Otter Neuvillette

Sub Astarion

[ cage training | astarion ancunin ]

✧ tags : muzzles, bdsm, sub!astarion, gender neutral + dom!reader, reader is strong (offers to carry him), dirty talk, orgasm control, feeding (?), cutting (for blood), anal (m!recieving), service dom reader, petnames (my star for astarion) a lot of alluding to hunger, more erotica than smut but 18+

✧ wc : 4.8k (what if all just kill ourselves)

✧ a/n : i dont even like this guy like this im just mentally ill about submissive men. also this is a very "read whats on the tin and make good choices" sort of fic.. i know this kind of play might be controversial for beloved white boy but they have a very loving dynamic Okay. Alright. its about Love.

ALSO. this is ASTARION FOCUSED. so reader doesn't cum (though astarion makes up for it as implied)

this is a fluke fic i cannot recommend following me for this guy!!!written mostly for a friend. had a lot of fun with this though!!!

✧ synopsis : astarion relearns manners and discipline. he's rewarded for his valiant efforts.

He comes to you wounded. Save from the scar on the curve of his spine, it's not a physical wound.

Astarion approached you like a caged lion, a circus animal - a predator paraded like a house cat who has only just remembered his teeth. That's why your empathy extended to his greed even when it caused him to wear the worst of himself. You don't think Astarion has ever understood the fact that he's hungry. He's always hungry.

He inhabits a body pushed to failure. His hunger cues are almost as ruined as he.

Like an animal in captivity, every choice he might've had to make slipped between his fingers for many years. How to live, how to hunt. Hunger is the hardest to remember, though it leaves the longest impression. It's a condition of a wounded mind. He had long since forgotten a body that knows a need stronger than staying alive.

He always waited for the violent gnawing to set in, the kind that can be ignored until it can't.

And so, his hunger became his ruin, became his new captor. Astarion met you in the midst of that delirium the first time

Once you let a captive predator free, you've damned it. A caged lion cannot become uncaged. Survival instinct has all but degraded to nothing, leaving only a wounded animal in its place.

You must nurse it to health. Care for it as it renavigates the world.

Curb its hunger when it threatens to wreak havoc.

Sanctuary. Regiment. Retraining.

It's easy enough to discern what he needs. All tender with wounds that need to be licked.

The muzzle is fitted. A gesture of glimmering gold adoration among the steely black of whips and chains.

Astarion is beautiful. Tenfold on his knees.

The leather straps pull back slight against his skin, three in total clipped together at the back of his skull. The thickest strap flattens sweet white curls, thinner ones curved around his ears and jaw.

The structured leather cage, reinforced with metal, rests over his nose and mouth. It fits better than you could've hoped. There's a collar around his neck to match it, with a weighted chain in your hand. He's looking up at you with a softened gaze, ruby red and lidded. Needy.

The velvet of the loveseat dips comfortably under your weight as you sit. Astarion stays where he is. He's as pleasant as he's capable of being, hopeful as he scoots in closer to you.

He succeeds in acting cute, naturally talented in the art of being appealing. He scoots himself close to your legs and positions himself to rest his chin on the edge of your knee.

You meet his eyes amused. You let your hand brush along the pointed shell of his ear. Little goosebumps form in the wake of your touch.

"You should know better by now that those sorts of tricks don't work on me, hm?"

He huffs. "Well that's not true. They usually do work on you. Rather well, I would say."

You pause, taken aback, before relenting with a laugh His pout endears you. You let your eyes narrow a bit in knowing.

"Not like this though. You know that very well."

His frown deepens. You really do adore him. He taps his forehead against your leg as you bite back a smile, his muzzle making the touch briefer than he'd prefer.

"Gods. Of course I know but this, this is torture, darling."

Pleasant and noncommittal, your hand cups his nape. You pet him wherever you can reach, his head before slipping along his shoulder and against your lap. You settle at his back, tracing over raised scars.

A sorrowful hum leaves your lips. Neither of you believe it.

"Torture? Perhaps I've gotten too soft if this is torture."

"Oh you're so awful," He huffs, biting his tongue and choosing to rest against your leg in frustration for a while longer. "Sure, fine - torture is too perfunctory. But it's been terribly difficult! Where is your sympathy."

"What's difficult, Astarion?"

You're being cheeky asking him. After all your rules have been clear and reinforced well for the two tendays that have passed. You've been working hard on reteaching him patience. He used to be so patient, back when you were exploring and unsettled but you've let him take too much and now he'll interrupt you at any moment just to get what he needs.

(Astarion leans on you for guidance. Of course, he has himself - has his freedom that he took with bloodied hands and a broken heart. There’s many choices that he’s able to make for himself, some of them he can’t explain even to you. Whatever they are, they’re his to make and yours to support. 

It’s different though. Not having a choice, and someone making choices for him out of something inscrutable. You don’t bed Astarion until you fulfill the promise of killing his master. More accurately, you don’t lay so much as a hand on him. Only intimate, sparse touches. Only love. Only patience.

You’re disinterested in only having his body. His heart, and his mind, and his very soul - all of it. You want to grasp them so firmly and never let go. The chains and leashing and discipline are testament to what you want most of Astarion - and that’s all of him. You want to enrich him in every conceivable way.  Astarion deserves the granular finery of thoughtful guidance more than anyone. He's brighter when he feels special, after all. 

You’ve broken down the walls between you with a closed fist for this purpose - a not so quiet ask to love him by opening your hand. He’s given you the honor to let you think and act for him so he doesn’t have too. Duty binds you to reteaching him virtue.

It's a privilege to think for him. To wipe his bloodied mouth and care for his appearance prim and his mind sharp. No longer a matted beast but a loved, loved little vampire in the crook of your arms 

You’re not strict to no end. You'd rip the Astral Planes apart in search of what he desires, should he ask it of you, after all. 

Only the best for your immortal love. )

His neediness makes him more misbehaving. He’s been scaring away anyone who looks at you too long for business and otherwise, unable to keep his hand away from between your legs or his head in your lap. 

"Not letting me drink your blood for two tendays is unreasonable enough but on top of that," He's exasperated just explaining the dilemma to you. His muzzle is cool against your pant leg. "On top of that I'm not even allowed any relief. Despite all of your cruelty, you wicked thing. I never took you for such a sadist."

He scoffs. There's poorly masked lust in the last sentence. You stop yourself from smiling.

"Sadist? Really? I don't see it that way. Seeing you act so desperately all this time and keeping my hands neat at my sides... I'm a paragon of patience." You pull on the leash in your hand but don't pull him forward - though you tighten your grip. "It's…good to lead by example."

Excitement flashes over his face in a short burst. It's so brilliant you swear his eyes look white instead of red.

"You cheeky little—" He huffs at you. You smile warmly as he starts to curl in on himself. He already knows how to get himself what he wants. 

He gives up on pretenses. Briefly, just to beg, a monumentally hard thing. "Please. I can't take a minute more of this."

There's a croak to his voice. He has a hard time covering its tracks, even with his propensity for theatrics.

His throat is so thick with want. Something ripping at the seams of him and begging to be released.

"You've done well if it helps, but" You praise. He preens. Instantly. He squirms and wiggles around but doesn't move much more than that. "You act like I don't feed you."

"It is not the same, my love. You're well aware."

You ignore him.

"I even bring you human blood, don't I?" You tease, and his frustration darkens him. "I brought a beautiful and fresh body to drain just yesterday."

"Yes but," His hands turn to tight fists. He isn't sure what he wants to do with himself. You pet him a little more. "It's not the same, damn it. I want yours. Just yours. Just you,"

He adds the last bit quieter than the rest. Your expression is unchanged and cool though your heart might give you away with how hard it pounds.

"Just mine?" You tease. tugging at this leash a little. He makes a face like he's infuriated, a poor mask for embarrassment that endears you even more."Is that flattery?"

You're being a little mean this time. You'll make it up to him. He almost panics before he realizes just that.

"Gods you're insufferable," He complains with no bite. He's hoping for mercy you truly have no desire to give him. "You know that it's not."

"You speak so beautifully it sounds like it. Such sweet little noises you can make."

You let the heel of your boot press along Astarion's crotch. He makes one for you, involuntary - skin pink and sinful.

"See? How pretty."

Astarion is easy to bring to ruin as is. His own snark and disobedience is a poor disguise for that truth. A little tenderness and honesty makes him fall apart. Flirting back with Astarion goads him, though. Fuels his desire to win one over you. If you meet his cheekiness with more cheekiness, he won't relent at all.

Normally that kind of response would make him nip at you. It speaks to his desperation that it doesn't. That instead of making his own snarky remark, he tenses. A deep, shaky little breath. You could tip him over the edge through his clothes at this rate.

You're not so cruel. Not for today, at least.

"Sit up straight."

He does so without protest. You place a hand on his shoulder, the other one tight around the chain of his leash. Carefully, you drag your sharp nails down the front of his chest - leaving light pinkish marks on the pale skin. Over and over and over in light drags. His chest raises under the gesture, your nails scratching soft against his nipples.

