Ayato

Lost and Found

Genshin Impact x Child! God! Fem! Reader

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

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

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

Part 2~>

Word count: 3,800

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Kinktober

Hello everyone! As most of you may know I haven't been all that active recently due to personal projects, school, and work. I apologize for disappearing so suddenly but I'm here to announce I will be participating in KinkTober!!!

This is my list:

Albedo 

Oct 1st- Orgasm Denial, Toys - Sometimes Experiments test your limits

Oct 28- Threesome (With himself), Revenge sex  - Perhaps Limits should be pushed more often. . .they lead to the sweetest kind of revenge

Al Haitham

Oct 2nd- Voyeurism, Bulge (Al Haitham!Sub) - You and your 'old ass' husband decided to something rather risky in public while your husband thanks his wife is receiving his it actual seems he was wrong and his lovely wife fucked him instead.

Ayato

Oct 3rd- Lap Dance, face sitting - The Yakuza boss has only ever fallen for one woman. He would let her get away with anything as long as she was his. With ease he now has the woman in his grasp.

Baizhu

Oct 4th- Body Worshiping, Medical (Baizhu!Dom) - As she meets a doctor that not only helps her medically but sexually she instantly choses that maybe this doctor can heal her heart.

Oct 29- CNC, Lingerie (Baizhu!Switch) - In desperate need for another model after one ditched and left you high and dry you ask your coordinator to provide some much needed assistance in exchange for a want of his.

Childe

Oct 5th- Degradation, Pain kink - Sometime digging your claws into the back of the person pissing you off is the best course of action even if it isn't the most ethical

Cyno

Oct 6- Shower sex, Professor/Tutor - Having to harshly accept something the tan boy would never even think to question somehow lead to him and his girlfriend together in a steamy shower.

Dainsleif

Oct 7th- Polaroids, Solo - He despises the get out of jail free card as he is forced to endure the relentless horniness; yet he desperately needs the release even if the means our humiliating

Oct 27- Chasity Cage, Ruined Orgasms

Diluc

Oct 8th- Car sex, getting caught - Perhaps he should've waited until he got home, maybe if he did he wouldn't have been embarrassed and lost the only contact with the person he was head over heels for but at last he didn't. . .

Oct 26- Sensory Deprivation, Heat play - He needed to apologize he needed to get back in her good graces. He'd do anything to hear her voice, to see her, fuck even feel her. He was going insane but thankfully his insanity paid off.

Dottore

Oct 9- Hate sex, Humilation - After leaving her humilated one to many times she finally gets her revenge.

Enjou

Oct 31- Monster fucking, ice play - Sometimes the monster under the bed needs to be satisfide too.

Eremite

Oct 11 - Gangbang, Freeuse (Eremite!Dom) - As a doctor it is their job to make sure all of their patients are satisfied with their care, regardless of what type of care it is.

Fatui (Pyro Gunslinger)

Oct 12-  Gloryhole, vanilla (Fatui!Dom) - Despite not wanting to go to the gloryhole but the moment she is being fucked by some random stranger who gave her, his number it was clear she was going to enjoy this place a lot more from now on.

Gorou

Oct 13- Virgin, Dry humping (Gorou!Sub) - Neither of them suspected they'd have any fun at a club until they met each other and took the time to have some fun. Giving the opportunity for more fun in the future.

Itto

Oct 14- Breeding, Restraints - Breeding season for Kitsune is the a very bad time for the meathead Oni but at least he had guidance this time around.

Kaeya 

Oct 15- Roleplay, Strength kink  - Some people need to take the hint rather than disturb his boss and his lover.

Kazuha

Oct 16- Bondage, make-up sex -

Nobushi

Oct 17- Praise, Dumfication -

Pantalone

Oct 18- Sex tape, Squirting (Pantalone!Dom) - Being able to sexually express yourself to your partner often times lead to unimaginable kinds of orgasms

Oct 30- Streaming, Hand kink (Pantalone!Sub) - Pantalone is being punished for being a brat by his Mistress on camera allowing his viewers to see him being edged until he breaks and asks forgiveness having his mistress join the livestream as he finally cums.

