Sweet Elixir

Astarion

Soft Astarion Jealousy

Now with part 2!

I love Ascended Astarion because he's horrible but the sweetness of the other end of the spectrum is impossible to deny. He's just so in love and grateful I can't 🥺🥺

So here's some jealousy that isn't psychotic. Well it is but not as bad:

Astarion never expected to be the jealous type. He always thought...well. In all honesty he never thought about the reality of having a relationship. He didn't even think it was possible for him, let alone the idea that he would actually want it. Even with you, even after he admitted a fraction of his own feelings to himself, he never thought that he would be so... possessive. Though admittedly, he had very good cause for it.

Because you were frustrating. So, so frustrating. For some idiotic reason, you simply didn't understand how alluring to others you really were. You were a pretty little thing, yes but that wasn't the problem. It was so much more than that. And he knew that the others wanted you. Every last one of them. Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Wyll, Karlach, Gale, Halsin. All of them like moths to a flame. And that wasn't even counting all of the strangers you had met on your journey, the extras that thought they had a shot with your greatness. They all wanted you in ways that made Astarion seethe. And the desire from others wasn't even the kind that he was used to, the kind he understood like the back of his hand. Because you didn't need to seduce to cultivate desire. All you needed to stoke the flames was merely your presence. Experiencing you was all that was required for people to know they wanted more.

Astarion knew that the others weren't just looking for a bedmate, they wanted you for the same reasons he had grown to. Your empathy, your desire to understand those around you. Your fearlessness, your infuriating habit of always trying to do the right thing. They wanted you for your laugh, the way your eyes would crinkle in the corners when your smile was too wide. Your silly jokes, your endless hopefulness for a future. It felt as though everyone around saw you for the gem that you were and it was... concerning. Extremely concerning.

Astarion hated thinking about things like this. He loathed admitting the truth to himself even more. But he was...terrified of losing you to someone else. Especially since it could so easily be done. He was so very lucky that you weren't the brightest, or at least not when it came to matters of the heart. You could do so much better than him, a fact that was incredibly obvious to everyone around you. Everyone but you, a luck that Astarion did not take lightly. But how much time did he have before it ran out? Would it ever?

Perhaps it was delusional, but he was starting to think when all of this was over, assuming neither of you perished anyway, that...it could just be the two of you. Living together, exploring the world, even if it had to be under the cloak of night. Maybe... maybe the two of you could even find a cure for his unsavory condition. The thought itself was incredibly stupid, but then again, it was just as idiotic to believe that there was a cure to the Mind Flayer parasite. But here they were, closer then ever. And if that was such an impossibility turned into reality, perhaps a vampiric cure wasn't so impossible. Or maybe even finding an alternative method for immortality for you, without the downsides of his own. Anything that could just keep you both together, for as long as possible. It was an unrealistic dream, that would never come into fruition. If anything it was dangerous, so very dangerous to even entertain the thought of forever. Especially when your connection was so tenuous.

Astarion would never be stupid enough to thank Cazador for anything but...he'd be lying if he said he wasn't appreciative for his own lack of subtly when it came to seducing you. Even if it originally was for distasteful reasons, it still got him ahead of the pack. If he had been less calculating, less astute, there was a sincere chance that you would be warming someone else's bed at night. Callousness would never be without it's uses, even if it led to uncomfortable situations like his current infatuation.

What would he do when you inevitably wanted to leave? How could he survive after having something so...good. Someone so caring, someone who for some very horrifying reason liked being around him. And the sex... it was fabulous. He was a massive fan of your intimacy, when he was capable of participating in it. He adored it, he adored you, your beauty, the sweet noises he could coax from your mouth, the europhia of being inside of you. Then there was the fact that you could be intimate without any traces of it devolving into lovemaking. He had never been gifted with the ability to say no before, so often and so freely without a single fear of punishment. If anything, it felt like he was rewarded when he was honest with you, when he would share his sudden fits of discomfort in his own body, the memories that plagued him and doomed him to staying stubbornly soft. You would never get angry, never even disappointed. You would just listen and smile, always adorable when you would ask, "But I can stay for a cuddle, can't I?"

An extremely silly question, considering the two of you hadn't spent a night apart from each other since you'd made it to the Shadowlands. Yet it never failed to make him melt.

It was getting worse, these feelings. He just wanted you around, by his side, constantly. Constant enough for him to get the ridiculous urge to hiss at anyone else who dared to come near you. He felt an intense need to protect the closeness the both of you had cultivated, the kind that he had never been allowed before. He had no interest in sharing you with your own friends when it came down to it, let alone another lover.

Which is precisely why his original, mild distaste for Halsin turned into a full-blown hatred the night he had the gall to proposition you.

It had felt like a shard of ice going through his chest when you bounded over to him, laughing about one of his greatest fears coming much too close to reality, "You won't believe the conversation Halsin and I just had-"

"Ah, I was wondering when you were going to ask me about that," Astarion laughed, purposefully interrupting you. He had no desire to hear the specifics of that conversation. He didn't even want to be having this conversation, where you were inevitably going to ask if it was okay to explore someone else.

The answer was no. Never would he be okay with it, allowing someone else to be close to what should have been his. But he needed to think strategically here. To say no could be disasterous. If it became a game of choice between him and Halsin... he's almost certain he would lose. Halsin was everything he wasn't; caring, giving, sharing in your worldviews in a way that Astarion never could. He couldn't risk it, he wouldn't. Having you at all was better than nothing.

"But I'd never even consider something like that-"

"It's fine," Astarion interrupts again, the fakest smile he can muster plastered on his face. The pain was worth the risk mitigation, he was sure of that. But... he still had to ask, "But is this because we haven't...y'know, in awhile?"

A sick part of him prays that you'll say yes. Because if that's the reason, he could do something about it. He could force himself if need be to always tend to your needs. Especially if it meant keeping you to himself. It was such a small sacrifice in comparison to the rest of his life. He would do it in a heartbeat if you demanded, anything to just make you stay.

But that was not the answer he received. Instead you frowned, looking him up and down, "What? No, I-Astarion no. Please don't think that. What we have together is so special to me. The physical part of it is lovely, perfect even. But...it's not what we are."

It's almost comforting to hear you say that. But then why did that make the situation feel so much worse? If it wasn't sex you were after then that certainly meant you wanted more with Halsin as well, did it not? But it was too late to rescind it now.

Astarion nodded, a confused mixture of hurt and gratefulness swirling through him, "I just needed to know. But if you're satisfied with me and just want to explore, go right ahead. I'll be here when you're done."

You nodded slowly, brow furrowed when you asked, "So...we aren't exclusive then?"

"No, of course not," Astarion confirmed, ignoring everything inside of him that was screaming for him to take it all back, "We can be as open as you'd like."

"I see..." You said, trailing off with a frown. You coughed into your hand, looking up at him sharply. Sharp enough for him to be sincerely confused, "Does this mean that you'll be speaking to me before you explore your other options?"

"I-yes? If you want?" Astarion answered, a new type of unease settling in his chest. You didn't seem very happy with this conversation, despite his best attempts to give you what you wanted. Where had he gone wrong? Was he already working to throw you into the arm's of another man, without even trying?

You were still frowning at him, your look cold in a way that made him feel particularly ill, "Please do. I'd like to know everything. I'm going to speak to Halsin, get this all sorted. We can talk later."

And then you were spinning on your heel and marching away, like Astarion was the offensive party here. It made no sense. He had done it all right, hadn't he? Agreed to it immediately, didn't make you feel guilty, had tried to be what you wanted. How had he failed?

He didn't wait around to see you go to Halsin. Instead he went straight back to his tent, closing the flap as he laid down. Great. Fantastic. Now he would have to be aware, perhaps even hear you being with another, while simultaneously reliving that horrid conversation in his head for the entire night. The hurt and worry was making his mind wander to uncomfortable places. Perhaps...Halsin could be dealt with in another way if things became too serious between the two of you.

Would poisoning the man be too extreme?

But before Astarion had the time to start thinking of a more detailed plan he was interrupted. Suddnely, moonlight was filling his tent, with your silleoute shining in the darkness.

He blinked up at you, confused, "What are you doing here?"

You frowned at him, looking hesitant in the entry way, "Should I not be? I thought-I can go if you'd like."

"No!" Astarion blurted out, loud and desperate enough to make him cringe. He cleared his throat, trying again, his voice still a touch too pitiful for his liking, "No, no, come here darling. Of course you're always welcome. I just assumed you would be busy."

To his relief you listened, crawling into the bedroll next to him. Astarion didn't waste any time in wrapping his arms around you, relieved to humiliating degrees that you had chosen to come back after the deed. Though...you didn't quite smell as he had thought you would. There were no traces of the floral, woodsy smell of the druid on your skin. Just the sweet, pleasant scent that he had grown so fond of.

You sighed as he tucked you against him, the warmth of you enough to make him relax for the first time that night. You laid together in a pleasant quiet, one that Astarion was actually scared to disturb. Despite the fact that he desperately wanted to know what happened between the two of you.

But you broke the silence for him, muttering into his chest after the two of you were settled, "I'm...sorry for being snappish earlier. I shouldn't have been. You didn't do anything wrong, and I know I don't own you. I shouldn't have assumed."

Astarion frowned, pulling back to get a proper look at your face. You looked hurt, sad even. Like you were the one who had gotten their heart broken. He could feel a curl of distaste settling in his stomach, annoyed that this felt as though the situation was being placed back to him. He had played his part, perfectly. What more could you ask for? What was there to assume?

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," Astarion carefully said, his eyes fixed on every micro expression on your face, "What did I do that could have been construed as incorrect?"

"Nothing!" You rushed to say, shame coloring your cheeks, "I was being stupid. You never promised me anything. I just...assumed. Wrongly that we were something we aren't."

That didn't-he-what? Astarion frowned at her, his confusion evident on his face, "What did you think we were?"

You looked uncomfortable, avoiding his gaze when you answered, "I thought that we were...together. Alone. Just us. But if that's not what you want I understand. It's fine-"

"What in the hells are you talking about?" Astarion blurted out, his anger and pain bubbling to the surface, "I haven't done a thing. And we were just us before you decided to galivant off with a bear of a man!"

He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. So much for playing things safely. No, he couldn't even have the self-control to stay quiet. He always had to ruin everything.

But surprisingly, you didn't look angry. If anything you seemed just as confused as he felt, "What? I didn't-we didn't do anything! When did I say I wanted to do anything with Halsin? You were the one saying you didn't care!"

You weren't making any damn sense, "Well why else would you ask me about it?"

"I didn't!" You huffed, glaring at him, "All I was going to say was that he asked me. And I wanted your help on how to best turn him down! And then you jumped at the chance to push me onto someone else-"

"I did nothing of the sort!" Astarion seethed back, "If it was up to me you would never look at another man again! Or woman for that matter!"

It was an odd feeling, to be arguing while holding each other so closely. But Astarion had no intention of letting you go anytime soon, even if he could feel you squirming against his ironclad grip when you fumed at him, "Then why would you say it was okay?!"

"Because I don't want you to leave me!" He shouted back, loud enough to snap him out of his own anger. All of his fury was instantly replaced with fear. Gods, why had he felt the need to say that? To lay his biggest insecurity out on the line. Why not just hand you a stake while he was at it, since he was so eager to give you the tools to destroy him.

But you were still seething, hissing back at him, "Why praytell, would I leave the man I've been in love with for months? Hm? Please, explain it to me!"

Astarion couldn't. He was too busy being shell-shocked at the confession, feeling too many emotions at once. Joy, relief, somehow even more fear than before. You so freely said the words that he had done his damndest to bury, to ignore. But now they were out there, filling him with a horrifying joy.

He wanted to say it back. He did. But he couldn't get the wrecthed words out. Instead he was just staring at you like an imbeicle, his mouth hanging opening at the confession.

But his silence didn't make you falter. Instead you looked determined, near fierce as you grasped his face into your warm hands, "I love you Astarion. You don't have to say it back. That's not what this is about. But I want you. And only you. If you want the same of me then you must tell me. Now."

Astarion let his hands flutter over your wrists, humiliating tears prickling at his eyes. But at least his vocal chords allowed him to answer you this time, "I do. So much more than you know. I want us. Just us. No one else."

The words were flowing out of him, too fast and sincere for him to make the appropriate edits in his head. He was saying too much, feeling too much, giving too much. But the way your eyes brightened at his words, the way you grinned at him before pulling him in for a sweet kiss made it suddenly feel like he wasn't giving anything up at all.

As much as he loathed to admit it, Astarion was exceedingly grateful for Halsin's existence after that night. He would never have had the gall to demand you to himself without a trigger, without the anger you both shared at being misunderstood. Because now, you were his. His alone, the proclamation coming from your own lips. And he was free to stop hiding how much he had wanted it. How willing he was to do anything to keep it. He let himself off his own leash after that, leaning completely into the mutual ownership you had of each other. No more would he silently sit back and seethe as a stranger flirted with you. No, now he'd be upfront and center, with a possessive hand around your waist as he glared them down, more than prepared with a confidence-shattering quip on his tongue.