"Hng," His voice is feather light. He's trembling at the slightest touch. His spine arches like he's trying to get more friction. "Don't you think you've proven your point?"

You let your palm drag down the smooth plane of his stomach, stopping at his pants. His cock twitches hard against the seam of his pants. You let a finger pull into the waistband, but don't go any farther.

"Not sure," You let the leash drop into your lap. You threaten to pull them down, but don't. Expression blank, you tilt your head to one side. "Have you learned your lesson?"

"My lesson," He repeats sarcastically. You feign innocence as you nod. "Really, darling?"

"I'm not so much of a tyrant," You let go, letting your hand cup the outline of his hard cock. "To torture you without reason, right? So what have we practiced?"

He stares. It must really be getting to him. "Patience."

"Yes. I ask you to be patient. Never kind, but patient. Because I'll give you anything you ask for if you wait. Things are better when you wait for them, right?"

He frowns in annoyance and disbelief. He's exasperated, rightfully - because you are messing with him. Just a little. "Right."

You squeeze his cock tighter. He hisses immediately, grinding into the touch. You blow hot air against his ticklish skin, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"So, have you learned your lesson?"

Your grip goes tight. Astarion craves the touch so badly. You doubt he's ever gone so long without anything at all - if the desperation he's rutting his hips with is anything to go by. His head drops heavy from his shoulders, his hands on the edge of the couch gripping for his life. Manicured nails digging into the cushion like it will save him. His voice is weary.

"Y-," He shudders but you don't let go. "Yes, I'm very sure I have."

"Oh, you're sure."

You enjoy bullying him. At a certain point, it bares itself out against all your own evading. Astarion knows it well enough, though normally it's through less truly intolerable means. Keeping him inside you soft or scraping orgasms one after another until he's too stupid too talk are favored between you.

Astarion likes being given a hard time, in general though. You're made for each other.

"Pretty little thing aren't you, my love?" You tell him, suddenly warmed. You miss the tadpole sometimes. If you could touch his mind right now, you would. Violate his thoughts with your own wants. You settle for a long stare. "So sweet,"

The anticipation makes his breath hitch. He goes completely limp in your grasp, weak and desperate. The weight of it all cracks and he looks up. His eyes glass over.

He shatters under his own need. "For the love of—please. I c-cant, I need to-"

"Shh." You quell him with a tender pet to his head. "You're looking at me so pitifully. Is it starting to be too much?"

He just nods. Your smile widens.

"You've been very patient for these two tendays, haven't you?" You lay it on thick. This is the part you like. You watch as Astarion goes boneless, the words reaching so deep into him he can do little more than collapse himself into your lap. You release all grips of him and let him hold against you soothingly, cling to your legs. "A very, very good boy for all this time. You're quite capable of it when you need to be, aren't you?"

He doesn't reply, but you can feel him melt into you further. For a minute you think you've broken him until you hear him mutter the softest yes you've ever heard.

(Astarion is not so easy to break, of course. And not so keen on opening up the softened wells of his heart to any stranger.

But he does break for you, and gods haven't you worked hard for that? It's a testament to all you've poured into him. Like you know all the right buttons to split him open tenderly.

And he lets you look. Touch and feel and cover your fingers with blood. He trusts you to stitch him closed.)

"Yes, that's right. You've learned your lesson now, and you're going to be proper and well-behaved because that's what good boys do. And Astarion is a very good boy. My very, very good boy."

He picks his head to look at you properly. He's darling. His face is flush, mouth turned into a soft pout and utterly, utterly desperate. His mouth is bitten, indented holes in soft lips.

"Yes, I'm. Please. I want you to touch me."

You aren't sure what you want to start with. He's being needy and you could almost feel guilty.

You pick up something from your side. A dagger from your days of travel. You unsheath it quickly, and let the blade cut along the tip of your middle finger. The blood comes quickly after, ruby red and thick. 

Astarion goes wide eyed. He’s hungry, so hungry - like he always is. But there’s something defeated in the ways he hesitates that make you relish. You push your finger through the cage of his muzzle and tilt your head. There’s mirth in your eyes.

“Go on,” You say, tease, mock maybe. “Eat.” 

He abandons restraint. All of it. You don’t make him work more for it. You push your finger down close enough for his mouth to lick at your wound and let your hand rest on the cage. He can’t get what he’s craving like this. The bone deep sensation starts to claw at him, a soft whimper tucked in the back of his throat.  

More. He wants more. Of course he wants more. 

“You look drunk.” You say, and there’s sharpness to your words. The ways in which Astarion is erotic have nothing to do with his theatrics. He is appealing when he’s giving up on everything but what he wants, always has been. “Have you missed it that much?” 

“Yes.” He supplements, letting his tongue run over “More.” 

You pull your hand away. “Take your clothes off.” 

You watch Astarion scramble to stand. You bring your dagger with you then reach over to the table beside you. Scented oils roll around in the drawer. You’re careful with the blade as you fish out a bottle of it, taking it in your hands. Astarion stands naked, the heavy chain of his leash brushing against his skin. 

“Kneel and lean on the couch, my love.” 

Astarion is the picture of obedience. He leans on his elbows on the couch seats, with his legs spread apart, leash in a pool next to him as he folds his arms and tucks his face. You stand on your knees behind him, admiring his back in the lowlights. 

Your hands rest on his thighs as you kiss up his spine. Small, short kisses all the way until you’ve reached the back of his neck. Your lips brush his nape, nose nudging against the metal of his muzzle. 

Something overwhelms you. Addicting, euphoric as your clothed body drapes around Astarion, free hand on his waist - moving up his stomach to toy with his nipples. It thrums through you, listening to the ragged anticipation and distraught way he moves. Against you, against everything. Aching for touch. 

You feel it overwhelmingly as you close in on his ear. Astarion huffs, long panting breaths. He needs this.

“Look at how naturally you yield to me now,” You all be coo. Astarion groans. Shuddering, your hand slides around his narrow waist and wraps a fist around his cock. He gasps. “You’ve become so pliable, so needy. But you know my star, I quite like when you’re needy.”

He hiccups and shivers and whines. “You’re the prettiest when you behave like the sweet little thing you can be, like I know you are. When you listen and yield and let me adore you in all the right ways. Such a sweet boy you can be, if only you let yourself.” 

“Darling,” His voice cracks. There’s a helpless quality to it. A little more, that’s all you need. “I — you —” 

You pull back and straighten your voice out, taking off Astarions muzzle after the valiant efforts he’s been making to wear it. It falls onto the couch unceremoniously. 

“I’m saying, well done Astarion. I’ll reward you for all that effort. I’ll slash another scar in my hand for you to drink from and then again in the evening when I’ve recovered,” You lean back on your legs as you make promises on your own words. “I’ll bleed for you until you’ve sated yourself and let you get drunk on it. Then, when you’re malleable, I’ll fuck you. Again and again and again until you’ve all but forgotten yourself. All but forgotten who exactly you behave for.” 

You open the oil and let it drip onto his back, watching mesmerized as it slips against every curve and crevice. When there’s enough to make opening him up easy, you stop and reach for your dagger.

The weapon  slashes over the same wound. You’ve done this tens of times now. You don’t let the scars heal with a potion or some kind of spell. Astarion is far from the comfort of romance, but it is its own promise. Your scar is his.

 The pain is brief, but it’s enough to feel it. You don’t flinch, though. When the blood finally seeps from it, you find yourself over Astarions back once again. 

You let your bleeding palms clamp over his mouth. It’s as close to sacred as you can forge between you. Astarion moans. It is shameless. Pitchy, high with want and utterly broken. He laps at the blood like a dog, his tongue sharp against the familiar wound. You can feel his body twitch beneath you, the muffled sounds of his voice.

There is no performance in that kind of pleasure, but the amount of arousal that spikes Astarion’s whole body never fails to surprise you. 

When he’s feeding from you, you busy your other hand with fucking him open on your fingers. Your dominant hand slips down the smooth curve of his spine, oiled skin soft and cool under your palms. He’s built like a dancer, beautiful curves. He’s a little softer now that he eats well. It looks good on him. 

You let your middle finger brush over his hole, relishing in the soft gasp he lets out as you do. Astarion’s aroused enough to accommodate you as you circle it. The tight ring of muscle is familiar, and welcoming to your touch. You don’t need to teach Astarion to breathe, don’t need to remind him of it. You can feel his whole body push along your hands as if urging you towards him. You’re too delicate about the matter for his time. 

Astarion is warmer inside than he is out. It fascinates you, makes your own stomach churn with want as your middle finger curves slowly. You pump in short motions until the resistance is all but gone. When you’ve made it as far as the knuckle of your middle finger, you start to search. You curl and press yourself against soft insides, search and search for what you’re looking for. 

Astarion lurches forward when you find it. The most pitiful little moan you’ve ever heard squeaks out from his lips, against your hand.

“That’s it, isn’t it? Right there?” 

