc boys who lightly elbows him back. You were worried the kids might be picking on him from the sound of his stress but that's not the case at all.
Maybe he's just wanting some fairness... he isn't strong or fast like them, can't use magic and can't fly... What's he going to do?
You stew on the matter for a few more moments before you realize the time. You wanted to call Susan when the club opens for cleaning and maintenance. You dial in her number and hold your breath as it rings.
"Susan speaking," she answers.
"Hi this is... Nickie gave me your number and I just wanted to follow up with you on the job offer," you start.
Susan goes over everything Nickie had told you with some finer details and how she has high hopes that this will work out for everyone.
"I'd love for you to come in now, just to get a feel for the place and to meet Nico. As you know, Nagas don't require as much sleep as we do. He's already awake and completely unaware of what's about to happen," Susan says with a grin in her voice.
"Lovely, I'll be there in twenty," you reply, holding back the mixture of emotions.
You head towards the club fighting back your nerves as you tell yourself that you're doing this for Sam. Sam deserves a good life and maybe with this job you can afford to move to an actual house in a slightly nicer part of town. Crime rates have been increasing and the use of magical contraband has unfortunately been on the rise...
Taking a deep breath you try not to think about Sam's father, any memory of him felt cruel and just... You quickly turn up the radio's volume and allow the obnoxious car commercial to blare any additional thoughts out of your head.
The parking lot was practically empty but you still parked in the back, a sort of employee rule you've followed since working at the local grocery store during your high school days. You fix yourself up as you exit your car and try ever so hard to walk with whatever confidence you could muster... It wasn't a lot, but you'll work with it.
As you walked in, you noticed how clean it was... That everything was pristine and it didn't have that weird smoke, sweat and heavy commercial cleaner smell to it.
"You must be..., Nickie's told me so much about you," Susan walks up to you and extends her hand.
You shake hers with a smile, "It's nice to meet you, so uh where is-"
"Most likely in the back room still, it's where he usually is at before and where he should be in between sets. I was actually surprised that he was actually working on new mixes this morning, it's been a while since he's done anything new to the point we've been getting complaints," She groans and pinches the bridge of her nose.
"I've heard quite a bit about him from Nickie as well as the plan. You haven't told him about any of it?" you ask just to confirm.
Susan smiles and laughs, "He would throw a tantrum if I even suggested any of it to him. Let's walk and talk, standing around here you won't see anything. Now then, Nico knows that what I say goes especially for official employees..."
Susan continues to tell you about your employment, your job and the club as she gives you the grand tour. The club... Neon Palace, was started by her late husband thirty years ago. It got upgrades with every decade or when some major change in aesthetics occurred. They had small bands back then but as of the late 90s they started bringing in DJs, and local singers and rappers. Nico was hired about five years ago and has made his home here, literally.
"Nico has a lot of talent and before the incident that he won't talk about, he was very strict about his life. Hardly mingled with the guests, was short yet polite with staff and always showed up on time," She sighs and opens the door to her office.
"It sounds like whatever happened really shook him up," you add.
"I tried to convince him to seek therapy if he wouldn't talk to me instead he found himself on the dance floor with the guest almost every night," she scoffs as she hands you a small stack of papers.
"Just sign a couple of pages and you're as good as employed," she hands you a pen and pulls out a carton of cigarettes from her breast pocket. She offers you one but you quickly turn it down as you sign away.
Funny how life works because as you set the papers down, your now fake fiancé charge bursts through the door.
"Susan, where the hell are my-"
You look up at him.
He looks down at you and then to Susan.
You look to Susan who is grinning at him.
"Oh good, this'll make things a lot easier," she stands and points a hand towards you.
"Nico, this is...., as of today she is your assistant, my spy, your babysitter, and fake fiancé. And before you say anything, she's already been signed on and for further arguments, you wouldn't bully a poor single mother would you?" Susan bats her lashes and you turn to see Nico red in the face and can hear the end of his tail thumping with anger.
"Hello," you give Nico a nervous smile.
He looks back down at you and somewhat tries to fix his angry look.
"Susan, we'll talk later. I'd like to ask my new 'assistant' a few questions if you don't mind," He motions for you to follow him but you look to Susan.
"Might as well get this part over with, best of luck," she shrugs as you quickly stand to follow Nico.
Nico is standing near the back, his tail still thumping in anger.
"You," he looks at you with pretty much a snarl. "Why the hell- No, what the fuck did Susan offer you that- Fucking hell, why on earth would she do this?"
Nico was struggling with his anger, trying very hard not to place any of it on you for some reason. You'd guess he has a weird soft spot for single moms since Susan mentioned it but you wouldn't push the subject, not yet anyways.
"Look, I'm not happy about being here myself but I have a kid and my prior job fired me in a downsize. I get that you're not happy about this arrangement, Susan's not happy with your behavior, and I sure as shit don't like the idea of being your assistant from everything I've heard about you recently but I'm here and I've got a job to do. You can either make this easy or hard, but you'll find out very fucking fast that you'll prefer to take the easy route," You march up to him and stare him in his eyes.
Nagas, whether raised in their home realm or on earth all seem to act the same to possible threats. Nico was no exception and ended up hissing at you. But it had no effect on you, you just saw it for what it really was, he was getting pissy because now he's got a babysitter.
"Note to self, bring a spray bottle for when Nico throws a hissy fit," you smile and start to walk past him. "The back room is this was isn't it?"
"You're not going back there," he growls.
"Oh, I think I am. If you have an issue with that, you can always tell Susan," you shrug and keep walking until you're stopped by his tail.
"Really? Look, I'm going to be going back there eventually, might as well see it now so I know what not to touch and what not to do. It's not like I'm going to go in there to set up some sort of hostile take over," you turn back around to him and his face is a little more neutral with a slight snarl.
He looks away from you, his green and yellow tail curling closer around you but never making contact as if telling you to stay put. Now that there's some silence, albeit awkward, you take this chance to get a better look at him. He's got a shaved cut like Nickie said but you can tell if he grew out his hair it'd be a very light blond. His skin is pale, most likely from lack of sunlight and his claws have been clipped down to normal human length. He's wearing jewelry, a very typical naga fashion thing, but it's gages and gaudy chunky pieces. You suspect he's got some weird necklace under his black hoodie but you'll probably only see that in his weird see through neon rain jacket that Nickie said is his go to DJ uniform.
"Fuck, it's too early for this," Nico groans and tilts his head to look at you. "Fine, let's get this over with."
Nico uncurls his tail and glares at you with bright green eyes, "Follow me and don't touch anything on my work bench when we get into the back room... You know what, just find a seat and stay there."
He grumbles as he has you follow him to the back of the club. The hall to his room was slim and for some reason very long. You went up a flight of stairs and through a couple of doors before you found yourself in a very bright back room.
It was large and windowless, the walls were a bright blue and there were large pillows and beanbags along them. He had a large talk at the very far end of the room with boxes for records and CDs under it. The room was surprisingly clean with a woodsy incense smell.
"Find a place to sit while I try and think here," he motions to the bean bags and pillows as he slithers to his work bench.
You do as he says and plop down on a beanbag, it was firm yet soft. Nico continues to grumble and then starts to pace before he tries to do some work. You try and remind him a couple times that you're still here, still waiting but he shushes you and continues with his very stressed very unproductive thought process.
Eventually you just sort of get comfortable, crossing your arms and anchoring yourself down as you take mental notes. Somewhere along the line you started getting drowsy, easy to do when it's quiet, you're already tired and you're sitting in a beanbag. You start to lull off when you're suddenly grabbed by your shoulders which jolts you into fight or flight.
You chose fight.
Your fist connects to Nico's cheek and he jolts back at the impact.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry. I wa-" your panic is interrupted by a ringing of laughter.
Nico was holding his cheek and bent over laughing, "Oh gods, and here I thought you'd be like some snob nanny but you got some balls on you don't ya?"
"Look that was just an ac-" you're again interrupted but this time by amused shushing.
"I was playing every worst possible scenario in my head about you and none of them had you punching me in the face. I'm usually pretty good with predicting what people are like but you? You're going to be fun to mess with. Oh that's right, I decided to take the hard route. And to answer your question, well I was going to be nice about it to a degree and just be annoying... But now, I want to see how far I can push your buttons," Nico looks to you with a savage grin, fangs at full length.
Oh this mother fucker is challenging me.
It was something you learned when reading through a booklet about the Folk and signs of bullying in the classroom. Nagas would either hiss if threatened and show their fangs to either meet or initiate a challenge or dual.
Instead of cowering away like he probably wants you to, you stand up and walk over to him.
"Fine then, rule number one then. You can be mad, but you can't be mean. Rule number two, you hiss at me again and I will spray you like a cat. Rule number three, I'm your assistant, not your bitch," you grin and extend your hand.
Nico looks at your hand and at you before laughing again and taking your hand in his, "Oh this is going to be either the worst thing for the both of us or absolutely hilarious for me. Either way..."
He pauses and gets right up in your face, "I doubt I'll be getting bored anytime soon. Now then, about your uniform."
Summary: The Gojo Clan has been trying to encourage Satoru to wed and have an heir for years, to no avail. After many failed plots, they've settled on hiring a matchmaker to find him a suitable woman. Much to everyone's dismay.
Match 0
Teaser
Women aren’t interested in an absentee husband, for good reason. As such, Satoru had long since accepted that he’s going to die alone. Too bad, so sad. His clan, on the other hand, rejects this reality and has taken to scheming like life is a goddamn hallmark movie.
Their most recent ploy is seated at his desk, his work desk, at Jujutsu Tech.
A woman swings her legs back and forth, examining his sunglasses like they’re the most interesting thing in the world. She’s dressed rather professionally, like something out of a TV show or magazine. “Where’d you get these?” She asks, looking up at him. She dawns her own pair of sunglasses, dark enough that he can hardly see her eyes through them, not technically at least.
With the six eyes, he sees everything, after all.
“Somewhere you can’t afford.” He replies cooly, offering her a sarcastic smile as he steps past her to reach into his desk drawer, grabbing the manila folder he’d come for in the first place before being so rudely interrupted. Truly, he didn’t have time for whatever nonsense this was. He wasn’t particularly sure how she tied back to his clan, but he was certain they’d sent her.
She sighs, rather dramatically, in response. Swiveling around on the desk to face him as she puts the glasses down on the wood. “You’re a hard man to find, Satoru Gojo.”
“Am I?” He responds wryly, rather uninterested in wherever this is going. He slams the drawer shut a bit too aggressively. “See yourself out.”
Unfortunately, she does not. Hopping off the desk when he starts walking towards the exit to follow after him. “I’m afraid I don’t get paid in full unless we have a full conversation, so I’ll have to pass.”
He scoffs, stopping at the doorway to look back at her. “What? Another escort? Seriously where do they keep finding you guys—”
She blinks, “excuse me?” She looks at him, rather incredulously. “No, I’m not an escort.” Comes her response, scowling a bit. “I’m a matchmaker.”
For a second, Satoru just stares at her in disbelief. Because, as it currently stands, it’s looking like the Gojo Clan had reached an all time low in terms of desperation. They’d tried a lot of things to find him a woman, but a matchmaker was a whole other league. This woman’s whole job hinged on finding him someone he’d be compatible with. Though, she’d only be successful if he actually cooperated. The chances of cooperation are astonishingly low though. Surely, everyone involved is aware of how moronic this plan to get him a wife is.
Mating Ritual (Silent Hill f Fox Mask/Tsuneki Kotoyuki x Fem!Reader) Teaser (full fic 18+)
Warnings for the future fic: Yandere/Stalkerish thoughts/ideas, kidnapping and drug use, Dub-Con/Non-Con due drug abuse, possessiveness and breeding kink
Synopsis: A world between dream and reality. A world of duty and honor. That's where he is taking you to. Whether you want it or not.
Teaser below:
[...]
Scents of burning candles and sandalwood intoxicated your mind. Hundreds of bells chimed softly a melody of comfort and tranquility. Was this heaven? It sure felt like it. Even though you were unable to move. Unable to look around. You were under his control. This creature's control. Every part of you. Fully. Without exception. Instead of terror was bliss grasping your heart. Yes.
"My beautiful y/n..."
A steady breath. Deep. Controlled. Your breath. And then his breath. Across your neck. Next to your ear.
"y/n. Wake up.", he commanded. The fog in front of your eyes lifted - and revealed a world of gold and laquered wood. Two gigantic golden O-inari sculptures stared down at you - one with an eerie grin, the other with glaring eyes and fletched teeth.
"Don't allow fear to spill into your heart, y/n. I am here with you. You know I'd never hurt you."
"I know," you replied, your voice flat as a puppet's. Two hands placed on top of your shoulders. "Very well," you heard him say satisfied. "Now look at me."
Just then you noticed the mirror standing on the altar in front of you. Slowly, from the shadows, he emerged. The man whose voice enchanted you. The man whose sweet words trapped you. The man who captured you and brought you here. The man with the fox mask.
Nimble hands undid your obi. Carefully, almost sacred, he let the heavy fabric of your white wedding kimono slide across your shoulders and down your body. Nothing protected your naked skin from the crisp air and his gleaming, predatory eyes anymore.
Summary: Taisho Eras sick boy Muzan was unable to do anything by himself and relyed on you for everything as you were his personal maid. This book will contain a series of events which occured while he was still human as developing feelings for you and at the end of this book something will happen to him.
Warning: Mentions of blood, gore, killing, murder, possessive/obsessive behaviour, kidnapping
A few days had passed since he had bought you the kimono. Life had shifted ever so slightly. He had started asking you to remain near him almost constantly, gently requesting that you do most of your daily work inside his room. At first, you thought it was convenience—that he simply wished for his caretaker to remain close by. But it wasn’t convenience he craved, it was your presence. He just wanted you near.
Tonight was like any other. You sat beside him on the floor, carefully feeding him his dinner, and he obediently accepted each bite without complaint, his lips brushing the tips of your fingers with every mouthful. He had grown so used to it that it almost looked natural now, as though it had always been this way.
When the last bit of food was gone and his medicine taken, the only thing left was to prepare him for bed. You moved to his futon, helping him lie straight, careful of his weak body. Pulling the blanket over him, you smoothed it neatly against his chest. A stray lock of his dark hair had fallen against his cheek, so you tucked it gently behind his ear. His gaze lingered on you, soft, warm, filled with admiration. The look he gave you made your heart feel light, and you couldn’t resist leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.
This had become normal for you—these small gestures. At first you hadn’t thought much of them, but soon enough you realized how much joy they brought him. And you… you didn’t mind either. Others might whisper, others might wonder about the closeness you shared, but neither of you cared. Whatever it was between you, it was yours alone.
Turning away from him, you crossed to the low table in the room. Once his table had only held his belongings, but now, at his request, many of your things had been moved here as well. He had ordered the other servants to bring them, claiming it would be easier for you, so you wouldn’t have to leave his room so often. But you knew the truth—he simply liked having you here.
You slipped the pin from your bun, letting your hair spill loose across your shoulders. You had only just lifted the comb when a voice broke the silence behind you.
“Let me do it for you.”
You blinked, pausing mid-motion. “Do what, my lord?”
“Comb your hair.” His voice carried a hint of excitement, though he spoke bluntly.
Your brows knit together. “Are you sure you can?”
“Quite certain.” His tone was confident, almost smug.
You rose and carried the comb to him. Carefully, you helped him sit upright, his body leaning slightly against the pillows for support. He accepted the comb with almost childlike eagerness, and you settled in front of him, your back to his chest.
The comb slid through your hair with surprising gentleness. He was careful, taking his time, never tugging too hard, patiently untangling even the stubborn knots. At one point he paused, lowering his face close, and you felt the faint press of his nose against the back of your head as he breathed in your scent.
“How sweet your hair smells, my dear…” he murmured.
Your cheeks warmed instantly. “Thank you, my lord.”
When he finished, he didn’t release you. Instead, he spread his frail legs and pulled you back between them. Your head rested against his chest as his arms circled around you, holding you snugly against him. You fit perfectly in his embrace. He pressed his cheek to the crown of your head, breathing you in again.
“You’re so sweet and beautiful,” he said suddenly, almost slurred, as if the words tumbled from him without restraint.
You laughed softly. “Am I now?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve never known anyone with such kindness, such humbleness. And beauty as well. You’re a rare one.” His voice was low.
“Or perhaps you’d see that many are like me, if only you could go outside,” you teased.
His arms tightened, squeezing you closer until your body molded against his. “You’re mistaken, my love. You stay inside to care for me, so you don’t know how cruel the world truly is. You’re innocent, untouched by it, too busy caring for me to notice. But I see it. The world is full of cruelty.” His voice dropped to a whisper against your ear.
“Really now?” you said slyly. “Then why aren’t you cruel to me?”
A soft chuckle vibrated through his chest. “Ah, what a question. But the answer is simple. How could I be cruel to the one who feeds me, tends to me, and does all for me? No, my dear… of all the people in this world, you are the last I could ever bring myself to hate. You matter far more than you know.”
The sincerity in his words touched something deep in you.
He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, murmuring faintly, “Nhg… you’re so soft, so sweet-smelling…”
Then, without warning, his frail body slumped back, pulling you down with him. You landed atop him as he sank into his futon, his arms still tightly around you.
“Mine. All mine,” he whispered.
“Who?” you asked, though you already knew.
“You,” he said simply.
You laughed again, quietly. He held you with all the strength his weakened body could muster.
“What would happen if another maid were in my place?” you asked.
“I’d push them away with all I had.”
“They’d get hurt, wouldn’t they?” you teased slyly.
“I don’t care. I only care that you don’t get hurt. Never by me of course. And if anyone dared to harm you—”
“You couldn’t do anything, Muzan. You’re weak,” you cut in.
“Oh, I wasn’t planning to do anything,” he said with a faint smirk. “I would simply order the servants. The things they’ll do for my wealth are revolting, but useful.” His lips brushed your shoulder in a feather-light kiss. “My sweet, sweet girl…”
His voice drifted, his eyelids growing heavy.
You chuckled gently. “Alright now, my lord. I should tie my hair and return shortly, alright?”
He didn’t answer, as though silence might tether you there. But you carefully slipped from his embrace, his arms falling limp without you.
As the night deepened, you returned to sit by his side. You took his hand in yours, watching over him as his breathing softened. Your gaze lingered on his fragile face, and you stayed that way for a long time, quietly ensuring he would be alright.
Summary: Taisho Eras sick boy Muzan was unable to do anything by himself and relyed on you for everything as you were his personal maid. This book will contain a series of events which occured while he was still human as developing feelings for you.
Warning: Mentions of blood, gore, killing, murder, possessive/obsessive behaviour, kidnapping
The evening air drifted into the room, carrying with it the faint chill of winter. You sat by Muzan’s futon, dipping a cloth into the basin of water and carefully wiping the sweat from his pale face. He remained obediently still, his crimson eyes following your every movement. He resembled a child, docile and pliant, letting you fuss over him however you pleased.
“Sit down,” he said suddenly, his voice insistent.
“Yes?” You set the cloth aside and sat neatly beside him, waiting for him to continue.
“Let’s go to the New Year’s fair.”
The words startled you. Your eyes widening. “W-what?”
“You heard me,” he said, beginning to push himself upright. “Help me get up. We’re going to the fair.”
“My lord,” you protested gently, pressing a hand to his shoulder. “You aren’t fully able to walk yet. Your body still needs rest.”
“I’ll try my best,” he argued, determination flashing in his eyes.
“You don’t have to,” you insisted, your voice soft, coaxing. “I can go instead. Tell me what you want, and I’ll bring it back to you. You don’t need to risk your health.”
“But I want to.”
You sighed, exasperated yet moved by his stubbornness. “Is this really necessary?”
“Yes.”
There was no wavering in his tone, and you knew well enough that once Muzan decided something, there was no undoing it. You dropped your gaze in resignation. “So be it then.”
“Go get dressed.”
With a bow of obedience, you rose and left his room. In your chambers, you selected a kimono in your favorite color, simple but beloved, and pinned your hair with a hairpin nearly five years old. The edges were slightly worn, but it still held your hair in place with quiet dignity.
When you returned, sliding open the shoji doors, you froze at the sight before you. Muzan was standing on his own, dressed in a black haori, his posture regal despite the fragility of his health. He looked at you as though nothing in the world could make him stumble.
Together, you left the manor. To your surprise, a carriage already waited at the gate. Muzan must have arranged it himself. You blinked, wondering when he had become so independent, when only weeks ago he could hardly walk across the room without collapsing.
Still, you said nothing and climbed into the carriage, seating yourself opposite him. The driver snapped the reins, and the carriage jolted forward. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels filled the silence until you finally inquired, “What are you planning to buy at the fair, my lord?”
His lips curved faintly. “We’re not going to the fair.”
You frowned. “Then… where are we going?”
“A kimono boutique.”
Confusion flickered across your face. “But… you’re a boy.”
“And?” He raised a brow, amused by your naivety.
“Why would we go there then?”
“For you.”
You paused, startled by the simplicity of his reply. “Why?”
“To buy you a kimono.”
Your breath caught. “But I already have kimonos—”
“Don’t lie to me, dear.” His voice softened but carried an edge of command. “I asked the other servants to check your wardrobe thoroughly. They found only five or six ordinary kimonos and one special one. Just how many years of salary did you save to buy that?” He narrowed his eyes knowingly. “Ah, but you didn’t. That one was a gift from me, years ago. As for your drawers—two hairpins. The one you’re wearing now is the better one, and the other is the plain one I see on you each day.”
You felt your cheeks heat. “A-and what about it?”
Muzan sighed, reaching up to cup your face with his cold, slender fingers. His crimson gaze softened, almost mournful.
“I don’t want you to waste your life away caring for me,” he said quietly. “I want you to enjoy life as well. I’m sorry my sickness has held you back all these years.”
Your hands instinctively rose to cover his, fingers brushing against his pale skin. “Never. Not once have I ever felt that way, my lord. I’ve always… enjoyed looking after you.”