He started to let all of his urges seep through, taking full advantage of your willingness. If Wyll looked at you for too long at the fire, with a touch of something that Astarion didn't like in his eyes, he'd effortlessly pull you into his lap onlookers be damned as breathed you in. If Gale suddenly had a suspect offer to teach you some new magic in a secluded location, Astarion would invite himself, impervious to any glares sent his way. And when he felt as though all of them were being a bit too flirtaious, he was more than happy to put them in their places at night. Spending hours upon hours making you scream his name in bed from pleasure, loud enough for everyone to hear and know exactly who you belonged to.

He couldn't care less if it added to his own unpopularity amongst their merry-band of rejects. Their opinions didn't matter. Not when you were eating all of the sudden attention up.

You let him do it all because you understood him, in ways that no one else had bothered to before. You knew who he was, what he wanted, the extent to how much he craved your attention. And you let it all happened, reveled in it even. The intense shows of affection. Because you loved him. And he loved you. And one of these days he'd allow himself to admit the obvious.

But for now, he had what he wanted. What he needed. And in the first time in his life, even with disgusting tadpoles squirming his his brain, Astarion was actually...happy.

𓆩♡𓆪 oblivious crushes hcs

their crush on you is as clear as day, but you seem to be wearing sunglasses

°｡⋆ kaveh, alhaitham, kaeya x reader (separately)

°｡⋆ fluff, maybe a bit ooc alhaitham, lots of touchy/clingy :( and some angst in kaeya's part

note: i haven’t gone too far into sumeru yet D: (purely bc of laziness and college) so that’s why alhaitham might be a bit ooc… but! i hope yall enjoy, i had fun. (ps. this was inspired by my short convo with @kana-dayo , i hope u don't mind the tag just tell me if you want me remove it!!)

kaveh ♡

it threw for him a loop the first time. you were both walking down the port at sunset when he asked if you liked him, and you said of course you love him and you couldn’t ask for a better friend.

he thought you had rejected him when and was genuinely heartbroken for a day, until you visited the next day acting as if everything was fine.

he did not know how to proceed, but he did with caution… when he realized, you genuinely did not understand, he decided to build up the romance before asking you again.

he started making it known to you (and everyone else in the room) that he wanted to spend time with you.

“alhaitham, if you could give us a moment or tw-” “no.” “we’re having dinner out then, dear, lets go.”

of course, he would never do anything that might make you uncomfortable, the moment you express any discomfort or hesitance, he backs off.

that being said, you have never really done such, most times you’re even encouraging him

“kaveh… hugs now please :( “

and how can he not deny you?

speaking of which, he also tried to make more gentle subtle touches, taking your hand when you both walked, placing a hand on the small of your back, hugs that lasted just a second too long.

by the end of it he was extraordinarily clingy, one of his favorite moments is when your head is on his lap and he gets to caress your head.

he acts nonchalantly about it, and so do you. little did you know was that he never did that with anyone else.

“what do you mean kaveh doesn’t like hugging? we spend hours cuddling on the couch..”

to be honest he doesn’t really think much of it either, touching you is like second nature to him. you don’t mind either, because for some odd reason, it just feels right.

he’s almost certain that you like him too, but he’s too afraid to confirm it. he’d much rather stay like this in some sort of limbo between friends and lovers.

but eventually, it eats him up. he needs some sort of closure, even if it meant the collapse of his lovey-dovey facade.

everything’s in place. he had gone through all the scenarios, he knew you were in a good mood, and alhaitham was all the way in sumeru city. everything was perfect for him to make his move, all he needed was you.

“kaveh, what’s all this?”

a picnic blanket was spread out on the grass, a strawberry shortcake, sandwiches and wine laid on top. kaveh stood before it, his familiar smile inviting you to come closer. “ah, i have to admit, it is something a bit special so, please have a seat.”

you follow his advice and gently rest on the blanket, careful not to disturb kaveh’s work. he does the same and sighs. “hm… is this an anniversary or celebration of some sort? did you finally pay off your debt?” you start to ask excitedly, getting a bit ahead of yourself. kaveh simply shakes his head, chuckling softly.

“no, dear. on the contrary, if this all falls through, it could be my funeral.”

you give him a curious glance, tilting your head. he takes both his hands in yours and squeezes them gently.

“nothing that serious, do you remember when i asked you if you liked me?”

“yes… and i still do, if that’s what your concerned about.”

“when i said that, i meant to ask if you liked me as more than just a friend.”

…

…

“you mean… like family? like sibli-”

“no, no, dear god no. i mean like… lovers.”

your face turns red at the mention of that word, lovers. it implied romantic love, of course; you weren’t that dense. he’s looking straight into your eyes, awaiting a response, but your lips feel as though they’ve frozen in place. a few more seconds of silence pass, and his lips purse into a heavy frown.

“ah, i’m sorry, if you don’t… i just couldn’t go on like this, pretending that we were something more, living in ignorant bliss. i truly am sorry.”

“no, wait. kaveh…”

you finally build up the courage to speak, letting go of his hands and caressing his cheek. if there’s something you can’t ignore, its the way he’s putting himself down.

“i-i like you that way too, i just didn’t want to believe it either. i… i didn’t want to delude myself into that, so i never entertained the possibility that-”

his tender lips find yours in a kiss, interrupting your rambling along with any doubt the two of you had left. just like all of his other touches, the kiss felt right, familiar, and simply satisfying.

alhaitham ♡

feelings, specifically love, are a far too strong force that many times they most certainly overcome any logic of even the most robotic of personalities; enter alhaitham.

normally, he would be upfront about these sorts of things, giving them the ultimatum. letting them choose to accept or reject his feelings.

but this time, he didn’t want to give you that chance. he needed you to accept him, he couldn’t imagine any other possibility.

so what does he do? he takes a chance with the whole concept of “romancing” in order to win your heart.

he makes an effort to be around you more, he’ll listen to your long winded rants about the most random topics.

“so, why do you care about this again?” “i just do, i’m not quite sure why honestly.” “that’s understandable, please go on.”

he’s never been one to care about how others might perceive him, how others might react to his actions, but he cares so much about you and he wants you to trust him.

once he notices the way your lips curl up when he enters a room or the way you look at him when you feel a bit overwhelmed, he takes this as a sign that he can try being a bit more touchy.

he never really understood the appeal of it, until he felt how warm you were, how your skin brushing against his made him feel a bit more understood and loved.

and you don’t mind one bit, in fact, you’re happy that he has you to lean on (literally and metaphorically)

but you imagine his roommates' surprise to find alhaitham on the couch cuddled up with someone he had never even met.

“wake them up, and you will sleep outside.”

he truly believes he’s being subtle, but everyone (well those who have the courage to) teases him about it.

he brushes it off, but warns them not to tell you or else…

however, when he starts moving onto more overt and blatant shows of affections, he is sorely disappointed to realize that you are not catching on.

he’d gift you flowers before every outing, call you cute nicknames, and even be more honest with his own feelings.

a polite smile, a thank you, and enthusiastic nod was all you ever responded with.

he was disappointed in himself, he thought he must’ve done something wrong, that he must’ve made you uncomfortable.

he needs to confront you about this in his own way, for his sake and yours.

“it’s you…”

his voice rings out like a bell in a cathedral, snapping you back into reality. he had requested for you to meet him at one of the gazebos near the akademiya. stars had been showered upon the night sky, and it was all you could look at, until alhaitham’s voice, of course. you turn around and chuckle at his awe-stricken face.

“glad to see you too. your letter sounded quite urgent, is something the matter?”

upon seeing you, he can’t control his movements, rushing towards you and taking you into a dramatic hug. you’re quick to hug him back, offering him any and all support he might need. he buries his head into your shoulder, taking in your scent, and touch, enjoying it while it lasts. his voice almost cracks as he speaks.

“yes. i’m sorry for making you uncomfortable with my… advances. i understand if you never want to see me again.”

the shock is almost enough to knock you over, but you simply pull away and look at him with deep concern. you didn’t know where he was coming from, and you had never seen him like this.

“advances? what sort of advances?”

“the romantic ones?”

“oh! towards who? i don’t mind at all, really.”

its his turn widen his eyes, he closes his eyes and pauses. he needs to pick his next words carefully, he really wants this to be a swift death, no point in dragging his heart against the pavement.

“towards you…? the one i love is you.”

he finally admits, hoping you finally understand. he’s run out of words to say, ways to express his unwavering love for you. you flicker between his eyes and lips, confirming if what he says is true, and what he feels is real; after a moment, you speak up.

“i’m sorry, i never… i knew you were opening up, but i didn’t stop to think…”

you calmly take him back into your arms, letting his head rest back on your shoulder. you stroke his hair slowly, trying to soothe him. “i was already so happy that you seemed to be opening up to me, i didn’t realize you meant it in that way. i didn’t want to push it any further than necessary.” he allows you to touch and pamper him, allowing himself the privilege of your tender care.

“i see. so you weren’t comfortable with it? you’re not comfortable with me…?”

“no, alhaitham. i’m more than comfortable with you, and i’d do all those things with you again.”

you blush, understanding the implications of what you had just said. you just opened yourself to him, laid yourself out for him to accept or reject. you close your eyes, bracing for what comes next, when you suddenly feel yourself being lifted up and spun around gently.

“alhaitham!”

“that’s all i needed to hear, darling. from this day on, we can do all those things and more… again and again, everyday.”

kaeya ♡

he likes to tease, that is no question. making others red in the face, in anger or embarrassment, is a pastime of his.

but why is it that you of all people, his one and only crush, remain unaffected?

its not like you even have a snarky remark back or try to hide your embarrassment, you simply let it pass as though it was the cool summer breeze against your skin.

“oh my… shouldn’t you take me out to dinner first?” “uh why?”

you surely enjoyed his company and the silly jokes he’d make, even though there would be times you just didn’t understand what he was talking about.

other than that, he’d often be extra chivalrous towards you, holding the door for you, taking your hand as you walk down the stairs… but i mean that’s how knights just are, right?

though you can often feel his overprotective step out, especially when it comes to your safety, you once again chalk it to him in his cavalry captain mode.

only his closest friends and allies can detect the minor difference in his behavior around you, except you, of course. it doesn’t bother him, because it only solidifies his love for you, how serious he is about you.

sometimes he truly is just amazed with the way your mind works to rule out all romantic possibilities, its like the notion of love does not even exist to you.

he doesn’t mind it one bit, though. if anything, he wishes to be the person who introduces you to love.

he knows he can reveal his feelings at any moment, but he wants you to figure it out for yourself, that epiphany of love is something he feels everyone should experience…

that is until he catches you blushing with another person.

“oh yeah! they’ve been talking to them the entire night… they’re really hitting it off, i don’t-”

every word after that is just muffled noise to him. he didn’t understand the feeling coursing through his vein. it was a poignant mixture of jealousy, sadness, and disappointment in himself.

he immediately steps out of angel’s share, not even bothering with a drink to drown his feelings. he thought he was special to you, the way you were to him.

that’s when the creaking of the tavern doors catches his attention, revealing you.

“oh, hi.”

your voice was timid in the chilly night atmosphere, the silence between you and kaeya almost deafening. he huffs and crosses his arms, trying to pretend as if he hadn’t just felt his heart rip, shatter and

“hey, so what are you doing here? i know you’re not one for taverns, most specially on a wednesday night.”

he doesn’t miss a beat, starting his investigation. your eyes widen at his unusually stern demeanor; its not like you haven’t seen this side of him, but you don’t know have a clue as to where it's coming from. you start to sober up, feeling the excitement and adrenaline of the bar leave you. “honestly, i had nothing better to do… and i was trying to get out of my comfort zone.”

he raises an eyebrow at your seemingly simple explanation; you didn’t have any reason to lie, and to be fair, it wasn’t like he had a right to know anyways. his posture relaxes as gives you his arm, gesturing for you to take it; you, having no reason to deny him, take his arm in yours. you both start walking down the streets, no definite destination in mind.

“Is something wrong, kaeya?”

the glazed look in your eyes is something he can’t ignore, and he knows you won’t ignore his furrowed eyebrows either. he sighs letting the cold air entering his lungs, as if numbing himself before the storm truly begins.

“yes, actually there is. could i be a burden to you?”

“kaeya… you know you can always talk to me about your feelings, you’re no burden to me.”

a bitter chuckle escapes his lips, acting as if he truly had nothing left to lose. “that’s why i love you, you know? ah… i thought i’d be saying this in a drunken stammer or you’d hear from rosaria or lisa, but i’m more sober than ever and… i love you so much it hurts.”

suddenly, his touch feels much colder than it ever has, sending a shiver down your spine. you pause for a moment, the adrenaline and heat rising back up.