Astarion makes noncommittal noises as you repeat the process again. Another finger, your ringer - spreading him open. Tight hole giving into your touch, filling him. Your mouth kisses the skin that you can reach. You peck and bite along the curve of his shoulders and all over his back as your ring finger penetrates him. His insides soften as you find your pace. 

You see his hands start to fidget, but you chide him before he can do it. 

“Not yet. You can touch yourself when I tell you too. Not before.” 

 Astarion needs more than this. You’ll give it to him, but patience is the virtue here. 

You don’t know how long that’s going to stick though. The way Astarion is shaking underneath doesn’t give you confidence he’s going to hold out long enough for you to take him apart like you want. You’ll give him something proper later, when he’s not so pent you think the slight brush of skin could make him cum. 

You do, desperately, want to see Astarion cum. But it has to be done the right way, or everything would go to waste in a single moment. You fuck him open on your fingers with a pinpoint pressure and accuracy, gauging his every move with the little gestures of his body. You know perfectly, know every inch of him inside and out like a book you’ve read page to page with the corners turned. The way he sways, lays intimately on the edge of cumming but never quite pushing himself over the finish line, speaks to that.

That, and the way he licks the blood from your palm like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted in his life. You can feel it, how messy it is - lapping at the split wound. Sharp unruly teeth digging into your skin, the soft breath of his nose tickling your hand as you cup his mouth. He licks so fervently, like it’s mouthwatering enough to die for. 

It doesn’t help the arousal between your legs. It’d be damning for him to know how affected you are by this. By him. 

“My beautiful boy,” Your voice is thick with desire. You can’t help yourself, the low possession laced it in. “Fucking perfect,” 

“My love,” The words muffle against your palm. You move your hand away to let him speak and his face moves instinctually to bury himself back in it. “P-please. Let me touch myself, it aches,” 

You weigh it for a minute, watching his body lurch forward as you fingerfuck him. You make a noise in the back of your throat, dropping your forehead against his spine - adrenaline making sweat drip down the crown of your head. 

“Poor thing. Aches does it? Touch yourself for me, Astarion. I want to see you make a mess.” 

He groans, hands moving immediately to fist his cock. You can hear it, the sound of him fucking his own fist like a wet, welcoming hole - cock wet and dripping with prespend. Astarions whole body starts to fall limp. His face pushed into the seat, little wet sobs spilling from his lips as he swears over and over. 

It doesn’t take any time for his body to give into the feeling of being pleasured from all angles. You feel his face nudge against your hand for blood as his muscles start to go tighter and tighter. 

“Shit,” He huffs, pushing himself back into your hands. “I’m going to cum.” 

You keep your other hand in place, pace steady. 

“Cum for me, baby. That’s it, easy does it.”

It happens so quickly you’re not sure if you should be impressed or if you should laugh affectionately. You can feel it, the way his hips stutter to a stop, his whole body grinding against you and holding tight to whatever he can cling to for purchase. His body weakens under the weight of your own, going completely tight like a bowstring before falling utterly helpless. Astarion moans loud when he cums, thick white ropes of it dressing the upholstery of the couch and falling to the floor. It’s an impressive amount. Save for what lands on the velvet, it pools thick and heavy. There’s so much, it’s like he can’t stop cumming. At least a minute passes before the twitching ceases. 

He lays there, ragged and weightless and limp. You take your hand away from his mouth and slowly ease yourself out of him as he stays and catches his breath. You press soft, warm pecks up his spine. 

You move away from him to give him some space to breathe, sitting back criss-cross on the ground. Astarion has no intention of getting up on his own, though. Before you can make sense of it, he crawls over to you. He must be worn out, given how willingly he’s coming into your arms in pure exhaustion. His cock is spent, soft against his belly and pink. He’s still naked and leashed. 

Still needy, but the lust has subsided if only a little. Astarion seats himself between your open legs. You laugh lightly, letting him rest in your side - face in the crook of your neck in utter exhaustion. 

“Hero of Baldurs Gate this, savior of the city that. I know evil when I see it, darling. Just outright cruel.” 

You break out into a laugh at the change in behavior as he pulls away to look at you. His eyes are remarkably watery. 

“That claim is undermined by that mess you’ve made on the floor there. Did you enjoy yourself?” 

He almost looks embarrassed by it, a pinkish tint turning the tips of his ears bright. 

“You’ve given me two terrible choices. I say yes and you think it’s a clever idea to do it again or I say no and I never experience whatever that was again in my life. A lose-lose situation.” 

“So you did enjoy it,” You say warmly. Astarion scoffs but doesn’t protest. “I’m glad. You’re very attractive when you’re pitiful.” 

“What despicable taste. I’m beautiful irregardless.” 

You let your head bump against his, and Astarion half-heartedly returns the gesture. “That’s true. A sight for sore eyes as they say.” 

“If you’re true to your word then I’ve earned a little more than just one,” Astarion purrs. Before that, he examines your (still bleeding hand) and picks your palm up to kiss. You grin wildy at his tongue lapping over the wound. “And you’re properly pent up, aren’t you? Let's get this cleaned up and let the real fun begin.” 

“Aren’t you insatiable today? As you wish, my prince. We can move upstairs.” 

He bemoans this. “You’ll have to drag my undead body up there if you’re asking me to get on my own two feet.” 

“Or I could carry you like a bride.” 

“A bride? How ostentatious. I’ll allow it.” Astarion says, then adds more quietly. “But we can stay… here a little longer first.” 

You hum against his skin, peppering his face with soft kisses; he doesn't turn you away from the skinship, which you’re pleased by.  “Of course my love,” 

He lays in your arms quietly and the thought reaffirms itself. You’d do anything for him.

✧ a/n : no one is more upset by the length of this than me. trust and believe this. also sorry for the yapping i just... posting this is so foreboding. it feels like that picture of spongebob who puts his hands up so a car doesn't fall on him. i am Afraid.

maybe ill write a part two of him eating box or something. we'll see. anyway thanks for reading </3. please do rb if you enjoyed. so scared to be in the tags for this.

Zhongli

Hug

pairing. zhongli x fem!reader cw/genre. fluff, slight angst, reverse comfort, stress. masterlist! requests open!

As Y/N walked through the halls of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, Zhongli's quiet sobs echoed in the muffled corridors. She stopped when she reached his office.

"Uh- Is that Zhongli?…", Y/N wondered in his head.

With slow, silent steps she approached the trembling figure of the man, who stood with his back to her.

As she approached him, he slowly turned around. Light tears flowed from his eyes. His lips tightened, hiding any form of sadness or weakness.

Y/N's previously curious look had turned to concern upon seeing Zhongli like this.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." He apologised beforehand.

"…Uh, are you alright?" she asked, somewhat shyly.

He nods slowly and sighs. She is a little surprised to see a normally stoic and calm person so vulnerable to even the simplest question. He sniffles and his lips quiver slightly "I'm fine.."

"Excellent, what a good question, Y/N." she spoke to herself in her head, wanting to slap herself on the forehead for asking such a silly question.

"Uhm, may I come in?" Y/N asked, as she didn't know if Zhongli would be uncomfortable with her presence.

He'd be silent for a moment. He'd finally open his mouth and speak slowly; "Sure."

Y/N nodded her head. She took a few more steps, staying close to him but not invading his personal space.

"You honestly don't seem well, did something happen?" her voice came out soft and calm.

His body tensed again when she spoke to him. His eyes wandered sideways, but never to her. His breathing was a little faster than usual. He hesitated between looking down at his hands as he spoke a little "…Today has been a very stressful day…. That's all."

On the other hand, Y/N never failed to keep her eyes on him.

"Hmm, I see…" she replied. Y/N sensed that there was a slightly stronger reason within that little explanation, but she didn't probe further so as not to make him uncomfortable or push him.

Her curious hands approached his face, it was a slow approach so that he wouldn't startle and if in any case he didn't want the touch, he might pull away.

Zhongli did not pull away from her hands as she slowly approached his face. Her gentle touch seemed to calm his nerves a little and his tense body relaxed a little. He took a deep breath and finally looked up at her, revealing his amber eyes.

Her hands fit perfectly on his face. She gently wiped away the tears with her thumbs. "I don't know what is truly tormenting you, Zhongli…" her voice was warm, her face close to his, "…but believe me I will be here for as long as you need."

Once she finished saying that, she placed her forehead against his, still not releasing her hands from his face.

The slightest bit of moisture formed in his eyes as his breath caught once she had placed herself so close to him, his heart was hammering at this exact second as her touch was comforting. All his stress seemed to escape him the moment she were near. He'd slowly place his hands on hers as he sniffed.

It wasn't many seconds before Y/N felt his thumbs being moistened again, more tears falling from Zhongli's eyes.

It was almost as if her words, in addition to soothing him, had opened up that mass of emotions inside him.

Y/N pulled away from his forehead, wiped his cheeks again and released his hands from his face.