His expression softened further, and he leaned in until his forehead rested against yours. You let out a small chuckle, the intimacy of the moment lightening your heart.
But then the carriage jolted to a stop, shattering the fragile peace.
“We’re here,” the driver called in a monotone.
Stepping out, you were greeted by the sight of a grand boutique. Kimonos of every shade and fabric were displayed behind shining glass, silks glowing like captured moonlight. Muzan’s cool hand slid into yours, tugging you forward with surprising strength for someone so frail.
Inside, the boutique was a treasure trove of color—ordinary kimonos, casual ones, extravagant ones glittering with embroidery. A saleslady bowed politely. “How may I help you today, good sir?”
“We’ll help ourselves,” Muzan replied curtly, tugging you toward the section reserved for royalty. He did belong from a filthy rich family afterall.
Your breath caught at the sight: kimonos of red and black, embroidered with gold dragons that seemed to writhe in the light. Each one looked as though it belonged in a palace. Muzan’s gaze, however, fixed on a particular kimono. He pulled you before it.
“Is it pretty?”
“Yes…” you admitted, unable to deny its beauty.
“Then we’re getting this.”
Your eyes widened. “My lord, no. It’s far too expensive. I’d rather choose something from the regular section. They’re just as pretty.”
“Oh, stop being so humble,” he said with a sigh. “Let me spoil you for everything you’ve endured.”
“Really, you don’t have to. I don’t expect anything in return for my service. It is a joy to care for you.”
“Then keep caring for me,” he murmured. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t own something beautiful. Does it?”
You bit your lip. “No, but I already have one… I don’t think I need another.”
“I don’t care if you need it or not,” he said firmly, tilting your chin upward with a pale finger. “I’m not here to buy necessities. I’m here to buy your fantasies.”
Your resolve faltered under his gaze.
“Please, my dearest?” His voice was low, pleading in a way you rarely heard. “For me? Let me buy this for you.”
You exhaled softly. “…Alright, my lord.”
Muzan summoned the saleslady, who quickly brought the chosen kimono to the register. “That will be fifteen thousand yen,” she said politely.
Your eyes widened. Fifteen thousand—that was nearly two months of your salary. Though you had long grown accustomed to the idea of wealth surrounding him, the thought of so much spent on you alone made your stomach twist with guilt.
Yet Muzan paid without hesitation, slipping the cash onto the counter as though they were flyer’s from the roadside.
“Let’s go home,” he whispered in your ear as the cashier wrapped the purchase. “My legs are starting to ache.”
You nodded and reached to take the package, but Muzan snatched it first, carrying it himself. He did not hand it over until you both were safely back in his chambers.
“You’ll look beautiful in this,” he murmured, his crimson eyes filled with awe.
“All because of you,” you whispered, bowing your head. “Thank you, my lord.”
“There’s no need to thank me,” he said, voice low, resolute. “I merely fulfilled my own wish.”
You smiled softly, warmth blooming in your chest despite the cold air that still lingered from outside.
Summary: Taisho Eras sick boy Muzan was unable to do anything by himself and relyed on you for everything as you were his personal maid. This book will contain a series of events which occured while he was still human as developing feelings for you.
Warning: Mentions of blood, gore, killing, murder, possessive/obsessive behaviour, kidnapping
He spoke to you more often now, thanks to your remedies. The cough and soreness in his throat had eased, allowing him to speak without pain. He’d been utterly grateful for it. For the first time in years, he felt as though he could express himself—at least to you.
This morning, as sunlight filtered through the shoji doors, you prepared his breakfast and daily medicines. You knelt by his side with quiet grace, offering him a handful of rice with herbs. He chewed slowly, his thin cheeks rounding slightly as he swallowed.
“Well, my lord,” you said softly, “you have a doctor’s appointment at noon. He’s supposed to help with the aches in your legs, enough for you to be able to walk again. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
He gave a small, almost distracted nod. “Yes… of course.”
“Are there any particular things you’d like to do?” you asked, tilting your head.
Muzan’s gaze softened. He thought for a while, and you lifted another handful to his lips. He accepted it wordlessly, still lost in thought.
“Plenty, actually,” he murmured at last.
You smiled faintly. “May I know, my lord?”
He imagined holding your hands and walking with you under pale sunlight. Sitting in a quiet field and watching the sunrise with you. Strolling through the crowded streets of Kyoto, buying you delicate hairpins and expensive kimonos, watching you taste street food for the first time. He pictured your eyes sparkling with joy, your face alight with delight. Those imagined moments brought him peace, a happiness he hadn’t known in years.
But such thoughts, he reasoned, were dangerous. He could not bluntly tell you how much he longed for you—how much he loved you. His tongue was tied by fear, fear of losing the only person who had not abandoned him.
“Not today,” he said finally, a faint smile touching his lips. “But perhaps one day.”
You noticed that smile and tilted your head, curious. But you didn’t press further. Instead, you quietly fed him the rest of his breakfast, then his medicine.
By noon, the doctor had arrived. You sat neatly beside Muzan, your hands folded in your lap, while on his other side the physician examined him. The man scribbled instructions for a new medicine to help his weakness, promising it would allow him to walk again, at least for a short while. After a brief consultation, the doctor bowed and departed.
You were just about to rise to fetch the prescribed ingredients when a hand closed around your wrist.
“Where are you going?” Muzan’s voice was quiet, yet something unreadable flickered in his dark eyes.
“To prepare your medicine, my lord,” you replied softly, surprised.
“No.”
You froze. “What?”
“I said no.”
“To… what, my lord? Your medicine?”
He studied you for a moment, his lips curving into the faintest smirk as if testing his luck.
“The only medicine I need is your presence.”
The words stunned you. Before you could react, he pulled you gently—though with all the strength his weakened body could muster—towards him. You stumbled softly, finding yourself pressed against his chest. He winced at the movement but didn’t let go.
Your head rested on his chest, your knees folded at his side, your hands splayed lightly over him. You tilted your face upward, startled.
“My lord, what are you—”
“Shh…” His voice dropped to a whisper at your ear. “Doesn’t this feel nice?”
The warmth of him seeped into you.
“You’re so warm,” he murmured, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, holding you as tightly as his weak limbs allowed.
You could have easily slipped free. Yet you didn’t. Your cheeks burned pink, your eyes wide. You could smell the faint iron of blood on him, but beneath it was his scent—clean, sharp, and unmistakably him. You inhaled softly, your heartbeat fluttering.
His hands rested on your sides. His head grew heavier in the crook of your neck, his lips brushing your shoulder in an unconscious gesture. To him, it was sweetness—this closeness, this scent of you filling his lungs with each breath. What else could this sick boy in love want? Only his maiden.
“Lord Muzan…” Your voice was hesitant,“I think this is highly inappropriate. I’m… I’m a simple maid. We shouldn’t—”
He lifted his head from your neck, eyes burning with something fierce and raw.
“So what? Does anyone care? My family has long forgotten me, tossing money at my treatment and nothing more. Have you seen them visit me even once?” His voice cracked slightly, though it never rose. “No. They’re enjoying their lives while I’m left here. I’m not even in their picture.”
His gaze softened.
“I don’t care what society thinks of us. I don’t care what my so-called family thinks. I just want peace.”
He lowered his head back into the crook of your neck, breathing you in again.
“Which is you…” His words were quieter now, edged with fatigue. “How many times have you sacrificed sleep for me? How many times have you given up your own desires to buy my medicine? How many years have you spent trapped in this manor just to care for me? Nobody else made those sacrifices. So why should I care about their opinions?”
Your breath caught. You had never thought he noticed all you had done for him. Your cheeks bloomed pink.
“But still, my lord, I—I’m not worthy of such a position beside you…”
He gave a soft, bitter laugh. “If you’re not worthy… nobody is. I don’t want anyone but you near me. I hate everyone. And by everyone, I mean everyone.”
His hands squeezed you gently, his voice falling into a drowsy murmur.
“Stay like this, will you?”
You swallowed, unable to speak.
“You’re so sweet to me,” he whispered, eyes fluttering shut. “I like it…”
You gave a soft, nervous laugh. “Well, I’m glad you think of me that way. Looks like my efforts weren’t in vain after all.”
A faint smile ghosted over his lips against your skin. “Even if they were, I’d still like you the same, you know?”
You paused, then smiled to yourself despite it all. Your heart fluttered—a feeling you might have called love.
this is the 2nd time I've found a game, with monsters, with no fanfction. Cloud meadow guys, good plot and battle, sexy monsters (yonten & jaero are my squueze, gonna romance tf outta them)
I am SO shocked, that in this monster fucker community, that there is nothing at all for the Lust Odyssey game. Hot aliens, 1 hot wolf, 1 hot dinosaur man, hot centaurs ect Need I go on? Ya'll need to check the game out fr, Feraldo is my main squeeze (you can pick your gender/parts/pronouns btw, romance and/or nsfw)
Thank you for Seti smut my life is yours 🙇♀️🙇♀️🙇♀️
18,000 words. Please send another ask to tell me your opinion if you don't want to message me 🥺
Seti x Reader
Seti is reader's familiar from Amaimon and the Exorcist fic. He's a fennec fox demon with sandy colored hair (Like a fennex fox) tanned skin, and golden eyes.
“Stupid demons. Stupid exorcists. I want to change careers.” You mutter under your breath as you undo the buttons on your uncomfortable uniform. Maybe you should follow Shura’s lead and disregard the dress code. It’s unbearably hot today. As the jacket slides off your shoulders, a small fennec fox demon next to you scoffs at your complaints. “You’re being dramatic,” he remarks. “Dramatic? Everything hurts. The only reason I’m stuck in this career is because of my grandfather and you,” you grumble back at the fox. Your grandfather just had to pass down Seti to you and expect you to become an exorcist. It could have been one of your older cousins, but no, he chose you. Your cousin Haruto would have been a much better candidate; he was in great shape when your grandfather decided to pass on Seti. Even now, he still has a fit physique. But no, he picked the weakest grandchild to inherit Seti. He guilt-tripped you into becoming an exorcist, constantly reminding you how much it meant to him, making you train every day, and that was before the grueling cram school started.
“Why are you acting like you’re weak and pitiful? You’re one of the top exorcists here; stop whining like a child.”
“But it hurts.” It doesn’t matter if you’re a strong exorcist; the large gash on your left shoulder is nearly too much. The medic kept talking about how strong you were, asking if it hurt because you kept a straight face in front of them. Of course, it hurt; the demon not only tore through muscle, but you also had to deal with the effects of the miasma. “I’m not going to be able to use this arm for at least a month.”
Seti gives you a disapproving expression. "You'll be back to normal within a week."
You narrow your eyes at the fennec as he hops onto your uninjured shoulder. Frustrated, you decide to speak to the fox. “Even if I recover completely within a week, I still feel exhausted.”
“Idiot, so take a vacation.”
“I feel like I need a vacation for a year. Maybe I could switch to desk work? Haruto can take you, so he’d be—"
“I’m not leaving you.”
“So, you gonna take a vacation with me too?”
The fox sighs, “Sounds like I have no choice. I’m not allowing you to be away from me too long; you always end up in trouble somehow when we’re separated.”
“I do not.”
“That time you got lost in the middle of nowhere.”
“That’s not fair. I didn’t have a key, and my phone died.”
“Then, the time you broke your leg while descending stairs.”
You bristle. “You couldn’t have stopped that from happening,” you attempt to argue.
“Really? How often do I point out important things to you when we’re going downstairs? Just recently, your shoes were untied. But if you want more examples, there was that time you were trying to run and didn’t notice the ice on the staircase. Or the time you got distracted and missed the fact that one of the steps was missing. You—” Frustrated, you cover his muzzle. “Okay, sometimes I do need you. But, if necessary, I could still manage without you.”
“Doubt it.”
Rolling your eyes, you quickly walk towards where the closest door will be. As you open the door into your living room, you step towards the sofa so Seti can jump from your shoulder to the sofa. “I think I could. What happens when I get married and have children? Are you still going to be taking care of me?”
You’re starving, so you hurry to the kitchen. “Well, are you?” you call to the fox. It would be awkward if he still tried to take care of you when you had a husband and child of your own to look after. “If you don’t marry someone suitable, then yes.”
“You know, Shura mentioned the other day that maybe we should consider spending more time apart.” You casually say while opening the fridge. Seti jumps onto the counter, giving you a disapproving look. “If you’re not talking about needing distance from Shura, I strongly suggest you stop.” He warns. “I’m not taking time away from you so she can drag you to bars and fuck random men.”
Your eyes widen at his words. “It’s not what you think! Just relax, you know you probably need a break from me. All the ridiculous drama you endure because of me. Also, I would never go around and fuck random men.”
When Seti nods his head, you feel a hint of surprise. You hadn’t expected him to agree so readily. But then he speaks, “We can take a vacation. Together.”
------------
“You know, I can pack my own bags.” You frown at the tanned man sitting in the middle of your floor, his sandy brown ears twitch at your comment. “Seti, in case you’ve forgotten, I’m an adult now.”
He sighs, hands holding the sweater he’s folding. “I’m aware.” He answers, then goes back to folding everything. “Yet, you still need me to take care of you.” He shakes his head.
"I don't need you to take care of me," you protest, crossing your arms only to wince as pain shoots through your injured shoulder. You try to hide the grimace, but Seti's keen eyes catch it immediately.
"Clearly," he says dryly, abandoning the sweater to approach you. His fox ears twitch with irritation as he gently guides you to sit on the edge of the bed. "Let me check your bandages."
"It's fine," you mutter, but allow him to examine your shoulder anyway. His hands are gentle for someone so abrasive.
"It's not fine. The miasma is still affecting you." His golden eyes narrow as he inspects the wound. "This is why I don't trust the medical team. They're incompetent."
You roll your eyes. "They're not incompetent. They're just overworked."
"They're incompetent," Seti insists. "And you're stubborn. A dangerous combination."
"Says the most stubborn creature I've ever met," you retort.
Seti's ears flattened against his head, a sign you've known since childhood, meant he was truly annoyed. "At least I admit when I need help."
"When have you ever needed help?" you challenge, wincing again as he applies a fresh salve to your wound. The cool sensation brings immediate relief, making you sigh despite yourself.
"That's not the point," he mutters, his tail swishing behind him in agitation. "The point is you're injured and still insist on doing everything yourself."
"Because I can," you say, though your voice lacks conviction. Truth be told, you're exhausted, and the pain medication is making you drowsy. However, admitting weakness isn't something you do easily – perhaps that's something you've learned from Seti himself.
He finishes re-bandaging your shoulder with practiced efficiency. "There. Now sit still while I finish packing."
"Where are we even going?" you ask, watching as he returns to meticulously folding your clothes.
"Somewhere quiet. Away from demons, exorcists, and everyone else.” He leans down, pressing his warm lips against yours. “We can spend more time together without working.”
You blink in surprise at the sudden kiss, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. Even after all these years, you're still not used to his rare displays of affection when he's in his human form.
"Don't look so shocked," he scoffs, turning back to the suitcase. You watch him fold your favorite shirt with more care than he'd ever admit to. "You still haven't told me where we're going."
Seti's tail flicks with what you recognize as smugness. "It's a surprise."
"I hate surprises."
"No, you don't. You just pretend to hate them." He zips the suitcase closed with finality. "Your grandfather's old cabin. The one in the mountains."
Your eyes widen. "But that's—"
"Protected by some of the strongest barriers in the country. No demons, no exorcists, no interruptions." His ears twitch forward. "Just us."
"When did you arrange this?" you ask, suspicious. "I literally just mentioned taking a vacation ten minutes ago."
Seti's tail swishes in that self-satisfied way that always makes you want to both strangle and hug him. "I've had it planned for weeks. Your injury just gave me the perfect excuse."
"Weeks?" You narrow your eyes. "Were you hoping I'd get injured?"
"Don't be ridiculous," he snaps, ears flattening against his head. "I knew you were pushing yourself too hard. It was only a matter of time before something happened." His voice softens almost imperceptibly. "I'd rather have prevented this entirely."
You sigh, suddenly too tired to argue. The pain medication is making your eyelids heavy. "How long are we staying?"
"Two weeks. Minimum." Seti moves around easily.
"Two weeks?" Your eyes widen. "The True Cross Order will never approve that much time off."
"Already taken care of." Seti's tail swishes with undisguised smugness. "I spoke with Mephisto yesterday."
"You spoke with Mephisto?" You can't hide your shock. Seti despises the demon headmaster, avoiding him whenever possible. "Voluntarily?"
"Don't remind me," he growls. "The clown was insufferable about it, but he agreed. Said something about how amusing it was to see me 'playing nursemaid.'"
You can't help but laugh at Seti's obvious discomfort, though it makes your shoulder throb. "I can't believe you willingly subjected yourself to Mephisto's teasing for my sake."
"It wasn't for your sake," he snaps. "It was for mine. I need a break from watching you nearly get yourself killed."
Seti sits beside you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. In his human form, he's tall and lean, his presence somehow both comforting and intimidating. "When was the last time you took more than two days off?"
You open your mouth to answer, then close it. "That's not fair." You complain, leaning against him.
"I'm just being practical," he says, his tone softening as he wraps an arm around your uninjured side. "You need rest. Real rest."
"Maybe," you admit reluctantly, letting your head rest against his shoulder. The familiar scent of desert sand and spice that always clings to him makes you feel safe, despite your protests. "But two weeks is a long time."
"Not long enough," he mutters, his tail curling around your waist. "You haven't properly rested in years."
You want to argue, but exhaustion weighs your limbs down like lead. "What about my reports? And the training sessions I was supposed to—"
"Canceled. Delegated. Postponed." Seti interrupts, his voice a mix of authority and care. "Your precious paperwork can wait; it won’t grow legs and run off without you. " He lets out a dismissive scoff and gently pushes you back onto the bed, the soft mattress cradling you as you settle in. "Rest now, ______. We’ll head out once you've had some sleep."
He leans closer, his lips brushing against yours—warm and inviting—offering a moment of distraction from the chaos swirling around in your mind.
You feel yourself drifting off despite your resistance, your eyelids growing heavier by the second. Seti's warmth beside you is comforting, and you can feel his fingers gently stroking your hair. It's moments like these, when his gruff exterior melts away, that you remember why your grandfather chose you to inherit him.
"Fine," you murmur sleepily. "Two weeks. But you have to promise not to hover the entire time."
You hear Seti scoff, the sound rumbling in his chest. "I don't hover."
"You do. You're worse than a mother hen." Your words are slurring slightly as sleep begins to claim you.
"I'm a fox, not a chicken," he retorts, but there's no real heat in his voice.
You smile, your eyes already closed. "A mother fox, then."
The last thing you feel before fully drifting off is Seti shifting beside you, his form transforming from human to fox as he curls up against your side, his small, warm body providing familiar comfort. His tail drapes protectively over your arm.
When you wake, the room is bathed in the soft glow of sunset. For a moment, you're disoriented, your shoulder throbbing dully beneath the bandages. Seti is no longer beside you, but you can hear movement in the kitchen. Slowly, you sit up, wincing as your injury protests.
"Don't even think about it," Seti's voice calls from the other room. Of course, he heard you stirring – his hearing is unnaturally sharp.
"I'm just sitting up," you protest, but remain on the edge of the bed. "How long was I asleep?"
Seti appears in the doorway, back in his human form, a steaming mug in his hand. "Six hours. Not nearly enough." He approaches, handing you the mug. The scent of chamomile and honey wafts up, reminding you of childhood illnesses when your mother would make the same tea.
"Six hours is plenty," you argue, taking a careful sip. The tea is perfect – not too hot, sweetened exactly how you like it. “I’m sorry you are having to deal with the human form so much.”
"I don't mind." Seti shrugs, his tail swishing behind him in a way that betrays his nonchalance as false. "The human form has its uses."
You eye him suspiciously over the rim of your mug. "You hate being in human form. You always complain about how limiting it is."
"It is limiting," he agrees, sitting beside you with a grace that seems at odds with his usual gruffness. "But it's necessary sometimes."
"For what? Folding my clothes?" you tease.
His golden eyes meet yours, unblinking and serious. "For taking care of you properly."
There's something in his tone that makes your breath catch, a rare vulnerability that he seldom displays. You set the mug down on the nightstand, suddenly feeling very awake.
"I can take care of myself," you say, but the words lack conviction.
"Clearly," Seti replies dryly, gesturing to your bandaged shoulder. "That's why you nearly had your arm torn off by a mid-level demon that you should have been able to handle in your sleep."
You flinch at the accuracy of his assessment. "I was distracted."
"Exactly." His ears flatten against his head. "You're always distracted lately. Overworked. Taking on missions that should be assigned to teams." His tail lashes behind him, betraying his agitation. "It's like you're trying to get yourself killed. Get up and get dressed.”
"I'm not trying to get myself killed," you protest, carefully standing up. Your legs feel surprisingly steady after your long nap. "I'm just doing my job."
"Your job isn't to take on every dangerous mission that comes your way," Seti counters, watching you with those intense golden eyes as you move to your closet. "Your job isn't to exhaust yourself to the point where your reflexes are compromised."
You pull out a comfortable sweater, wincing as you try to lift your injured arm. Before you can struggle further, Seti is beside you, gently helping you dress without a word. The tenderness in his actions contrasts sharply with the sternness in his voice.
"I just want to be useful," you admit quietly as he helps ease the sweater over your bandages. "Like my grandfather was."
Seti's ears twitch, and his tail goes still – a sign he's truly paying attention. "Your grandfather was a great exorcist," he says carefully, "but he also knew his limits. He understood the value of rest."
"That's not how I remember it," you say with a small laugh. "I remember him working constantly."
"You remember something from a child’s point of view. He took plenty of breaks.”
Once Seti dresses you, he retrieves a special key that unlocks the cabin. "Let’s go.” The door to your bedroom opens into the living room of the cabin. “He took plenty of breaks here, and you will do the same.”