“k-kaeya, wait… i love you too. i’m-”

“you needn’t spare my feelings or lie. perhaps it was my fault for letting my pride get the best of me, and now you’ve been swept away by someone else, someone who makes you blush.”

your eyebrows curved into a straight line, clearly baffled by kaeya’s assumptions. yes, you were a bit oblivious when it came to love, so you feel like you’d take note if “someone swept you away”.“kaeya, i have no idea what you’re talking about, but if you’re referring to my demeanor in the bar, i was…” you face only gets redder by the moment. “i-i don’t hold my alcohol very well…”

kaeya pauses for a second, his lips parting in a small o-shape. he feels like such a fool for jumping to assumptions so quickly, but he quickly regains his composure realizing something far more crucial, a smirk plastered onto his face.

“i see. so you like me after all? and i’ve finally managed to fluster you”

“n-no, you didn’t! the alcohol just hasn’t-”

“aha, so you do love me? dear, just say the word, and i’m all yours.”

requests are open!! please do not reposts on other sites.

Zhongli

Zhongli consumes silly fiction...and makes it obvious.

Zhongli is literally an old soul. His tastes in literature and theatre are refined and often require a specific frame of mind to be able to fully enjoy and understand.

Pulp fiction is nothing like what he's used to, but since the god is always down for getting involved in new things and broadening his horizons, Zhongli has found himself engrossed in light novels and plays that are all the rage among youngsters in Liyue.

The stories, actions, and lines in such forms of entertainment are...interesting, to say the least. But they make their audiences swoon, and so Zhongli conjures up the brilliant idea to make you swoon with all that he's learned. Then you'll be so impressed!

You're doing your skincare at the vanity table, minding your own business, when your husband comes and leans against the doorframe. "I shall have you know, dearest, I am a player." He places a hand on the nape of his neck and looks at you through hooded eyes.

You snort. "Uh-huh." You get back to doing skincare.

"You mustn't get too close to a player like myself, lest I hurt you."

"So true." You walk up to him and kiss him. "What do you play?"

Zhongli blinks, not having planned this far. "I, er...chess?"

One night you two are getting intimate, breaths intermingled between deep, hot kisses. "Your scent is divine," he murmurs into the crook of your neck, his tail coming out to wrap around your thigh. "It makes a cold alpha like myself wish to rut inside your sweet body until dawn."

He doesn't get why that made you laugh so hard you had to stop for the night.

"Hmm, I think I may need to go bra shopping soon..." you muse, trying to gauge how you look in the mirror, frowning at your chest. "Need to get better measurements..."

Zhongli smiles, ready to shine. "How about you use my hands as your brassiere instead?" he asks, holding his hands out palm-up, sincerely ready to cup you. "Then you needn't worry about shopping for more."

Your face flares up in mortification. "What the heck's gotten into you lately?! Darling, no!"

"Well then, let us at least use my hands to measure you properly."

Zhongli

Zhongli is normally a calm man...but his affection for you introduces him to an unfamiliar emotion.

Embarrassment was never in Zhongli's expansive dictionary. Not in the past thousands of years when he's asked humans some silly questions while ruling over them, and certainly not in the present when putting things on Wangsheng's tab when his own wallet is absent.

But now, you've joined the funeral parlor as an employee, and Zhongli had expressed the appropriate amount of curiosity about you; curiosity which soon turned into caring, and caring which gradually turned into attachment. Zhongli now likes you very much, something he hopes to convey to you when the time is right.

So now, whenever he does something strange that makes him look silly in front of you, he finds his cheeks burning hot with mortification.

Like the time he asks Xinyan to perform her rock music...at a funeral. When the debacle occurs, the rockstar raising a hue and cry at the preposterous request of the consultant, Zhongli catches you stifling a giggle out of the corner of his eye. Oh no, you find him silly..? He finds himself rather upset at the notion, a first for the nonchalant god.

"Aww, are you pouting, mister Zhongli?" you tease afterward, which makes his face burn even more as he hurriedly excuses himself. (He tries to discern in the mirror, later, whether his pout could have been seen as attractive.)

You and him are out on the way to see a client when you're accosted by a gang of Fatui. Zhongli disposes of them with ease, proudly returning to your side and glowing at your praise of his skill. "Oh, you've got a bit of dirt here..." You dust off the sleeve of his outfit, and Zhongli, normally unconcerned about the inevitable evidences of battle, finds himself blushing. How much cooler would he have looked to you if he'd beat them all up without a single mark on himself? Now he's just flustered.

He goes over conversation topics in his head, attempting to figure out what would best keep you engaged. He wants to share fun bits of knowledge with you, but how can he do that when 'fun' is subjective? Zhongli sincerely hopes you'll find Blackcliff Forge trivia interesting, for he might just crumble if you don't.

Clear Skies

(Neuvilette x gn!reader)

A series of unfortunate events that ended happily

The entire day, clouds above Fontaine are as dark as the abyss. Every second, it threatens to rain, but no waterdrops would fall. The water level is always on everyone's mind, if it keeps raining then the water would soon engulf the world.

Even after all those risks; Neuvilette couldn't help himself.

Just this morning, his first trial for the day imprisoned an innocent person, caused by the defendant's lack of evidence. The Oratrice didn't spare any mercy, seeing the defendant as a guilty party. Of course, the audience clapped as they spouted insults at the defendant.

Neuvilette held in the sadness he felt, since he had to deal with another trial after.

The sheer guilt he felt crept up his spine the whole day. Eating him alive when he tried to get some work done. It's something he couldn't do much other than investigate, but he felt an undescribable uncomfortableness in his heart. All of that, with an added weight of his past trials; past sins; past atrocities.

When his worm was finally over, he was comforted at the reminder of a picnic date you two have been planning for weeks. His busy schedule made it close to impossible to have any in-the-moment dates, usually disturbed by a sudden trial that Furina held or the abundance of paperwork.

You could see the stars in his eyes as you two talked on the waterbus, an excited tone and a happier smile making it a wonderful moment. Neuvilette was happy! Seeing you and going on a date, what could be better?

.... only for hilichurls to wreck your picnic date location.

In the end, he held onto the basket filled with treats you both prepared beforehand. In the aftermath of the fight, it caused some of your food to be thrown into the ground, some of the equipment broken, and the spot now ruined.

You can already see the disappointment on his face as you both walk down the hill. The sky darkened with each steps, and any attempts in making him cheer up didn't work.

The mood soured as you felt raindrops hitting your skin. In a frantic moment, you looked for an umbrella that the two of you packed. The water kept dampening your clothes until you finally found it. Though when you do, realization hits

...you brought the wrong umbrella, this one can only fit one person. Neuvilette looks at you and the umbrella, already connecting your concerned face and the object in your hand.

Neuvilette felt guilty for causing the rain, and for the added stress for you. Even so, the guilt worsened the rain.

...that is until he felt you giving him the open umbrella. Confused, he took it anyway. Then a pair of strong hands under his thigh, lifting him up to the air and carrying him down the hill as if it's the easiest thing. His long legs were still wet from the rain, but his body and head were protected.

'??????????'

He felt so loved, protected, all the warmth feeling you can imagine hitting him at once. The grasp on the basket he's holding tightened as he could feel his face getting warm. A part of him wanted to struggle since he thought that he would be too heavy and you would accidentally hurt yourself carrying him. Though, when Neuvilette sees you looking fine, he can't bring himself to say it.

"Sorry, I'll put you down when we get to a safe spot." No, don't put him down. He felt like an otter being ecstatic after it was freed from a cage, given a shell to play with.

Slowly, light began to shine through the dark clouds. You looked up the sky, and somehow, the rain had stopped. Fontaine's weather really is strange these days...

Seeing as there's no more need of an umbrella, you stopped walking as you wanted to let Neuvilette back on the ground. But you didn't; as you saw his pretty face, all red and flustered.

Safe to say, there were a lot of gossip regarding whether or not they just saw Monsieur Neuvilette being held in his lover's arms like a princess.

Otter Neuvillette

Neuvillette x GN!Reader

Summary: There is one secret about Neuvillette that no one in Teyvat knows: he has the remarkable ability to shape-shift into a cute sea otter. This unique ability is a reflection of his deep connection to water and his desire for moments of solitude and peace.

One fateful day, as you collect data on plant species along the coast, you come across a disturbing scene. A lone sea otter, under attack by Fontemer Aberrant Crabs, struggles for its life.

A/N: This is my first time writing ^^

On an idyllic day in the tranquil Beryl Region, you were leisurely gathering data on the local plant species. The gentle rhythm of your exploration led you to the shoreline, where an unsettling sight unfolded before you. A lone sea otter, besieged by a group of menacing Fontemer Aberrant Crabs, fought desperately for its life. Without a second thought, you sprang into action, unaware that this seemingly ordinary otter concealed an extraordinary identity—the very Chief Justice of Fontaine, Monsieur Neuvillette himself.

Approaching the scene, you raised your voice to divert the crabs' attention away from the distressed otter. "Hey!" you shouted, flinging rocks towards the aggressors to protect the otter. As the crabs retreated into the ocean, you cautiously approached the otter, who had huddled into a protective ball, concealing its face with its paws.  "Hey there, little buddy," you whispered soothingly, crouching down to its level and tenderly caressing its head. With gentle strokes, you comforted the otter, who responded with a soft chirp, its eyes filled with gratitude.

Concerned for the otter's well-being, you inquired, though fully aware that animals couldn't comprehend human language, "Where's your family, buddy?" However, your attention was soon drawn to the otter's wounded arm, a clear reminder of the recent struggle. "Oh, you poor thing," you sympathized, "Let me tend to your injuries before you swim back home." Scooping the otter gently into your arms, you made your way back to your nearby campsite, your heart touched by the vulnerable creature in your care.

Settling the otter on a soft blanket at your campsite, you meticulously cleansed its wounds with a clean cloth, offering solace and relief from its pain. The otter seemed to find comfort in your presence, nuzzling its body and face against your hands as you tenderly attended to its injuries.

"Are you hungry, little one?" you inquired, rummaging through your supplies and offering a raw fish. To your surprise, the otter seemed uninterested in the fish but eagerly eyed a plate of sandwiches you had prepared for dinner. "You prefer a tuna sandwich, perhaps?"

The otter's eyes widened with anticipation upon spotting the tuna sandwich, and it chirped with enthusiasm, extending a paw toward the plate, as if imploring you to share. With a warm smile, you obliged, offering the otter the prized sandwich, which it eagerly devoured. It was evident that this was a particular culinary delight for the otter.

Even after savoring its meal to satisfaction, the otter continued to nuzzle and seek your companionship, its eyes conveying a heartfelt desire to remain by your side. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soothing glow across the landscape, you contemplated the otter's silent plea, tempted to let it spend the night alongside you.

"Hmm... You still need time to heal," you mused, gently petting the otter, your fingers tracing its unique features, "Maybe you can sleep with me. It's dangerous for you to be out alone at night." While your heart longed to keep this adorable creature with you, your conscience reminded you of the importance of wildlife preservation. "Animals belong in the wild, and I think I could get into trouble if I keep one for myself," you sighed, resigned to your role as a temporary protector, "Oh well, I'm going to cuddle with you to my heart's content tonight, my little baby!" With that, you bestowed a gentle kiss upon the otter's fluffy cheek.

The otter responded with an affectionate nuzzle, its whiskers fluttering with delight. As the sun dipped below the horizon, you and the otter nestled against each other, lulled by the soothing sounds of the ocean.

Morning arrived, and you woke up feeling a weight on your chest. Groggily, your hand began to explore the unexpected presence, and you muttered, "Baby, you feel so heavy." Your eyes snapped open as your fingers encountered smooth, silky hair, not fur. To your astonishment, you discovered the Chief Justice, Monsieur Neuvillette, lying on your chest.

Gasping in disbelief, you opened your eyes to behold the Chief Justice, his supple body nestled within your embrace. His expression mirrored your shock, a deep shade of crimson flushing across his face. "Er... it's.... It's not what it looks like," he stammered, his gaze shifting away in embarrassment. He struggled to find words to explain the unexpected situation, his composure faltering. "I... um... I..."

Your cheeks burned with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. "Monsieur Neuvillette? Why are you here?" you inquired, staring at the Chief Justice, utterly perplexed. He still appeared flustered, and you urged him to collect his thoughts.

Recalling that you had tended to an injured otter, not the Chief Justice, and not recalling any alcoholic consumption, a wild idea crossed your mind. "I know it sounds crazy, but... were you the otter I saved yesterday?"

The Chief Justice furrowed his brows, his face reddening. "Ah... you remember?" he admitted with a quiet sigh. "Yes, I was indeed the otter you saved yesterday." He confessed, his embarrassment palpable. "It was an accident. I thought I'd just transform briefly to calm myself down, not expecting you to actually..." He stuttered awkwardly.

It was a revelation beyond your wildest imagination—the typically stoic Chief Justice harboring such an adorable and unexpected secret. You couldn't help but chuckle softly to yourself. "It's fine; I only did what was right," you assured him. However, the proximity of his body atop yours was causing a different kind of fluster. "Um... Monsieur Neuvillette, do you need something to cover yourself?" You averted your gaze, your cheeks now sporting a deep blush, and it was then that you both realized the rather compromising position you were in.