Pierro

Oct 19- Fingering, Cheating (Pierro!Dom) - Did she really come for the traditions or did she come her for the potential of pleasure from a man she could never get until now?

Scaramouche

Oct 20-  Marking, Somnophila - Payback is truly a bitch sometimes.

Thoma

Oct 21- Rough sex, Choking (Thoma!Dom) - While Thoma is normally a happy-go-lucky person having someone flirt and feel up his soon to be husband drives him mad so mad he takes it out on his husband in a very welcomed sexual way.

Oct 10- Mirror, Edging (Thoma!Sub) - Being possessive and having a kind husband that treats everyone kindly is one of the worst combos but in this sense a combo that they adore.

Tighnari

Oct 22- Aphrodisiacs, Thigh riding - Perhaps he might've pushed himself to his limits this time. . . luckily he has his boyfriend to care for him.

Venti

Oct 23- Moring sex, lazy sex - Sometimes being lazy is the best remedy after having the person you've been missing dearly

Xiao

Oct 24- Demon, Collaring - Claiming an Incubus comes with many perks, at least when you know you've claimed one for yourself.

Zhongli

Oct 25- Teasing, Cockwarming  - All he wanted was to join a social gathering among co-workers but little did he know his partner and boss was keen on making sure his attention was on them, and them alone.

I will also add a taglist for the Kinktober entries as a sort of test phase. I'll be using this to see if having a permeant taglist is something I'd liked to do and I'll see the response you guys give it so this is the Taglist:

@stygianoir @yunadxd

Bitter Poison

(The sequel to Sweet Elixir)

Pairing: Sub!Muzan x Dom! Female Reader

Summary: Five years ago, the massacre at the Kibutsuji estate claimed your father and his noble patient Muzan. Left with the burden of being the town's only doctor, you find yourself burned out and apathetic, numb to your loss and calling. But when the young lord you believed to be dead reappears as a soulless monster and confesses his horrific crimes, you finally find catharsis in treating him roughly, and enter into a pact with Muzan which will bind your soul to his for eternity.

Content Guidance: NSFW. Dom!reader is rougher than I usually write. Oral and vaginal intercourse. Reader gives: slapping, biting, hitting, nipple play, rough handjob, ruined orgasm, overstimulation. Reader receives: Orgasmic bites, cunilingus, creampie, and Muzan turns reader into a demon by fingering her. Approx 6.5k words

The massacre at the Kibutsuji estate rocked the town and neighboring villages. Someone or something had torn through the mansion, killing everyone in sight. 

By all accounts it was a bloodbath.

Your father was among the dead. And his patient, Muzan Kibutsuji, the young, sick nobleman with whom you had once shared a couple of beautiful, passionate hours, was gone. Whatever beast took him hadn't even left a body to bury.

You felt the loss of both men; the one you had loved your entire life and the one you had adored only briefly. But grief had to wait as you were saddled with the crushing responsibility of being the town's only remaining doctor. 

Still, even as you found yourself swallowed by work, you couldn’t go a day without being reminded of your loss. 

Theories ran as rampant as the perpetrator. Some said a bear or a wolf was to blame for the massacre. The men of the town organized a hunt, but the forests were strangely devoid of all predatory animals. Others suggested that Lord Kibutsuji himself was the killer, but logic told you that was absurd. Muzan had barely been able to walk, let alone massacre an entire household.

Five years passed and the frantic rumors turned to whispers, then eventually to stories. Everyone knew someone who knew someone who had seen Muzan Kibutsuji soaked in blood and prowling the streets. You ignored it as much as you could. Your work consumed you, as did bitterness. Night after night you were dragged from your home to tend to simple ailments which could have waited until morning. Night after night you felt your calling toward helping people dwindle. Your energy and your well of compassion depleted.

Time smoothed the edges of your mourning and you learned to live with that weight in your chest. Your work kept you busy. So busy in fact, that one night you fell asleep at your table with the oil lamp burning beside an open window and a stack of papers. You were fortunate to make it out of the house. But your research, your father’s notebooks, your home were all consumed by flames.

And it was then, as you stood helplessly watching your family home burn to the ground, that you saw him. 