The cabin is exactly as you remember it, yet somehow different. The wooden walls still emanate that familiar scent of pine and age, but everything seems smaller than in your childhood memories. The large stone fireplace that once seemed like a cave entrance is now just a well-built hearth. The overstuffed couch where you used to build blanket forts now looks quaint rather than massive.
It’s clearly well-maintained by your family; everything is clean, and there is fresh bedding in the bedroom. “Oh, we should relax in the hot spring now.”
Seti's ears perk up at your suggestion as he leans forward. "You want to get in the hot spring right now? That not a terrible idea." His tail swishes behind him, a clear sign of his approval. "The minerals would really aid your healing process."
"And it would feel amazing on my sore muscles," you add, already imagining the relief of sinking into the steaming water. Your grandfather had chosen this location specifically for the natural hot spring, claiming it had healing properties beyond the normal. Whether that was true or just his superstition, the onsen had always been your favorite part of visiting the cabin.
"I'll get it ready," Seti says, moving toward the back door. "You sit down before you fall down."
"I'm not going to fall down," you protest, but the throbbing in your shoulder makes you reconsider. You ease yourself onto the familiar couch, watching as Seti moves efficiently around the cabin, gathering towels and checking the outdoor area.
Through the large window, you can see the steam rising from the natural hot spring. The cabin is built on the edge of a mountain, with the onsen nestled against the rocky hillside, surrounded by tall pines that offer privacy.
As you gather your things, you notice how Seti's eyes never leave you, constantly assessing, watching for any sign of discomfort or pain. It would be annoying if it weren't so endearing.
"Stop hovering," you say without heat.
"I'm not hovering," he replies automatically. "I'm supervising, you need to be careful with your shoulder.”
"Supervising is just a fancy word for hovering," you mutter, yet you allow him to help when you pull the fabric too tightly against your shoulder. Seti effortlessly peels the clothing away, taking extra care not to bump your shoulder.
The warm night air gently brushes against your skin as Seti guides you into the inviting hot spring. A deep sigh escapes your lips as the mineral-rich water wraps around you, melting away the tension in your aching muscles. The sharp pain in your shoulder transforms into a dull, manageable throb, offering a sense of relief.
Seti shifts from his human form to his fox form in a shimmer of golden light, settling himself on a flat rock beside the spring. His ears twitch as he surveys the surrounding forest, ever vigilant.
"You can relax too, you know," you tell him, splashing a little water in his direction. "There are no demons here. Grandfather made sure of that."
"I don't take chances with your safety," he replies, but his posture does relax slightly. "Especially not when you're injured and naked."
You groan. “Seti, please get in the water too.”
The fennec fox demon huffs, his large ears pressing flat against his head in frustration. "Fine," he mutters, and in a flash of golden light, he transitions back into his human form. Standing before you, completely bare and wearing a frown. "Switching between forms so often is annoying," he complains. With a flick of his tail, he adds, "Are you happy now?"
"Ecstatic," you respond with a hint of sarcasm, yet a small smile betrays your amusement. “Come into the water, Seti.” He lets out a sigh but complies, settling beside you in the water. It's a rare sight to witness Seti truly unwind, though even now, his golden eyes scan the tree line every so often. "The barriers will hold, you know. Grandfather made them himself."
"I know," Seti says, closing his eyes briefly as he sinks deeper into the water. "But old habits die hard."
You observe him in the dimming light—the sharp angles of his face gently softened by steam, his sandy hair darkening as it becomes damp, and his fox ears occasionally twitching at distant sounds. In moments like this, it's easy to overlook his ancient nature, the many masters he has served before your grandfather, and the countless battles he has fought.
"What are you staring at?" he asks without opening his eyes.
"Just thinking," you reply, shifting slightly to ease the pressure on your injured shoulder. "About how long we've known each other."
"Too long," he says, but there's no bite to his words. "You were an insufferable child."
You laugh, wincing as the movement jostles your wound. "And you were a grumpy fox who hated being hugged."
"I still hate being hugged," he points out, opening one eye to fix you with a stern look. "By most people, anyway."
The implication hangs in the steamy air between you. Seti has always been particular about physical contact, allowing it only from your grandfather and, eventually, from you. It was a privilege you never took lightly. However, he never permitted your grandfather to touch him more than with a pat. Seti lets you hold him; he often jumps onto your shoulder. It’s more affection than he’s ever shown your grandfather.
“You like your ears scratched.” You comment, reaching up to grab his ear. “I’m surprised you don’t let anyone touch you.”
Seti's ears flatten against his head, yet he remains still under your touch. "I'm particular about who gets to touch me," he huffs, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Most people either grip too hard or are too hesitant. They don't understand how sensitive fox ears can be."
You smile, gently rubbing the base of his ear where you know he likes it best. "I had a good teacher. My grandfather showed me how to pet you properly when I was little."
"And you still managed to nearly pull my ears off countless times," he grumbles, though his eyes have drifted closed again, and you can feel the tension leaving his body as you continue your ministrations.
"I was five," you protest. "And you bit me for it."
"You deserved it," he says, but there's no real heat in his words. "I didn't even break the skin."
You laugh softly, remembering how outraged you'd been at the time, “You still bite me.”
"Only when you deserve it," he murmurs, his voice taking on that deeper timbre it sometimes gets when he's relaxed. "And you still deserve it more often than not."
The water laps gently against your skin as you shift closer to him, your uninjured shoulder brushing against his. "And yet you put up with me anyway."
"Not like I have much choice," Seti replies, but there's something in his tone that contradicts his words. His tail moves beneath the water, curling around your waist in a gesture that has become familiar over the years.
"You always have a choice," you remind him quietly. "Anyway, you’re pretty touchy yourself over the last few years.”
Seti's eyes flutter open, the golden irises shimmering softly in the dim light. "Touches that you don’t mind," he says simply. His gaze lingers on yours for a moment longer than needed before he turns away, his ears twitching slightly.
The silence that follows isn't uncomfortable; it's charged with something unspoken. You have both been dancing around this for years—this connection that transcends the traditional familiar-exorcist relationship.
The night air cools against your skin as it rises above the water, creating a pleasant contrast to the heat of the hot spring. You find yourself studying Seti's profile, noticing how his damp hair clings to his neck and how his ears occasionally flick at distant sounds only he can hear.
"You're staring again," he says, still not looking at you. “We should get out soon; I need to take care of your shoulder.”
You're reluctant to leave the comforting warmth of the water, but you know he is right. The sky has darkened completely, and stars appear in the clear mountain air with a brilliance you never see in the city.
"Fine," you sigh, making no immediate move to exit. "But we're coming back tomorrow."
"Yes, that’s why we’re here," Seti says, already rising from the water. He doesn't seem concerned about his nudity as he reaches for one of the towels he'd placed nearby. Water cascades down his tanned skin, catching the moonlight, highlighting the defined muscles that are easy to forget when he's in his fox form. He turns to you, extending a hand to help you up.
"Be careful," he warns as you take his offered hand. "The rocks can be slippery."
You roll your eyes at his overprotectiveness, yet you can't help but appreciate the support as you rise to your feet. The cool air sends goosebumps racing across your skin, and a slight shiver runs through you. Just as you reach for your towel, Seti is already draping one around your shoulders, being careful not to press on your injury.
"I can dry myself, you know," you say, but there's no real protest in your voice.
"You can," he agrees, his hands lingering a moment longer than necessary. "But you'll do it wrong and hurt yourself more."
"Your faith in me is overwhelming," you mutter, but you allow him to help you pat dry, wincing occasionally when he gets too close to your wound.
Back inside the cabin, the main room is bathed in a soft golden glow that makes everything feel cozy and secure. Seti guides you to sit on the couch while he retrieves his medical supplies from the bag he packed. You watch him move with practiced efficiency, still in his human form, a towel slung low around his hips.
"You don't have to stay in that form," you say, pulling your own towel tighter around yourself. "I know it's more comfortable for you as a fox."
Seti doesn't look up from where he's sorting through bandages and salves. "It's easier to treat your wound like this," he replies simply. "Arms are more useful than paws for medical treatment."
When he returns to your side, his expression is focused, golden eyes narrowed in concentration as he gently removes the wet bandages from your shoulder. You try not to wince as the adhesive pulls at your skin.
"This is healing well," he comments, carefully examining the wound. "But the miasma is still present." His ears twitch with concern.
"Is that why it still hurts so much?" you ask, gritting your teeth as he begins to clean the area with a stinging solution.
"Yes. Normal wounds don't cause this much pain after treatment." His fingers are gentle as he pulls your towel down so he can access the wound better, until it’s pooled around your waist.
His touch is clinical and experienced— you've been through this routine countless times before— yet there's something different in the air between you tonight. Perhaps it's the isolation of the cabin, the lingering warmth from the hot spring, or simply the vulnerability of your injury. Whatever it is, you're acutely aware of every point where his skin meets yours.
"This might sting," he warns, uncapping a small vial of amber liquid. "It's a potion specifically for miasma."
You brace yourself but still can't suppress a hiss when the liquid makes contact with your wound. "That's more than a sting," you complain through gritted teeth.
"Don't be dramatic," Seti mutters, but his ears flatten with concern. "The worse it stings, the more miasma there was to neutralize."
"Fantastic," you mutter, trying to focus on anything but the burning sensation in your shoulder. You settle on watching Seti's face – the way his brow furrows in concentration and how his ears twitch slightly with each movement. His sandy hair is still damp from the hot spring, falling across his forehead in a way that makes him appear younger and less severe. There's a gentleness to his movements that contrasts with his usual gruff demeanor.
"Staring again," he says without looking up from his work.
"It helps distract from the pain," you admit.
His golden eyes flick to yours briefly before returning to the wound. "Then keep staring."
The burning sensation begins to fade, replaced by a cool numbness that spreads from your shoulder down your arm. You release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.
"Better?" Seti asks, applying a clean bandage with practiced efficiency.
"Much," you nod, suddenly aware of your state of undress as the pain recedes. "Thank you."
Seti's hand lingers on your uninjured shoulder, warm and steady. "You should get dressed. It's cold."
“What? You’re not going to help me get dressed?” you tease, but Seti scoffs at your playful tone. “I can help you if you want to keep acting like a child,” he replies casually, picking up a large shirt and a pair of underwear from your luggage. Holding them out to you, he narrows his eyes and asks, “So, are you going to get dressed, or do you want me to do it for you?” Being reminded of your state of undress once more, you quickly lift the towel to cover yourself. “I can dress myself.”
“Good.” He tosses the clothes at you and picks up his own from the suitcase, choosing to go with some briefs and a pair of shorts. He chooses not to comment on the fact that your eyes are on him as he gets dressed; instead, he turns his focus to the kitchen. “I’ll make dinner.”
“Are you going to change back into your fox form?”
“No, I can’t take care of you in that form.”
You frown but don’t argue with the fox; instead, you focus on getting dressed for yourself. “Seti, let’s just have sandwiches or something. I don’t want you to have to cook dinner; I’d rather just relax on the sofa and watch a movie.” You drop onto the sofa and pat the seat beside you. “I’m not that hungry, unless you are.”
Seti pauses, his gaze lingering on the cold, dimly lit interior of the fridge while your words echo in his mind. “If you’re not hungry right now, it’s best not to eat,” he says. “I’ll prepare something for dinner later.” With that, he gently shuts the fridge door and walks back to where you are, settling beside you on the sofa. “You’re staring at me a lot.” He casually comments as he picks up the remote. “Seti, I can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”
Seti's ears twitch at your compliment, and you catch a brief widening of his golden eyes before he schools his expression back to neutral. "Don't be ridiculous," he mutters, though his tail swishes behind him in pleasure.
"I'm not being ridiculous," you insist, settling more comfortably against the cushions. "You're objectively beautiful in both forms. I've always thought so."
A flush creeps up his neck, barely visible in the dim lighting of the cabin. "You're delirious from the medication," he says gruffly, but he doesn't move away when you lean your head against his shoulder.
"I'm not on medication right now," you point out. "The last dose wore off hours ago."
Seti huffs, his ears flattening slightly. "Then you're delirious from the miasma."
You laugh, wincing as the movement jostles your shoulder. "Stop deflecting. You're allowed to take a compliment, you know."
"I don't need compliments," he says, but his tail curls around your waist, betraying his words. The soft fur against your skin sends a pleasant shiver up your spine that has nothing to do with the cool air of the cabin.
"You need to rest," he says after a moment of silence, his voice lower than usual. "The hot spring was good for your muscles, but your body still needs time to recover."
"I am resting," you protest, gesturing to your reclined position on the couch. "This is me, resting."
Seti gives you a glance that clearly communicates his disbelief. "You're speaking. Arguing. Being difficult."
"That's my natural state," you reply with a small smile. "You should know that by now."
The corner of his mouth twitches upward, the closest thing to a smile you've seen from him all day. "Unfortunately, I do." His arm slips around your shoulders, careful to avoid your injury, and pulls you closer against his side. The warmth of his body seeps into yours, providing comfort that feels familiar.
You find yourself relaxing further into his embrace, the events of the day catching up with you once more. The rhythmic sound of Seti's breathing and the background sound from the TV create a soothing ambiance that makes your eyelids grow heavy.
"Are you falling asleep again?" Seti asks softly, his voice rumbling in his chest against your ear.
"Maybe," you mumble, not bothering to open your eyes. "Is that a problem?"
"No," he replies, his fingers gently combing through your hair. "It's good. You need the rest."
You make a noncommittal sound, too comfortable to argue. "Will you stay like this?" you ask, the question slipping out before you can stop it.
There's a brief pause before Seti answers. "Like what? In human form?"
"Mmm," you confirm, nestling closer to him. "I like feeling your arms around me."
His body tenses slightly at your admission, but he doesn't pull away. "It's... exhausting to maintain this form for too long," he says carefully.
"I know," you sigh, already feeling guilty for asking. "Sorry for asking.”
Seti hums thoughtfully for a moment and lifts his head. He gazes into your eyes before sighing and pulling you into a kiss.
His lips are warm against yours, gentle yet insistent, and you find yourself responding immediately, your unharmed arm reaching up to cup his face. The kiss deepens, and you can feel the restraint in his movements, careful not to press against your injured shoulder or move too quickly.
When he finally pulls away, his golden eyes are darker than usual, pupils dilated. "I'll stay in this form," he says, his voice rougher than before. "For tonight, at least."
Thank you," you whisper, heart racing from the kiss. There have been others over the years: moments of tension that broke like thunderstorms between missions or late nights of healing—but this one felt different.
"We should do this more often," you say softly, your eyes growing heavy as exhaustion begins to take hold again.
"What? Get you severely injured so we're forced to take time off?" Seti's tone is dry, but his thumb traces gentle circles on your uninjured arm.
"No," you murmur, playfully nudging him with your elbow. "I mean, spend time together like this. Just us. No demons, no exorcists, no missions."
Seti is quiet for a long moment, and you wonder if you've said something wrong. When he finally speaks, his voice has lost its usual edge. "I would... not be opposed to that."
Coming from Seti, that's practically a declaration of enthusiasm. You smile, letting your eyes close as the day's events and your injury take their toll. "Good. It's settled then."
"Nothing is settled," he grumbles, but there's no heat behind his words. "You're half asleep and making plans."
"I'm not that sleepy," you protest, though the way your words slur together betrays you. "And I know what I want."
Seti makes a noncommittal sound, his arms still securely around you. "What you want right now is sleep," he says firmly. "We can discuss... other things... when you're fully conscious and not recovering from a serious injury."
You want to argue, to tell him that your feelings aren't just a product of exhaustion or medication, but your body betrays you as a yawn escapes. "Promise we'll talk about it later?"
Seti's sigh is warm against your hair. "Yes, we'll talk about it. Now sleep."
The last thing you perceive before drifting off is the gentle pressure of his lips against your forehead and the comforting weight of his tail still curled protectively around your waist.
When you wake, sunlight streams through the cabin windows, casting everything in a warm golden glow. You're no longer on the couch but in the bedroom, tucked carefully under the covers. Your shoulder aches dully, but it's a significant improvement from yesterday.
A small weight rests against your uninjured side, and you turn your head to find Seti in his fox form, curled up beside you, his sandy fur rising and falling with each breath. Despite his promise to stay in human form, he must have shifted back during the night—probably after carrying you to bed.
You can't help but smile as you reach out to gently stroke his fur. His ear twitches at your touch, and slowly, his golden eyes open to meet yours.
"Morning," you murmur, voice still thick with sleep.
Seti stretches, his small body arching before he sits up, tail wrapping around his paws. "How's your shoulder?" he asks, immediately getting to business.
"Better," you reply, carefully testing your range of motion. There's still pain, but the burning sensation from the miasma has significantly decreased. "That potion really worked."
Seti's ears perk up with satisfaction. "Of course it did. I made it myself."
You roll your eyes at his smugness but can't help smiling. "So much for staying in human form all night."
His ears flatten slightly. "You were asleep. It didn't matter what form I was in."
“Yeah, I know. I’m just joking. I know you prefer this form.”
Seti nods in agreement, “Yes, however, I’ll be spending most of the trip in the human form because I still need to take care of you.” He eyes your bandages and changes forms. You quickly look away from his nudity, but he isn’t bothered by it. Instead, his attention is completely on your shoulder as he moves closer to remove the bandage.
"Much better," he murmurs, examining the wound with critical eyes. "The miasma is almost completely neutralized."
You attempt to peek at your own shoulder but can only catch glimpses of angry red skin that looks significantly better than it did yesterday. "So your miracle potion worked?"
"It's not a miracle," Seti corrects, reaching for the jar of salve on the bedside table. "It's science. Ancient Egyptian science, but science nonetheless."
"Ancient Egyptian science sounds like magic to me," you tease, wincing slightly as he applies the cool salve to your wound.
"That's because you modern exorcists rely too heavily on technology," he scoffs, though there's no real bite to his words. "Your grandfather understood the old ways better."
"Is that why you liked him so much?" you ask, watching Seti's face as he works. His expression is focused, but there's a softness around his eyes that appears only when he's truly at ease.
"I respected him," Seti corrects, not looking up from his task. "He earned that respect by being competent and not asking stupid questions while I'm treating him."
You laugh, “So, you don’t respect me?”
Seti reaches over you to grab the bandages from the bedside table and begins wrapping your shoulder again. “I like and respect you. I just wish you’d be less reckless.”
"I'm not reckless," you protest as he secures the bandage with practiced efficiency. "I'm... dedicated."
"Dedicated to getting yourself killed," Seti mutters, his tail swishing behind him in agitation. "There's a difference between dedication and stupidity."
You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. There's truth in his words that you can't deny. The mission that resulted in your injury had been risky from the start - you'd known that going in. But you'd taken it anyway, despite being exhausted from back-to-back assignments. Groaning, you drop your head onto his shoulder. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. But, two weeks of what? I’m already starting to feel bored.” You admit, wrapping your arms around his waist.
Seti's eyebrows raise at your complaint, and he pulls back just enough to look at your face. "Bored? You've been awake for all of fifteen minutes." His ears twitch with irritation, but his arms remain wrapped around you. "This is exactly your problem. You can't sit still for more than a moment without needing some kind of excitement."
"That's not true," you protest, though you know he has a point. Stillness has never been your forte. Even as a child, your grandfather had to devise special training exercises just to teach you patience. "I can relax."
"When?" Seti challenges, his tail swishing behind him. "Name one time in the last year when you voluntarily rested for more than a day without checking your phone for new missions."
Your silence is answer enough.
Seti sighs, his warm breath tickling your hair. "That's what I thought." He gently disentangles himself from your embrace and stands. "Breakfast first, then we'll discuss ways to keep you entertained that don't involve demons or getting injured further."
You watch as he moves around the bedroom, pulling on a pair of loose pants while leaving his chest bare. There's a casual grace to his movements that always captivates you—the way his muscles shift beneath tanned skin, how his tail maintains perfect balance behind him, and the slight twitch of his ears as they catch sounds that you can't hear.
"You're staring again," he calls over his shoulder as he heads toward the kitchen.
"I am not,” you argue carefully, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. The floor is cool beneath your bare feet as you stand, testing your balance. Your shoulder throbs dully, but the stabbing pain from yesterday has subsided. Progress.
You can hear Seti rummaging in the kitchen, the familiar sounds of cooking already beginning. Following the noise, you pad through the cabin, appreciating the morning light that streams through the windows, highlighting the rustic charm of your grandfather's retreat.
The kitchen is bathed in golden sunlight, making Seti's sandy hair almost glow as he moves efficiently between the refrigerator and stove. He doesn't turn as you enter, but his ears swivel in your direction, acknowledging your presence.
"You should have waited for me to help you," he says, cracking eggs into a bowl.
"I walked here all by myself, like a big girl," you say with a hint of sarcasm, leaning against the kitchen counter. "See? No injuries, no falls, no disasters."
Seti's ear twitches in what you recognize as annoyance. "Don't get cocky. The day is young."
You roll your eyes but can't help smiling. There's something comforting about his constant pessimism—at least he's consistent. "What are you making?"
"Eggs. Toast. Fruit." His tail swishes behind him as he expertly whisks the eggs. "You need protein to heal properly."
"Yes, Dr. Fox," you tease, reaching past him for a mug in the cabinet. Your shoulder protests at the movement, and you can't quite suppress a wince.
Seti immediately notices, his ears flattening against his head. "Sit down," he commands, taking the mug from your hand. "You're already pushing yourself too hard."
"I'm just getting coffee," you protest, but allow him to guide you to a chair at the small kitchen table. "I'm not completely helpless."
"Debatable," he mutters, pouring coffee into the mug. “Once you’re done eating, we’ll get back in the hot spring.”
He returns to the stove and begins plating your eggs and toast. “Eat, and we can relax longer this morning in it.” He promises, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he places the plate in front of you.
The kiss catches you off guard, a casual affection that seems out of character for Seti's usually gruff demeanor. You find yourself smiling into your coffee, watching as he fixes his own plate and sits across from you.
"What?" he asks, noticing your expression.