With a light chuckle, Neuvillette acknowledged his state of undress, his own cheeks flushed. "Er... ah... y-yes, please," he replied, turning away to search for a cloth to preserve his modesty. Once found, he hastily draped it over himself, providing a semblance of cover. He let out a sigh of relief, rubbing the back of his neck, his nervousness still evident. "Ahem... th-thank you."

It became apparent that Monsieur Neuvillette had no immediate intention of returning to the Court of Fontaine. "You're welcome to stay here a bit longer until your injuries heal," you offered, extending a welcoming smile.

Neuvillette's expression softened, a small smile gracing his lips. "If it's alright with you… I'd like to stay a while longer to finish recovering, that is" he admitted, his tone still somewhat awkward. The allure of your tranquil campsite seemed to be drawing him in, despite his official duties.

You patted the makeshift bed, inviting him to join you, and Neuvillette accepted the gesture, his body sinking into the mattress. He smiled, letting out another sigh of relaxation as he gazed up at the sky. "It's remarkably peaceful here," Neuvillette remarked. "Much better than my office at the Court of Fontaine." He sighed deeply, a sense of calm enveloping him. Your proximity offered a sense of peace that contrasted starkly with his usual courtroom environment.

As you scooted closer to him and wrapped your arms around him, Neuvillette's heart raced with a strange mix of emotions. He felt both comforted and unsettled, unable to fully comprehend the feelings that had arisen within him. His eyes met the serene horizon, and he sighed, trying to make sense of it all.

"It's hard to believe that even in your non-otter form, you're still quite adorable, Monsieur Neuvillette," you whispered, closing your eyes and drifting back to sleep.

Neuvillette blushed once more, his heart pounding in his chest as he lay beside you. The warmth of your embrace filled him with both comfort and a newfound sense of vulnerability. He allowed himself to enjoy the moment, not fully comprehending the depth of his feelings. As he closed his eyes and drifted into slumber once more, he couldn't help but wonder what the future held for this unexpected connection.

Lost and Found

Genshin Impact x Child! God! Fem! Reader

Just a dumb impulsive idea for a cult au with a child reader! Not imposter, and teeechnically probably not SAGAU. POTENTIALLY part one.

Reader is referred to by they/them in the beginning, but it switches to she/her by the end. Not proof read. If you see typos, no the fuck you don’t.

Notes: Major thing to note, the “Favored” refer to the main team of four in the game. I used my own Favored as I’m the one writing. They are a healthy balance of “Characters I own” and “Characters I pray to the RNG archons to just fucking give me GAME”. Other then that, Warning of religious themes, implied homelessness, likely out of character moments, and child crying. Enjoy!

Part 2~>

Word count: 3,800

Keep reading

“FIGHT?”

Note:

I might make a part two of this for the other characters, especially for tighnari, ayato and wanderer, just let me know who else I should write for this one, I'll do my best to write for them.

—› I DON'T POST IN ANY PLATFORM EXCEPT FOR THIS ONE!

Synopsis:

You got into a fight and your beloved found out which you weren't fond of, because now, you got yourself worried and fussed about with your beloved.

Diluc, Zhongli, Al-haitham x fem!reader.

Warning: ooc, grammatical errors.

Diluc

The red head was making his way towards the tavern, his hands slipping the gloves on them as he tie his hair on low pony tail. He visibly perked up when he heard a passerby murmuring something about his fiance getting into a fight which made him raised an eyebrow.

You? Get into a fight?

As if, you looked so innocent and so kind, hell, you're even caring to the point you kept feeding the stray cats and dogs around the city using your earned mora from all your expedition as an adventurer.

Huffing, he disregard the murmurs about his lover and made his way inside of the tavern.

Only to find you fixing your clothes with the back of your hands bruised up, he could even see the dent on the floor and on the wall with an obvious shape of a human being imprinted on the dent.

Venti is beside you, his hands fumbling against your hair as he do his best to tie your (color) locks presentably.

"What in the teyvat happened here?" His question made all of you tensed in your spots, even charles who was wiping something off from the counter, hastily hid the rag on his pocket before staring at his boss.

"Liebling." Diluc called out for you as he approached your seat and taking ahold of your hand with his, "What happened? Why do you have this nasty bruise? I didn't see this earlier back in winery."

You could only let out a nervous laugh, eyes looking everywhere but him.

"Uh.. Your g— I mean, (name), I'll take my leave." Venti hastily tried to cover up his slip up, he flinched on his spot when he saw that you were glaring at him quite menacingly, "Hehe.. Try to hold back next time!"

With that, he left the tavern.

Diluc raised an eyebrow at you, "What was that all about?" He asked, his hand letting go of you before cupping your cheeks on his palm.

"I.. I got into a fight with one of the custom—"

"Ahem." Charles purposely coughed out loud, his eyes wide as if telling you to be honest towards his worried master.

"Okay.. Maybe not one, but five of your customers—"

"Five?" Diluc asked, his hands on your cheeks trembling ever so slightly at the mention of an unbelievable number, "Why would you fight, not one, not two, not three, but five men? Is that why your hand has a bruise? Is that why there are dents inside of my tavern? Is that why you're all roughed up?"

His bombardment of questions made you chuckle, you couldn't help, but smile towards your beloved lover because he was worried about you.

For barbatos's sake, you're the creator of their world!

Though, he doesn't know that, but still, even if he doesn't know, you still signed up to be an adventurer so surely, taking five men— large and muscled ones at that, were not that unbelievable, right? I mean, you quickly raised your ranking on the guild so you could receive a large amount of mora.

"Calm down, love." You laughed softly as you take his hands on your slightly bruised ones, "As you can see, I'm fine, sure, I have this bruise, but that's the only bruise I received, well.. Save for the damage I caused on your tavern.. But I can pay you for that."

Diluc pursed his lips, he wasn't the type to show his emotions to anyone especially not in front of his staffs, however, you are laughing right now despite the bruise on your skin.

"Liebe, you should be careful. I won't stop you from fighting, but you must be extra careful." He let out a sigh, squeezing your hands before burying his face on your shoulder, "And here I thought, you couldn't hurt anyone.."

You laughed once more, patting his back.

Oh, if only he knew how you beat up monsters and other organization around teyvat then he wouldn't have to worry about your being.

Well, only if he know.

Zhongli

"Have you heard?"

"Yeah.. That girl that is dating the consultant of that particular parlor, got into a fight."

"It was quite a gruesome sight.."

What?

Zhongli halted in his track, his head whipping towards the elderly couple who are making their way down to the harbor. His amber eyes are wide in worry, he knew who they were talking about, but you looked quite fine when he left you on your shared home.

He quickly took a bee line towards the bubu pharmacy, he remembered that you told him last night that you have to deliver a couple of medicinal herbs to Baizhu early in the morning.

He was aware of your abilities as an adventurer and he trust you because he had seen your capability while fighting, but every time you'll get into a fight— he can't stop himself from worrying, the thoughts of you getting hurt seem to haunt his mind as he approach the pharmacy with quickened pace.

"Yes, yes, thank you for the payment, also for the ointment, this can heal the bruise—" You couldn't finish what you were saying because someone had pulled you in a tight embrace.

"Greetings, Mr. Zhongli." Baizhu smiled at the dark haired male and he didn't seem to mind the lack of greetings from the older male because his gaze was fixated on the bruise in your cheek.

You let out a gasp, realizing that your fiance was quick to set his eyes on the purple spot on your skin.

"Er.." Despite already seeing it, you still brought a hand up to your cheek to cover up the bruise, "I can explain? Please don't start asking because as far as I know, you should be at the parlor, signing those papers given to you by hu tao."

Zhongli's eyes narrowed towards your action, but didn't say anything else as he slid his arm around your waist and pulled you close to his side.

"Ah, we'll see you soon, baizhu!" You called out to the doctor as your fiance led you away from the pharmacy, the said male could only chuckle and wave his hands towards the two of you with his little companion around his neck hissing softly.

The walk towards the parlor was quiet, it was very unusual for zhongli to be silent, but you couldn't say anything because you know that he must have clearing his mind.

The people on your way to his workplace would look at you, especially the people who witnessed your fight with the men and women who badmouthed you as they talk rubbish towards your beloved retired archon.

You flashed them a smile, a silent threat to keep them quiet before you were pulled inside of the parlor.

"Take a seat, dearest." He gestured towards the couch that he had bought for you just in case you wanted to bask in his presence.

Once seated, the retired archon rubbed the ointment against the purple bruise on your cheek.

"What happened?" He asked, a grimace on his face as he scanned your body for any wound, "This is the first time that you got a pretty bad bruise.."

You wondered if you told him that you are the divine creator they are devoted to.. Would he still worry about you like this? Would he rest at ease if he knew that you can bring a whole nation into ruin in a blink of an eye?

"I was hurt because those guys.. Talked bad about you and I, of course, normally, I would let it pass, but I was feeling a little sly today so I didn't let it go." You mused, hand cupping his cheek in a loving manner as a small smile creep into your lips.

"Please refrain from getting into something like this in the future, you might end up hurt badly one day." He sighed out, leaning his face against your palm.

You decided to stay silent about your true identity, as long as you won't bleed in front of him then he wouldn't find out about your golden blood. You don't want to tell him about your abilities as a creator so you kept quiet, you will tell him soon though, just not now.

"Ahem." A cough from his boss had separated the two of you, "I was worried because I heard (name) got into a fight, but it seems that she's okay due to the fact that the two of you are about to make out."

"He was just helping me with the ointment!"

Al-haitham

It was one of his day off from the Akademiya, no paper work, no scholars, no rebuttal, no people barging into the room, no noise— it's just him, his book and the empty spot on his bed where you are supposed to be on.

He closed his eyes and let out a sigh through his nose, you told him that you have to go out to buy some ingredients for lunch and dinner. You promised him that you wouldn't take long, but it's almost two hours since you left the house, he's sure that Kaveh must have drop you off to the market and helped you for a few minutes before leaving you on your own, however, what's taking you so long?

He closed his book, eyes trailing towards the door and he make up his mind.

He'll look for you.

Which brought him to the grand bazaar, his teal eyes looked around foe you. The place are crowded for the morning so it was quite hard to look for you, but he always know where to find you.

"Separate them, quick!" He heard Nilou somewhere in the crowd, her voice frantic and full of worry.

Hearing this, he waltzed his way towards her.

"Where's (name)?" He didn't even bother greeting her, he went straight to the point and asked for your whereabouts. He guessed hat you probably met up with her since she was holding a couple of bags, he could see the custom made purse he gave you on your first wedding anniversary.

"Archons, please stop her, she's—" Nilou couldn't finish what she was saying because someone was thrown over to their spot. She jumped away from Alhaitham and quickly looked over to your position.

Your hair is disheveled, clothes torn yet no scratch on your skin, although, there was a large bruise that is forming on your forearm.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you kicked the barely conscious man in front of you, his body flinching at how harsh your kick was before he was blown away just like his friends— his body crashed against the nearby wall, successfully knocking him unconscious.

What?

Alhaitham couldn't believe his eyes, did he just witness you kick someone away from you? Just how strong was your kick for a large man to be blown away from your spot? No, wait.. Just how strong are you?

On your three years of relationship and a year of marriage together, he had never seen you so mad like this before.

"Calm her down, quick!" Nilou pushed him towards you quite harshly, "We couldn't stop her from fighting back, but if this continues, she might kill them!"

Hearing that, alhaitham approached your frigid figure, he was slightly hesitant to ask what happened so he kept quiet as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Now, don't get him wrong, he doesn't despise showing slight pda, but was it that shocking to pull you in his embrace in front of so many people?

You literally tensed up in his arms, your eyes locking with his teal ones in shock and confusion.

"Habibti." He murmured softly with his arms tightening around your waist, "Let's go home, you're roughed up from the fight and I yearn to be in your presence."

He didn't hear your response, but the way you melt against him? It made his heart skip a beat. He didn't hesitate to swift you off your feet and carry you, he approached Nilou reluctantly and the lady handed him your purse and the bags.

You held the bags close to you with the purse slipping inside on one of them.

"I take it that you'll take care of this?" Alhaitham spoke, not glancing towards Nilou as he adjusted you on his arms so the bags wouldn't fall from your hold.

"Yes.. Of course, take care of (name)."

He didn't say anything else and walked away from the scene, he even stepped on the man that was thrown over as he made his way towards the exit.

You stayed quiet, not sure as to how you'll explain yourself to your husband. How the hell will you explain that physical strength? Nilou knows that you're the creator, but your husband doesn't. It's not like you don't trust him, no, of course not, it's just that, you felt like it wasn't the right time to tell him about it?

Besides, you had told him anything about you, except for the fact that you came from another world and that you are the one that was considered as divine creator of teyvat.

"Habibti, please refrain yourself from getting into fights." Alhaitham said, his eyes on the path ahead of him, "I let you off my sight because I knew that you'll become cranky if I follow you, but look at what happened."

You felt guilty now, you couldn't stop the frown from creeping into your face as you heard his words.

"I was just worried.. And with you being pregnant, is not helping the heavy feeling on my chest right now." He spoke quietly, it was as if he's afraid of making you upset even more.