Electric currents shot through your nerves, tingling along your spine as your eyes met. Muzan's gaze, once warm jasper red, was now a vibrant shade of crimson. He wore a fine black kariginu, elegantly embroidered with gold, and carried himself with an air of confidence– arrogance even– befitting of his noble name. 

The air in your lungs escaped you as you found yourself caught in a tangled web of thoughts; it was impossible, the man standing not ten feet away from you could not be Muzan, and yet… 

“How?” The one word which escaped you summarized so many of your questions. How was he still alive? How was he standing there so renewed, as if illness had never sapped away his strength? How had your father died and Muzan survived?

But he did not need to speak. Somehow you knew the answer; every fiber of your being screamed it at you: Muzan was no longer human. One word ran through your mind over and over: Yokai.

He approached you, each step slow and deliberate, as though he was still growing accustomed to his body. “You,” he said. His voice was the one thing completely unchanged; still as dark and enthralling as the first time you encountered him. “I… was searching for you.”

Your senses screamed at you to run from him, but your logical mind told you to stay. That urge to flee was wrong– there were no such things as monsters, of course he was human. What you were looking at was a miracle of medicine, nothing more.

Reaching out a hand, you gently clasped his chin between your fingers and tilted it from side to side, inspecting his visage. Though still pale, he was teeming with strength and every bit as beautiful as the day you met him. Your body reacted at once to his presence, remembering the way he had made you feel, surrendering himself to you and permitting you to use him for your pleasure. “You found a cure?”

“Yes.” His eyes fluttered shut at your touch, his lips parting around a hard-won breath. "And now I've returned for you.”

Muzan despised humans. 

The urge to kill, to end every life he encountered had been ceaseless since the day he imbibed the blue spider lily. Pitiful, wretched; every living thing was cursed to die sooner or later, and what better way than by his hands. He was a calamity, a natural disaster, a god of death, with power that mere mortals could not fathom coursing through his veins. Life in all its forms disgusted him. 

But…

Not you. 

Bathed in the amber glow of the raging flames, he found you, his Goddess, the one woman he had ever loved, if only for an hour or two in a life half-forgotten. He knew your scent, your taste, your soul.

His rage, his bloodlust, his vengeful heart stood still and meek at the sight of you in your soot-stained nightdress– so fragile and yet so powerful. And when you reached out to clasp his chin between your delicate fingers, oh… he felt as if his lungs had turned to iron. 

How could that be? How could such a gentle touch quell the raging beast? How could a mere mortal render a demon so powerless. A quiet sound of longing emerged from between his lips. Only it wasn’t simply a sound, it was your name, spoken with a reverence he hadn’t known he was capable of. He hadn’t even known he remembered it, the vestiges of his mortal life all but faded.

And then you kissed him.

Every atom of him pulled toward you; warring desires of lust and hunger as the supple flesh of your lips teased his. And before his aversion to humanity had time to kick in, he found himself kissing you back, his fingers threading through your hair, his heart beating to the fervent rhythm of a desperate mortal man. 

Oh, what was this power you wielded so casually? He was terror beyond comprehension, yet as your tongue slipped into his mouth, his knees damn near gave out.

Of course, he had lied to you. His true purpose in searching for your home had been purely to uncover your father’s notes and discover additional information on the formula which had transformed him… but as you kissed him, his grasp on that goal faltered entirely. Besides, your home was in flames, the research likely burned to ash. It didn’t matter.

“I thought you were dead,” you whispered, lips trembling against his before you pulled back and gazed into his eyes with a mix of curiosity and relief. As besieged as he was by his need for you, it seemed you fared no better. The fire behind you paled in comparison to the light you found in each other’s presence.

Perhaps his apparent resurrection had shaken you from your senses, perhaps you were susceptible to his sway, or perhaps you were simply a different kind of monster than he, but amidst the wreckage of your life, he saw no fear in your eyes. No. Your eyes reflected only his image. 

And as for Muzan… Muzan found himself blinkered to the world beyond you. The flames paled, the night faded, and the moon lost her luster. 

You were his moon now. 

His only moon. 