His tears had started to stream down his cheeks as the floodgates had opened from the dam. He was now a mess in front of her as his breathing was shaky. He finally wiped some of his tears away with his sleeves "..I'm sorry…"

Y/N sighed, she thought that by telling him that she had made him cry more, but on the other hand she thought it was better that he let it all out.

"Can I…?" Y/N asked, as she opened her arms so she could hug him.

At first he hesitated but seconds later he melted his body into hers. Choked sobs escaped his lips, the grip was tight.

Y/N's arms closed as she held him close. She began to stroke his back as she heard his sobs continue, the gentle pats she was giving him were a way of saying 'let it all flow'.

At that moment Y/N's body was pressed against Zhongli's, chest to chest, heart to heart. In short, recreating the anatomy of the hug.

Zhongli's breathing would start to slow down as he sniffed a bit. He was finally able to drop his stoic shield and relax around her. He'd slowly start to lean back and place his head on her shoulder as she caressed his back.

One hand continued on his back while the other went to his hair, stroking and playing with it.

"Much better?…" Y/N dared to ask, as she heard no sobs, only hiccups left in the aftermath of crying.

Zhongli's eyes were closed when she spoke. He'd slowly nod and hum out a quiet 'hmhm' as he tried to hold back the last remaining tears he had left to shed. His body relaxed more as he placed his head on her shoulder. His breathing became more even and his heart settled down.

"I'm glad…" Y/N sighed in relief, a small smile forming on her face.

She continued to play with his hair, both of them still standing in the darkness of his office, the only light there was from the window.

His mind was slowly easing away from what caused him to cry in the first place. He felt so safe being in her presence. His quiet voice broke the silence "..Thank you. ..You are so gentle and kind.." Then he remained quiet but his breaths were so quiet she couldn't even hear them anymore. His body was almost asleep in her embrace.

"Heh, don't thank me." She spoke, still in a calm and gentle tone.

Y/N was mildly surprised to barely hear his breathing. "Oh, are you falling asleep?" she asked softly. Though it wasn't to be expected after he had cried.

"..Mh.." His breathing had become so peaceful. She could feel his gentle movements through her hug as he slowly open his mouth and released a small yawn from under her shoulder.

Another smile appeared on her face as she held him still in her arms in that almost sleepy state.

"You'd better get home, Zhongli." She spoke, patting his back so that he could wake up a little and not sleep until he got home.

His eyes opened and he slowly lifted his head from her shoulder with tired eyes. His body was still a little numb from the events before. He'd finally speak again and give a soft smile "..Ah..I will take your consideration.."

Another small yawn escapes his lips as he stood up from her embrace.

"Alright, if it's no problem I'll come with you." She spoke, stretching her body slightly.

The two of them left his office and Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, heading for Zhongli's house.

He'd nod slightly at her offer as he began to walk with her out of the office. As two of them walked through Liyue Harbor, he was completely silent, and he didn't mind it. He felt so calm and at peace while being with her.

On the way, Y/N took her hand, so that he would not stay behind her. The silence between them was comfortable. Hanging lanterns lit the streets.

Before long they arrived at Zhongli's house, he'd finally speak again though he sounded tired; "Thank you again for accompanying me."

She could tell he was still a bit drained from his emotional outburst earlier.

"You're welcome, Zhongli." Y/N sketched a soft smile, then released the grip she had on his hand.

"Ehm, well, I'll be going home now." She spoke again, taking two steps back.

"Ah… of course, I wish you a good night's rest." He would bow his head politely by way of farewell, but before parting he called softly to her, "Wait-"

She smiled and turned around so she could go home until she heard his voice calling her again.

"Oh-" she blurted out.

"What's wrong?" she asked turning again in his direction.

Zhongli reached over and gently grabbed her arm, as he spoke calmly.

"Before you go, can we… can we hug again?"

Y/N was slightly surprised by the request, however it seemed sweet.

"Of course I do." She said and then went over to hug him again.

He'd tightly wrap his strong arms around her in an embrace. His hands would softly brush against her back, his breath was quiet against her neck. He'd speak from that point with a smile on his face

"Thank you.. For listening to me.. For being there for me.."

"I told you it was okay, Zhongli…" He replied quietly.

They spent a few minutes like that, until they parted. "Well, I'm off now." She said with another smile.

He let out a deep sigh and slowly nodded "…I'll say goodbye then…".

Somewhat hesitantly he took a step back as he spoke again "Mhm, on second thought, could we cuddle to sleep?"

Y/N couldn't help but laugh softly at his sweet proposal. "Alright, let's go."

Audio porn recs

I've seen a handful of posts like these and decided to share my own favourites because?? Why not

Addicted to rum_n-coke because he sounds like re2 leon

❝ personal faves below ❞ ✧ ೃ༄

Introverted boyfriend becomes possessive after a night out at the bar

Bf teaches you how to own him

High sex with switchy friend

Very subby. Mommy & breastfeeding kink 💀

Catboy bf helps you destress

Bratty ex boyfriend gets reminded of his place

Telling your friend he looks submissive and breedable. Spoiler alert he actually is

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

A dragon's guide to courting.

Zhongli x F!Reader

Content : fluff, crack, cue confused zhongli, slight jealousy, drabble.

Synopsis : Zhongli is an intelligent man, no doubt, but he's dumb in understanding the ways mortals court.

It was another bustling day at Y/n's flower shop in Liyue. The fragrant scent of blossoms filled the air as customers browsed through the colorful arrangements. Little did Y/n know, Zhongli, the seemingly stoic consultant, had developed an interest in her that went beyond the usual scholarly pursuits.

One sunny afternoon, as Y/n struggled to shift some heavy pots, Zhongli appeared out of nowhere, effortlessly assisting her. With a polite nod and a grateful smile, Y/n noticed a glint of amusement in Zhongli's eyes. As she unearthed a particularly pretty pebble from the soil, Zhongli's eyes followed her every move.

"Look at this, Zhongli! Isn't it charming?" Y/n exclaimed, giving him the pebble.

Zhongli, never one to express emotions overtly, cracked a small smile and accepted the gift. Little did Y/n know, this innocent exchange set off a chain of events that would leave her utterly bewildered.

The next day, Zhongli returned the favor. He handed Y/n a similar pebble, and she couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in confusion. "Uh, thanks?" she said, unsure of the significance behind the gesture.

Zhongli, however, believed this was the mortal way of expressing interest. Determined to court Y/n in the way of the dragons, he began showering her with gifts – expensive trinkets, handfuls of Mora that seemed to multiply like rabbits, and lavish presents that left Y/n gaping.

"Zhongli, seriously, are you a secret Fatui agent? Is this much Mora even legal?" Y/n exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock.

"I assure you, my wealth is legitimate," Zhongli replied with a goofy smile, completely missing the confusion etched across Y/n's face.

Not one to be deterred, Zhongli continued his extravagant courtship. Y/n, feeling overwhelmed, sought guidance from her friend Childe, who was equally clueless.

"What's up with Zhongli, Childe? He's giving me stuff like there's no tomorrow," Y/n whispered, glancing over at Zhongli, who was watching them with an intense gaze.

Childe cluelessly waved at Zhongli, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing. "I think your consultant friend is gonna burn holes in my head with his glaring," he whispered back, causing Y/n to giggle.

Just as Y/n started to unravel the mystery with Childe, Zhongli swooped in, making up some excuse and whisking her away, leaving Childe standing there with a bemused expression.

"Zhongli, what's going on?" Y/n finally asked, her confusion reaching its peak.

Zhongli, wearing a pout that looked almost comical on his usually composed face, handed her another pebble. "I thought you might like another one."

Y/n sighed, adding yet another pebble to her growing collection.

Y/n's room had transformed into a chaotic display of Zhongli's courtship attempts. Trinkets, stones, and various lavish gifts adorned every available surface. It was like a dragon's hoard in miniature, and Y/n couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

In her flower shop, the situation was no different. The counter was cluttered with sparkling stones, and the shelves were home to a variety of odd trinkets that Zhongli had bestowed upon her. It was like a secret treasure trove hidden within the blossoms.

As Y/n admired a particularly ornate stone, the shop's bell jingled, and in walked Childe, ever the playful troublemaker.

"Hey there, Y/n! I see you've got yourself a playboy millionaire or maybe a sugar daddy," Childe teased, winking mischievously.

Y/n rolled her eyes, accustomed to Childe's banter. "You wish, Childe. It's just Zhongli being… well, Zhongli."

As if on cue, Zhongli entered the shop, holding yet another wrapped gift. Completely ignoring Childe, he walked straight toward Y/n with a focused determination.

"Ah, Y/n. I have something for you," Zhongli said, presenting the gift with a small smile.

Y/n groaned, "Not again, Zhongli. I don't need more stuff."

Childe chimed in, "Come on, Zhongli, share the wealth! I wouldn't mind a little gift myself."

Zhongli shot Childe a glare that could freeze water. "These gifts are only for my mate," he declared, emphasizing the word 'mate' in a way that left Childe looking thoroughly confused.