You make up your mind, once the two of you reach your shared home, you'll tell him everything about you, including your abilities as the creator.

© kunichigo

Okay, but imagine these two dragons are secretly in love with you and you are a traveler who travels around liyue and fontaine

You're friends with both of them, so you probably end up smelling like one of them.

Zhongli asking about his friend judge of fontaine, wanting to know every detail of his relationship with the hydro dragon, if the two of you are "very close". But of course, always hiding his jealousy very well and not letting you notice his hatred for the enemy dragon.

(There's just one detail, Zhongli always stays close to you with the intention of leaving his scent on you, so that when you return to Fontaine, so that Neuvillette will know exactly who the rival is that is competing for you.)

Already in fontaine, neuvillette doesn't even bother to ask about your relationship with rex lapis, he doesn't want to interfere in your friendships, but he can't help but feel angry that you have a dragon friend besides him. He can't do anything about it, but every time you come back to Fontaine smelling like Archon Geo, he promises himself that one day he will judge Rex Lapis, because the archon is leaving his horrible smell on you, leaving signs that he intends to steal you from the judge, something he will not allow!

Bad Pet pt. 1

A My Pet Demon Collaboration story

Pairing: demon pet Douma x f!reader

Summary: In a world where domesticated demons have become pets and workers you have always stood for their fair treatment and equality. When you rescue Douma, a demon labeled too dangerous to live after biting his previous owners, you find yourself trying to navigate life as a demon owner, while trying to understand the deepening bond growing between you.

Tags: slow-burn. NSFW. Allusions to dom/sub relationship which will come to fruition in part 2. Gentle dom!reader sub!Douma. Biting. Blood. Douma eating raw meat. Implied neglect. Reader is always anxious about something. Part 1 approx 11k words.

My Pet Demon AU created by @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi

Dividers by @benkeibear

The shelter was always an uncomfortable place to visit; the air was cloying and thick with the scent of mistreated, unwashed, abandoned demons. But the cheerfully named "special wing" was by far the worst place on earth you had ever visited. 

It was silent as the grave, the air cold and clinical. Each cage was marked with a kanji– 殺 –  meaning that any demon held there was to be destroyed. And the windows. Big bright windows designed to let as much sunlight in as possible, keeping the demons weak.

"He's down in the unit at the end," the shelter attendant told you, giving you a cautious once over. "We really do recommend a male owner for this one. He's–"

"I read his file. I know." 

Douma– sometimes Doma, or Dōma; the spelling of his name changed between owners– had been surrendered to the shelter several times already. He was a designer mutt; breathtakingly beautiful but bred without a single consideration for his temperament. His appearance and outwardly friendly manner had led to him being taken in by many owners, mostly female, all of whom he had bitten. 

But difficult pets were your speciality. You'd even helped the Kamado family with their cantankerous Muzan. In fact, you regularly took care of the demon when they went away on vacation. Oh, he was all snarls and bitter words initially, but after a few sessions he was content to lay with his head in your lap, gently purring as you scratched behind his ears. 

You were good with difficult demons. 

The moment you got the email from the head of the Demon Rights organization that Douma had been taken to the special wing, your mind was made up. You were going to save him if it was the last thing you ever did. You hadn't even given yourself time to brush your hair– not that it mattered. 

Even drained by sunlight and undernourished, Douma exceeded your expectations of demonic beauty. He was tall and angelic in appearance, his eyes like opals, his hair like spider silk lit by the rising sun. His crimson and gold clothing was tight-fitted and sheer, highlighting his muscles and the slender curve of his waist. A smile broke across his face as you approached, friendly and inviting, almost innocent. And completely false.

Looking beyond his beauty, not allowing yourself to be dazzled, you could see those wide, colorful eyes of his weren't full of friendliness at all. They were empty. 

This demon was completely numb to his fate. He was numb to everything. His smile was a mask hiding an abyss.

"He will have to be muzzled on your way home," the attendant told you. "He bit the handler when he was brought in. I really wish you'd reconsid–" 

"I'm taking him," you said firmly. "If he agrees to it."

Douma's smile faltered. Clearly the demon wasn't used to having agency over his own life. "You're asking me?" He grinned at you once more as the melodic sound of his voice filled the room. "How sweet of you. Though, it's either you or the chop, right?"

"That's right." You hated that it was true. His extermination was scheduled in an hour. This particular shelter prided itself on "humane" termination via nichirin guillotine. "I wish there were more options available to you, but–"

"Oh that's alright," he said sweetly, dismissing your concerns with a wave of his elegant hand. "I'll come with you. And I promise not to bite."

All the blood drained from the attendant's face. "You're sure about this, ma'am?"

"Positive. Get him out of there."

There was paperwork to fill out, waivers to sign, a barrage of pleas for you to reconsider your decision, and horror stories from the shelter staff.

But before long you were standing in the cage beside your demon, a cold, nichirin muzzle and shock collar held in your hands. "I'm so sorry. I have to put this on or they won't allow us to leave."

Douma chuckled, smiling widely, "I've been gagged and collared before. Here…" he lifted his hair as though you were about to slip a priceless necklace around his neck, instead of a nichirin cuff with cruel inward-facing spikes and the potential to deliver painful electric shocks. "Don't worry about a thing."

Despite his cheerful facade, the telltale signs of discomfort were clear as you stood close to him; the way his throat flexed as you fastened the collar into place, the way the harsh metallic click made him blink, even though you warned him it was coming. 

Every part of this procedure sapped a little more light from his eyes because he'd been through it so many times before. The corners of his mouth dropped slightly as you prepared to slip on the muzzle, but he still dutifully parted his lips. His eyes remained trained on yours as you put it in place, his mouth closing around it almost sensually. Everything he did, every movement, every word, was polite, affable, and a performance. 

"I promise you can remove it the moment we get in the car. And…" you pulled off your hoodie, offering it to him. "It's sunny out there. Put this on. You'll be a little more comfortable if you're covered up."

His bushy eyebrows dipped slightly as he took the jacket and slipped it over his broad shoulders without putting his arms in the sleeves, instead wearing it like a hooded cape. Whatever made him comfortable–that’s all that mattered now.

He walked obediently at your side  waving cheerfully to the shelter staff as you kept a loose grip on his leash and got the hell out of that awful place together.

You weren’t afraid or aroused by him, and that was weird because humans were always either one or the other… or both. But never none. 

Initially Douma wondered if the chemical-scented air of the shelter had dulled his senses, but even in the close quarters of your car, there was nothing. Not even when you went to remove the collar and gag and exposed your underarms. He’d almost wanted to grab you and stuff his face into them, inhaling just to be sure. But that would probably lead him right back to the cell.

Your hoodie didn't smell of fear either. Just… you. 

You were so odd. 

So interesting. 

You were also either overly kind or stupid. To allow him to sit beside you in the car untethered, to remove his muzzle. He could have torn your throat out before you could even think to scream. 

But he wouldn’t. No. Never. 

Not you, you silly little thing. 

Not unless you pushed him. He’d passed through too many human hands to let his guard down entirely, even if you did seem gentle. 

“Do you mind if I take a look at your gums and eyes?” you asked. “I want to check something.”

Of course he didn’t mind that. He belonged to you now, his body was yours to do with whatever you pleased. And his previous owners had wanted more than a cursory look at his mouth. A lot more. 

“Hm, okay, yeah,” you said thoughtfully as you lifted his upper lip so gently. “You’re definitely iron deficient. What meats did your previous owners feed you?”

“Pork.” He hadn’t enjoyed it much. They’d insisted on having it cooked in different marinades which churned his stomach. 

“Have you tried raw liver? Or beef hearts? Those are rich in iron and might be better for you.”

Oh! Oh yes! Yes, that's exactly what he wanted. Filled with blood, slippery and fresh. Yes. Oh you sweet thing, you. “Oh mommy, yes I would love that.”

You froze. “Mommy?”

“Mm. That’s what my last owner had me call her. Is it okay to call you that?”

You shook your head. “I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“Oh.” What a peculiar human you were. You made no demands of him, you didn’t seem to want to fuck him… so what did you want? “What shall I call you then?”

Your name was far too intimate and a privilege he wasn’t permitted as a demon. “Anything but mommy.”

“Owner? Mistress?”You thought about it in silence for a while as you drove. “Okay. Mistress is fine.”

Mistress. His mistress. Oh he liked the sound of that. 

“Mine?” Douma stood flabbergasted in the doorway to his room, his brittle blue fingernails stark against the ghostly white of his cheeks as he held his face in his hands.

“Yeah, I’m sorry it’s not much."

It was only a small room, barely big enough for the bed, drawers, and tv you’d set in there for him. However, the sunlight was completely blocked by thick blackout curtains, so it would certainly be more comfortable than the cell you’d taken him from.

“I’ve never had a room.” He stepped inside and stared down at the bed before climbing onto it and sitting cross-legged in the center. “You’ll be sleeping here too sometimes?”

“Oh, no. No this is just for you. I have my room and you have yours.” Heat crept across your cheeks at his implication, but you couldn’t blame him for the assumption. 

His file had stated that he was constantly in heat and had regularly mated with his previous owners. But of course, like so much of his record, you knew that this was exaggerated or falsified. It was unheard of for humans and demons to mate; that unbreakable bond of souls and biology was simply impossible across species.

Besides, he was malnourished and stressed– the longer you looked at him the longer you saw signs. His skin, though smooth and on first impressions free of blemishes, was actually dull and far too pale. He had dark circles beneath his eyes, and his fingernails were brittle and cracked. Of course, his time in the shelter hadn’t helped, but these symptoms had taken root long ago. A demon in his condition simply couldn’t enter their heat. 

So… either his owners had lied, or he had faked it while fucking them. 

“Douma, I know you’ve had a sexual relationship with your previous owners but… I want you to know that I don’t expect or want that. At all.”

“Oh.” His opaline eyes remained on you as he slipped his arms into the sleeves of your hoodie, finally wearing it properly. “Then what’s my purpose?”

“Purpose?”

“Yeah. What do you want me to do?  I’m always given a job to do. Usually it’s just to fuck and look pretty… oh but there was the time I spent with the televangelists. I was an angel for Reverend Goodspeak and absolved people of their sins… or pretended to anyway.” His eyes grew wide and he adopted a more helpless tone of voice. “Oh, you don’t expect me to clean, do you? I’m afraid I’m no good at housework.”

“No, no. None of that. Just try to keep your room tidy. You don’t have a job. You’re just… here now. All you need to do is live.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

Fuck. Had you messed up? Was he going to be bored? Would that lead to behavioral issues? Would he bite you next? As experienced as you were with demons, you had to remind yourself that Douma was a unique breed and unlike any other you’d encountered. 

"What do you enjoy doing, Douma?"

He tucked his hands into the hoodie's sleeves and rested his chin on his knuckles. "Hm… dancing."

"Dancing. Okay, I can see if there are any demon-friendly places for you to dance."

He stared, unmoving for what seemed an eternity. It was… unnerving. 

You broke the silence. You had to. "Do you want to take a shower?"

"With you?"

"N-no. By yourself." You cleared your throat. "There's clothing in the drawers. Everything is a little mismatched and weird but they should be comfortable until I can take you shopping."

His gaze slid across to the drawers and he nodded. "Thank you, mistress."

You showed him where the bathroom was and how to work the shower before leaving to give him privacy. 

Standing in your kitchen, you drew a deep breath. Having a demon of your own in your home was so different to helping to care for other people's. But you'd made that decision and it was one which you would have to live with for the rest of your life because you sure as hell weren't taking him back to the shelter. 

You took out your phone, checking through your notifications and updating your friends from the Demon Rights group that you'd rescued Douma and he was settling in. 

He was… wasn't he? 

God, you hoped he'd be happy with you. Genuinely happy, not just pretending. All you could do was make sure his needs were met, give him the best living conditions possible, and treat him as you would want to be treated in this situation.

You'd always been so vocal in the group about how demons deserved the same rights as humans, that they were too intelligent to be kept as pets and should be treated as equals. And now you owned one. 

No, that's not what this was. He wasn't a possession or an object. You were responsible for him. That was a better way to think about it. You'd advocated for years for demons like Douma to have rights by law, but until that day came you would take care of him and try to figure out what exactly lay behind that cheerful veneer of his.

So, first things first. Food. You had some chopped, raw lamb liver in the fridge which you had intended to use to feed the little stray dream demon you sometimes saw down near the train station, but Douma needed it a little more right now. You'd feed the train guy tomorrow night.

"Mistress?"

With your heart leaping into your throat, you spun around at the sound of Douma's soft voice at your back. 

"Oh! Douma!" You put your hand over your chest as if you could quiet your panicked heart. "Is everything okay?"

He was just a foot away from you, naked from the waist up. The towel you'd left for him was slung low on his hips, revealing his muscular torso. His hair was hanging loose, dripping beads of water which coursed down his chest. You made a mental note to leave two towels for him in the future.

"Yes…" he said with a bright smile. "I'm ready for you to dress me."

“Dress you?”

He nodded. “Yes. Make me pretty for you.”