Dawn was fast approaching and he needed to shelter from the sun’s lethal rays. He would make you this thrall if necessary. But he would not let go of you now that he had you.

“Come,” he said, offering you his arm. “You can stay with me.”

Everyone had assumed the Kibutsuji mansion was empty. The gardens were overgrown, the windows boarded over, no one came or left. But somehow you found yourself in a room you had only ever visited once before but which you remembered in vivid detail– Muzan’s bedroom. From the inside the house looked exactly the same as it had five years ago; clean and elegant. The tatami mats in his room were well-maintained, the walls decorated with soft clouds and graceful cranes. The only change was that the somber air of lingering death was no longer present. 

The first time you met him you had felt that immediately; the looming presence of death and sorrow surrounding Muzan. But now, even knowing what had occurred in that house, that it was very possible you stood in the same spot that your father died in, you felt only relief, curiosity, and an overwhelming urge to be at Muzan’s side.

You couldn’t tear your eyes from him as he hung a red sheet of ramie fabric over the already boarded window, blocking out the pale gray slivers of light between the wooden panels.

“You’re an intelligent woman,” he said at last. “I think you know, don’t you? Your logical mind is telling you it can’t be true, but your gut is telling you otherwise. Tell me, what do you think I am?”

The question gave you pause. “You’re human, of course–”

“No, no…” he stepped closer, the fabric of his fine kariginu and hakama folding against your legs. “What does your instinct tell you?”

A chill crept along your spine as you looked into those blood-red eyes. His pupils were no longer round, but narrow almost reptilian slits. His skin was still as pale as the day you had met him, but it had been made flawless– without a blemish, shadow, or even pores. The air between you was stifling as you raised your hand to caress his cheek, finding his skin unnaturally hot. He should have been burning up with a fever. 

He bowed into your touch, breath blowing against your palm. Your lips found his once more, unable to resist the lure of his kiss even as your soul screamed at you to run.

But Muzan's lips remained still beneath yours, his hands grasping your upper arms with terrifying strength before the dam overflowed and he kissed you back slowly… almost experimentally.

And with that kiss you felt as though you were wrapped completely in a shroud of darkness.

“Yokai…” the word, spoken against his lips, sounded ridiculous and right on your tongue.

His smile widened as he pulled back and took your wrist in his hand, long talons pricking the tender flesh above your artery. “And yet, you aren’t afraid.”

"You killed my father, didn't you?” Heart emptying as the question left your mouth, you waited for the inevitable response. You knew before he even uttered a word. 

“Yes. I killed the doctor.”

The remnants of your world shattered around you as he admitted his crime so matter-of-factly. The pressure that had been building in your chest for five years finally released, and you felt as though you were drawing breath for the first time. 

“I was not yet a demon,” Muzan said, his eyes distant, the trace of his smile still lingering. “I was still very much mortal.”

Your blood burned. After five years of numbness your soul awakened, and your ire was unleashed upon the demon before you. 

“Curse you!” you spat, striking him across the face with all your strength. He didn’t even twitch, even though your palm throbbed and stung so severely tears sprung to your eyes. Still your rage poured over. You pounded his chest with the sides of your fists, over and over until your arms ached and your breath was nothing more than ragged burning gasps.“Damn you to fucking hell, Muzan Kibutsuji.” 

He simply stood and bore your wrath, his arms extending to support you when your legs gave out and you stumbled forward, tears soaking into the fabric of his kariginu. When you sank to your knees, Muzan knelt with you. The arms which wound around your back were strong and sure, nothing like the weakened limbs of the man you had known. And yet, as he held you and permitted you to cry and curse and strike him, you found comfort and catharsis in his rigid embrace. 

“And curse me too,” you wept. “Gods, I can’t help but want you.”