"Who calls someone a mate these days?" Childe whispered to Y/n, who shrugged in response.

Childe, undeterred, draped an arm around Y/n's shoulder. "Well, if you've got a mate, then I want in on the action too!"

Zhongli's jealousy flared up, and he excused himself, muttering something about needing to attend to important matters. Y/n sighed, caught in the middle of their peculiar dynamic.

Later, as Y/n closed her flower shop, she noticed Zhongli sulking in the shadows nearby. His usually composed demeanor had given way to a hint of vulnerability. Y/n couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy.

"Zhongli, what's bothering you?" she asked, approaching him cautiously.

"You and Childe seem close," Zhongli remarked, his voice tinged with a hint of disappointment.

Y/n, caught off guard, furrowed her brows in confusion. "Well, yeah, he's a friend. Why?"

Zhongli's gaze drifted away, lost in thought. "I may have misunderstood the nature of your relationship. It seems my attempts at courtship are not as effective as I had hoped."

The puzzled pieces finally clicked in Y/n's head. She cupped Zhongli's face, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Zhongli, you're courting me? Why didn't you say anything?"

A genuine surprise painted Zhongli's features as he spoke, "I assumed… I thought the gifts and gestures would convey my intentions."

Y/n burst into laughter. "Zhongli, you're a fantastic consultant, but when it comes to courting, you're seriously lacking in communication."

Before Zhongli could respond, a pebble appeared in his hand as if summoned by magic. He presented it to Y/n with a slight flourish, a sheepish smile playing on his lips.

Y/n deadpanned, "Another pebble, huh? Are you secretly a geo-vision magician or something?"

Zhongli chuckled, "I thought you might appreciate it."

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. "Zhongli, you don't need to impress me with gifts. Just tell me what you feel."

His stoic demeanour wavered, replaced by a more earnest expression. "I… I value our time together, Y/n. And I may have underestimated the importance of straightforward communication in matters of the heart."

Y/n grinned, realizing the depth of Zhongli's feelings. "Well, now that we've cleared that up, maybe you can court me like a normal person."

Zhongli nodded with a soft smile, relieved that Y/n seemed receptive to his unconventional courtship.

Sweet Elixir

Pairing: Sub! Human Muzan and Dom! Female Reader

Summary: When your father is called out to his most disagreeable patient, Muzan Kibutsuji, you accompany him as his apprentice. You're told to expect a monster, but what you find is a bitter yet beautiful man in need of solace.

Content Guidance: NSFW. Overstimulation, face-sitting, mentions of death, creampies.

Taglist: @scaraza @fairydollsteps @i-literally-cant-with-this

"His mother named him Muzan because he is an accursed creature," your father explained to you as you made your way toward the Kibutsuji estate. "You do not have to speak to him. In fact, you can stay outside on the engawa when we arrive and I'll bear the brunt of his ire."

A tangled knot of nerves sat in your chest as autumn leaves crunched beneath your feet. The air was growing cooler in the later months, but that wasn’t the reason for the chill which ran down your spine. As your father's apprentice, you often accompanied him to his patients' homes. It wasn't unusual for the sick and wounded to lash out in frustration or pain, and you knew not to take their outbursts personally, but for your father to warn you this way… It could only mean this man– Muzan Kibutsuji – was far worse than any you had met before.

By the time you reached the mansion, anxiety had sunk in its claws and made camp beneath your rib-cage. You slipped off your shoes and tiptoed through the house, feeling like a child once more as you followed a step behind your father. 

"Remember, do not speak to him unless he gives you permission," your father whispered. "And do not let him think you pity him. Nothing angers him more than pity."

"I won't."

"And try not to make too much noise."

"Okay."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather wait outside?"

Right– that had been an option, hadn't it? Honestly, you weren't exactly certain what was driving you on through the silent halls. Perhaps curiosity. Or perhaps the lingering air of sadness you felt compelled to try to heal. After all, what use would you be as a doctor if you ran in fear from your patients?

But the moment you laid eyes on the man you had been told to fear, your anxiety melted away like a snowflake on the tip of your tongue. Because Muzan Kibutsuji was beautiful.

"Doctor," the lord’s voice was like smoke and honey as he greeted your father with thinly-veiled contempt. He didn't acknowledge your presence at all as he sat up slowly on his futon. "You're late."

"My apologies, Lord Kibutsuji."

Muzan's tired eyes were the same reddish-brown as jasper, his hair as black as blood beneath moonlight, spilling down his back in gentle waves. His skin was alabaster, so pale it seemed he had never felt the sun's kiss.

As the young lord and your father discussed his treatment, you found yourself entirely transfixed by him, your study of medicine almost entirely forgotten for the moment. Instead your thoughts were consumed by every movement of Muzan's slender hands, the urge to run your fingers through his ebony waves, the desire to kiss his downturned mouth. But most of all, you craved to hear that dark and alluring voice crack. 

"I'll fetch the equipment to begin mixing your remedy, Lord Muzan. I'll be back in just a moment," your father said, snapping you from your reverie. He gave you a reassuring look, that if you found yourself in trouble or otherwise uncomfortable, you could come and find him.

But you were far from uncomfortable. 

"Good morning, my Lord," you said.

Muzan simply looked at you with a disdainful glower. "Why are you here?"

"To assist your doctor."

"Is he so inept he can't do the job himself?"

"No," you lifted your chin in defiance. "My father is a fine doctor–"

"Your father…so I'm a family project? A father-daughter bonding exercise?"

Your eyes narrowed. "No. I'm learning the skills of my father's craft."

"Ah, so you’re a scholar of failure." Muzan smirked. "I assume your father has given you information on my condition?"

"Only your disposition."

He laughed softly, the sound like distant thunder. "I'm sure he did. Tell me, do I meet expectations? Do you find me as disagreeable as I’m certain he does?"

"Actually, not at all." The corner of your mouth lifted for a moment. "I find you rather pleasant."

It was barely perceptible, but his carmine eyes widened slightly at your words. "Pleasant? I've been told I'm many things, but never that. What exactly about me is pleasant?" There was an earnestness to his tone, as if he sincerely wished to hear something positive about himself. “Come closer.”

You were more than happy to oblige the wishes of a dying man. You wanted to praise him, to let him know how beautiful he was, and make him feel something other than misery. But the moment you stepped forward and opened your mouth to speak, your father reentered the room, carrying a tray full of supplies; little bundles of herbs and bottles of ingredients, measuring equipment, and a ceramic pestle and mortar.

He approached the futon like he was approaching a snarling tiger’s cage, the bottles on the tray rattling and telegraphing his trembling. 

"Doctor," Muzan said suddenly, causing your father to flinch. "I need you to go into town for me. Your assistant may prepare and administer my medication."

Your father blinked in surprise. "Lord Muzan?"

"I require tea."

"T-tea?" 

A small surge of guilt rose in your chest. Your poor father was being treated as an errand boy instead of a doctor. But that surge was quickly quelled by the knowledge that your father's absence would mean that you and Muzan would be alone. And he wanted it.

You gave your father a reassuring nod and a gentle smile. “All will be well. I’m quite certain I can give Lord Kibutsuji what he needs.”

A few minutes later your father was gone. Walking to the closest town would take half an hour each way, so you had plenty of time alone with the intriguing man.

“Now then,” the lord said softly as you knelt at the foot of his futon and began to prepare the medicine according to your father’s notes. Muzan’s eyes followed your every movement, sharp and curious despite his obvious fatigue. “I believe you were about to pay me a compliment.”

You smiled as you used the pestle to grind the specified herbs into a fine paste. “I was. What kind of compliment would you like? Should I draw attention to your demeanor or your looks?”

The man’s lips stretched slightly, as a faint smile graced his features. “Both.”

“Well, you’re clearly very intelligent and quick with your retorts.”

“Hm, go on.” Muzan smirked, clearly enjoying the pampering to his ego. “What else?”

“You are without doubt the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on,” you said, casually scraping the contents of the mortar into a mixing bowl. “And I’d very much like to fuck you.”

Muzan sat very still for a long time, simply watching you finish preparing the medicine. If not for the quickened rhythm of his breaths, you might have suspected he was completely unaffected by your comments. 

“You’re very forward,” he said finally.

“Do you believe you have time for coyness?”

It was a harsh question, one which visibly affected him. Some part of him knew, just as you did, that short of divine intervention, he was doomed. He glanced down at his lap, pulling in a steadying breath. “No. I don’t.”

Pity was at best wasted on him, and at worst the gravest insult. So you didn’t offer it. 

Instead, you shuffled along his futon, straddling his thighs as you held out the bowl of medicine for him to sip from. “So, would you like to be fucked?”

Striking mahogany eyes drifted up the length of your body, drinking in your curves as if your vitality was contagious. When finally they met your gaze, he leaned forward, placing his lips obediently on the rim of the bowl as you tipped it for him. He drank down the bitter remedy, his eyes never leaving yours.

When the bowl was empty he spoke. “Yes,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I want you to fuck me.”