"Nothing," you reply, taking a bite of perfectly cooked eggs. "Just... you're being unusually affectionate."
Seti raises a brow. “I can’t be affectionate with my master?”
The word "master" makes your cheeks flush with heat. It's technically accurate—you are his contracted exorcist—but the way he says it now, with those golden eyes holding yours, carries an entirely different weight.
"You've never called me that before," you point out, trying to keep your voice casual as you take another bite of toast. "It's always been my name, or 'idiot,' or 'reckless fool.'"
Seti's ears twitch, and his tail swishes behind him. "Those are terms of endearment," he says dryly.
You can't help but laugh, nearly choking on your coffee. "Only you would consider 'idiot' a term of endearment."
"It's accurate," he replies, but there's a softness in his expression that belies his words. "You do idiotic things. Like taking on that mission alone when you were already exhausted."
"I didn't want to let the team down," you admit, your humor fading as you remember the circumstances that led to your injury. "They needed someone with my skill set."
"They needed someone," Seti corrects, “they would’ve been fine without you. When we return you’re not going to overstress yourself. Three missions a week.”
Your eyes widen. “Seti-”
“It’s not up for debate.” He cuts you off. “Hurry and eat.”
You decide to change the subject, focusing on your breakfast instead of arguing about mission limits. The eggs are perfectly cooked, just the way you like them – not too runny, not too firm. It's a small detail, but it reminds you of how well Seti knows you after all these years.
"This is delicious," you say after a few more bites. "I didn't realize how hungry I was."
Seti grunts in acknowledgment, his own plate already half empty. "Your body needs fuel to heal properly."
You eat in comfortable silence for a while, watching as sunlight streams through the windows, illuminating the dancing dust motes in the air. There's something peaceful about this moment that makes your usual hectic life seem very distant.
"I've been thinking," you begin carefully, setting down your fork.
Seti's ears instantly perk up, alert to any potentially troubling ideas you might express. "That's concerning," he remarks.
You ignore his jab. "About what you said last night... about spending more time together like this."
His chewing slows, golden eyes fixed on you with an unreadable expression.
"I think you're right," you say, maintaining steady eye contact with him. "I've been pushing myself too hard and taking on too many missions. I just... feel the need to prove myself worthy of being your master."
His fork clatters against his plate. "What?"
You take a deep breath, finding it easier to voice these thoughts here, away from the pressures of the Order. "Grandfather was so respected, so powerful. Everyone expected me to be just like him, especially after he passed Seti—you—to me. I've been trying to live up to that legacy by taking every dangerous mission, working myself to exhaustion."
Seti's ears flatten against his head, his expression shifting from surprise to something almost like anger. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
You flinch at his harsh tone, but he continues before you can respond.
"Your grandfather didn't earn respect by taking on every mission that came his way. He earned it by being selective, by knowing his limits." Seti pushes his plate aside and leans forward across the table. "And he certainly didn't worry about being 'worthy' of me."
"But—"
"No," he interrupts, his tail lashing behind him. “I don’t care about the worthiness bullshit. You are my master _____. You could be the weakest exorcist there is, and that wouldn’t change. Stop being stubborn and relax.”
You blink at him, taken aback by his vehemence. Seti rarely speaks with such intensity unless you're in imminent danger. "I just thought—"
"That's the problem," he interrupts, his ears still flat against his head. "You're overthinking everything. Finish your meal so we can get in the hot spring. You’re stressing both of us.” He sighs.
You stare at him for a moment, surprised by his outburst, then slowly nod. "Okay," you say quietly, picking up your fork to finish your breakfast. The silence that follows is different from before—charged with unspoken emotions.
"I'm sorry," you offer after a few minutes. "I didn't realize I was stressing you out too."
Seti's ears twitch, and his expression softens slightly. "Of course you stress me out. It's my job to keep you alive, and you seem determined to make that as difficult as possible."
Despite yourself, you smile. "I'm not trying to, you know."
"You could have fooled me," he mutters, but the tension has eased from his shoulders. He rises, gathering both of your plates despite the fact that you're not quite done. "Come on. Hot spring. Now."
"I wasn't done with that," you protest half-heartedly.
"You ate enough," he decides, already moving to the sink. "The hot spring will do you more good than another piece of toast. Anyway, you aren’t eating it, you’re just picking at it while overthinking."
You can't really argue with that. Standing up, you follow Seti as he grabs two robes for both of you. “Take off your clothes," he orders, holding out the robe for you to put on.
Sliding off your clothes with your uninjured arm proves difficult, yet you manage it while Seti observes with critical eyes. His gaze isn't lustful but clinical—assessing your movements for signs of pain or struggle. When you wince while trying to lift your injured arm, he steps forward immediately.
"Stubborn," he mutters, helping you ease the shirt over your head. "You could have asked for help."
"I'm working on my independence," you reply as he holds the robe open for you. The soft fabric glides against your skin as you slip your arms into the sleeves.
"Independence is not synonymous with foolishness," Seti remarks, deftly tying the robe closed. "Recognizing when to seek assistance reflects wisdom, not weakness."
You're surprised by the philosophical turn. "That's unusually profound coming from you."
His ears twitch in what you recognize as mild annoyance. "I'm thousands of years old. I'm allowed to be profound occasionally."
The reminder of his age often takes you by surprise. It's easy to forget, especially when he's curled up on your lap as a fox or engaging in spirited debates about mission protocols. Once you’re settled in your robe, Seti casually sheds his own clothes without a second thought.
The robe hangs loosely on his frame, the belt tied carelessly at his waist.
The morning air outside is crisp yet pleasant, with steam rising in lazy tendrils from the hot spring, dissipating into the clear blue sky. Surrounded by towering pine trees, the area feels naturally private and is filled with their refreshing scent.
Seti tests the water with his hand before nodding in approval. "Perfect temperature." He turns to you, helping you remove your robe before shedding his own. The cool mountain air sends goosebumps across your skin, making the prospect of the hot water even more appealing.
"Careful," he cautions, gently supporting your elbow as you step into the spring. The warm water embraces your legs and then your hips as you descend deeper, instantly easing your aching muscles. Sighing in pleasure, you settle onto one of the submerged stone seats, the water rising gently up to your collarbone.
Seti joins you, sitting close enough that your shoulders nearly touch.
"This is nice," you murmur, feeling more relaxed than you have in months. The hot water works its magic on your sore muscles, and Seti's presence beside you provides a comfort that goes beyond the physical. "We should have done this sooner."
"I've been telling you to take a break for years," Seti points out, his tail creating gentle ripples in the water as it swishes behind him. "You never listen."
"I'm listening now," you reply, closing your eyes and breathing in the steam-laden air. The scent of pine and minerals fills your lungs, cleansing and rejuvenating.
You glance at Seti to your right, noticing how unbothered he seems. “______, why are you staring at me again?” he sighs.
Feeling a little self-conscious, you look down and with a hint of vulnerability in your voice, you ask, "Seti, do you think I’m pretty? Or attractive, or something like that…?”
Seti pauses and turns to look at you, confusion evident on his face. “Are you pretty?”
“Yeah…”
“Why would you ask that?”
You fidget awkwardly, “Well, I was just thinking, I’m often nude in front of you, and you never even react. So, I was wondering if it’s because I’m unattractive or something.”
Seti stares at you with such intensity that you almost want to sink beneath the water. His ears flatten against his head, and for a moment, he appears truly speechless.
"Is that what you think?" he finally asks, his voice unusually quiet. "That I don't find you attractive?"
You shrug, immediately regretting the movement as your shoulder protests. "I mean, you're always so clinical when you look at me. Even now, when we're both..." You gesture vaguely at your unclothed state beneath the water.
A sound erupts from him that you've seldom encountered—a curious mix of a laugh and a growl. "______, I'm your familiar. It would have been unseemly to react..." He trails off, his gaze drifting as he searches for the right words. "I've trained myself not to react."
"Oh," you say, feeling a flush wash over your cheeks, one that has nothing to do with the warmth of the hot spring. "So you do find me attractive?"
Seti's golden eyes narrow. "Why do you always pick the worst times to bring up certain things?”
You can't help but laugh at his exasperated expression. "Is there a good time to ask if you find me attractive?"
His tail creates agitated ripples in the water as it swishes back and forth. "Perhaps not when we're both naked and you're injured," he says dryly.
"So that's a yes?" you press, unable to let it go now that you've started down this path.
Seti sighs deeply, his ears twitching in what you recognize as discomfort. "Yes, ______. I find you attractive. Extremely so. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"Oh," you say once more, a peculiar blend of satisfaction and nervousness coursing through you. "For how long?"
"How long have I found you attractive?" Seti's ears flattened even more, clearly uneasy with the question. "Since you were no longer a child. I don't keep track of such things."
You can't help but smile at his discomfort. "That's not very specific."
"It doesn't have to be," he replies, leaning slightly away from you. "This conversation is meaningless."
However, you observe that he doesn't venture far, and his tail has curled protectively around your waist beneath the water. You choose to let the matter rest for now, leaning back against the rocks and enjoying the gentle warmth of the spring. After all, there will be plenty of time for deeper conversations later—you have two whole weeks ahead of you.
The morning passes in peaceful quiet, interrupted only by the occasional birdsong or the sound of water lapping against the stone edges of the hot spring. You find yourself drifting in and out of a light doze, lulled by the warmth and Seti's steady presence beside you.
"We should get out soon," Seti eventually says, his voice pulling you from your half-sleep. "Your skin is getting wrinkled, and you need to eat again."
"Five more minutes," you murmur, not wanting to leave this perfect cocoon of warmth and comfort.
"You said that fifteen minutes ago," he points out, but makes no move to disturb you. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your uninjured shoulder, sending pleasant shivers down your spine despite the heat.
"Did I?" you ask, finally opening your eyes to look up at him. The sunlight filtering through the trees casts dappled shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the unusual gold of his eyes. For a moment, you're struck by how beautiful he is—not just handsome, but beautiful in an otherworldly way that reminds you he's not human.
"Yes, you did," he confirms, a hint of a smile playing on his lips—an almost-smile that has grown more frequent throughout your time at the cabin. "And now we're getting out." Without pausing for any further protest, he stands, water cascading down his tanned skin as he rises from the hot spring.
You can't help but be captivated by him, your gaze drawn to the lean muscles of his torso, the way his wet hair clings to his neck, and the fox ears that sit naturally atop his head. He extends a hand to help you up, and you accept it, allowing him to support your weight as you rise on slightly unsteady legs.
"The hot spring always makes me light-headed," you explain as he steadies you with a firm grip on your elbow.
"It's because you stayed in too long," he chides, reaching for your robe and aiding you as you slip into it. "And you probably need something to eat."
You hold back from arguing, knowing he is probably right. Once you both don your robes, Seti adjusts his own around his waist, allowing his tail to peek out from beneath the fabric, still damp from the water. You observe as it swishes back and forth, a clear indication that he's deep in thought.
"What?" you ask as he leads you back toward the cabin.
"Nothing," he replies too quickly, ears twitching.
"Liar," you say, nudging him gently with your uninjured side. "You're lost in thought again. I can always tell because your tail swishes like that when you're contemplating something."
Seti's ears flatten slightly. "I was just thinking about what to make for lunch."
You don't believe him for a second but decide not to push it. Inside the cabin, the air feels cool against your heated skin, raising goosebumps along your arms. Seti notices immediately, guiding you to sit on the couch before disappearing into the bedroom. He returns moments later with a soft blanket, which he wraps around your shoulders.
"I'm not cold," you protest, though you snuggle into the blanket's warmth anyway.
"After spending so much time in hot water, your body temperature drops," Seti explains in a matter-of-fact tone. "You need to keep warm while your body readjusts."
"I know that," you murmur, yet you can't help but feel grateful for his thoughtfulness. "I'm an exorcist, you know. Basic first aid comes with the territory."
"You clearly overlook that when it comes to your own well-being," he replies, heading to the kitchen. "I'm making soup for lunch."
You watch him from your cocoon of blankets as he moves efficiently around the kitchen, gathering ingredients and starting a pot on the stove. There's something mesmerizing about observing Seti cook—the same precision and focus he brings to battle is evident in the way he chops vegetables and measures spices.
"I thought you preferred your fox form," you call to him, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. "Yet, you've been in your human form for nearly the entire time."
Seti continues chopping without looking up. "I told you, it's easier to take care of you like this."
“But it's tiring for you, isn't it? When that’s done, you can change back into your fox form. I’ll serve myself once it’s finished.”
His hands hover briefly over the cutting board, knife poised in mid-air. "I'm fine," he replies, resuming his chopping with perhaps excessive force. "I've sustained this form for much longer periods before."
"That doesn't mean it's comfortable for you," you point out, studying his profile. There's a tension in his shoulders that wasn't there before.
Seti lets out a sigh, placing the knife down as he turns to face you. "Would you prefer me to return to my fox form?" he asks, his golden eyes locking onto yours.
The question catches you off guard. "I... no, that's not what I meant," you reply hastily. "I just don't want you to be uncomfortable for my sake."
His expression softens a bit. "I'm not uncomfortable." He turns back to the soup, adding the chopped vegetables to the simmering broth. "This form has its advantages."
"Like what?" you ask, genuinely curious. You've rarely seen him remain human for so long voluntarily.
Seti's tail swishes behind him as he stirs the pot. "Like being able to do this," he says, gesturing to the cooking food.
"And it's easier to do this," he adds after a moment's hesitation, leaving the spoon in the pot to approach you. He sits beside you on the couch, one hand coming up to cup your face. His touch is warm against your skin as he leans in to press his lips against yours in a gentle kiss.
His fingers weave through your hair, mindful not to disturb your injured shoulder as he deepens the kiss. You eagerly respond, your uninjured arm encircling his neck to draw him closer.
As he finally pulls away, his golden eyes are clouded with an emotion rarely seen so openly. "That would be awkward in my fox form," he says dryly, yet his voice carries a husky quality that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.
"Very awkward," you agree, slightly breathless. "I see your point about the advantages."
His lips curl into an almost-smile. "I thought you might," he says, standing up and moving back to the stove, where the soup is beginning to boil. "The food will be ready soon," he adds.
You observe him as he stirs the soup, captivated by the fluid grace of his movements. Here, away from the pressures of your work, he reveals a different side—a softness that seldom emerges from his typically gruff demeanor.
"What?" he asks without turning around, ears twitching in your direction.
"Nothing," you reply, smiling to yourself. "Just thinking."
"Dangerous pastime," he mutters, but there's no bite to his words.
The soup smells delicious, rich with herbs and vegetables. Your stomach growls in anticipation, reminding you that the hot spring has made you hungrier than you realized.
"Almost ready," Seti announces, testing the broth with a spoon. He nods in satisfaction before ladling the steaming soup into two bowls. He brings them to the small table in front of the couch, setting them down carefully before returning to the kitchen for spoons and a loaf of bread.
"This looks amazing," you say as he settles beside you, closer than necessary.
"It's just soup," he replies dismissively, though his ears twitch with pleasure at the compliment.
The first spoonful confirms your expectations: the broth is rich and flavorful, warming you from the inside out. You hum with appreciation as you take another spoonful eagerly.
"Good?" Seti asks, watching you with those intense golden eyes.
"Delicious," you confirm, tearing off a piece of bread to dip into the broth. “I always forget how amazing a cook you are until you cook again. It’s so rare.”
“You can cook your own food," Seti reminds you. "There's no need for me to cook when you are already a good cook.”
"It's different when you cook it though," you say between spoonfuls. "There's something... I don't know, almost magical about it."
Seti scoffs, but his tail swishes with pleasure behind him. "It's not magic. It's experience. When you've been alive as long as I have, you pick up skills."
"How many skills do you have that I don't know about?" you ask, genuinely curious. Even after all these years together, there are still aspects of Seti's long existence that remain a mystery to you.
He pauses to reflect, his golden eyes appearing distant as if peering back through the ages. "Many," he finally responds, "most have little relevance in today's world."
"Like what?" you press, setting your empty bowl aside. The soup has left you feeling warm and content, and the pain in your shoulder is reduced to a dull throb.
Seti's ears twitch as he finishes his bowl of soup. "I can navigate by the stars without any modern tools. I can track prey across the endless desert sands, even when there are no visible tracks. I can converse in languages that have long since faded away." He shrugged nonchalantly, as if these extraordinary skills were of little importance. "But like I mentioned, they’re irrelevant now.”
"I don't think they're irrelevant at all," you say softly, reaching out to touch his hand. "They're part of who you are."
Seti's eyes meet yours, something ancient and unfathomable flickering in their golden depths. "Perhaps," he concedes. "But they're not useful for protecting you in this era."
"Is that all you think about? Protecting me?" The question slips out before you can stop it.
His ears flatten slightly. "It's my primary purpose to be your familiar. But I do think about other things, however, most of my thoughts are centered around you."
“Really? Most of them?” you ask, struggling to believe that the majority of his thoughts are about you.
Seti stares at the blank TV screen, his mind turning over the question. “Actually, when I think about it, I was mistaken.”
You roll your eyes in response. “See, I knew—”
“All of my thoughts revolve around you.”
Your mouth goes dry, and you wonder what that means. Is it a good sign or a bad one? “What?” Your stomach twists in knots, struggling to grasp his implication. A flicker of hope sparks within you.
“I’m your protector, so shouldn’t my thoughts always be about you?”
And just like that, the little spark of hope you had is extinguished. “Is that really how you see yourself? Only as my protector?" you reply, turning to face him completely.
Seti's tail stills, a rare occurrence that signals you've touched on something significant. "It's what I am," he says carefully. "What I've always been, for all my masters."
"But we are more than just that," you insist, a tone of confusion filling your voice as you reach for his arm. "Aren't we?"
He doesn't pull away from your touch, but his expression grows guarded. "What are you asking, ______?"
His direct question catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily uncertain. What are you really asking? Over the years, the boundaries between you have blurred—the caring familiarity and your role as his master gradually evolving into something neither of you has openly acknowledged.
"I'm asking if you see me as just another master," you finally say, meeting his golden gaze. "Or if I'm... something else to you."
Seti is silent for so long that you begin to regret asking. His ears flatten against his head, and his tail wraps tightly around his own leg—a defensive posture you've rarely seen.
"You already know the answer to that.”
"I don't know the answer," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "That's why I'm asking."
Seti's golden eyes scan your face, searching for something concealed within it. His tail unwinds from his leg, swaying gently behind him—a clear sign of his uncertainty, a rare emotion for him to show so openly. Then, an expression of annoyance flashes across his features. "Do you really think I kiss all my masters?”
Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. "I... I wouldn't know. You've never talked about your previous masters."
"Because they're irrelevant," Seti says firmly, his ears twitching with barely contained emotion. "None of them were you."
The weight of his words hangs between you, heavy with implication. Your heart beats faster as you process what he's saying—what he's admitting after all these years.
"So I am different," you say, seeking confirmation.
Seti emits a sound that is part growl and part sigh. "Of course you're different. I wouldn't be here, in this form—" he gestures to his human body, "— if you weren't. Dealing with the discomfort of this form.”
"Discomfort?" you repeat, a hint of concern crossing your face. "You said it wasn't uncomfortable."
"I lied," he admits bluntly. "Maintaining this form for extended periods is taxing.”
"Then why do it?" you ask, immediately feeling guilty. "You don't have to stay like this for me. I know how much you prefer your fox form."
Seti pulls back slightly and stares at you. “Why?” he asks, his tone dripping with mockery. “______, you’re not an idiot. Stop pretending to be one; it’s irritating. I can’t take care of you in that form.”
“I can take care of myself, Seti.”
Seti leans forward, reaching for the bandages and salve for your shoulder. “Can you? Let’s see. Remove those bandages and replace them with new ones.”
Your eyes flicker from the bandages to Seti’s face. “I mean, I would, but you’ve already changed them so…okay, fine. I do need you in this form to help with my shoulder. But, you don’t have to stay like this? My shoulder will be fine for the next few hours. Seti, I don’t want to stress you out.”
He takes a deep breath and speaks in a language you don’t understand. You can’t tell if his words are more directed at you or at himself, but you sit quietly, wanting to give him a moment to breathe.
Seti's golden eyes narrow as he studies your face. "You're not stressing me out," he says firmly, setting the bandages and salve on the table. "That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?" you ask, genuinely confused. "You just said maintaining this form is taxing."
Seti's ears flatten against his head, a sure sign of his frustration. "It is taxing. But that doesn't mean I'm doing it solely for your benefit." His tail swishes behind him in agitation. "Has it occurred to you that I might have my own reasons for wanting to be in this form right now?"
"What reasons?" you press, your curiosity piqued.
Rather than responding with words, Seti leans in closer, his lips finding yours in a soft yet passionate kiss. His hand gently cradles the back of your neck, keeping you steady as he deepens the connection between you. When he finally pulls away, you're both breathing heavily.
"That reason," he says simply, his voice rougher than usual. "I can't do that as a fox."
"Oh," you breathe, your heart racing.
“Yes, oh,” Seti leans back on the sofa. “Do you realize that I am not obligated to keep you alive when you are not fighting? I don’t have to use this form to take care of you, nor do I need to treat your injuries. I have allowed so many before you to die.” He admits, “I didn’t care for them. If they succumbed later due to their wounds, that was never my concern.”
His words hit you like a physical blow, forcing you to consider what he's really saying. "But you care for me," you whisper, the realization washing over you in waves. "You've always cared for me."
"I care more than I should," he confesses, his golden eyes fixed on yours. "More than is wise for a familiar." His tail wraps gently around your wrist, as though he fears you might draw away now that he's revealed his feelings. "I've existed for millennia, served countless masters, and never have I..." He pauses, clearly frustrated by his struggle to express what he means.
"You never what?" you prompt gently, your heart hammering in your chest.
"I never wanted to be more than what I was," he finally says. "A familiar. A protector. A weapon to be wielded against demons." His hand reaches up to cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly tender for someone so typically gruff. "Until you."