It hit you then: he was a doll. His previous owners had dressed him, preened him, set him on a pedestal to be admired like a prized object, and then disposed of him when he rebelled against them. "You can dress yourself. You don't need me to do that."

He opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes fell suddenly to the pack of liver in your hands. His breath caught in his throat and his pupils widened, the obsidian darkness almost drowning out the rainbow colors of his irises. 

"Are you hungry?"

Nodding, he sat on the tall stool by the kitchen counter and waited. 

You pierced the packet and couldn't help but smile as Douma grew visibly excited, practically squirming in his seat as the scent of meat filled the air. "It's cold… it just came out of the fridge. Should I warm it up for you or–"

"Oh, cold is fine. You worry a lot, don't you?"

"I guess I do." You set the liver on a plate and slid it across to him. "Bon appetit."

The feral sound which emerged from him as he pounced on the meat made your flesh pebble. Goosebumps tingled down your spine as he tore into it, moaning softly, eyelids closing as he savored the flesh. A trickle of blood dribbled down his chin. It was sort of sweet in a horrifically grotesque kind of way. But he was content. That was a step toward happiness.

He swung his feet back and forth as he feasted, humming softly to himself as the blood ran in rivers down his wrists, and dripped from his chin onto his chest and stomach. 

"Maybe I should have fed you before your shower."

He grinned and stuck out his tongue to lick the blood from his palm. "This is wonderful."

That may have been the first genuine reaction you had seen from him. You hoped so, anyway. 

Though maybe that was an act too. Perhaps you weren't doing as well with him as you thought. 

You were such an anxious little bunny, always tending to him, trying to perfect every aspect of his care and scolding yourself if you didn't do exactly right. 

At first he thought he was finally smelling fear on you, but it wasn't that visceral. It was just a constant, low hum of anxiety running through your body. The perpetual feeling that you were fucking up. 

You constantly felt as though there was something prowling, preparing to pounce, but for some reason, that monster wasn't him.

In a way it was comforting. 

You cared. That hadn't happened before. He could see it in the way you'd meticulously affixed the blackout curtains to the window in his room, that you'd carefully accumulated clothes in different sizes to accommodate any demon you took in. It wasn't about him. He just happened to be the one you stumbled upon, the lucky demon in the right place. 

He found clothes that would fit him– a burgundy turtleneck and a pair of beige hakama pants which amused him greatly because they were enormous around his legs. He couldn't stop swishing them. They were far more comfortable than the skintight leather he'd been told to dress in previously. 

Old habits died hard, and he still felt the need to catwalk through the house, posing for you as you sipped your tea. "Am I pretty?"

You simply offered him a friendly chuckle and complemented his choice of clothing. Not him. Not his body. The clothes.

What exactly was your deal? Even when he presented himself to you in the towel after his shower there was no scent of attraction, no rush of hormones. Just… worry. Fussing over his food, scrolling through your phone to try to find activities for him. 

Not being wanted simply for his cock was refreshing and maddening.

"I have to work tomorrow," you told him that evening as you sat on the couch, your tone apologetic as always. "But my cell phone number is beside the landline and you can call me if you need anything. I'm sorry I have to leave you alone." 

He sat cross legged on the floor beside your feet with his back resting against the couch. "That's alright, I'm used to being alone."

That didn't sit comfortably with you. Of course it didn't. Little worrier.

Hoping to reassure you, he leaned closer to your legs, resting his head against your knee. "I don't mind in the slightest." 

The muscles in your legs tensed beneath his cheek, but you didn't move away. The two of you sat like that for a while as you scrolled on your phone, still searching for that elusive demon dance. 

"Screw it," you sighed at last. "I'm just going to organize one. Can't be that hard."

You'd do that for him? After knowing him for less than a day… woah. His eyes lost focus as his mind worked to process this. You still didn't want to fuck him, and you weren't afraid… You were just kind. That was it. Not stupid. Kind. 

But in his experience, kindness didn't last long. It was a well that quickly emptied when he drank too deeply. Douma had spent so many years pretending, he was no longer sure who he was exactly, but he knew who he was when he thought he may have found a friend. He was too loud, too silly, too much. He depleted energy and frustrated the people he cared about. 

Your frustration could spell his death. 

If he wronged you, you might return him to the shelter. So he withdrew deeper into himself and plastered on an amiable, inoffensive smile. "Thank you, mistress. You don't have to do that for little old me."

"I know," you said. "But I want to." 

Those words stayed with him long after you'd gone off to bed in your own room. He lay on his back in the center of his bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to untangle the conundrum that was you. It couldn't be as simple as kindness. Everyone wanted something from him. 

Everyone wanted him to be something.

He just needed to figure out what your something was. Because he would strive to give it to you in any way he could. For his own survival, yes, but… for you too. His mistress. 

Douma was sleeping when you left for work that morning, curled up on his side, still wearing the hakama pants which amused him so and hiding his face in your bundled up hoodie.

You'd written him a quick note, telling him when you'd be back, reiterating that he could call you, and asking him to check your tablet, where you'd bookmarked a page for cruelty free demon collars which would enable him to travel outside your home with you. It was important to you that he chose his own, even if it was just the color. By the time you were done your "quick note" took up an entire page and a half. 

God, you hoped he could read. You scolded yourself for not checking that first.

You kept your phone on you the entire day, checking it constantly in case you'd somehow missed his call.

In the end you caved and tried to call your landline, but there was no answer. Maybe he was still sleeping. The previous day had been a lot.

At lunch time you emailed the Kamados to get the ball rolling on Douma's dance party, and Kie immediately called you. 

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," she said. "I think it would be good for Muzan to get out and spend time with his own kind in different settings."

You smiled. "How is he?"

"He's well. I think he misses you."

You heard the older demon's voice, quietly on the other end, muttering "I do not… When is she coming?"

Kie continued, "I expect you won't be able to visit him as much now you have a demon of your own to care for. Especially given Douma's circumstances."

"Right," you replied. "At least until he's settled. Though maybe it would be good for him and Muzan to spend time together."

"Absolutely not," came Muzan's sharp reply, a little closer to the phone.

You couldn't help but smile. The old demon was a handful, but he was dear to you regardless. As well as lying his head on your lap while he read and had you scratch behind his ears, he had also recently adopted a tendency to nuzzle your shoulder while you prepared his food. It was pretty cute. 

Images of Douma showing similar gestures of affection flooded your mind and made your heart squeeze. Maybe someday there would be an even stronger bond between the two of you. You hoped so anyway. Mutual companionship. Friendship.

“I’ll have my husband email you later,” Kie said cheerfully, sounding so much like her son. “He’s always loved dancing so I’m sure this will be his forte. And Tanjiro is great at rallying people together. I’m sure we can help you organize the event.”

After work you headed home, making a quick detour to the meat market to get dinner for Douma. Demons technically only needed to eat once a week, but he was in poor condition and deserved a little extra treat. You bought a huge slab of liver, as well as a beef heart, and hurried back to your house. 

"Douma?" You called as you stepped through the front door.

There was no reply save for the muffled cries coming from his room at the end of the hallway. Your heart leapt into your throat as you hurried down there to check on him. 

Hell, what were you thinking, leaving him alone the very next day after saving him from certain death? You cursed yourself as you entered his room and found him still lying on the bed, tears streaking down his cheeks as he sobbed into your hoodie. 

"Douma?" 

He didn't respond. He simply cried, babbling nonsense between throat-shredding sobs. His voice sounded so unlike him, so filled with desperation and fear.

It felt like an invasion of his privacy but he was your responsibility, his happiness your duty, so you stepped into the room, getting a little closer until you could see he was still asleep. 

He was having a nightmare. 

"Douma?" You reached out to gently shake him awake. 

You saw your blood spray across the bed sheets before you even felt the pain of his fangs piercing your flesh.

Demons didn’t need to breathe to survive. The only reason their lungs still worked at all was to enable air to pass through their vocal chords and allow them to speak. 

But as Douma waited outside the bathroom, he could neither breathe nor speak at all.

The taste of your blood remained on his tongue; a taste he was biologically programmed to crave. But he couldn’t savor it. Even if you were undoubtedly his last meal. 

He hadn’t meant to bite you, he truly hadn’t. He didn’t even remember doing it. Everything had been so hazy, so sudden, so violent. 

“It’s okay.” You’d repeated that phase twenty times before he finally agreed to wait outside the bathroom while you patched yourself up. 

He simply sat on the hallway floor and stared at the crack of light underneath the bathroom door, knowing he should feel fear. He was going to die, afterall. You were kind, yes, but kindness only went so far. It didn’t extend to demons who had torn their owner’s necks open. 

And yet, he felt nothing. He never did. No happiness, no sorrow, no fear Just… numb. Empty. Nothing. He was an object. Not a living thing. Objects didn’t feel; they simply looked pretty and waited to be used as the real people saw fit. 

The moment your shadow appeared beneath the door he was on his feet to be the first thing you saw when you stepped out into the hallway. You were paler than usual, trembling a little with the shock of it all, forcing a smile. But you still weren’t afraid of him. There was no scent of fear or anger emitting from you as you approached. 

“I’m so sorry.” Those words should have come from him, but you were the one who spoke them. “I didn’t mean to startle you. And I shouldn’t have touched you without your permission.”

He still couldn’t fill his lungs to speak.

How were you this gentle? Was this world with you so different from the ones he previously inhabited? He hadn’t even bitten his other owners in such a potentially deadly place. Oftimes it was an arm blocking his exit, a hand raised in anger, one time a breast shoved in his face. All those bites had led to his immediate banishment, then off to the shelter to be picked up and sent back time and time again until finally he had enough black marks against his name he was considered better off dead.

And then along came you. You who simply stood looking sheepish, as if ashamed to have caused the bite. It didn’t matter that he was bigger, stronger, deadly, an object, a monster. You reeked of guilt and that nervous energy you could never shake. 

Oh, his poor anxious little doe, what was he going to do with you?

“Does it hurt?” he finally managed to ask. 

“It stings a little but I’m really okay. It looked bad but once I got myself cleaned up it was just a couple of scratches.” You took a step forward. “And please know that I’m not sending you back to that awful place. Ever. No matter what.”

His lungs filled for what felt like the first time in forever. 

You simply carried on as if you hadn’t just flipped the world on its axis with your words. “Are you okay?”

Was he? He wasn’t sure. He was still empty yet strangely uncomfortably full. There was a desire he couldn’t speak sitting at the back of his throat, one so absurd he was embarrassed even to think it. But he wanted to hug you. He wanted that reassurance that you weren’t angry with him, or afraid to come near him.

“Please speak your mind,” you said softly.

“Hm?” He plastered on a friendly smile and dismissed your concern with a wave of his hand. “Oh, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’m just happy you’re okay.”

Later you fed him the heart of a cow, and Gods, he had never tasted anything so wonderful. His toes curled while he ate his fill, blood running down his wrists and chin once more as he hummed in contentment.

“So, heart and liver are Douma approved?” you said with a smile as you ate your dinner opposite him, not in the least bit squeamish. “I’ll get you more.”

He nodded happily and sunk his teeth into the left atria of the heart, sucking out the blood before chewing the flesh. Somehow this meal tasted better than any he had eaten before, and he knew it wasn’t just the cut of meat. It tasted good because of the reassurance that there would be more. You weren’t going to throw him out for being a bad pet. 

He was safe with you. 

“Thank you,” he said, wiping his chin on the back of his hand. Gods, he was making a mess. His last owner would have chastised him for it. Not you though, you sweet, fucked up little thing.

“You're very welcome.” You set down your fork and watched him fondly. “I spoke to some friends of mine about organizing your dance, by the way. I think it’s going to be great.”

“You’re too kind to me, mistress.” He meant it too. He’d lived in mansions and megachurches, but there in your humble little house, he felt more comfortable than he ever had. And that was all on you. 

“No, you deserve kindness. Please don’t doubt that.”

“Even though I bite?”

“Yes. Always.”

What a sweet little smile you had. Sweet sweet sweet. Everything about you was sweet except the taste of you; he’d hated that more than anything. 

“Oh!” your eyes widened with a realization. “I suppose you didn’t see my note about the collar?”

He shook his head in confusion. “I slept all day.”

“That’s okay. You must have been exhausted. Well, it’s just that to go outside, as you know, you’re supposed to wear a collar.”

“Yeah… the shelter gave you one for me, didn’t they?” Even though you’d gently placed it around his neck, the nichirin spikes adoring the interior of the collar had stung relentlessly. Even after you had so kindly removed it in the car, his skin was irritated from it. That collar had been designed to keep him miserable, docile, to shock him if necessary.

You shook your head. “I’m not using that one. Absolutely not. No, that one is… it’s barbaric. I want to buy you a new one. The kind that can’t hurt you. And I want you to choose it.”

What a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. A feathery sort of feeling which made him want to squirm. You just cared so damn much. He despised wearing collars–they constantly felt as though they were choking him– but he would absolutely wear one for you. 

Then again, if he understood the law correctly,  he didn't think he'd have to. 