Setting the bowl aside, you leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to his lips, relishing the way his body shivered at the sensation. His eyes closed, and his lips parted around a stuttering breath of anticipation. He was, you quickly discovered, extremely receptive to the sensation, groaning and gasping, close to losing his composure entirely from a simple suck on his bottom lip. 

Oh, this would be delicious. 

He kissed you back, tentative and inexperienced at first, then slowly growing in confidence as you let him know he was doing well with a quiet but heartfelt moan. Despite your lack of pity, you weren’t entirely ignorant of his sickness. You paid attention to his breathing, to the racing of his pulse as you rested your fingers on his neck, giving him respite when you felt it became too frantic.

"We're going to go slowly," you whispered against Muzan's trembling lips. 

A frustrated growl sounded at the back of his throat. "Do not think you have to be gentle with me."

"I said we would go slow, I never promised to be gentle. My father won't be back for a while, and I intend to make good use of every minute we have together." You traced the outline of his lip with the tip of your index finger, making him shudder. "Is that okay?"

Muzan's throat flexed as his eyes fluttered shut. "Oh~ yes."

He was putty in your hands as you clasped his jaw between your fingers and pulled him in for another kiss. Your tongue teased his before returning your attention to his bottom lip, biting into the plump flesh to make it abundantly clear that he was yours.

"Yes~" Muzan sucked in a breath, elegant fingers twisting in the fabric of your clothes gathered at your hips.

"Tell me what you want," you purred, bowing your head to lick a long stripe up the column of his throat, feeling it flex and vibrate beneath your tongue as he groaned in pleasure. 

"Everything," he whispered. “Gods, please, I want to feel it all.”

He submitted to you so easily, surrendering the power of his social standing with just a few kisses. There was a desperation in his eyes, and an eagerness to be led and to please. And you could tell this was new to him. He had never felt so compelled to follow orders. It excited him. His pupils were blown out as he gazed up at you. 

"I'm going to show you how to make me come," you told him, standing from the futon to undress. 

He watched you in fascination, his eyes drawn to your every movement; your hands working open your belt, the sway of your breasts as you freed them from your clothing, the crease in your belly as you stepped out of the garment. At that moment he was besotted.

His breaths were shallow, his pale cheeks dusted with the faintest blush. "Let me kiss you." 

Turning to him with a flat, disapproving glance, your heart secretly swelled at the knowledge he desired you. "Manners." 

The defiance in his eyes only lasted a heartbeat; more instinct than true feeling. Muzan was used to getting his own way, a spoiled, pampered noble lord… but he was wrapped around your little finger, and desperate to earn approval. "Please… I want to kiss you."

“Ah,” you chuckled victoriously. “You’re so obedient. Tell me, where would you like to kiss me?” 

His gaze dropped between your thighs, his lips opening and closing around silent syllables.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, even though you had a strong inclination toward the reason for his hesitation. "It's too vulgar to utter– is that it?” You chuckled, approaching him and helping him remove his nightshirt. “If your tongue is too shy to even say a word, how do you ever expect to please me with it?” 

Standing astride his legs, you gently pulled back the blanket to see him fully. As expected his body was as pale as his face; lean and lithe… and beautiful. His cock was hard, and already so dark at the tip you suspected the slightest touch would cause him to erupt. So instead, you dragged your thumb over his lips, relishing the way they parted around a silent plea. 

“Well, my pretty lord? Can you say it for me?”

A low, wanton groan emerged from him as he gazed up at you. “Your cunt. Please… please let me taste your cunt.”

He begged so nicely, your pussy throbbed at the sound of his desperation. Oh, you could listen to him gasp and plead all day, but your own desire was just as ardent as his, and your time was limited. 

But before you began you needed to know the limitations of his ailing body. "Very good. Now,  how should I have you do it? Shall I stand like this, or shall I have you lie back so I can sit on that handsome, noble face?"

“Oh, fuck…” he released a shaking breath, skating his hands along the sides of your calves. “Sit… sit please… please…”

A shiver of excitement ran through your body as he lay back and took a gasping breath of anticipation. Oh, he was so far gone and you hadn’t even so much as touched him below the shoulders. That your father saw fit to warn you of this man was hilarious to you now. He was nothing but obedient, eager, and desperate for your pussy. 

“Good boy,” you whispered as you got into position, kneeling on his pillow with his face between your thighs. He was damn near panting, turning his head to kiss your inner thighs as you continued speaking.“If you need me to get off you, I want you to tap my thigh four times quickly, like this.” You demonstrated for him, then had him do the same to you. “Good. Now, I’m not going to be gentle with you.”

“I don’t want you to be.” He released a deep breath. “Just let me taste you. Please.” 

Without further warning you leaned forward on your hands and lowered your hips, pushing your cunt onto his eager tongue. Right away he clamped his arms around your thighs, holding you in place as a hungry growl emerged from him, vibrating through your core. 

Muzan ate you like a rabid beast feasting on your tender flesh. The slick heat of his ravenous tongue was almost more than you could bear. He lapped ferociously at your cunt, as though your essence was the elixir to his condition.

“Fuuuuck,” you ground out as you found your back arching from the sensation. 

Gods, he was relentless, licking and sucking your clit as if his life depended on it. The man was drunk on the taste of you, groaning and slurping as you ground your pussy against his insatiable mouth. The lips you had been warned only uttered vitriol and sin, worshiped you with fervent hunger. 

You pulled away, tormenting you both as he let out a desperate whimper. 

“No. Come back,” his voice was tinged with anguish as you denied him. “Pleasepleaseplease. Let me make you cum.”

You took a moment to relish his pleas before sitting back down and pulling a muffled cry of relief from him. His cock wept rivers of pre-cum, his hands, sinking into the plush softness of your thighs as he resumed his licking. 

There was no skill to his ministrations; only feral determination. He lay the flat of his tongue over your clit and dragged it back and forth, the only sounds in that silent house his smothered groans, your gasping breaths, and the lewd wet sounds of his tongue on your cunt.

It was too much. And it was perfect. 

He tore you apart at the seams, sending you careening into your orgasm. You choked out a cry as powerful throbs of near unbearable pleasure rocked though your body and you ground your pussy against his eager mouth.

When your pleasure subsided you shuffled down to straddle Muzan’s stomach, his erection pressed against your ass as you gazed down at his blushing face. Gods, the man was in a stupor as you dragged your thumb once more over his lips, spreading the gloss of your essence over them. The light caught them so prettily as he gazed at you with half-lidded eyes.

“That was lovely,” you told him as he closed his eyes and whimpered with need. “You did very well for me, Muzan.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly as his cock twitched behind you. His eyes were glazed over, his breaths coming in shallow pants. This man was born to a high status but his soul and his cock craved submission. “Please fuck me now. I need to cum.”

A shock of pleasure ran through your body as he parted his lips, licking the tip of your thumb, savoring every drop of your nectar. “Mm… shall I ride you?”

“Yes, Gods yes, that’s what I want. I want– I need your wet cunt on my cock.”

A grin pulled at the corners of your mouth as the vulgarity slipped from his lips as naturally as breath. Arousal made him far bolder. You could happily tease him all day, delay his release until his pleas echoed around the house, but time was pressing on and you needed to know the feeling of his cock in you just as desperately as he needed your cunt.

“I want you to cum inside me,” you told him. “But I will take an herbal tea which should prevent–”

“I don’t care,” Muzan interrupted, his brattish, noble demeanor emerging slightly. “Get yourself pregnant if you want. Use me to make yourself a little heir to the Kibutsuji wealth and ensure your fortune when I’m dead. I’ll even write a letter confirming it’s mine. I don’t care. I have no fucking love for my family. I just want to feel your pretty cunt around my cock.”

Even submitting to you like this, he was wicked at heart. Then again, perhaps so were you. 

You couldn’t help but smirk as you lifted your hips and aligned yourself with him, letting the fat head of his cock press against your entrance. Muzan’s lips parted around a shivering breath as his eyes widened in anticipation.

You paused. “Let me hear you ask nicely. One more time.”

“Oh, Gods, why do you insist on tormenting me?"

You cocked an eyebrow at his little rebellion. "I could deny your release, Muzan. I could keep you on the edge until the moment my father walks in here–"

"Please, I'm sorry. Just… please fuck me. I want to feel it. I want to know…” 

“Good boy. You beg so sweetly.”

“Only for this,” he groaned through his teeth. “Only for you.”

Lowering your hips, you took him, watching the muscles in his cheeks tense and pulse as he fought to keep his composure. But he was breaking just from the sensation of you, his face reddening as he put his head back and moaned. “Ohh fuck fuck fuuuck you feel so fucking good.”

Your breath caught in your chest as his cock filled you, the stretch causing a slight sting which eased as you rocked on top of him.

“Slow…” he pleaded. 

Perhaps he was worried he would cum too quickly, or perhaps he worried his heart couldn’t take much more, but you did as he asked, riding him slowly. The languid undulation of your hips drew the most broken, desperate sounds from him. He gasped and groaned, drowning in bliss as you bowed your head and licked the stiffened buds of his nipples.