You lean into his touch, briefly closing your eyes. "When did you know?" you ask, curious about when his feelings had shifted from duty to something more.
Seti's ears twitch thoughtfully as he processes your question, then he pulls his hand away, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Really? Do we have this conversation while you’re injured?"
When you nod, he runs a hand over his face. “_____, I’ve been in love with you for years. Now, you need to rest.”
Your breath hitches in your throat, stunned by his admission. For years, you'd danced around this unspoken truth, but to hear Seti say it out loud sends a rush of warmth flooding through you. The warmth battles with the throbbing ache in your shoulder, but in that moment, nothing else matters.
"You—what?" You manage to stammer, barely able to process the weight of his words.
Seti sighs, shaking his head. “I’m sorry ______, but we’re not going to do the I didn’t know bullshit. We both knew. Just like I know you love me. Now, can we focus on the fact that you need to heal instead of discussing feelings?"
Your heart races at his straightforwardness, but there’s an unexpected comfort in it too. The truth you both had been skirting around is now laid bare before you. "I—" you start to protest, but he raises a hand to silence you.
“Stop,” Seti says, his tone gentle yet firm. “We can discuss this later. Right now, your priority is resting and recovering.”
“No. I want to talk about it now.”
Sighing, Seti relaxes on the sofa and stares at you. “Fine, talk.”
You freeze, staring at him. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Probably because there isn’t much to say. It’s pretty straightforward and I’ve already said it.”
“Seti, I love you too.”
“I’ve been aware for years, we’ve both known.”
You gaze at him, his robe loosened to reveal more of his chest. While you’re certain your attraction is evident, he seems to conceal his feelings quite effectively. "Seti, are you sure you’re attracted to me?”
He frowns at you, his expression a clear mask of disapproval. His eyebrows knit together as he processes the flow of the conversation. “_____,” he murmurs, leaning in closer until his breath lightly mingles with yours, his lips tantalizingly close to your own. “I’ll show you just how attracted to you I am.” It feels as if he is about to seal the moment with a kiss, but he suddenly pulls back, leaving you breathless with anticipation. “Once your shoulder is better.” In an instant, he shifts back into his fox form.
Your heart sinks as Seti shifts back into his fox form, the abrupt change from tension to a scolding caretaker leaving you disoriented. The comforting warmth of his presence fades as he curls up next to you once more, his golden eyes glinting with disapproval.
"You're just teasing me now," you say, a hint of frustration in your voice as you cross your arms and furrow your brow. "That's not fair."
Seti tilts his head, his ears twitching slightly. "I'm not teasing you, idiot," he insists, a hint of frustration in his tone. "I’m genuinely concerned about your injuries, and that's what you should be focusing on right now.” He scolds.
You let out an exasperated sigh, huffing in annoyance. "I’m perfectly capable of discussing feelings and taking care of my injuries at the same time."
Seti shakes his head, visibly irritated. “Idiot, you are injured. Rest and then we can get back to the topic.” He growls, clearly frustrated by your stubbornness.
Frustration courses through you. “Fine, I’ll rest,” you concede reluctantly. “But only because I want to talk about it more when I’m up to it. And believe me, I will be.”
“I’m sure you will be,” Seti replies dryly, his golden eyes glinting with intelligence as he watches you. “But for now, let’s focus on your recovery and keeping you from doing anything stupid. Take a nap ______.”
———————
A few hours later, you awaken to Seti gently sliding your robe off your shoulders. You stir in bed, struggling to comprehend what’s happening. “Seti?”
“You’ve been asleep for eight hours," he says, frowning as his gaze lingers on your shoulder. “Not only is it time for dinner, but you also need to change your bandages. Sit up so I can take care of that." Still half-asleep, your robe slips from your shoulders, pooling loosely around your waist. When his eyes remain fixed on the injury, you furrow your brows. “Are you really attracted to me?”
“I’m sure.” He replies bluntly, tossing the old bandages into the trash and reaching for the salve. “I’m not a horny teenager ______.”
You blink at his relaxed response, caught off guard by the surprising difference between his laid-back tone. "You're not a horn—what? Seti, that’s not exactly romantic.”
His golden eyes meet yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "Romance isn't my strong suit, let’s be clear," he states flatly as he prepares the fresh bandages. "But attraction is still quite real."
You can't help but chuckle softly at his gruffness. "You sound like a textbook." The warmth of his presence beside you brings a flutter to your chest, coaxing out a playful glint in your voice. “Surely you can be a bit more poetic about it.”
Seti rolls his eyes, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "I’d prefer to keep you alive rather than recite poetry," he says, leaning in to examine your shoulder with keen interest. His gaze then shifts back to the matter at hand. "Besides, I doubt you'd appreciate it if I suddenly transformed into someone like that.”
You feel his fingers lightly brush against your skin once more, and a comforting warmth spreads through your abdomen as he carefully applies the soothing salve. He leans in closer, his presence palpable as you sense the heat emanating from his body. "_______, I think you should rest more," he murmurs, a note of concern in his voice, "you keep saying odd things. I don’t like it." He lets out a soft sigh and gently pushes you back onto the plush bed. Starting at your throat, he trails one claw delicately down your body, gliding between your breasts until he reaches the tie of your robe. "I’m going to make dinner. You rest more," he stares at you a moment before leaning down again, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.
------------------------
A few days later, you’re finally healed enough that Seti stops mothering you, or at least, stops being overbearing about the injury.
You sink into the water, staring at the fox sitting beside you. “Seti, it’s unfair how beautiful you are.”
"Are you saying I look better as a human?" Seti interjects, his ears twitching.
"You are more than better-looking," you say, laughing softly. "You're the most attractive person I've ever seen."
"That's not saying much," he mutters, his ears twitching as you splash him back in retaliation. “I remember your high school crushes," he adds, a look of disgust crossing his face. “You really have awful taste.”
“I was trying to make you jealous; did it work?”
“Well, you’ve never had a boyfriend, so you tell me.”
Memories wash over you, warming your cheeks as you sink deeper into the soothing water. "Why didn’t you mention it earlier?" you inquire. "I was worried I’d have to push you to say it."
"I nearly bit you when you mentioned marriage and children,” he says, his tail flicking in disdain. "You're oblivious."
"You don't react to anything," you complain, splashing him again. "What was I supposed to think?"
Seti growls, the sound vibrating in the air between you. "You were supposed to know." He reaches out, catching you off guard as he pulls you close.
You feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the heat of the water mingling with the warmth from your flushed cheeks. "I wasn't sure," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.
"Idiot," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that contradicts his harsh words. His arms encircle you, holding you close to him. "You can be such an idiot."
You shift slightly, bringing your arms up to encircle his neck. "If I'm such an idiot, why do you love me so much?"
His golden eyes meet yours, and for a moment, they hold an intensity that makes your heart skip. "That," he says, his mouth so close to yours that it's hard to focus on what he's saying, "is the real mystery."
Before you can respond, he closes the gap, kissing you with a fierceness and confidence that steals your breath away. This time, there's no holding back, no careful avoidance of your shoulder or hesitation in his movements. You're acutely aware of every point where your bodies press together, the sensation amplified by the heat of the water and the clarity of knowing that this is real—finally, irreversibly real.
When you eventually pull apart, the world feels quiet and still around you, the only sound being the gentle lapping of water against the rocks. You rest your head against Seti's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart and savoring how his arms hold you as though you might slip away at any moment.
"Are you going to get tired of taking care of me?" you ask, curious whether it will be enough for him in the years to come.
Seti’s lips brush against your hair, a soft snort escaping him. "Not when you're always finding yourself in ridiculous situations that need my help." "But what happens when I'm old and wrinkled?" you counter, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "Especially now that you're stuck with me?"
Seti's ears twitch at the mention of being stuck. "Your limited lifespan is troubling," he admits, his expression growing serious for a moment. "But as long as you are alive, I will be by your side. There won't be anyone else for me."
“You’re going to be with an old grandma?”
Seti raises a brow. “Grandma? If you become a grandmother, I would be the grandfather. So, it really wouldn’t be that odd.”
"Grand... father?" You blink at him, the weight of the word settling in. "Did you just imply you want kids?" Seti makes a sound of exasperation.
"You’d be a good dad," you tell him, winding your arms around his chest just a little tighter. "Do you think you’ll be less of a grumpy old man with a family, or the same? Imagine you get more grumpy." He mutters something under his breath in the ancient language you don't understand. The words are familiar, ones he's used many times when you're being "difficult," as he calls it. His hands touch your shoulders, nudging you back to look into his eyes. "I mean it," he says softly. "Being with you is enough. More than I ever expected." Exasperation mingles with the tenderness in his voice as he continues, "Whatever comes from that—a family or just the two of us here without anyone else—I'll be there with you. You’d never be able to get rid of me."
"I never want to," you reply, a warmth blooming in your chest that has nothing to do with the water. "You know that, don’t you?"
Seti's tail entwines around your waist, drawing you even closer. "As long as we're on the same page about that," he says, his voice laced with both sarcasm and affection.
You hold him tightly, already imagining the years ahead. There's a sense of relief, a release of all the uncertainty that has hung between you, and you find yourself almost giddy with the possibilities. Seti, ever stubborn, is yours in a way he has never been anyone else's, and this realization fills you with a deep sense of contentment.
“Can we have sex tonight?”
“Really?” Seti rolls his eyes. "You get me monologuing about love and babies and your only response is asking for sex."
"What can I say? You're that hot."
His ears flick in annoyance. You reach up and tug on them, “You don’t want to?”
“Right now?”
“Yeah.”
Seti sighs, “You’re already so demanding. I guess I did promise to show you how attracted I am to you.” His eyes scan your body.
You pull him in for another kiss, feeling his lips curve into a smile. Seti's hands find your waist, holding you steady as he shifts into motion, carrying you from the hot spring with ease. He strides toward the cabin, water dripping from his sandy hair, his damp body impossibly warm against yours. The night air is crisp and filled with the promise of everything yet to come.
“I am going to keep you up late,” you tease in his ear.
Seti lets out a growl that reverberates through your chest. "______, I’ll be surprised if you can last more than one round.”
“Really? But you’re the old man.”
“And you’re a virgin.” Seti huffs back. “Stop being smug, you’re about to be screaming under me.”
Your eyes widen at his blunt statement, a flush spreading across your cheeks. "Someone's confident," you manage to reply, trying to match his directness despite the butterflies in your stomach.
"It's not confidence, but knowledge," Seti asserts, effortlessly pushing open the cabin door with his shoulder as he walks through. Water drips from both of you onto the wooden floor, yet he appears unfazed. "I've lived for thousands of years; I know what I'm doing."
"That doesn't mean you know what I like," you counter, though your voice lacks conviction.
Seti's golden eyes lock with yours, something primal flickering in their depths. "I've been by your side since you were a child. I know everything about you—what makes you laugh, what makes you cry," his voice drops to a whisper as his lips brush against your ear, "what makes you moan in your sleep."
A shiver runs through you that has nothing to do with the cool air. "You—that's not fair."
"I never claimed to be fair," he replies, carrying you through the bedroom doorway. With unexpected tenderness, he lays you on the bed, his body hovering above you like a predator that has finally caught its prey. Drops of water slide from his hair onto your chest, creating cool trails down your heated skin.
"You might know me," you say, reaching up to touch his face, "but I want to know you too. Properly."
Something flickers in Seti's eyes—vulnerability, perhaps, or surprise. It disappears as swiftly as it appears, replaced by a heat that makes your breath catch. "Then learn," he challenges, his voice a low rumble that you feel more than hear.
You pull him down to you, claiming his mouth with a boldness that surprises even you. His lips part against yours, and you taste the mineral tang of the hot spring still on his tongue. Your hands explore the unfamiliar terrain of his body—the lean muscles of his shoulders, the dip of his spine, and the softness of his fox ears that twitch at your touch.
Seti growls into your mouth, the sound vibrating through your entire body. His hands are everywhere at once, leaving trails of fire in their wake. When he breaks the kiss to move his lips down your neck, you gasp at the sensation of his teeth grazing your skin. Your hands tangle in his sandy hair, holding him close as he explores your body with a deliberate pace that has you trembling beneath him.
"Seti," you breathe, arching into his touch as his mouth moves lower, across your collarbone and down to your breast. His tongue circles your nipple before he takes it between his lips, drawing a moan from deep in your throat.
"I told you," he murmurs against your skin, his voice dripping with smugness. "I know exactly what you like."
You want to protest and maintain some semblance of control, but when his hand slides between your thighs, all thoughts of argument vanish. His touch is precise and confident, finding the exact spot that makes your breath hitch and your fingers dig into his shoulders.
"Wait," you gasp, trying to collect your scattered thoughts. "I want to touch you too."
Seti pauses, lifting his head to meet your gaze. The gold of his eyes is nearly eclipsed by his dilated pupils, evidence of his desire. "You will," he promises, his voice rough. "But first, I want to taste you."
Before you can respond, he's moving down your body. He pauses, his eyes snapping back up to you. “If anything hurts or makes you uncomfortable, tell me.”
“Seti it’s-”
“No, _____. If we’re going to have sex, you need to tell me if something is uncomfortable or hurts.”
"I promise," you say, touched by his concern despite the heat of the moment. "I'll tell you if anything hurts."
He shakes his head. “That’s not good enough. I want you to tell me if I do anything you don’t like or makes you uncomfortable too.”
"I'll tell you if anything doesn't feel right."
Seti nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer. His eyes hold yours for a moment longer before he continues his journey down your body, leaving a trail of kisses along your stomach. Your breath quickens in anticipation as he settles between your thighs, his warm breath teasing against your most sensitive area.
The first touch of his tongue makes you gasp, your back arching off the bed. His hands grip your hips firmly, holding you steady as he explores you with deliberate, measured strokes. You feel yourself trembling, overwhelmed by sensations you've only imagined. Your fingers tangle in his sandy hair, uncertain whether to pull him closer or push him away from the intensity. But then he does something, and you jump, pulling yourself away from him instantly, eyes wide.
Seti sits back up on his knees, a look of confusion on his face. “Sorry, you didn’t like that?”
“No- I mean yes, I did. I uh, what was that?”
His brow furrows as he stares at you, “You don’t know where your clit is?”
Your eyes widen. “I do! I just didn’t. I mean, it felt-” Your face burns as Seti stares at you with a straight face.
"Different," you finish lamely, feeling your face burn even hotter. "It was just really intense."
A slow, self-satisfied smirk spreads across Seti's face. "That's the point."
"I know that," you protest, embarrassment mingling with desire. "I just wasn't expecting it to feel so..." You trail off, unable to find the right words.
Seti's golden eyes soften slightly, and he moves back up your body until his face is level with yours. "We can slow down," he says, his voice gentler than usual. "We have time."
“No,” you say quickly, feeling embarrassed. “I want to continue; I just wasn’t expecting it to feel like that. It felt good.”
"I want this," you affirm, reaching up to touch his face. "Please, don't stop."
Seti's eyes darken with renewed hunger. "If you're sure," he murmurs, already moving back down your body.
This time when his mouth finds you again, you're prepared for the intensity—or so you think. His tongue works with expert precision, circling your most sensitive spot before drawing it between his lips with gentle suction that makes you cry out. Your hands fist in the sheets as he explores you thoroughly, learning every response, every gasp, and every shudder.
"Seti," you moan, your hips rising involuntarily to meet his mouth.
He growls against you, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. His tongue flattens against you, making long, deliberate strokes that have you trembling. Then he changes tactics, flicking quickly against your clit with just the tip of his tongue until you're writhing beneath him.
"Stay still," he commands, his hands gripping your thighs more firmly.
When you continue to squirm, he drapes one arm across your hips, pinning you to the bed with surprising strength. The pressure of his arm holding you down only heightens your arousal, making you gasp with need.
"I told you to stay still," he murmurs softly against your sensitive skin, his warm breath sending delightful shivers through you. "Let me take care of you."
You try to obey, but it becomes increasingly difficult as his tongue works its magic. He alternates between broad, flat strokes that make your thighs tremble and precise, focused attention that has you seeing stars. When he slides a finger inside you while continuing his oral ministrations, you nearly come undone.
"Seti," you gasp, your hands finding his ears, fingers threading through his sandy hair. "Please..."
He responds by adding a second finger, curling them upward to find that perfect spot inside you. The dual sensation of his fingers stroking you from within while his tongue circles your clit with relentless precision is overwhelming. His movements are deliberate and confident, as if he's memorized a map of your pleasure.
Your breathing becomes ragged as tension builds low in your abdomen. Seti seems to sense how close you are, his movements becoming more focused, more deliberate. His tongue flattens against your clit, applying perfect pressure as he works his fingers inside you with practiced precision.
"Let go," he commands against your heated flesh, the vibration of his words sending shivers through your core.
When he takes your sensitive bud between his lips and sucks gently while curling his fingers upward, you shatter completely. Your release crashes through you like a tidal wave, your back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure radiate outward from your core. Seti doesn't relent, his tongue continuing its relentless attention as he works you through your climax, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure until you're gasping his name like a prayer.
His golden eyes watch you intently from between your thighs, pupils dilated with desire as he savors your response. The sight of him there, his face glistening with evidence of your pleasure, sends another aftershock through your body.
"Beautiful," he murmurs against your inner thigh, pressing a gentle kiss there before trailing his mouth upward. "Just as I imagined."
You're still trembling, your body hypersensitive as he moves back up to capture your lips. The taste of yourself on his tongue is strangely intimate, making you moan softly into his mouth. His hardness presses insistently against your thigh, a reminder that he's still unsatisfied.
"I want to touch you now," you say, your voice still breathless from your release. The confidence in your tone surprises even you.
Seti raises an eyebrow, his golden eyes glinting with amusement and something darker, more primal. "Is that so?" he asks, his voice low and rough.
"Yes," you reply, pushing gently against his chest. He allows himself to be guided onto his back, his sandy ears twitching with curiosity as you position yourself above him. "My turn to explore."
His tail swishes against the sheets, betraying his anticipation despite his controlled expression. "And what exactly do you plan to explore?"
Instead of answering, you lean down to kiss him, savoring the way his lips part eagerly for yours. Your hands trace the contours of his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. He's warm—almost unnaturally so—his skin radiating heat that seeps into your very bones.
You break the kiss to move lower, tracing your tongue along the column of his throat. Seti's breath hitches when you reach the junction where his neck meets his shoulder, and you smile against his skin, storing this discovery for future reference. Your hands continue their exploration, outlining the lean muscles of his abdomen, feeling them tense beneath your touch.
When your fingers brush against his length, Seti's tail wraps around your wrist, halting your movement. His golden eyes lock with yours, something vulnerable flickering in their depths.
"You don't have to," he says, his voice rougher than usual.
"I want to," you reply, meeting his gaze steadily. "I want to make you feel good too."
After a moment's hesitation, his tail unwraps from your wrist, giving you freedom to continue your exploration. You wrap your fingers around him, marveling at the velvet-soft skin covering rigid hardness. Seti's eyes close briefly, a soft groan escaping him as you begin to move your hand experimentally.
"Is this okay?" you ask, watching his face for signs of pleasure or discomfort.
"Yes," he breathes, his ears twitching slightly. "Just... a little tighter."
You adjust your grip, rewarded by the way his breath catches in his throat. Emboldened by his response, you lower your head, pressing an exploratory kiss to the tip of his length. Seti's sharp intake of breath encourages you, and you grow bolder, running your tongue along the underside of his shaft. His tail twitches against the sheets, his golden eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your heart race.
"You don't have to—" he begins, but his words dissolve into a groan as you take him into your mouth.
The taste of him is unfamiliar but not unpleasant—slightly salty with something uniquely Seti. You experiment, using your tongue to trace patterns along his length as you take him deeper. His hands find your hair, fingers tangling in it without pulling, simply holding on as if he needs an anchor.
"_____," he breathes, his voice strained in a way you've never heard before. The sound of your name on his lips like this sends a renewed wave of heat through your core.
You find a rhythm that seems to please him, taking him deeper with each downward motion. The way his breathing changes tells you you're doing something right. His hands tangle in your hair.
"That's—" His words cut off into a groan when you swirl your tongue around the sensitive head. His tail tightens around your thigh, and the soft fur contrasts with the tension in his body.
You pull back slightly, using your hand to stroke him while you catch your breath. "Am I doing this right?" you ask, looking up to meet his golden eyes.
Seti's ears are flattened against his head, a telltale sign of his arousal. "Yes," he manages, his voice rougher than you've ever heard it. "Don't stop."
Encouraged, you take him in your mouth again, hollowing your cheeks as you suck more firmly. The sound he makes—half growl, half moan—sends a pulse of heat straight to your core. You feel powerful, watching this ancient, powerful being come undone at your touch.
"Like this?" you murmur against his heated flesh before taking him in again, this time allowing your teeth to graze ever so lightly along his length.
Seti hisses, his hands tightening in your hair. "Careful with the teeth," he warns, though the strain in his voice betrays how much he's enjoying your attentions.
You adjust, focusing instead on hollowing your cheeks and creating suction as you move up and down his length. The weight of him on your tongue, the way his breathing grows increasingly ragged—it all fills you with a heady sense of power. This is Seti—your grumpy, ancient familiar who rarely shows vulnerability—coming undone beneath your touch.
You can feel him trembling beneath your ministrations, his control slipping with each passing moment.
Suddenly, his hands are on your shoulders, gently but firmly pulling you away. "Enough," he growls, his voice deeper than you've ever heard it. "I don't want to finish like this."
Before you can respond, he's flipped your positions, caging you beneath him with surprising strength. His golden eyes are almost black with desire, his ears flat against his head. "I want to be inside you," he says, his voice rough with need. "If you're ready."
Your heart pounds against your ribs, anticipation and nervousness mingling in your veins. "I'm ready," you whisper, reaching up to touch his face. "I want you, Seti."
He leans down to kiss you, the passion in his touch tempered by unexpected tenderness. "This might hurt at first," he murmurs against your lips. "Tell me if you need me to stop."
You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck to draw him closer. "I trust you."