A week passed before the package from the collar company arrived. Douma was beside himself as you sat on the couch and waited for him to decide whether he wanted you to close your eyes or watch him open it. 

"… okay, watch me. Wait no… close them. Close them… yeah."

You did as he told you, his excitement warming your heart and setting your mind at ease. Some part of you couldn't help but feel guilty that he had to do this. But that box may as well have been from Tiffany's the way he grinned when you'd placed it in his hands. 

There was a lot of shuffling and finally a metallic click.

"Okay, open," he said softly. 

You opened your eyes and… well… it wasn't a collar. He was wearing a harness. 

It was made of sturdy black leather, with a thick strap encircling his torso just below his pectorals, and two more straps over his broad shoulders. The shoulder straps were then connected by two more smaller ones across the top of his chest which were joined by a nichirin hoop above his sternum, intended to enable the demon's owner to attach a leash.

Strapped up like that, it was plain to see that Douma had filled out in the week since you'd picked him up. His chest looked especially soft and full, spilling over the bottom leather band. 

"Well? Whaddya think?" he asked hopefully. 

"It's lovely! But… is it allowed as a substitute for a collar?"

He nodded. "There's a clause in the leash law that says bad pets may wear a harness instead of a collar if the collar will exacerbate bad behaviors. And as we know, I'm the baddest pet of them all."

He said it so proudly you couldn't help but smile. "You're not bad in the slightest."

His smile faltered as his gaze slid to your neck. You'd kept the wound covered so you didn't worry him, but you'd lied through your teeth that day. It was a little worse than you'd insisted. In fact, you'd had to close the wound with butterfly stitches the next day because it wouldn't stop bleeding. 

No way were you going to the emergency room though. They'd know it was a bite and the next thing you knew Douma would be taken away. That was never going to happen on your watch. Anyways, it was starting to heal. No harm done. 

"The mall is open late tonight," you said, distracting him from the bite. "Wanna go shopping?"

His eyes brightened. "Oh! I would love that!"

The mall you had in mind was one of the more demon-friendly places in town. It stayed open late and even had a vendor selling raw meats and treats for demon pets.

After hitting a few stores and buying Douma some more outfits (mainly hakama pants– these ones even swishier than the first pair) you bought him a "demon boba tea" which consisted of bone broth with little chunks of liver chopped up to simulate the tapioca pearls.

He sipped it contentedly while you made your way to a homewares store together, your grip on his leash as loose as possible. Not that he seemed to mind it. 

"If you see anything you want for your room then let me know," you told him as you walked through the soft furnishings section. 

He found no less than eight throw pillows he struggled to choose between.

"They're all so soft!" he mused as he went back and forth between them. "And the colors are so pretty! Oh! I can't decide. You decide for me, mistress."

In the end you bought them all. 

Your credit card was practically sobbing as you headed out of the mall and back to the car with both you and Douma encumbered with shopping bags, but the smile on his face seemed a little more genuine as he gazed up at the moon and pulled in a breath. 

"Mistress?"

"Hm?"

"I've lived with billionaires less generous than you."  He loaded the bags into the back seat of the car and gave the pillows one last parting squeeze before closing the door. 

"I wish I could do more… maybe next time I get paid we can–"

He gently tugged the leash connecting you both, as if you were his misbehaving pet. "Shh shh, little dove. You do more than enough. And I don't just mean the things you buy for me. Everything. All of it. You…" He stopped and looked away, but for a moment you could swear his eyes weren't just empty pools reflecting the colors of a rainbow. They were full of… pain. But the effect was only momentary before he smiled sweetly and said, "How silly of me. I lost my train of thought," and sucked on his boba tea straw. 

You couldn't even imagine what he'd gone through, what he'd endured. All you could do was create an environment safe enough that he knew he could open up about it if he needed to. 

That night on your way to bed, you walked past his room to see him lying comfortably among his new pillows, your hoodie still bundled up by his head. 

It seemed to serve as an extra way for him to block out the light as he slept. You resolved to double check the blackout curtains and try to figure out how to close the crack at the top and bottom of his bedroom door. Clearly you hadn't been as thorough as you thought you had. There was always room for improvement when it came to his care. 

"Would you like me to wash that?" You asked.

"No!" He looked aghast, propping himself up to stare in horror at you. "Do you want it back?"

"Oh, no. You can keep it if it helps you sleep. I was just worried it smelled bad."

The tension ebbed from his body as he placed his hand on the garment. "Thank you, but no, it doesn't." He pouted thoughtfully. "Though… if you wanted to wear it again and then give it back, I wouldn't mind that. Just don't feel as though you have to wash it for me."

One morning, about a week later, Douma was trying to sleep as you tiptoed around the house trying to get ready for work as quietly as possible. But there was something preventing him from fully drifting off, and it wasn’t the subtle sounds of you making your breakfast. 

It was the smell of blood; your blood, coming from between your legs.

Of course, that was nothing new to him– he’d had owners who had menstruated in the past, but he’d never been quite so aware of it. Maybe it was your blood type or some kind of hormonal shift, but something was drawing him to you. He simply needed to be close. It was almost a protective instinct.

This was certainly new.

After about half an hour of tossing and turning he finally decided to get up and say good morning before you left. The moment you saw him– mother hen that you were– you jumped up and closed the blinds in the living room, depriving yourself of the morning sun for his sake. 

“Douma, are you okay?”

“Mhm. Just… a little hungry I think.” 

That hum of anxiety grew louder and it was almost as if he could read your mind. You were worried you’d been underfeeding him, despite giving him three times the recommended meals for demons. The burgundy turtleneck he’d taken to wearing only two weeks ago now stretched very tight across his muscles. He liked how he felt now. Comfortable. Stronger.

Still, he wasn’t about to turn down fresh meat as you pulled a bag of chicken hearts out the fridge and set them out for him. 

“If you like, I’ll swing by here and pick you up after work and you can come to the meat market with me? You can see if there’s anything else there which takes your fancy.”

Your scent mingled with the smell of the hearts made his mouth water. “Thank you, mistress. I’d love that. And I hope you have a wonderful day today.”

“I hope you do too.” You slung your purse over your shoulder, your movements a little more sluggish than usual. “Are you sure you’re not bored here by yourself?”

Worry worry worry. That’s all you ever did. You worried about health, his happiness, even things in the past you could never change. Goodness, you even worried when you were going out of your way to do things for him, like arranging the dance. You'd admitted more than once that you felt terrible for asking the Kamado family to help since they'd pretty much taken over the project entirely with their heartfelt enthusiasm, and you felt as though you'd failed.

And now you were worried that here in this comfortable house with his own room, TV, books, the tablet, eight cushions, swishy hakama pants, and more freedom than he'd ever been given before that you were screwing up by committing the unforgivable sin of going to work. 

He gave you his most reassuring smile and shook his head. “Oh, don’t be silly. I’m fine, really. I’ll nap and watch TV and wait for you to come get me.”

You smiled weakly, one hand coming to rest on your belly. Oh, you poor thing. He might not have been human or in possession of a uterus, but he knew you must be uncomfortable. He could smell your hormones running riot, sense the twisting pain in your muscles. And there you were going to work to be able to afford his care. 

“Call out.” He spoke before he’d even processed what he was saying. “You don’t have to feed me as much as you do.”

A little crease appeared between your eyebrows. “You want me to stay home today?”

Did he? “Yes.”

“So you are bored?”

“No! Heavens no, I just… like it when you’re here.”

Goodness… that was true, wasn’t it? He liked living there, but the house felt better when you were in it. Despite the care you’d taken to ensure he had entertainment and assured him he was to see himself more as a roommate than a pet, he still often felt as though his days were simply spent waiting. Hearing your key in the lock gave him peace.

The temptation in your eyes was quite adorable too as you considered staying home. “I do have cramps…and quite a bit of PTO I need to use up by the end of the year. So you wouldn't have to eat less.”

Oh! Oh! This was marvelous. You were going to stay home with him all day. He was winning. “You do look sick, mistress. You could stay home. I’ll make you some tea, and we can watch TV together! And maybe if you feel better later we can go to the market. But if not, it’s okay! I can wait.”

The corner of your mouth lifted. “You’re so sweet, Douma.”

If he had a heart, those kind words might have made it flutter, but he’d been reassured all his life that he didn’t. He chalked up the light, squirmy feeling in his chest to hunger and opened the bag on the counter, throwing a chicken heart in the air and catching it between his teeth. 

You spent the first hour of your day off psyching yourself up to making the phone call, and the second hour flipping between worrying that you hadn’t sounded sick enough, or that you’d made yourself sound too sick and they’d think you were faking. 

It must have been exhausting, having your brain. 

Douma simply sat patiently on the couch, scrolling through the categories on Netflix. As you paced across the living room, your movement wafted the air past him and he couldn't help but notice your scent. Comforting and maddening, as you so often were to him. 

"Little birdie, you're flitting around so much. Your heating pad is waiting here with your tea."

"You're right, I'm sorry Douma, I'm just not used to calling out and– oh my god, are you bleeding?"

Was he? He didn't think he was. He knew the scent of his own blood very well, and there was none in the air. "Where?"

"Your head." You took a hurried step toward him and paused. "May I take a look?"

"Oh! Yes of course! Go right ahead."

He appreciated you asking first, though it wasn't necessary. It had only been a little over two weeks, but he trusted you. You never got angry and lashed out assuming he could take it because he was a demon. You never treated him as anything less than human, in fact. 

You were comfort and safety. And home. 

So, yes. You could touch his head. 

A shiver traveled down his spine as you carefully parted his hair and began your investigation. 

"Hm… it's not blood," you hummed thoughtfully. "This is so interesting."

The back of his neck tingled as you sat beside him, carefully parting and smoothing down his hair. It felt lovely. 

"Your hair is changing color right at the roots but only on top."

"Oh? And it looks like blood?"

"Yeah. Have you always been blond?"

"Mostly. One of my owners had a thing for redheads so they dyed my hair orange. And another wanted my hair white and bleached it."

You frowned a little. "I wish I could bite them all."

A snort of laughter burst from him. "With your little human teeth?"

The laugh which emerged from you in return was the most joyous sound he'd ever heard. Because he had made it happen. 

When you withdrew your hand, he missed your touch immediately. His head moved in the same direction almost of its own accord, chasing out your caress, eliciting a look of confusion from you.

"Don't stop… please? Investigate more."

"Oh, but I think it's just a color change, hopefully a sign that–" He nudged your hand with the top of his head and felt his heart lift when you chuckled. "You want me to play with your hair?"

"Yeah!" 

His entire body tingled as you obliged, your fingers threading through his golden strands so carefully, so gently. He closed his eyes and sighed, lost in the sensation. 

He wasn't sure exactly what TV show you settled on watching as he sat there in total bliss, but he presumed it had something to do with motorcycles and their noisy, rumbling engines. It didn't matter. He was so relaxed it could have been anything. 

"You're purring," you said, your tone quiet and kind. 

Was he? Is that what that was? None of his previous owners had ever gotten him to purr before. They'd done things to his body that felt wonderful, but they had never evoked that response. 

Yes… this was all most definitely new. 

By the end of the day he was sprawled across the couch, legs dangling off the end of the armrest and head resting against your hip as he existed in a state of blissful, floaty… loveliness. 

He opened his eyes to gaze at you and felt something flop in his chest. You were just so relaxed, so peaceful, watching the TV and running your fingernails over his scalp, sending shivers through his body with the gentlest touch.

A soft sigh escaped him, drawing your attention. 

You smiled down at him. “Do you like being here, Douma?”

At some point or another, every owner had asked him if he was happy, if he loved them, if he wanted to stay with them forever. But you hadn’t actually asked that at all, had you? 

Because you understood that happiness– just like any emotion– was complicated for him, that he wasn’t quite sure if he was really feeling it or whether his mind was telling him that he should be. That part of his mind was a mystery he often worried he would never fully understand. 

But you understood him so well, cared for him so deeply and so innocently. In just a couple of weeks you’d shown him more kindness, more respect, more care than anyone ever had in all his years. He didn’t feel like an object with you. He felt like… like a person.

“Very much,” he said. 

And for the first time in his life, he meant it. 

Later that night, you and Douma headed out to the meat market. He wore his harness so proudly, walking beside you through the various stalls, drinking in the myriad of sights, the cacophony of voices and machinery, and the overpowering scents of the meat. At first you’d been worried that it was all too much for him, but your worries soon dissipated. He seemed enamored with it all, yet he stuck close to your side, the leash slack between you as you kept it hooked loosely around your pinky finger.

His rainbow eyes were wide and attentive, his perpetual smile flashing at every stall owner, even the ones who had signs reading “NO DEMONS” pinned to their registers. 

You let him choose his meat from the friendlier vendors; liver and heart were by far his favorites, but he also wanted to try skirt steak and venison. After paying for those, plus a large mutton shank, you made your way across town to the abandoned railway shed you were overdue to visit. 

“Do you want to wait in the car? Or would you like to meet the train guy?”

Douma barely considered it for a moment before responding. “I want to meet him. Of course! Who is he?"