“Yes thank you thank you~" he whispered, though you suspected his gratitude was not aimed at you but to the gods themselves. 

His hands never left your body. He fought the urge to close his eyes, keeping them on you as though he needed to flood every sense with you. Touch-starved and ravenous for pleasure, he savored every second, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as his seed flooded your cunt. 

His voice, which was once so commanding and bewitching, broke as he begged once more. "Don't stop. Please. Not yet. Not yet." 

Leaning forward to cage his head with your arms, you kissed him, swallowing his moans as you rode him into overstimulation. He was in ruin, squeezing his eyes shut, blushing scarlet, his fingers digging into your back as you kept up the slow, unending rhythm.

The sinews in his neck bulged as he strained and squirmed. His thighs twitched and shook as his feet sought purchase on the futon. "I-it's too much."

"Should I stop?"

He shook his head, even as his cock softened inside you. "No… don't stop."

He clung to you then, hiding his face against your shoulder, the tears on his lashes cool against your burning skin.

Threading his long, black hair through your fingers, you cooed softly as he whimpered into the crook of your neck. "You're taking it so well. You're so beautiful when you're fucked out like this. So good for me."

You rocked together, panting breaths heating the air between you as Muzan gorged himself on pleasure. Slender fingers slid down to your backside, digging into the fat of your ass and clinging to you with all he had. His cock grew hard again. His gasps turned to growls.

"Gods, I can't take anymore."

You slowed down.

His hands darted to your hips. "Don't stop, damn you. Don't stop."

Muzan Kibutsuji, that sick and wretched man, whose life consisted of agony and disappointment found precious moments of pleasure and normalcy in your embrace, and once he had tasted that bliss he wouldn't surrender it. The ecstasy you gave him would not cure his ailments, but it was an elixir which temporarily sweetened the bitterness in his heart. 

Grazing your teeth over his collarbone, you whispered, "Can you take it if I go a little faster?"

"I– yes. I want to feel you cum on my cock," he whispered. "Do what you need to do."

Sitting upright, you took his hand and led it to your clit, guiding his strokes. His lips fell apart in reverent surprise as your cunt pulsed and tightened around his cock, preparing for release. And you knew he only pleasured you like this so that he could feel it. He used your body for his own enjoyment, submitted to you to please himself, watched you fall apart on his cock because he enjoyed the sight of it. And yet, as your pleasure reached its zenith and you came undone, you simply didn't care. 

Muzan was seconds behind you, hissing through his teeth as he filled you again. 

"Enough, enough," he cried, tapping your thighs four times to signal he was truly done.

You lay down beside him staring at the ceiling as your breaths returned to a normal pace. 

After a moment, Muzan rolled onto his side, then shifted to lay his head upon your breast as he let his weakened heart settle. He didn't hold you. He simply lay there in your embrace as you languidly stroked your fingers up and down his back, tracing the ridge of his spine. 

Silence shrouded you for a long time before Muzan broke the silence. "Will you come again next week?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes." He sighed. "Though we will have to come up with a better excuse than tea to get your father out of the house. He may be an idiot but even he may start to suspect your methods aren't exactly by the book."

Later, as you walked from the Kibutsuji residence, your father fussed over you, apologizing profusely for leaving you alone with the wretched lord. 

"It won't happen again, I promise."

"It's alright, father," you assured him. "He really wasn't all that bad. In fact, next week–"

"Next week won't be a problem. You'll have your own patient to attend to. I'll come here alone," your father smiled, expecting you to be relieved.

Truth be told, you were a little disappointed. 

Your father continued, "Besides, while at the tea shop, I heard about a rare medicinal plant. One I'm going to try with Lord Kibutsuji next week. The lady at the shop called it 'the blue spider lily."

Honesty

Levi x male reader

I don’t even know what this is. Just a lot of smut I wrote. Got a tad rushed at the end cause it wrote it at like 2am and got tired after almost 4 hours of writing.

Enjoy tho 🤷‍♂️

“You missed a spot.”

(Y/n) let out a soft sigh and gave a light chuckle, “I’m aware Levi, I just needed more soap.”

As if to make his point clearer, (Y/n) reached behind Levi to grab the body wash sitting on the shelf behind him

They were currently taking a quick shower since (Y/n) had woken up feeling quite frisky.

Luckily, they woke up early and were able to have a quickie before having to attend the morning meeting set to start soon. As the Captain and Section Commander, they were expected to arrive on time.

Unfortunately, a slight set back is causing them to be a tad late.

“I swear to the walls, you are never cumming in me again.”

(Y/n) couldn’t help but chuckle as his lover glared up at him, the tips of his ears slightly red.

“You always say that but we both know how much you love when I fill you up.”

(Y/n) was fully enjoying teasing Levi, how could he not when his little lover made it so easy. Though there was a small part of him that thought maybe Levi didn’t enjoy it after all.

“I most certainly do not. It feels uncomfortable and it’s a bitch to clean out. Why on earth would I enjoy it?”

‘Hmmm…’ (y/n) thought, ‘perhaps I misjudged his feelings. It has happened before.’

“…Ok then, I won’t do it anymore.”

Levi paused briefly while (Y/n) finished rinsing himself off and prepared to step out of the shower.

‘Surely he’s joking. The asshole has never not came inside me in the 4 years we’ve been together’

As (Y/n) left the bathroom to get dressed, Levi finished cleaning up and got out as well. Mentally deciding that (Y/n) was in fact not serious and the next time they had sex (y/n) would undoubtedly cum inside Levi as he always has.

Well, about two weeks later there they were. It was early in the morning, the sun had not yet risen, and the two lovers were tangled together in bed.

Levi was panting, his arms wrapped around (y/n) and his face buried in his neck as his lover pounded him ferociously

(Y/n) grunted and moaned as he slammed his cock over and over, driving it deeper into his lovers tight ass.

Levi was warm and tight around his cock, it was taking everything in (Y/n) not to cum right there but he was determined to make Levi cum first. As he always did, insisting on putting his lovers pleasure before his.

Levi was in heaven, as he always is when he’s connected so intimately with (y/n). With every thrust, he sees stars. (Y/n) was hitting the perfect spot head on with his cock, having memorized its location.

Levi’s eyes squeezed shut, his fingernails marking (Y/n)’s back as pleasure ricocheted through his groin. It wasn’t long before he finally came undone. His cock spasmed, cum smearing all over him and his lover. Waves of ecstasy washed through him as he slowly came down from his high

(Y/n) couldn’t help but smirk, he always gets a sense of pride knowing he’s the one who put Captain Levi of all people into a state of pure pleasure from his cock.

He began his pounding once again, having stopped briefly to enjoy the sight of Levi cumming. It wasn’t long before his thrusts became sporadic

An anxious feeling came through Levi, this was his favorite part. (Y/n) would soon fill him full. He could never admit it to himself, and especially not to (Y/n), but he absolutely loved the feeling of being filled to the brim with cum.

He doesn’t understand why but something about being cummed in gives him life. It sends him into what he can only describe as a mental orgasm. He not only desires it but craves it.

With a few more thrusts, (Y/n) felt the build up of his own orgasm. His balls clenched and his eyes rolled and just before he cums, he pulls out. He fists his cock quickly, cum shooting out and onto Levi’s stomach, Mixing with his own.

The second (y/n) pulled out Levi’s eyes, which were closed anxiously in waiting, shot open. He glanced down in disbelief as (Y/n) was coming down from his high.

Levi couldn’t process what was going on, he couldn’t believe what just happened. (Y/n) always came inside, always. Levi didn’t understand what was different this time, thinking at first he had done something to upset (y/n).

But then he remembered, his brain showing him the quick shower scene that told him (Y/n) was only doing what he said he would.

Levi didn’t like that one bit and (Y/n) could tell he was upset. He knew immediately why, as he was almost always excellent at reading Levi’s body language.

‘Oh, so he does like it.’

Deciding to test him, (Y/n) reached over and gently stroke Levi’s cheek, something he usually does after finishing inside him.

“What’s wrong my love? You seem upset.”

Levi debated telling (Y/n) the truth. That he was not only upset but down right pissed off and disappointed. But by doing that he’d have to admit he lied about hating being filled. He’d have to admit that he not only liked it, but desired it greatly.

And that was something his pride absolutely could NOT do.

So instead he decided to go along and pretend everything was fine, telling himself that there was no way (Y/n) could keep this up for long. He was bound to break and cum inside at some point.

…right?

It’s been another three weeks and here they were again. This time Levi had seduced (Y/n), an extremely rare occurrence on its own, while he was in his office shortly after breakfast.

Luckily, (Y/n) had already finished his paperwork and was about to leave for morning training when Levi came in and coerced him into a quickie. Now Levi lay bent over (Y/n)’s desk, hands gripping the edge as he had his ass pummeled.