Those three words seem to affect Seti more deeply than anything else you've said. His golden eyes soften momentarily, his ears twitching forward before flattening again with desire. "I know," he replies, his voice carrying a weight of emotion rarely displayed.
Positioning himself between your thighs, he braces his weight on one forearm while guiding himself to your entrance with his other hand. The first press of him against you makes you gasp, your body tensing slightly in anticipation.
"Relax," he murmurs, pressing feather-light kisses along your jawline. "Breathe for me."
You take a deep breath, willing your muscles to loosen as he begins to push forward. The stretch is unfamiliar, a burning sensation that makes you bite your lip. Seti watches your face intently, reading every micro-expression with those ancient, knowing eyes.
"Still okay?" he asks, pausing when he's only partially inside.
"Yes," you breathe, adjusting to the feeling of fullness. "Don't stop."
He continues with agonizing slowness, allowing your body time to accommodate him. When he finally seats himself fully within you, you both gasp in unison, overcome by the feeling of complete connection.
"You feel..." Seti trails off, his voice strained as he holds himself perfectly still above you. His tail wraps around your thigh, the soft fur a gentle caress against your skin.
"So do you," you whisper, your hands sliding up to cup his face. The fullness is intense but no longer painful, your body adjusting to accommodate him.
For a moment, neither of you moves, suspended in this new reality where you're joined as intimately as two beings can be. Then Seti lowers his head to capture your lips in a kiss that's surprisingly gentle, given the tension evident in every line of his body.
"I'm going to move now," he murmurs against your mouth, his golden eyes seeking permission.
You nod, your fingers threading through his sandy hair. "Please."
His first thrust is shallow and careful, his gaze never leaving your face as he gauges your reaction. When your breath catches in pleasure rather than pain, his ears twitch forward with satisfaction. He establishes a gentle rhythm, each movement sending sparks of pleasure radiating through your core.
"More," you breathe, your hands sliding down to his shoulders, feeling the muscles flex beneath your fingertips. "Please, Seti."
His growl vibrates through you as he complies, his thrusts becoming deeper, more deliberate. The initial discomfort has faded completely, replaced by waves of pleasure that build with each movement of his hips. His tail tightens around your thigh, the soft fur adding another layer of sensation to the overwhelming experience.
"You're perfect," he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion and desire. His golden eyes hold yours, refusing to let you look away as he moves within you. There's something profoundly intimate about the way he watches you—as if he's memorizing every expression, every gasp, every flutter of your eyelashes.
You wrap your legs around his waist, changing the angle and drawing him even deeper. The new position pulls a groan from Seti's throat, his ears flattening completely against his head in pleasure. His pace increases slightly, each thrust more confident than the last as he learns what makes you respond.
"Seti," you gasp, feeling tension building low in your abdomen once more. "I think I'm—"
"I know," he interrupts, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "I can feel it." He shifts his weight slightly, changing the angle to hit that perfect spot inside you with each thrust. "Let go for me again."
His hand slides between your bodies, finding where you're joined. The first touch of his fingers against your sensitive bud makes you cry out, your back arching off the bed. The dual sensation of him moving inside you while his fingers move in slow circles on your clit is overwhelming.
"Seti!" His name falls from your lips like a prayer as your second climax crashes through you, more intense than the first. Your inner walls clench around him, drawing a feral growl from deep in his chest.
His rhythm falters as he watches you come undone beneath him. "Beautiful," he murmurs, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. "So beautiful."
As the waves of pleasure begin to recede, you become aware of Seti still moving within you, his thrusts more deliberate now, more focused. His breathing is ragged, his ears flat against his head—a sure sign he's close to his own release.
"Can I come inside you?” Seti whispers, his voice strained with need. "Or should I pull out?"
Your heart races at his question, at the raw vulnerability in his golden eyes. "Inside," you breathe, pulling him closer. "I want to feel all of you."
His growl reverberates through your entire body as his pace increases, his control finally slipping. His tail tightens around your thigh almost to the point of pain, but you welcome it, wanting every sensation he can give you. When his release finally comes, it's with your name on his lips—not a shout, but a reverent whisper that somehow feels more intimate than anything that came before.
You feel him pulsing inside you, his body shuddering with the force of his climax. His forehead drops to rest against yours, his breathing ragged as he tries to recover. For several long moments, neither of you speaks, content to exist in this perfect bubble where nothing else matters.
Eventually, Seti shifts his weight to avoid crushing you, though he makes no move to separate your bodies just yet.
"Are you okay?" he asks, his golden eyes searching yours, looking for any sign of discomfort or regret.
"I'm more than okay," you reply, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips. "That was..." Words fail you, and you shake your head slightly, overwhelmed by the intensity of what you've just shared.
Seti's ears twitch forward, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I know," he says simply, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm.
Eventually, he eases himself from your body, both of you wincing slightly at the separation. But he doesn't go far, merely shifting to lie beside you, one arm draped possessively across your waist. His tail, still wrapped around your thigh, provides a comforting warmth.
"I should get something to clean us up," he murmurs, though he makes no immediate move to leave.
"In a minute," you reply, turning to curl against his chest. "Just... stay like this for a bit."
Seti complies without argument, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back.
“I love you, Seti.”
"I love you too," he says simply, the words rumbling through his chest beneath your ear.
You tilt your head up to look at him, finding his golden eyes already watching you with an intensity that still makes your breath catch. His ears are relaxed.
Seti watches as your eyelids begin to droop and sighs, “_____, are you falling asleep? We should clean up first.”
“Just a couple hours.” You whisper, unable to keep your eyes open. “You were right, I don’t have as much stamina as you.” You admit before succumbing to exhaustion.
Seti sighs, letting you sleep for a few moments before gently pulling away from you. Even if you have fallen asleep, he can still help you clean up. As he walks from the bedroom to the bathroom, he pauses, staring at a photo. Memories of the man on his deathbed flash through his mind—how he swore he’d only allow Seti to be your familiar if he never touched you, if Seti promised to never share his feelings and kept everything platonic. His eyes narrow at the old man in the picture. “I lied.” He states bluntly.
Turning away from the photo, Seti returns to the bathroom and dampens a cloth with warm water. The old man's conditions echo in his mind—promises made at a deathbed that he never intended to keep. Not when it came to you.
A/N: sorry for the wait, writing fluff doesn't come easy to me...
but damn, I am incredibly thankful for everyone that has been engaging with this fic! 💌 it's been a pleasure, and I can't wait to create more for you wonderful people! ✨️
[Six Weeks Later]
"Had a nightmare again?"
Mark's half-lidded eyes were locked on you, wiping his wettened lashes dry before nuzzling against your chest again. He had fallen asleep on top of you while cuddling on the sofa, seeming rather peaceful until suddenly he had started getting restless and whisper concerning things in his sleep.
Those present days his only trouble was an irrational fear that he might hurt you during one of his night-terrors, and yet he was also too anxious of losing you again to not be at your side 24/7. So he had taken on the habit to simply hold you in his arms as and forcing himself to stay awake, admiring and protecting you even throughout the whole night.
Most of the time he'd just randomly pass out due to exhaustion, just like it had happened earlier. It's a miracle how he can even be functioning on so little rest, but Mark kept assuring you he's had it worse before and sadly, you did take his word for it.
"Mhh..." He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shun out the unpleasant memories haunting his dreams and instead concentrates on your heartbeat in order to calm his own.
You're alive. You're here with him. This is real.
"A true nightmare would be waking up and see you gone" your boyfriend mumbled shyly as his panicked breathing slowly evens out, trailing an absentminded path of kisses along your collarbone.
Sometimes doubt would overcome him, thinking this was too good to be true, that maybe he just completely lost his mind and made it all up in his head.
"Hey, I'm with you" you coo sweetly, planting a wet kiss on the crown of his head. It's like you always have the words he needs to hear on the tip of your tongue.
"I know, I know..." Mark's grip on you loosens a bit, although his hands remained possessively hooked to your body. "Thank you."
You try sitting up but a noise of protest drang to your ear, making you giggle as the man climbed on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck to inhale your scent.
"Mark..." His mouth plays with the shell of your ear, making a pleasant shiver run down your spine. You let out a sensual sigh, hands disappearing under his shirt to feel up his muscular chest, before softly pushing him away. "We're already late..."
Your boyfriend sat up, still straddling your waist as his eyes darted throughout the room, trying to look anywhere but your face. "Are you, uh...are you sure William is okay with me accompanying you to his birthday party?"
"He specifically asked me to bring you along" you snicker, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt to pull him in for another kiss. He practically melts when he feels his lips move against yours, even after all this time. He'd never get tired of this, of you.
Mark's face is adorably flushed when you finally break contact, and you poke his chest in a teasing manner, offering him a cheeky grin. "So don't worry too much, okay?"
"Alright..." he murmurs under his breath, letting himself dramatically plummet onto you again. "Ugh, this is gonna be so awkward..."
Indeed...
With the sheer endless rebuild and trying to figure out your boyfriend's place in this world, there wasn't really much time for you to have a long overdue talk with this world's Mark and his girlfriend Eve.
"We need to get it over with eventually, right? The party is a great opportunity."
Those past weeks have been rather eventful, and frankly a lot is still complicated.
You haven't even let him meet your parents yet, since it'd be hard to explain why the man you're dating looks exactly like your childhood best friend down to the last minicule detail. A long lost twin, maybe? Damn, Cecil better earns his taxpayer's money and come up with something - it's a exhausting to keep your relationship a secret as technically, your boyfriend shouldn't exist in this dimension.
But ever since he was officially allowed to stay and roam freely, he's relentlessly working to make amends for his deeds.
He once confided in you that he's afraid of his father- no, Nolan's return to earth - because even though it's not the same version that tormented him all these years, he was afraid to relapse and lose control at the mere sight of him.
But that's a worry for another day. One step at a time.
Initially Cecil wanted your Mark to become the Guardian's new leader, however that 'the strongest leads' mindset was too similar to Viltrum culture for his liking. Not to mention he has yet to earn their trust, and is still not completely mentally stable.
When he first joined the team, everyone was - and frankly, still is - pretty wary, if not downright hateful towards him. After everything they needed to endure because of the variants, it's no wonder really. And yet, up until now they managed to swallow their feelings and treating him polite and respectful, though distanced, which is more than he could dare asking for.
A small victory is that the knowledge he got from his own timeline proved useful against many foes to come. Like that he's already indirectly averted so many dangers and saved countless lives!
One would think that after defeating an enemy as ferocious as Conquest through shared efforts, the two Marks would get along by now, right? But actually they were far from it, neutral at best.
Cecil insisted that both Marks could share their identity as Invincible, down to having the same costume and all. You were surprised that the original Mark had declined, as it would've certainly worked in his favor to have more free time and less responsibility. Seems like he was against having a variant - with questionable morals at best - act in his stead. You got the sentiment.
Your Mark on the other hand was willing to accept whatever circumstances he was handed, as long as it meant that the two of you could stay together. Besides that, he didn't really care about anything else.
Much to your delight at least, he's slowly but continuously getting better, with the help of a therapist the GDA had provided. You're a little distrustful of anyone working for them, but they basically owned your boyfriend by now - and also, there's no regular therapist on this earth that would be able to unpack all of his issues.
All that counts is that it's working. He's been unrecognizeable compared to his former self, getting out of his shell lately and cautiously opens up to other people and experiences again. It's truly heartwarming to see him try to enjoy life again, because he deserves nothing less.
You were so incredibly proud of the progress he made, and would do anything to support this wonderful, resilient and kind man leaving his dark past behind.
One prolonged shower the both of you took together later, and you were almost ready to leave for the evening.
"At least in my empire didn't have to wash the dishes anymore" you hear him whine ironically as he rummaged the kitchen, making you snicker. "I was soaking them!" you said in a fake offended tone, but you knew he was just stalling. "We can do them together later. Let's go!"
Looking around your rundown apartment sure makes one wonder how luxuriously he probably lived in his world. You were just glad to afford anything to live alone, but this sure must be a downgrade for him. "Now that you finally get payed by the GDA we could affort to move somewhere nicer? I mean you basically live with me already."
"Don't overthink it, I was just trying to be funny." You sulk a little, almost smearing your lipstick while applying. "Yeah, we need to work on your humor too apparently..."
"You know I wouldn't trade this- you for anything in the world...we could be living in a trashcan and I wouldn't complai- woah..." As Mark stepped into the entrance area his jaw dropped at your getup.
His eyes couldn't stop raking up and down your form, admiring how your outfit highlighted your body in all the right places. Anything from the way you wore your hair over the necklace he got you with his first paycheck, it was a sight to behold.
The most important accessory however was the radiant smile that appeared on your face when you noticed his reaction, so warm and bright that it felt as if bathing in sunlight itself.
"Wow, you, uh...you look incredible."
Only now he realized for how long he has been staring, and your innocent smile turned into a wide, amused one as you noticed the effect you had on him.
"The compliment goes right back!" You wink at him and Mark swings an arm around your shoulder, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. "How do I even deserve you?"
"It should be me asking that question" he insists, ignoring the way his stomach churns at the thought of meeting all of your friends. "Hurry up, before I change my mind."
7:20 pm and you're finally at the bowling alley, not even half an hour too late. A new record. And as you were soon told, the party didn't start until 10 minutes later - you were just given an earlier time since they knew Mark would be late in any dimension.
To be perfectly honest, you were surprised that William invited your boyfriend, yet kept quiet to not worry him any further. But a few weeks prior you tried to get them acquainted, and of course William had pestered Mark about his counterpart's fate - until the latter finally confessed having gruesomely killed him at his father's request.
You reassured him that it was William's fault for riddling him with so many uncomfortable questions, and that he shouldn't have asked if he can't handle the truth. Seems you were right at least, there's a reason they were best friends across so many timelines.
The two of you were the first to arrive, before the actual birthday boy even, and still you needed to coax your boyfriend - who was currently spiraling - inside like one would lure in a timid animal.
You could only imagine what went through everyone's mind as they entered one after anothe - especially since not only them, but also Amber and her new partner had come. Feeling the anxiety radiating off of him, you remained at your boyfriend's side, squeezing his hand ever so slightly to remind him you're not going anywhere.
"Kinda awkward, huh? The relationship dynamics are all over the place" William teased, before turning around and busying himself with playing. "Try to act like adults, I'm busy destroying all of you with my skills."
"You wish!" Eve seemed the least rigid out of all of you, jumping up and materializing a custom bowling ball as she joined the couple. At least she seemed approachable...you'd rather not want to be on the receiving end of such a powerful being's wrath.
To be perfectly honest, seeing the original Mark - your former and hopefully soon again friend - after all this time wasn't nearly as strange as you imagined it'd be. You were glad to see him of course, but other than that you felt nothing but a siblinglike bond between you - the heartache and unrequited love you had felt for so long had vaporized completely.
He wasn't your Mark after all.
A few drinks later the mood loosened up eventually - at least for those of you who could still be affected by alcohol.
"They seem to get along surprisingly well" Amber noted, taking a seat next to you and clinking her bottle with yours, before nodding towards the two Marks conversing in the background. "What are they taking about?"
"They're complaining about the animation of the new Seance Dog season, I think?" You roll your eyes and both of you break out in laughter. "It was the first thing he did after the whole war. Made me sit through the entire thing in one night."
"Glad to hear our world's Mark is not the only hopeless nerd" Eve commented as she joined you two, now effectively trapped in between Mark's ex and his current girlfriend.
You took a deep, shuddered breath, before trying to explain yourself. "Eve, hear me out, before you say anything, I didn't-"
"I know" she interrupted you anyways, shooting you a sympathetic look. "I think we all understand. No matter how crazy the situation is, I think we're used to stuff like this by now..." You huffed an uncomfortable laugh, but she was right wasn't she? "Amber and I have been through similar things not long ago. I had a crush on Mark when they were still together, but we talked it out and are still friends."
"Why would we even be mad?" Amber added, "You never acted on your feelings and respected our relationship with Mark."
"Still, it's just...weird, isn't it?" You're fidgeting with your fingers, eyes darting between your boyfriend and the floor. "I mean, I'm dating a different version of Mark, that's just-"
"But he's his own person. It's not like you're setting for him just because you couldn't get the original, right?"
"Of course not!" you blurt out mildly upset, though you had also once accused your boyfriend of using you as a rebound. "He's not a replacement. He's himself. Even though they look alike and share similar memories, my Mark is different in so many ways...I didn't even plan to, we just happened to fall for each other."
Yeah. It may have started wrong, but the two of you got to know each other beyond your unhealthy obsession for the concept of your other variants.
"I'm glad to hear that" Eve and Amber both lay a hand on your shoulder, proclaiming they're very happy for how things turned out for you and the alternate Mark...
...but were rudely interrupted by the TV volume increasing due to emergency news about a villain rampaging in a nearby city.
"Mark!" all three of you yell in unison, and both of them flinch at the sound and rush towards you.
"We may need to give them nicknames..." You chuckle at Eve's idea, turning your attention to your partner. "Maybe I should call you 'Sebastian' from now on, so we can distinguish you two better?"
"Whatever you say, babe!" he chirps like the lovestruck fool he is, before realizing what was going on. "Oh. I'll go take care of it!" He turns to the original Mark, determination present on his face. "You can stay with your friends."
"You mean our friends" the original corrects him, and both crack a appreciative smile at each other. "And I don't think so. How about we go together?"
"Sure!" his counterpart chants happily, giving you a last quick embrace from behind before going outside. "Should be quick work with the two of us, see ya soon!"
Later this night the two of you were entangled under the sheets, long since stripped of any clothing as you enjoyed the warmth of each other's body. Your boyfriend absentmindedly caresses your skin, raising goosebumps as his fingertips trace little paths across your curves.
"Sooo..." you ask curious, now facing him while you pepper countless kisses across his face. "Did you enjoy the evening after all?"
"You have no idea" he admitted, feeling as content with himself as never before. "It's been forever since things felt so...normal. Also..." His thumb gently stroke your cheek and you eagerly leaned into his touch. "Mark said that our- uh, his mom and brother want to meet me."
"Oh?" Seems like things were progressing even better than you anticipated. "Well, what did you say?"
"I couldn't object even if I wanted to. Opened my mouth and he directly cut me off by saying something like 'what's one more half-viltrumite to accept into the family?'"
"Yeah, sounds like them." You snort with laughter, tears of happiness forming in the brim of your eyes. "But I'm glad, really. There's so many good people who welcome you into their lives now. You are so, so loved, do you know that?"
Mark leans his forehead against yours, briefly closing the gap between your lips. "All thanks to you" he claims, his voice wavering with almost worship-like reverence.
"No, that was all you." He tends to take all the blame but rarely gives himself credit. After the tragic turn his life took, throughout all the pain and loss...in the end he chose to do what's right.
If anyone deserves a happy ending, it's him - and you will make sure he gets it.
"Do you think Angstrom will return one day?" You ask cautiously and in an instant your boyfriend has securely cradled you against his chest.
"Of course, that bastard is tough. Being driven by insanity does that to a man, I know what I'm talking about." His joke only caused you to frown, but the sanguine smile plastered on his face was contagious nonetheless. Not to mention you were too drunk and tired to argue anyway. "Don't worry. This time we're two Invincibles, and I'll make sure nothing happens to this world. It's my home now...because you are on it."
Mark proceeds to rub a soothing pattern between your shoulderblades, draping the blanket over both of you as he watched you slowly drift into sleep. He leans in to plant a last, lingering kiss atop of your temple, closing his eyes as well to indulge in this peaceful closeness.
"...maybe I should be thanking Angstrom, for making me meet the true love of my life..."
Imagine: No Goggles Mark finally found you, and he’s not letting you go. He’s playful, teasing, and completely unpredictable—both in battle and in the bedroom. You wanted him gone. He wanted you begging.
The air was thick with tension, your body already trapped between his and the wall before you even had time to react. No Goggles Mark had that look in his eyes—sharp, hungry, like he was a predator who had finally cornered his prey.
“You’ve been running,” he hummed, fingers ghosting down your sides, barely touching. “But why?” His lips curled into a grin. “Didn’t you miss me?”
His voice was playful, teasing, but there was something dark underneath—something that sent a shiver down your spine.
“I hate you,” you spat, glaring at him.
He chuckled. “Yeah?” He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “Then why’s your heart beating so fast?”
You swallowed hard, refusing to react when his hands finally landed on you, gripping your hips like he owned them. He wasn’t careful. He wasn’t hesitant. He pressed against you, letting you feel the heat of his body, the way he was already hard, already starving for you.
His teeth scraped over your jaw, sharp enough to make you suck in a breath. “You’re shaking,” he whispered, laughing under his breath. “Are you scared?”
You hated him. Hated the way he talked. Hated the way your body reacted to him. The way your pussy clenched for him. You were craving him-all of him. You hated it.
But most of all?
You hated that he was right.
His hands slid under your shirt, fingertips dragging over your skin, slow and deliberate. “I could rip this off,” he mused, his voice dipping lower. “But then I wouldn’t get to watch you squirm while I take my time.”
Your breath hitched.
He smirked. “Yeah. I love that sound.”
His lips finally crashed against yours, hot, messy, possessive. His teeth nipped at your lower lip before his tongue pushed into your mouth, not asking—taking. His hands slid lower, squeezing, kneading, pulling you closer until there was nothing between you but heat and friction. He pushed his knee between your legs.
And then—
He pulled back, his golden eyes dark with amusement as he looked down at you. “Tell me to stop.”
Your lips parted, the words right there—but they never came.
He grinned. “That’s what I thought.”
The moment Mark had you pinned beneath him, you knew you were in trouble.
Not the Oh no, I’m in danger kind of trouble. No—this was the He’s about to ruin me kind.
His hands were everywhere. Rough, greedy, possessive—like he couldn’t get enough, like he needed to touch every single inch of you just to prove that he could. He wasn’t just strong—he was unrelenting, stamina for days, pushing you to keep up with him like it was a challenge. He was putting you in so many positions. He had you seeing stars, shit he was making you see your ancestors.