He was such an extrovert, energized simply by the thought of meeting someone new, whereas you had to psych yourself up to talking to people you’d known for years. But you didn't have that issue with Douma, strangely enough. With Douma you felt at ease. 

In fact, spending time with him at the end of the day helped you recharge. 

"He's a stray demon. I think he was abandoned out here. He likes trains and his name is Enmu."

"Enmu…" Douma sing-songed his name with a friendly smile, as if practicing how to say it to him in the most pleasant way. "Yes. Let's go and see him."

The air in the shed was thick and dusty as you stepped inside and found yourself swallowed by the darkness. Of course, Douma could see perfectly well without any light at all, but he waited patiently for you as you stumbled around, moving slowly so you didn’t hurt yourself on a piece of rusty metal or broken wood. 

“Hello? Are you here?" Your voice echoed around the seemingly abandoned shed. 

A moment later, bright, warm light illuminated the shed, dazzling enough that you had to cover your hand with your eyes. But once your vision adjusted to the assault you could see the familiar abandoned train carriage, lit from within.

"Is it you?" A soft melodic voice called out. 

"ENMU!" Douma called with a friendly smile. 

"It's me, Enmu," you said reassuringly.

"Ohh! It is you, and you brought another demon to my home." Logically you knew his movements were simply faster than your eyes could register, but it seemed the dream demon simply appeared out of thin air on top of the carriage, arms stretched out gleefully as he inhaled deeply. "I thought you'd forgotten me."

He was dressed in an archaic tailcoat and formalwear, giving him the appearance of a haunted porcelain doll. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't forget, I've been very busy, but I hope this makes up for it," you replied, holding out the bag with the mutton shank. You didn't have time to blink before the dream demon whisked it away with his preternatural speed and stood gnawing on it from his perch on the carriage. 

He wasn't normally so jittery, but you chalked that up to Douma's presence, especially since food was involved. But Enmu seemed happy with the meal. He sighed contentedly as he stripped the flesh from the bone.

The excitement emanating from Douma was palpable. You could feel his desire to interact, to make friends, to socialize with his own kind

"Do you want to take your harness off so–"

"No!" Douma's eyes widened as his hand shot up to cover the buckle. "No, please."

There was a different quality to his voice, an emotion you had only heard once before, that afternoon you came home from work and found him dreaming. The day he bit you. 

Fear.

"Okay… you can keep it on. I just didn't want you to feel weird about wearing one when Enmu isn't."

"But it's our harness. Mine and yours, it's important. Don't leave–"  He snapped his lips shut and looked down at his hand before his brow knitted together. "That was silly, wasn't it?"

Your heart squeezed at the realization that he saw the harness as a bond between the two of you, not a means of imprisonment. But that fear… God, did he think you'd brought him to the train shed to be rid of him? Was there some part of him that worried you would abandon him like his previous humans had?

His bright smile was hiding fear, as it so often did. 

"Douma… I promise, I'll stay right here. If you want to go and make friends with Enmu, I'll wait. I'm not going anywhere without you, okay?"

He dipped his head, tucking his chin against his chest, his hair falling forward to reveal the strange blood spot color change. Gods, you hoped that was a sign you were doing well and not a symptom of even worsening health. But you didn't think so. Douma looked beautiful the first day you met him, but with every passing day he was filling out and looking healthier.

The corner of his mouth slanted before he brought up his hand once more, this time to unclip the leash from his harness. "There… you keep that part, I'll keep this. Yes? And we'll put it right back together in a little bit."

"Yes," you said with a smile. "I'll wait right here. Take as long as you like." 

Oh, your heart was surging at the sweet gesture. But it was more than sweetness. It was trust. The bond between you was strengthening by the day.

Douma and Enmu sat atop the train talking for over an hour as you busied yourself with your phone, updating the Demon Rights page on his progress. 

As you typed, your phone began to vibrate in your hand as a call from Kamado Kie came through.

"Hello?"

Silence. 

Perhaps she had butt-dialed you…

"Why haven't you come?" A male voice said at last, deep and beguiling; it was a voice you knew very well. 

"Muzan?"

"You haven't visited me in a while."

The hairs on your arms bristled as he spoke. "I'm sorry, I've been so busy with Douma, and–"

"Douma." He said his name like a curse. "The bad pet. The biter. I've heard of him."

It seemed impossible that the sweet, amiable demon sitting, kicking out his long legs as he chatted to his new friend could have such a reputation. But then again, he had bitten you, and accident or not, it had been a savage wound, even if the ‘attack’ only lasted a split second. 

"Be careful. That demon is cold and unfeeling. He won't hesitate to harm you. I want you to visit me."

"I'm being careful, Muzan," you said as gently as you could. "I'll be okay. It's so sweet of you to care–"

As expected, Muzan ended the call. He always did when he'd said what he had to say. 

It was strange; you were always so worried about everything, but not about your safety when it came to Douma. You trusted him implicitly. Perhaps because deep down you knew that he risked more harm in your company than you did in his. Demons could bite, yes, but humans could break, and he'd suffered that cruelty more times than you could know.

"Mistress?" His voice snapped you from your reverie and drew your gaze upward. "I'm finished. Enmu is going to sleep."

"Okay." 

“Do you think he can come to the dance? I haven't invited him yet but I think he’d like it. He seems a little lonely.”

Although your heart ached for the dream demon, there wasn’t much you could do. Not legally anyway. “He’d need to have an owner to be able to come. If someone saw him wandering around without a collar he’d be picked up by the shelter and then who knows what could happen to him.”

Douma nodded in understanding and cast a glance back toward the train. “Then can we visit him again?”

“Of course. I'm so sorry it has to be this way.”

"Oh, don't worry about it! Really. It's just the way of the world. I don't mind it in the slightest."

"It won't always be this way. We're fighting to change it." 

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "I'll still belong to you though, right?"

"No, you'd be free–"

"Then I'd choose to belong to you. Without a second thought." He threaded his thumb through the metal loop in the center of his harness. "Can we…?"

You stood and a strange sensation washed over you as you clipped the leash back to his harness; relief. Relief that Douma was with you, that you were both where you belonged. Together. 

Two weeks later, Douma noticed that his hair was growing at an unmanageable pace. Every time he showered he clogged the drain with golden strands but it never seemed to thin. In fact, it grew thicker. 

The red spot at his crown was bigger too, now noticeable even without parting his hair. At first he worried that you wouldn't like how it looked but if anything it seemed to make you proud. 

"Your claws are looking better as well," you said as he drank down the demon boba tea you'd picked up for him on your way home. "They don't look as brittle."

That was true too. His claws had always broken and peeled, but now they shone, strong, sharp, and pale lavender beneath the kitchen light. Of course he kept them retracted most of the time. The last thing he wanted was to pluck the furniture, or his beloved pillows. Or you. Definitely not you. 

"Do you want me to shape them for you?" you asked.

"Oh, yeah, I'd love that!"

He enjoyed your little touches; always so respectful, always consented to, always so loving. He didn't really mind what you did to him. You didn't give him that uncomfortable, closed-in feeling his other owners did.

In fact, most of the time he forgot you were meant to be his owner, which he supposed was by your design. It was only when you put on his harness that he remembered, and each time he got that swirling, fluttering feeling in the pit of his belly. He liked belonging to you.

But then again, he couldn't feel happiness, could he? He'd felt numb to joy his entire life, he'd been told time and time again that he was a void, an inhuman doll incapable of emotion. His only purpose was to look pretty and serve his owners. 

No… that's all his purpose had been. With you it was different.

"Mistress, what does happiness feel like to you?"

You pondered it as you took a file out of your manicure kit. "That's a tough question. It's hard to describe. I suppose… it feels like you're full. There's nothing more you want and you're completely satisfied. You feel content, I guess."

Really? That was all? It seemed too simple to be something he had been denied all his life. 

And of course he felt that with you. Every time he saw you he felt full to bursting, like his body couldn't contain the amount of… of… 

Gosh, feelings were hard to describe, weren’t they?

You made him ache. You made him feel like he was flooded with light and warmth. He wanted for nothing, because you fulfilled everything he could ever desire just with your presence in his life. 

"So," you said gently as you carefully filed the tip of his fingernail to make it safe and rounded, "I got a call from the Kamados and they've finally found a venue for your dance."

His heart skipped. "Oh how wonderful! Where is it?"

"Well, it's a little unconventional. You see…" You paused, clearly uncomfortable from the way your face pinched momentarily before you continued. "Many places don't accept demons…"

"Oh, I know that. Honestly it's okay."

"Well, the Kamados managed to find a place that would. It's a lap dancing bar."

His eyes widened with excitement. "I love lap dances!"

"Yeah?" You chuckled. "You like getting them?"

"Giving them!" 

You paused, your eyes fixed on the tip of his nail. "You do?"

"Mhm! Do you want me to show you?"

The sudden shift in the air was unmistakable. It made his heart race and his body grow warm, and he realized as your face turned a shade darker, that the change was coming from you. 

The thought of him dancing for you, grinding his hips against you, was turning you on.

"You don't have to do that," you said diplomatically. 

But you wanted it. He could feel it, a flutter of arousal in the air. Finally, finally after weeks he was in familiar territory. 

So why did it feel so different?

Why was his face growing warm too? Why was he struggling to fill his lungs as he took your phone from the arm of the couch and found a song he liked with a sumptuous rhythm. 

“Douma, you don’t–”

“I want to.”

Addictive heat emitted from your body as he danced, parting your thighs and undulating his hips against you. More than blood, more than flesh, he wanted to please you, to feel the rush of pheromones coming from your body. He craved it like nothing else he had ever known. 

What was happening to him? 

It had never been like this before. 

Douma moved with fluid grace, his hips rolling against you, sending a flood of heat through your body. It was sudden and it was wrong. You were no better than the others as your breath caught in your throat. Your body reacted to his; hot and needy, craving more than just the simulation of sex. 

Yes, he initiated it, but you were enjoying it. And that made you bad. 

“Douma–”

“Hush, little lamb. You worry too much.”

Gods, every cell in your body pulled toward him. Hot breath shuttered between you, both yours and his, your faces mere inches apart, his hands capturing your wrists and placing your palms on his abdomen so you could feel his muscles flex.

“Am I a good pet, mistress?” His words were like honey against your ear. “Tell me I’m good.”

Your throat closed. It was impossible to breathe or to swallow. And yet you managed to whisper, “So good.”

The song ended, leaving you both breathless and shaking, your lips so close it sent a deep ache spearing through your core. 

“I’m happy with you, mistress,” he whispered. “I truly am. For the first time in my life. I feel full.”

You nodded, swallowing hard to try to free your throat. “That’s all I want. And… I feel the same with you.”

That night as you lay in bed the sensation of his body against yours remained, along with the ache and the guilt of enjoying it. Douma was yours to care for, your responsibility, your pet. And yet, you couldn’t stop your hand from slipping down between your thighs at the mere thought of him.

It had felt good. It still did.  His body tingled with the memory of yours, your heat, the little gasping, shivering sounds you made as he danced for you. He couldn’t shake the image of your eyes; the visible war between desire and reluctance. 

Of course you worried that you were taking advantage of him, silly rabbit, but he’d wanted it. You’d done nothing to coerce him, even if your guilt told you otherwise.

But your scent…

He’d never felt so intoxicated before, so drawn to a human. He could still smell you on his skin, as though the essence of you had seeped down into him and he could never be rid of it again. And he didn’t want to be. He wanted more.

He wasn’t exactly sure when his hand had wrapped around his cock, only that he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting into the tunnel of his fist when he thought of you. The air was thick with you, your heat, your arousal; and that it was caused by him only made it more exciting.

He pressed his heels into the mattress as he fucked his hand, feeling out the rhythm that felt best, the one he wanted you to—

Was that wrong to think? Was it wrong to imagine your hand on his cock, your mouth, your pussy? It certainly felt right. 

Not that he had much–any–experience with this. Oh, he’d been pleasured before, countless times, but he’d never done it to himself. He’d never felt the need to. That urge had been as alien to him as happiness.

But now… now he was a glutton for it, gasping, panting, sweating as he imagined you riding him, telling him he was good and beautiful and yours.

“Mistress… please…” he gasped into one of his cushions, inhaling the scent of you from your hoodie, the one he still had tucked away since the first day he came to you. “Please, please, please.”

He pulled the cushion and hoodie onto his face, muffling his cries as he came, inhaling your scent, imagining your heat, your bodyweight on him instead. And as he lay there, panting in the aftermath, his hand warm and sticky, his body shaking, he realized that not even the new excitement of self pleasure would be enough to sate his urge. 

It wasn’t enough because you weren’t in his arms. You weren’t there to tell him he was a good boy for cumming so much for you. You weren’t there to pet his hair as he fell asleep. 

As he stared at the ceiling, Douma realized that he needed you.

He wanted you. He loved you.

To be continued...

I hope you enjoyed this first part. This story has been a real labor of love and part 2 is already well under way. It should be finished soon! Please don't forget to like and reblog if you enjoyed it! It really helps writers reach new readers!

Thank you so much!!