He tried desperately to be quiet, as (Y/n) was being exceptionally aggressive this time. The back of Levi’s neck was gripped in a tight hold, the force of (Y/n) keeping him down and in place as (Y/n) took what was his.

(Y/n) had to admit, not being able to fill his lover full was upsetting him as well. He wanted nothing more than to spill his seed deep inside of Levi. To paint his walls with his cum and claim him in the most brute way.

But (Y/n) was also stubborn and determined to teach Levi a lesson. Levi needed to learn to trust (Y/n) and not be ashamed to admit what he enjoys. It low key upset (Y/n) that after 4 years of being together officially l, Levi still couldn’t be completely truthful with (Y/n).

The aggravation at Levi not trusting him, as well as the unfulfilled desire to finish inside his lover, lead (Y/n) to be slightly more aggressive than usual.

(Y/n) let out a stiff grunt with every violent thrust. Loving how Levi was now having to bite down on his hand to keep the noises at bay. (Y/n) couldn’t help but reach out and grab a fist full of Levi’s fine hair and pull him up against his chest.

Levi couldn’t help but let out an exceptionally loud whimper as his hand fell from his mouth to reach back and grab at the wrist of his lover. He could have easily removed it but he loved the sting, and he couldn’t help but enjoy being man handled.

(Y/n) let out a deep chuckle in between his grunts as he continued to pound into Levi. His other hand on Levi’s waist, keeping him still and stood against him.

Levi shivered and clenched his teeth, drool leaking from his chin as (Y/n) spoke sternly into his ear.

“You like that don’t you? You love when I pull your hair? When I take what’s mine? When I force you to lay there and take my cock like a good little cock slut huh?”

(Y/n)’s words made Levi’s cock drip with precum. He did. He loved being used as (Y/n)’s personal cock sleeve. To feel, in the moment, like nothing but a hole for his lover to fuck. It was like a form of praise to Levi. He loved to please (Y/n). It was his one main purpose. And he was doing a great job at fulfilling it.

(Y/n) was getting frustrated, he wanted Levi to admit to him all his desires. He wanted to hear Levi babble in ecstasy about how much he loved his cum. To hear him beg (Y/n) to claim him oh so roughly. To listen to Levi’s sweet sobs of pleasure as he was filled over and over to where (Y/n) cum was overflowing from every hole.

And he wanted it now.

Levi was surprised when (Y/n) suddenly pulled out of him. He was about to ask what was happening when he was abruptly forced to his knees.

(Y/n) sat down in his office chair above him, breathing a little heavy, as he gazed at Levi beneath him with a look in his eyes that Levi couldn’t pin point.

“(Y/n), what are you-“

“Shut up.”

Levi’s eyes widened, his mouth slightly agape. He was utterly confused but also aroused at (Y/n)’s dominant attitude.

(Y/n) stared at Levi, silently trying to figure out the quickest way for Levi to break.

“Put your hands behind your back and keep them there. If you move them even once I’ll tie them to your ankles.”

Levi’s heart was thrumming, not only from just having had a cock pounding in and out of his ass, but from the sheer tone (Y/n) was using. The one that screamed ‘Defy me. I fucking dare you.’

Good thing Levi was always great at following orders. He put his hands behind him, gripping them as comfortably at he can.

(Y/n) wanted to smirk and say ‘good boy’ but he had to keep up his pissed off look if this was to work.

So instead, he leaned over and reached out, grabbing Levi by his hair once again and bringing him inches from his face.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m getting a little tired of your pride being the reason you can’t be truthful with me. So until you can sit there and confidently tell me exactly what you want, you’re going to suck me off over and over and over again. Except you will not be swallowing a single fucking drop until you can get over the fucking false pretenses that admitting your desires to me is somehow demeaning. So if you want me to give you my cum, you’re going to have to beg me for it. Do you understand?”

Levi was frozen in shock, he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to tell (Y/n) how much he wanted his cum, he really did.

But, something was stopping him. A feeling in his gut that screamed at him not to. So he sat quiet, trying to find a solution that didn’t involve him losing his dignity.

But (Y/n) was not a patient man and quickly got to work of fulfilling his promise.

Using the grip he had on Levi’s head, he forced his cock into the warm, wet cavern of Levi’s mouth. (Y/n) through his head back and groaned as he forced Levi to bob up and down on his cock

Levi moaned around the cock in his mouth, his eyes already stinging and his cheeks stretching to accommodate (Y/n)’s size. His own cock dripping fluid onto the floor, saliva pooling around his lips, god he was such a cock slut. He wanted badly to reach out with his hands and fondle (Y/n)’s balls, knowing that it almost always brought him to an early end.

But he wasn’t allowed and Levi knew better than to test (Y/n) while he was like this. So he sat there, for the next two hours. Jaw gone slack, face a mess with dried spit, lips swollen, and body covered in (Y/n)’s cum.

It was times like this that Levi cursed (Y/n)’s stamina. The man could literally go all day and night and not be too tired for another round. Levi’s knees were sore, his hands had been tied back since Levi lost the strength to hold them back manually. And the new addition of a cock ring sat at the base of Levi’s cock. Keeping him from cumming.

After his ninth orgasm, (Y/n) pulled Levi off his cock, just like he had been doing after every orgasm, and checked to see if levi would finally admit to him.

“How about now? You ready to admit you want my cum?”

Levi swallowed, his throat was getting sore, and spoke with a coarse voice

“P-Please….”

(Y/n) gripped his chin gently and gazed into Levi’s watery eyes

“Please what?”

Levi licked his swollen lips, and went to speak

But his stomach knotted up once again. And all he could say was “Please….w-why do I hav-“

Before he could finished (Y/n) shoved his cock back into his mouth with an annoyed tch.

“That isn’t what I asked.”

(Y/n) furiously slammed his cock down Levi’s throat, more pissed off with every push.

“Why can’t you just say it? ‘Please (Y/n) fill me with your cum’ that’s all you have to say and I will gladly do so. I’ll fill your ass full of my seed and plug you up. You’ll go the rest of the day filled with my cum just like I know you want. I’ll pour it down your throat, fill your stomach nice and full of my milk. And I’ll do it every day if you so wish but no. You’d rather be here. Kneeling in a pool of my wasted cum.”

(Y/n) felt yet another orgasm reach him and pulled out. But decided not to cum this time. He was reaching his breaking point.

Levi caught his breath and whimpered when (Y/n) glared at him one final time. “Say it.”

Levi squeezed his eyes shut, a few tears rolling down the already carved paths down his cheeks. He begged that feeling to go away, he tried desperately to speak his desires to his love.

(Y/n) sighed, clearly this didn’t work. All it did was prove to him that Levi didn’t trust him. So he begrudgingly reached down and untied Levi’s hands and took of his cock ring.

Levi was confused at first but that was quickly replaced by panic when (Y/n) got up and walked to where his clothes were on the floor

Levi didn’t know what happened, but when he saw his lover start to walk away, the sinking feeling in his stomach, the one that forbid him from telling (Y/n) the truth, vanished. And in its place was the feeling of sheer panic. He didn’t want something as silly as this to ruin the best part of his life.

So he quickly stood, with great effort as his knees were fucking killing him and his legs tingly, and flung himself into (Y/n)’s arms. He kissed his lover hard, relieved when (Y/n) kissed him back with just as much passion

They pulled away and stared deep into each other’s gaze

“I want you (Y/n).”

Levi’s expression was that of what he always wore. Except (Y/n) could see the love and passion that shone through his grey eyes like stars shining through the clouds late at night.

“I want all of you. I want your love. I want your dumb ass remarks. I want your equally smart ass comments.”

(Y/n) chuckled and nuzzled his nose against Levi’s

“…..I want your laugh. I want your smile. I want the butterfly’s that stir in my stomach every time you touch or even look at me. I want everything that has to do with you.”

(Y/n) was holding back his tears as he felt the overwhelming love radiate from Levi.

“And I especially want your cum.”

(Y/n) couldn’t help but bust out laughing, which only caused Levi to hide his face in (Y/n)’s shoulder

“Shut the fuck up, you’re the one who want me to say that.”

(Y/n)’s laugh went away slowly before he nuzzled his lovers cheek

“I know baby, it was just really cute.”

Levi huffed but before he could complain much more (Y/n) quickly moved them to their room.

“What in the actual shit are you doing!? We’re fucking naked you idiot, someone’s gonna see!”

(Y/n) chuckled and closed the door behind them quickly. Luckily it was lunch time and no one was in the halls.

“That was stupidly reckless asshole.”

Levi grumbled as he was laid on there bed, (Y/n) crawling above him and spreading his legs

“Sorry my love, but I didn’t wanna fuck you at my desk and risk slipping on the mess you left on the ground.”

Levi scoffed in disbelief, “I didn’t leave Jack shit on the ground, you’re the one who came like ten times and didn’t clean it”

(Y/n) shrugged before roughly entering Levi, affectively shutting the latter up. (Y/n) smirked and leaned down next to Levi’s ear

“Get ready cause you’re about to be bedridden for the next week.”

“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!!