The way his tip kissed your cervix everytime he thrusted, you could feel how tight it was, how warm and slick it was. Everytime he pulled out he could see the mess you were leaving on his dick. The noices your pussy was making.
Squelch
Squelch
everytime he pulled out he would make sure to rub the tip of his dick on your clit.
And god, was he smug about it.
“C’mon, babe,” he grinned, voice dripping with amusement as he flipped you over like you weighed nothing. “I know you can take it.”
He kept thrusting while your legs were on his shoulder, he was going crazy.
pap pap
He would see the outline of his dick everytime he thrusted in you. Mark pressed his palm on your stomach hard while he thrusted.
Your breath hitched
He was so cocky, so unhinged—laughing under his breath when you gasped, barely giving you a second to recover before he pushed you further.
He was enjoying this—too much.
“You like this, don’t you?” he murmured against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Being tossed around, bent however I want. You’re so flexible, babe—should’ve told me sooner.”
Mark flipped you over.
Ass up face down.
He thrusted without giving you a warning and started going at it like a bunny in heat.
Your face burned, the way his dick went even deeper had you acting stupid.
You loved it.
Your orgasm was so close.
pap pap pap
he lowered himself and started rubbing your clit while thrusting at an inhumane pace.
He was holding the bed frame until it broke.
"Haha, oops."
This send you over the edge. You started spasming as you came, mark wasn't stoping. You layed down exhausted as youn kept winning begging him to stop.
“Don’t tap out on me yet,” he teased, pinning your wrists above your head. “We’re just getting started.”
sinister mark who lost his version of you in his world, so when he makes his deal with angstrom, his ultimate goal is you. don’t let him catch you because he won’t even wait until he’s back in his own dimension, he’s got you in a mating press while he’s SUPPOSED to be wreaking havoc.
Sun Wukong x Fem!Reader (NSFW) (Slight Exhibitionism Warning)
(For the Prompt 'Stuffed' for my Discord Daily Prompts)
The ringing of your phone stuttered your rhythm and crashed the rising crest of your orgasm. Wukong groaned under you as he reached for the chiming device.
“I thought I turned off the alarms,” you said apologetically.
As he glanced at the screen to silence it, Wukong paused, eyebrow raising curiously. “Phone call; says it’s your boss.”
“What, seriously? They know I’m on vacation,” you huffed, ready to throw the phone out the window if it meant getting back to riding Wukong’s dick into another climax.
The instant his eyes lit up with mischief, you knew the monkey was plotting something devious. “But what if it’s something important?” he asked innocently. Before you could react, he had already answered the call.
“Hello? Are you there?” Your boss’s voice called down the line. Wukong offered the phone to you, his eyes dancing with challenge but leaving you to make the final choice.
You took the phone, fighting back a gasp as Wukong’s dick twitched in side you, and spoke up. “I’m here.”
“Hey! Sorry, I know you’re out of town but I just wanted to have a group call to go over projections before we go in for the meeting. Is that okay?”
Wukong was staring at you with the same question in his eyes. Nodding, you answered both a once. “Sure.”
“Wonderful. It won’t take long. So, for next quarter, we predict…” Whatever your boss said next went unheard.
A roll of Wukong’s hips pressed him deeper, reigniting the heat of your arousal into blazing need. You barely had time to mute your call before he grabbed you and thrust up, guiding you into a fast and hard rhythm.
“I can’t–ah ah AH!– believe you!”
“You didn’t have to– ah fuck, Peaches! – take the call,” Wukong groaned, tail wrapping around your waist in a loving squeeze. “Besides you won’t let me– ah fuck, so good– take care of you at work so this is the closest I can get!”
His speed picked up and his grip tightened, gentle claws prickling against your skin while his cock pounded away. Lust raced through you, trembling down your spine and burning in your belly. You leaned back, holding onto his legs as you bounced in time with his thrusts. When the angle hit just right in your pussy, a bolt of pure pleasure shot through you and you screamed.
“THERE! Right – AH! – there! Don’t STOP! So close! So CLOSE! Please please PLEASE!”
Wukong was a growling, panting mess underneath you. He rutted faster and faster, lost to instinct, chasing your building pleasures with a frantic passion. “Feels so good, Peaches! So wet, so TIGHT! Gonna fill you up so good, stuff you till your DRIPPING with me, and then–then –THEN–!”
He broke off into a feral snarl as your sensitive walls fluttered and twitched around him. Hilting himself with a final slam, Wukong let out a guttural groan and rope after rope of hot cum was pumped into your needy cunt.
The throb and heat so deep inside you finally sent you over the edge as well. Ecstasy washed through you in waves that your hips naturally followed, milking Wukong’s dick with stuttery clenches. You could feel him stuffing you with endless pulses, a warm swell filling your belly as seed overflowed between your joined hips.
Finally, the last whispers of orgasm settled and you collapsed against Wukong’s chest; a sweaty, trembling, sated mess. He nuzzled you close as you both caught your breath, slowly returning to your senses.
“–But I think our presentation look solid overall. Was here anything you think we should change?”
The tiny voice suddenly reminded you of the work call you just had sex in the middle of. Fumbling for the phone, you quickly unmuted it. “I think it sounds perfect,” you said, voice raspy and a little breathless from your lustful cries.
“Are you okay? You sound strange.”
“Sorry, I was feeling off earlier.” You pinned Wukong with a cheeky smile. “It was a bumpy ride getting here.”
Wukong had to physically cover his mouth to silence his laughter, his tail brushing against you in pure amusement.
Your oblivious boss hummed sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear that. Well, I won’t keep you, then. Feel better and enjoy the rest of your vacation!” Once the line disconnected, a giddy disbelief fluttered in your stomach and bubbled out in a giggle.
“I can’t believe we just did that,” you laughed, burying your face against Wukong’s furry chest.
“I can!” the monkey declared smugly. “In fact…” One moment you were snuggled against him in post-orgasmic bliss; the next, you had been rolled over and pinned to the sheets, Wukong hovering over you with a sharp smirk and heated eyes. “I plan on doing it many more times.”
Note: Dr. _____ will be your surname. Only _____ is your given name for this fic
Over 8000 words, I have been writing this for *months* Someone requested a Lucifer x doctor fic. If there is interest in this, I will write a part two with smut. But you've got to tell me if you want it because idk how good this is. Lucifer fans tell me. But don't make me cry i'm sensitive lmao
Now, Mephisto, Shima, and, of course, Amaimon fics are coming.
You lower your head, listening to the chief doctor scold you once again for something you didn’t do. After spending the whole night in the hospital, exhaustion weighs heavily on you, and frustration builds as he reprimands you for the actions of a nurse who had been more interested in fooling around with the doctor before you arrived. To make matters worse, he is doing this in front of a patient. “Apologize to him," the doctor commands, pointing to the young, wide-eyed patient—who seems to be about your age, with dark hair and eyes. He stares at the doctor in disbelief.
With a sigh, you nod and redirect your full attention to the patient, aware that an apology is warranted; he shouldn’t have to endure this while in the hospital. “I apologize, sir.”
“What are you apologizing for?” the doctor snaps back.
“I sincerely apologize for the unprofessional experience you’re having tonight.” You take a moment to observe the young man; he is wearing a distinctive uniform, characterized by a green double-breasted, military-style jacket paired with white trousers. It’s unfamiliar to you, as you can’t recall seeing anything like it before.
“No, it’s not your fault, Dr. _____,” the young man says, wincing as he suddenly sits up. “It’s not her fault! It’s cruel to scold her when she hasn’t done anything wrong!” His eyes narrow as he glares at the doctor. “I witnessed what actually happened; you’re a terrible doctor.”
You watch in disbelief as the man defends you, then frown; you’re exhausted. While you appreciate his support, you just want to go home. Both the doctor and nurse give you a nasty look before stepping out of the hallway.
“Do you always have to deal with that?” The man questions you as you check his vitals.
“The whole hospital does.”
“Do you like working here?”
As he questions you, you reach for a bottle of water and place it next to him. “You need to drink more fluids.”
“Wait!” He gently grabs your left wrist just as you’re about to leave the room, his touch light and careful to avoid any discomfort. “Perhaps you could consider working with the organization I’m with. I imagine the salary would be better, and there’s no room for drama like this.”
With an awkward motion, you free yourself from his grip. Does he genuinely believe you’ll just leave with him? Perhaps a suggestion for a psychiatrist is warranted. “I’ll think about it," you reply, lying through your teeth.
“Please do.” His eyes widen in realization. “I can give you the number of one of my superiors if you’re comfortable with that and interested in a new job.” He quickly grabs the pad on the bedside table. “I’ll write her number down for you now.” With that, he clicks the pen and begins scribbling a name and number.
In an effort to make the man feel comfortable, you take the paper and place it in your pocket.
Two hours later, you’re leaving the hospital, willing yourself to stay awake until you make it home and stay aware of your surroundings. You’re a block from the hospital when you hear someone calling your name. “Dr. ______!”
Oh no, you have nothing for protection on you, and the man from the hospital is rushing towards you. “Dr. _____! My superior picked me up at the hospital,” he declares with a wide grin as he approaches. A stern-looking woman follows him, walking calmly. Your fatigue disappears as you stand on high alert."
“I’m sorry, Dr. _____,” the woman said, gripping the back of the man’s collar and forcing him into a deep bow while slightly bowing herself. “I assure you, he’s harmless. He told me about the incident at the hospital. He doesn’t mean to make you uncomfortable; he just has a peculiar sense of justice.”
The man’s head pops back up. "Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“Leave, Taka. I will speak to Dr. ______.”
The young man shifts awkwardly between you and his stern superior before bowing and quickly hurrying away. The woman fixes her gaze on you, making you flinch slightly. “Taka informed me about what happened at the hospital. I’m sorry for the way he approached you about the job. Unfortunately, one of our doctors has recently taken a leave of absence, and we’ve been looking for a replacement." Her eyes drop to something at your feet, and she points. "Excuse me, but do you see that?” A small reaper stands at your feet, looking up at the woman.
She observes closely as your eyes don’t wander to figure out what she might be referencing; instead, you respond without hesitation. “I don’t see anything.” You’re too exhausted to concentrate on what she’s talking about.
“Then maybe you would be the perfect doctor for us.”
“Pardon?”
“You see the reaper.”
“Reaper?”
She nods, “Yes, that is the type of demon that is at your feet right now.”
You shake your head. “I don’t know what you mean; there’s nothing here.” With a shrug, you turn to leave.
“We will guide the world to unity. There are no humans and no demons, only one world. In order to create it, we are the brave warriors who will rise. We will go forth, no matter what the trial. We do not go astray.”
Your jaw drops in disbelief. Is this some kind of cult? The woman hands a card to you, “Call us if you’re interested.”
As she turns away from you and walks off, your gaze drifts down to your feet. “She must have been on drugs too. Most cults are, right?” you mutter to the small frog-like creature at your feet. “I swear, people keep getting weirder and weirder.” Shaking your head, you resume your walk to the apartment.
All the exhaustion from the last week finally caught up with you; after a shower, you drop to your bed, completely out.
The following morning, you wake up around eight to the sound of neighbors screaming at one another. You had hoped for a longer rest, but the shouting disrupted those plans. “I hate this apartment.” There’s no need to stare at the ceiling and think how much you hate them, so you roll out of bed and decide to do some shopping; you’ll need more groceries for the next week.
As you make your way to the store, the same peculiar man from the night before approaches you. "Dr. _____! Could you please help me with something? Someone at our base is injured, and we need a doctor. The hospital says they don’t have anyone available to send. It won’t take long, just a couple of hours, and we’ll compensate you!”
You step back from the man, feeling uneasy. “Sorry, I can’t—"
He holds out some money, a lot of money. “This will be the down payment; please help us. I’ll pay you the rest when you leave.”
You stare at the stack of bills, then at the man; it’s more than you get paid in a month.
Do you have any reason not to go? You don’t have family, close friends, or pets at home who need your care. Essentially, you have nothing. So, if you were to walk into a dangerous situation, it would be unfortunate, but it would also be okay because there wouldn’t be anyone waiting for you if something were to happen.
He guides you through the thick forest, and you can’t shake the thought that he might be a crazy person intent on kidnapping you—or worse. Eventually, you arrive at a large military-style vehicle, where another man wearing the same uniform as the man leading you sits behind the wheel. “Taka! Did you find a doctor?”
“Yes, they all refused at the hospital; luckily, I found Dr. _____ while walking back. She assisted in taking care of me yesterday.”
The man at the wheel seems to be several years older than you, with black hair and deep, almost black eyes. He looks you over briefly before asking,
“Can you help us?”
“I can try.”
“Get in.”
Taka swiftly opens the back of the vehicle and assists you inside. “A few of our members have been injured recently,” he explains while fastening his seatbelt. “Unfortunately, our trained medical staff have been occupied with other matters.”
“I see. Could you give me more information?”
The man, Taka, swiftly nods as he hands you a file containing the recent medical records he collected. You flip through the documents and your brow furrows. “These require minor surgeries.”
“We have a sterilized room that you can do it in.”
“I can’t just take your word for that; someone could die.”
“We also have a few nurses to support you.”
“I can’t.”
“We can pay you even more!” Taka exclaims. The man driving nods and offers a sum that makes your eyes widen in disbelief.
But you can’t. “No, what happens if someone dies?”
“We’ll draft a contract; you won’t be liable.”
-----------------------------
“If you don’t mind my asking, why do you have a facility like this without any doctors?” You remove your scrubs after thoroughly cleaning your hands and arms. The surgeries were straightforward and completed quickly. You had anticipated a rundown place with inexperienced nurses. Not that you have much experience yourself, as you are still working on your residency.
Taka glances at his superior, the woman from the night before. He mentioned her name. You furrow your brows, trying to remember it, Kato. She is the one who speaks on his behalf. “Our doctors have more pressing matters to attend to at the moment.”
You nod hesitantly, choosing not to mention that if you hadn’t been present, the men who are now out of surgery would have died. Are their lives not that important to them? “Was this all you needed? Because I—”
“Actually, we have an offer for you.”
“Huh?”
“Join us; it would be beneficial to have a doctor like you here, especially when our other doctors are busy.” She meets your gaze, and despite your instinct urging you to decline her offer, the intensity of her stare grips you, instilling a sense of fear. “Okay,” you squeak. “I mean, wait—sorry. I’m not really in a position to take the job. I’m just a resident.” You bow deeply, preparing to walk away from this experience and never look back.
“No matter, we don’t mind.”
“I need to finish my residency."
“We’ll compensate you generously so you can work with us long-term.”
“Oh.” Your mind becomes a blank slate, all possible excuses evaporating.
When she realizes you have no excuses to offer, she extends a few papers toward you. “This is the contract. If you agree, please sign it and return it to us at your earliest convenience.”
Your hand hovers over the contract, fear and dread creeping up on you. You know it’s unlikely you’ll ever finish your residency if you join them. But the pay is tempting, and you are more than broke.
The woman watches you steadily, her dark eyes unblinking, almost daring you not to accept. “Let me think about it,” you say, taking the contract from her and folding it into your bag.
She nods in agreement. “Take your time.”
During the car ride home, you find yourself in a mental debate, staring blankly at the windshield while Taka drives. The money is good—too good. Yet, there's something unsettling about this place and these people. Their cold indifference to each other's safety, their vague and secretive responses—there’s something off.
That night, you lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling as you flip the contract over in your hands again and again. You consider ripping it up right then and there. It would be easy— a decision made in an instant. But when your eyes flicker over to your near-empty refrigerator and the stack of unpaid bills on the counter, you find yourself hesitating. But part of the contract is you must live at their base.
With a sigh, you sit up and reach for a pen on your bedside table. Maybe this isn't such a bad idea after all. A lot of opportunities come with risks, right? And when you've got nothing to lose...
You scribble your signature on the dotted line. The bold strokes of your pen seem ominous, and a strange sense of finality weighs heavily on you. But it's done. And no amount of anxiety or fear can change that now.
In the morning, Taka picks you up. The journey back to the facility is filled with an awkward silence.
As the days turn into weeks, you find yourself settling in surprisingly quickly. The work proves to be challenging, as patients requiring complicated surgeries start appearing more frequently than you anticipated, but nothing pushes you beyond your capabilities. The nurses are strict yet competent, providing essential support through each operation.
Despite the adjustments, an aura of mystery still surrounds the place. You have yet to encounter any doctors, and Taka remains tight-lipped about the identities of their members and the full extent of their activities.
Every morning, a nurse brings a list of patients along with their medical files to your on-site apartment. Each evening, you return to find your lodging cleaned and stocked with fresh clothes and food. Outside of surgery hours, you're left undisturbed; no one asks unnecessary questions or intrudes upon your personal space.
However, everything changes one night when a loud knocking at your door. “______!” The sudden call jolts you awake, and you quickly check the clock—it’s three in the morning. When the voice calls out again, you immediately recognize it as Taka’s. You push back the blanket, stumble out of bed, and slip on your indoor shoes before finally opening the door.
Taka’s dark eyes widen in panic when you open the door. He appears to have just woken up, and you assume that his t-shirt and shorts are either his sleepwear or your loungewear, as you’ve never seen him outside of his uniform before. “Is everything okay?” You question, though it clearly isn’t.
“It’s the Commander-in-Chief. There aren’t any doctors around.” He does his best to explain the situation, guiding you through the dimly lit hallways and into the highly secured rooms, revealing parts of the base you’ve never laid eyes on before.
“Who is the Commander-in-Chief?” you ask, having heard him mentioned in passing, yet knowing nothing about him. You’ve never seen him and are uncertain whether he frequently visits this base. Taka hurriedly shares what he knows, and your eyes widen upon learning the man’s name is Lucifer. The name Lucifer would be frowned upon around the world, especially among older generations, so the revelation that his name is Lucifer seems quite peculiar. Perhaps it’s a name he adopted upon joining the Illuminati. You decide not to ask anything else; your focus must be on treating the man.
Finally, you reach a door guarded by two men. Taka gently places his hands on your left arm and turns to the guards. “This is Doctor _____; she’s here to assist the commander-in-chief,” he explains promptly. The guards share uncertain glances but eventually nod, allowing you to pass through the secured door.
As you enter, a wave of concern washes over you; just from the doorway, you can already see certain spots on his body that appear to be septic. “What happened?” you ask, hurrying to the man lying back on the bed, his oxygen mask obscuring his face as he looks at you with curiosity. "I was under the impression that he was in the midst of treatment.” Carefully, you lift his left arm to examine it. “Do you have a chart for him?” You question Taka without looking back at him. Taka turns to a nurse, but she shakes her head. “No, we don’t.” Slowly, you lower the man’s arm. “You don’t have a chart? How is he being treated? He could die without proper treatment.”
Taka turns back to the nurse, who awkwardly meets his gaze. They can’t risk allowing a stranger to learn about the condition.
You finally turn to face the nurse, but when you make eye contact, she just shrugs awkwardly. “I apologize, Doctor _____, but his regular doctor took it with him when he left earlier today.”
“Surely you have it documented elsewhere?”
She shakes her head no.
Slowly, you turn back to the patient, who watches you with curiosity. "Oh, I apologize for not introducing myself.” You offer a slight bow to the man; with the oxygen mask covering his face, it’s hard to get a clear view of the commander. Respectfully, you introduce yourself. “My name is Doctor _____ _____. Without your chart, there’s only so much I can do. However, I have—" You pause; you’re a stranger to this man. As the leader, he might suspect you’re trying to harm him. “I will treat you to the best of my ability.” You turn back to the nurse and list several items. A warm hand grips your wrist, and you pause, glancing over your shoulder. The commander-in-chief is holding you—tight, but not uncomfortable. “What were you going to say?” he rasps.
“I have something that would treat it quickly; however, it’s something homemade and not something I should have recommended. I apologize-“
“Are you sure it will work?”
You hesitate, opening your mouth only to close it again. “It hasn’t failed yet, but I can’t guarantee anything.”
His green eyes pierce through you. “Bring it to me.”
“Yes—"
“No!
You quickly lift your head to find a dark-haired woman with blonde bangs. The man doesn’t let go of your wrist; instead, he pulls you closer and gazes intently into your eyes. “Bring it to me.” His tone is steady and almost gentle, yet it leaves no room for argument. "Yes, sir.” You give the woman an uneasy look before turning to Taka, who quickly guides you back to your room.
It only takes a few minutes to run back to your room and grab some of the salve that you keep put away before heading back to the man. You lift a small jar holding the salve. “Do you have any allergies?” You question the man. When he shakes his head, you nod and open the jar. Showing him the smooth, dark green salve. “This might sting a little,” you speak calmly as you dip your hand into the cool green substance.
As you apply the salve, you notice the damaged skin reacting almost immediately. The redness begins to fade, and the swelling visibly decreases. You pause, staring in disbelief at the skin beneath your fingers as it heals rapidly. This isn't normal. The salve has always been effective, but never this quickly or dramatically. You glance up at the commander's face, searching for any signs of discomfort or an allergic reaction, yet he appears calm, his green eyes observing you with keen interest.
"Is something wrong?" he asks, noticing your hesitation.
You shake your head, striving to regain your composure. "No, sir. It's just... working more quickly than I anticipated." You keep applying the salve, marveling as the infected areas clear up before your eyes.
The dark-haired woman with blonde bangs moves closer, narrowing her eyes as she watches the process unfold. "What exactly is in that salve, doctor?" she questions, her tone sharp and laced with suspicion.
You swallow hard, nerves prickling under her gaze. "As I mentioned, it's a family recipe—herbs, oils, and a few other natural ingredients."
The commander raises a hand, silencing the woman before she can inquire further. "It's working," he states plainly, his voice now infused with a calm strength. Your eyes widen as he slowly begins to sit up in bed. “Wait, sir. I’m glad you’re feeling better, but you shouldn’t be moving so much right away.”
He dismisses your complaints with a casual wave, slowly pulling the oxygen mask away from his face. You blink in surprise as you take a closer look at him; he’s much younger than you anticipated. “How long will this work?” He questions you.
“I’m unsure; could you tell me a bit more about your condition? This salve should be able to assist you along with the treatments you are receiving,” you admit. “So, if you could share more—”
“You said it’s a family recipe.”
You nod. “Yes, it’s a family secret that’s been passed down for centuries—" Before you can finish, a guard in the room interrupts, raising a gun to your head and threatening you. “Tell us, or I will kill you.”
The threat shocks you. “I’m the last person in my family who knows the recipe. If you kill me, there will be no one left to make it or share it with you. But go ahead," you say with a shrug. It’s not that you particularly want to die, but the threat is annoying, and there’s nothing you’d be leaving behind. Sure, it’s a bit dramatic to be willing to take the recipe to the grave, but it sounds like they’d kill you after you give them the recipe.
Lucifer casts a quick glance at Homare, who immediately understands his intent and instructs another member to escort the guard away. "I apologize, Doctor ______; the threat was not authorized. Would you be willing to assist with my treatment?”
The kindness in his eyes is surprising, and you nod slowly. "Of course." To be honest, you were on the verge of sharing the recipe with them before the threat arose. I suppose I’ll keep it to myself a little longer. “It would be easier if I knew the situation, though.”
"Please get some rest. Tomorrow, I will summon you and share more details.”
Lucifer watches carefully as the reaper follows you out of the room. “Is that her familiar?”
“We believe so, but she hasn’t acknowledged it in front of anyone yet.” Homare quickly answers.
With a quick bow, you exit the room and are surprised to find Taka waiting for you. A look of relief washes over his face as he sees you. “Doctor _____! I was worried when that guard was taken away. Are you okay?” You nod, giving the anxious man a reassuring pat on the back. “I’m fine, Taka, and please just call me by my name.”
You don’t notice how the man’s eyes light up with genuine joy as he eagerly nods. “Okay, _____.” He utters your name with a sense of wonder, as if he’s savoring every syllable like a fine wine.
The following day, Taka shows up at your door with a wide smile, his brown eyes gleaming with excitement. “Hi ______, they’ve asked you to meet with the commander again.”
As you enter the room, your eyes widen slightly. Taka follows closely behind you, his gaze flickering to your astonished expression. “Commander,” you say, bowing your head in respect as you approach the leader, who is now connected to multiple tubes. He sits up to greet you. “Are you feeling better?” you ask, moving closer to him. He appears to be in much better health, but you suspect it isn’t just the salve that has seemingly restored some of his strength.
“Are you the doctor who treated our commander?” A man approaches you, holding a chart. “I’m not entirely sure what you used on him last night, but it was incredibly effective in healing his wounds. I apologize for you being called out to treat him so late; it’s part of my job, but unfortunately, I was unavailable. I promise to ensure that someone else will be here in case we ever face a situation like that again, allowing you to return to your original post and—”
“Who ordered that?” Lucifer calmly interrupts the doctor.
“S-sir?” The doctor stutters.
The commander gazes into your eyes. “You’re a qualified doctor, aren't you?"
You nod respectfully. “I was in the process of completing my residency.”
“Would you mind staying as one of my personal doctors?”
A wave of confusion washes over you, and you realize you're not alone in your bewilderment. Shock and uncertainty are etched on the faces of everyone in the room. “I’m not sure I’m qualified enough,” you admit, your voice tinged with doubt. A gentle poke to your side draws your attention to Taka. His eyes shine with encouragement as he gestures for you to accept the position. But what if something were to happen to the commander? Would I be punished even if it wasn’t my fault? “______, take it.” Taka whispers.
Slowly, you turn to glance at the young man, staring at him as though he has a second head. Just how qualified do these people think you are? But do you really have a choice in this matter? He asked you, but a concern creeps into your mind, making it feel more like an order than a question. “What would the duties be?”
“I would like you to concentrate on the open wounds. As I'm sure you can understand, the open wounds and decaying flesh between treatments can be quite frustrating." The commander speaks calmly.
What does he have? What causes open wounds and decay that can be fully healed with treatment? As you scan his body, you notice there are no scars or signs of injury—especially no decaying flesh. “Yes, of course.”
The woman with blonde bangs steps forward. “Thank you for your agreement. As you can see, the commander’s skin is currently healed. We will reach out to you when needed.”
Taka steps forward nervously and raises his hand awkwardly. He doesn’t want to speak out of turn, especially with the commander present, but it seems you haven’t thought to question something important. “Yes?” You’re surprised that it’s the commander who acknowledges Taka. “Would ______ still be working as a doctor for others, or will she only be working for you?”
“______.” The commander repeats your given name curiously.
Taka nods. “It’s her name.”
“I know.” The commander replies, recalling that you introduced yourself with your full name earlier. “Why are you speaking her name so casually?” the commander asks, curiosity in his tone.
A slight blush colors Taka’s cheeks as he holds his head high, understanding that he should not look away from the commander despite feeling embarrassed. “She told me I could.”
The commander gazes at the faint blush on Taka’s face before making his decision. “Doctor _____ will be one of my personal physicians. Another doctor will be assigned to take over her previous responsibilities,” he commands calmly. “Also, move Doctor ______ to a room closer to me.”
“Move her?” Taka mistakenly speaks out of turn. Your room is directly across from his, and you two talk daily. If you were to move closer to the commander, would he ever get a chance to see you?
“Is that a problem?” The commander waits calmly for an answer.
Taka’s eyes widen as he realizes he has spoken out of turn. “Of course not. I will help you move ______.”
“No need. You should go back to your position.”
Taka's expression falls, but he nods obediently and exits the room without saying another word. You feel a wave of sympathy for him. He's been your main point of contact since your arrival, and you've grown used to his friendly demeanor. However, there's no time to dwell on that now—you have a new position to focus on.
"Doctor _____," Lucifer says, his piercing green eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes you feel exposed. "I respect your discretion about the salve. I promise we won’t push you into disclosing its contents. Yet, I hope that as time passes, you'll find a way to trust us enough to share it openly."
You nod, relieved that the threat from earlier seems to have been an anomaly. "Thank you, sir. I'll do my best to earn your trust as well."
"Excellent. Now, regarding your new duties," he continues, gesturing for you to come closer. As you approach, you catch the slightest flicker of pain on his face. "My condition is... unique. The treatments I undergo are experimental and often leave me in a weakened state. Your main responsibility will be to manage the side effects and keep me functional between procedures."
You listen attentively, your mind racing with questions. What type of condition could lead to such severe symptoms yet be healed so rapidly? And what kind of experimental treatments might he be undergoing? As a doctor, your curiosity is sparked, but you understand the importance of not probing too deeply too soon.
"I understand, sir," you reply, making an effort to maintain your composure. "I will do everything possible to ensure your comfort and well-being during the treatments. Could you tell me how often these procedures will take place?"
Lucifer's eyes narrow slightly as if assessing how much to reveal. "The treatments take place roughly once a week and may be scheduled more frequently if needed. You'll be notified well in advance."
You nod, already mentally preparing a treatment plan. "And the side effects - what should I be most concerned about?"
"Primarily the decay," he says, lowering his voice. "It spreads quickly if left unchecked. Your salve appears remarkably effective at slowing its progress."
The woman with blonde bangs—Homare, as you remember—steps forward. "We'll provide you with all the necessary equipment and resources. Your living quarters will be relocated closer to the commander's chambers for quick access when needed. We'll also provide you with a secure communication device. When the commander needs you, day or night, you must respond immediately."
You nod, absorbing the weight of your new responsibilities. "I understand. I'll be ready whenever I'm needed."
The commander gives you a small, approving smile. "Excellent. Homare will show you to your new quarters and brief you on security protocols. I look forward to working with you, Doctor _____."
As you follow Homare out of the room, your mind races with questions and possibilities. What have you gotten yourself into? The mystery surrounding the commander’s condition intrigues you, but there's also a sense of danger you can't overlook.
Your new room is more spacious and luxurious than your previous one, complete with a fully equipped medical station in one corner.
"One more thing," Homare says, her tone turning serious. "The details regarding the commander's condition and treatments are highly classified. You must not discuss them with anyone outside his immediate care team. Is that understood?"
You nod. "Of course. I understand how important patient confidentiality is."
Homare narrows her eyes slightly, as if assessing your sincerity. After a moment, she appears satisfied. "Good. Get settled in. You'll be called when needed."
Over the next few weeks, you settle into a new routine. Most days, you're on call but not actively treating the commander. You use this time to study medical journals, hoping to gain insights that may assist with his mysterious condition.
You still haven’t learned anything useful about it. Occasionally, another doctor approaches you asking for your salve but claiming the commander requested it to treat his condition instead of you being the one to do it. At first, you felt confused, but after speaking to the commander, it seems he is trying to hide how severe his condition can get. You wonder if, on days he requests other doctors to use the salve, he’s actually worse off than when you see him.
Another thing you’ve noticed is that your connection to Taka seems to be growing more distant. Every time you try to speak with him, have lunch together, or do anything, it feels like something comes up with the commander. He often requires your attention immediately, sometimes even going out of his way to approach you himself.
“Let me know if you feel any pain,” you say to the commander as you tend to his wounds. This time, there’s no rotting flesh, just open wounds that you’ll wrap after covering them. Given how ill he appears, his physique surprises you. You find yourself staring at his chest longer than is generally considered appropriate, but you’re simply trying to decipher how he maintains such a remarkable physique. The commander takes your hand in his, his green eyes piercing into yours. “Commander?”
He lifts his free hand, brushing some hair from your face. Your eyes widen, thrown off by the action. “Commander?” You question again. His green eyes burn into yours.
The odd interaction is interrupted when you receive a text from Taka.
The commander’s eyes drop as he sees the message from Taka. You don’t notice the slight frown on his face.
“I swear it really happened!” Taka insists, his eyes wide as he shares a ghost story from his childhood home. You both sink into the soft cushions of the sofa in the recreational room. “What’s so funny, _____?” he asks, a playful pout forming on his lips as you struggle to stifle your laughter, your fingers barely covering your mouth.
You take a moment to compose yourself before replying. “I’m sorry, Taka, but you look so ridiculous telling that story! Honestly, have you ever considered becoming a comedian? I can totally picture you on stage sharing that.” You joke as he grabs your arm and shakes you. “Come on! I’m serious.”
Suddenly, the commander enters the room, and it’s surprising because you’ve never seen him here before. You immediately straighten up. "Sir," you say, giving a slight bow, while Taka to your right bows even lower.
“I heard you laughing as I was passing by.”
Your face burns. Had you been laughing that loudly? “I’m sorry, Commander. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“You didn’t disturb me; I was curious to know what you were laughing at, " the commander replies calmly.
“Oh, um, Taka was telling me a story about his childhood.”
“I see; it’s time for dinner. You should go eat," he says, his eyes fixed on Taka as he speaks.
“R-right.” Taka bows again and grabs your hand. “_____ we-”
“_____ will eat dinner with me.” The commander cuts him off, eyes locked on your conjoined hands.
Your eyes widen in surprise at the use of your given name. You send one final glance over your shoulder at Taka before following the commander into a small dining room.
There’s a small table in the middle of the room, and you’re relieved it’s not a long table where you’d have to awkwardly eat alone across the room with him. The meal is set on the table, and you’re pleasantly surprised to see it’s one of your favorite proper meals.
Noticing your surprise, the commander speaks up. “You told me last week it’s one of your favorite meals to eat.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you were listening.” You had only mentioned it in passing. You hadn’t even directed it toward the commander—just a casual comment to another doctor when they brought up their favorite way to cook the item.
“Why did you become a doctor?” He casually asks, bringing the fork to his mouth.
“I don’t have a special reason.” You shrug.
"Being a doctor requires a lot of work." He watches you with curiosity, as if he’s trying to analyze you and understand everything he can. It’s a bit unsettling.
You stare into his green eyes. "Honestly, I don’t have a special reason. I enjoyed it, and my grandmother wanted me to be someone. But there’s nothing deeper than that.”
“Enjoyed?” He notices your use of the past tense.
“The hospital I worked at was toxic. There was a lot of absurd drama. I don’t love the job enough for that not to affect how I feel about it," you admit. "Still, I’m glad to help you. It’s nice to be in a position with other doctors who act professionally, as they should."
As another week goes by, Taka receives a request to transfer to a different base in another country.
A week later, Homare personally comes to your room to inform you that the commander wishes to see you. It’s unusual; they usually just call you on your phone.
"Commander," you say, bowing respectfully as you enter his private room. He sits in bed, a blanket draped over his lap with one leg bent at the knee. His green eyes burn into you, intensifying your apprehension as you step inside. From what you can see of his body, which is most of it, there don’t appear to be any open wounds, unless they are on his back or possibly under the sheet covering him.
“Lucifer.”
“Huh?”
“Call me Lucifer. We are friends, right?”
You try hard to hide the shock on your face. You were not aware that you were friends, but you don’t argue; instead, you nod stiffly.
“Friends share things, right?" he continues.
Oh. Duh. “Commander-”
“Lucifer.”
“Right, Lucifer.” His name feels heavy on your tongue. “If you want to know the ingredients of the salve, I’d be happy to-”
He raises a hand, interrupting you. “No, _____. I want to share something with you.”
Then...something…shifts slightly to his left; it’s long and has a tuft of hair that matches his color. Is that a tail?
“Come here _____.”
You deliberately avert your gaze from the appendage and gradually approach the commander. His green eyes meticulously track each step you take, noting your tension. “______, do you know what I am?” Lucifer asks, his eyes burning into yours.
“Sorry?”
“I am Lucifer, the Demon King of Light.”
“Oh.” You mumble, unsure how to react.
Your mind races as you try to process what Lucifer just said. A demon? The King of Light? It sounds absurd, yet there's an undeniable intensity in his green eyes that makes you think twice about dismissing his claim outright.
"I... I'm not sure I understand," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.
Lucifer's expression softens slightly. "I know it can be overwhelming, but I believe you're ready to hear the truth. The condition you've been treating... it's not a disease in the conventional sense. It's the result of my demonic essence struggling to sustain my vessel."
As if to emphasize his point, the tail-like appendage you noticed earlier twitches again as if aware of your gaze. You find yourself unable to look away, your medical curiosity overshadowing your initial shock.
Your eyes widen as you observe the tail moving, its tufted end swaying gently back and forth. It's undeniably real, connected to Lucifer's body in a manner that defies all rational explanation.
"This...this is real?" you whisper, unable to tear your gaze away from the tail.
Lucifer nods. "Yes, _____. Everything I've told you is true."
You take a deep breath, attempting to steady yourself. A part of you wants to laugh it off, dismissing the situation as an elaborate prank or a mere delusion. Yet, the evidence lies right before you—the tail, the baffling condition that defies medical explanation, and the enigma of the Illuminati. Suddenly, everything begins to weave together in a strangely coherent narrative.
“You’re managing this really well. Honestly, I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” He gives you a slight smile. "Please, have a seat."
Your eyes scan the bedroom; there are no chairs. When you make eye contact again, he pats the spot beside him on the bed.
You hesitate for a moment before slowly making your way to the bed and perching on the edge, keeping some distance between yourself and Lucifer. Your mind is still reeling from the revelation, but you try to maintain a semblance of professional composure.
Although he’s making it difficult, without a word, he draws you closer to him.
Your heart races as Lucifer draws you closer, his touch both gentle and firm. Now mere inches apart, you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. His green eyes lock onto yours, filled with an otherworldly intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.
"I know this is a lot to take in," Lucifer says gently, his green eyes searching your face.
You swallow hard, attempting to find your voice. "Sir—Lucifer. I'm not sure I understand why you're telling me this now."
A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "Because you've shown yourself to be invaluable. Your salve and your dedication have helped me more than you realize."
His tail wraps gently around your wrist, the soft fur teasing your skin. This strangely intimate gesture sends a shiver down your spine.
"What exactly is your plan?” your mind racing with possibilities and fears.
Lucifer's eyes bore into you, scrutinizing your expression intently. "My aim is to unite the realms of demons and humans, to forge a world where beings like me can exist freely, unhindered by vessels or the agony of sustaining them.”
His tail tightens slightly around your wrist—it's not painful, but it emphasizes his words. You're keenly aware of how close you are to him, sensing the power radiating from his very being.
“_____, I believe you have untapped potential that could be of great benefit to our cause."
You feel a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. "What... what kind of potential?"
“His green eyes seem to penetrate right through you. Take your salve, for instance; its healing properties are remarkable, surpassing what basic modern medicine can achieve. I have a suspicion that there is much more to it—and to you—than initially meets the eye."
You shift uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. The salve has always been a family secret, passed down through generations. You've never questioned its effectiveness, but hearing Lucifer speak about it makes you wonder if there's more to it than you realized.
"I'm not sure I understand," you admit. "It's just an old family recipe. There’s really nothing more to it than that," you stammer, overwhelmed by the weight of what he's suggesting.
You freeze as Lucifer's hand rests on your thigh, your heart pounding in your chest. The touch is intimate, bordering on inappropriate, and you're not sure how to react.
"There's no need to be afraid," Lucifer says gently, his green eyes locked onto yours. "I believe you possess a unique gift, _____, one that could greatly benefit our cause."
You swallow hard, struggling to find your voice. "I... I'm just a doctor. I don't have any special powers or abilities."
Lucifer gently shakes his head in disagreement. "Perhaps you just haven't discovered them yet. The way your salve works, its extraordinary healing properties—it's not just science, _____. There's something more to it."
His tail gently wraps around your wrist, heightening your awareness of just how close you are to him. The warmth of his body is both terrifying and strangely alluring.
"What exactly are you suggesting?" you manage to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
Lucifer leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "I believe you possess latent abilities, _____," he whispers, his lips barely grazing your ear. "These abilities could be awakened and harnessed for our cause."
A shiver runs down your spine at his closeness. Your mind is reeling, torn between fear and an inexplicable fascination. "But how? I've never shown any signs of... anything extraordinary."
Lucifer leans in closer, his green eyes piercing into yours. "The salve is merely the beginning. With the right guidance, who knows what you could become?" His hand on your thigh gives a gentle squeeze. "Embrace us fully, _____. Allow me to unveil the true nature of this world and your destined place within it."
His hand on your thigh shifts slightly higher, and you feel a rush of warmth coursing through your body. Part of you wants to pull away, striving to maintain some degree of professional distance. Yet another part—one you're not entirely comfortable admitting—draws you toward him.
"I-I'm not sure about this," you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's all so much to take in."
Lucifer's green eyes soften as he gazes at you. "I understand your hesitation, _____. But I wouldn't tell you this if I didn't truly believe in your potential." His tail loosens its grip on your wrist, instead curling gently around your waist. "You've already proven yourself invaluable. Just imagine what we could achieve together if you fully embraced your gifts."
You swallow hard, trying to think clearly despite the intoxicating closeness of Lucifer. "But what if you're wrong? What if I don't have any special abilities?"
A faint smile tugs at the corners of Lucifer's lips. "Then we have nothing to lose by trying. But I truly believe I'm right about you, _____," he says gently, his hand again moving to cup your cheek.
His words quicken your heartbeat even more. One part of you wants to brush off his claims, to assert that you're just an ordinary doctor. But another part—one that's growing stronger by the second—longs to believe him. To believe that you're destined for something greater.
You shift in your seat, uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze but unable to look away from his emerald-green eyes. "What... what would I have to do?"
Lucifer leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Surrender yourself to me. Join our cause, and I will guide you on a journey of self-discovery like no other." His tail slithers along your thigh, sending goosebumps dancing across your skin. "Together, we can usher in a new era of peace and understanding between our kinds."
You feel your breath caught in your throat as Lucifer's tail continues its slow, sensual journey along your thigh. His words echo in your mind, tempting and terrifying all at once. The rational part of your brain screams that this is wrong, even dangerous. Yet, there is an undeniable pull, a curiosity that burns within you.
"I... I don't know," you whispered, your voice trembling. "This is all so sudden. So much to take in."
Lucifer's hand gently cups your cheek, turning your face to meet his gaze. His emerald eyes seem to look deep into your very soul. "I understand your hesitation, _____. But consider the world we could create."
His tail wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer until you are almost flush against his chest. “It’s because of you that I’m well enough to move around.” His soft smile shifts into a smirk. His hand replaces his tail, gliding along your thigh as he leans forward, pressing his warm lips against your jawline. When you don’t push him away, he moves lower, kissing your throat. The feather-like kisses gradually turned into open-mouth kisses accompanied by a few playful nips.
Your breath catches in your throat as Lucifer's lips glide down your neck. A shiver courses through your body at the sensation of his sharp canines lightly grazing your skin. Deep down, you know you should stop this, that it crosses a line you can't uncross. Yet, the thrill of his touch and the intoxicating scent of him cloud your thoughts, making it difficult to think clearly.
"Lucifer," you whisper, your voice trembling. "I... we shouldn't..."
He leans back slightly, his emerald eyes locking onto yours. "Why not, _____? I can sense your desire and curiosity." His tail tightens around your waist, drawing you even closer. "Don't deny yourself this opportunity."
Your heart races as you grapple with the decision ahead of you. Everything you've known and believed about the world is being challenged. Yet, there's an undeniable pull towards Lucifer and the unknown he represents.
"If I say yes," you begin hesitantly, "what happens next?"
A smile spreads across Lucifer's face, his eyes gleaming with triumph and something darker, more primal. His tail wraps tightly around your waist as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "First, I claim you as mine."
Before you can respond, his mouth captures yours in a searing kiss. Any lingering doubts melt away as heat floods your body. His tongue sweeps into your mouth. You found yourself eagerly responding, your hands tangling in his silky hair.
Lucifer growls softly, a satisfied rumble echoing in his chest as his hands glide over your body, intensifying the kiss. When he finally breaks away, you find yourself gasping for air, your head spinning from overwhelming desire.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, his eyes shimmering with an otherworldly light. "You've made the right choice, _____. Together, we will transform this world.”