“Have me then,” he whispered, his thumbs swiping away your tears. His touch was comforting and infuriating, far gentler than a monster that you were supposed to hate should have been capable of. “You have been the torment of these past five years, the damned itch I could not scratch. I have wanted you every single day since that first encounter. Every day, both in this form, and the pathetic mortal I once was.” He forced a breath through his nose, his crimson eyes narrowing as he bowed his head to rest against yours. “I don’t care if you despise me. Just—”

You silenced him with a kiss, hard and deep, full of loathing and longing, your treacherous body aching for him, seeking the solace of simple pleasure. Muzan was familiar and strange all at once. He still kissed the same way he had as a mortal; his lips lazy and soft, receiving your kiss rather than kissing you. And yet It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the heat, the sensation, the delectable whimpers of yearning coming from him, purging the bitter poison which had infected your heart for years.

Despite his inhuman strength, Muzan bent to your will, allowing you to push him backward until he was forced to let you go, bracing his hands on the tatami mat by his ankles for balance, his torso arced toward you.

By some demonic art, his fine clothes simply disappeared, falling from his body in  tatters and dissolving into the air. His robe, his hakama, his kanmuri cap all seemed to melt before your eyes, leaving the man completely bare. His long, black waves of hair tumbled down over his shoulders as you traced the lithe shape of his abdomen, his muscles twitching and stuttering beneath your palms.

Even in this corrupt, demonic form, he was so beautiful he made your lungs ache, and just as willing to submit to you as he was when he was mortal. And while he seemed to feel no pain when you hit him, your gentler touches made him crumble. A broken sigh escaped his lips as you ran your fingernails across his chest, catching his nipples and making him gasp. 

Gods, you were certain you were going to hell; the nights you had silently resented your patients had long ago ensured that. What harm was there in indulging the whims of your desire? 

You kissed him firmly, sinking your teeth into his lower lip, relishing the deep, shivering groan which tumbled from his lips as you ran your fingers through the trail of ink-black hair starting at his navel, and wrapped your hand around his semi-hard cock.

“You destroyed my world,” you hissed against his ear. “Now it’s my turn to destroy you.”

“Do what you will,” he said, his voice strained as you pulled his hips toward you with one hand and began to pump his cock in your other fist. “I am yours.”

He should not have felt anything toward you, and it irked him that he did. That a demon should bend so willingly to a loathsome mortal– the fact that he didn’t loathe you at all. None of it made any sense. Every other human he had encountered had sparked nothing in him but an overwhelming urge to snuff out the miserable light of their existence and tear their flesh with his teeth. But not you.

Why?

The question ran around and around his mind. Why you, out of all the thousands of humans he had encountered in his demon form? Why didn’t he want to crush you, consume you, break you, watch the life leave your eyes?

His throat flexed as you pressed your mouth to his chest, your tongue slippery and warm against his nipple, sending humiliating bolts of pleasure darting straight to his cock. 

Fuck, the pace of your ministrations was brutal, the tunnel of your fist aggressively tight. Pleasure and pain tangled and became one as you bit his chest, pulling the air from his lungs as your teeth sank into plush muscle and flesh.

It was as if no time had passed at all the moment you touched him; you had complete dominion over his body and his pleasure. The strength and power he had acquired were meaningless in your presence. He was as weak to you then as he had been on his deathbed. 

“Ahh… curse you, woman,” he groaned, fighting the urge to put an end to it even as he thrust his hips toward you. "You'll be the death of me."

“Silence,” you hissed, firmly slapping his chest, making his nipples tingle and pucker before returning your mouth to one, and tickling the unattended one with your fingertips and causing him to moan.

The power you held over him was humiliating, and it made his cock so hard he could barely function. Your soft hands, punishing him with such ruthless pleasure, expertly pulled him apart. The bliss you gave him was the first he had felt since that day you bestowed upon him your own brand of medicine, and now, embittered and vengeful, you still felt just as sweet. His stomach muscles clenched and spasmed as he drew closer to oblivion, his eyelids fluttered shut.

“Ngh…” He panted. “I’m… almost—”

“Are you close, my pretty demon lord?” you whispered.

He nodded, his breaths just shattering gasps. “So close…”

“Good.” You stopped and released your grip. 

His heart emptied. “No damn you don’t stop. Don’t… nghhh… stop!” he cried out as his orgasm limped through him, its power completely dwindled by the loss of your touch. His cock wept pathetically, half-heartedly spurting and dribbling cum as he gasped for breath. “Cruel… torturess...”

“A small price to pay for what you’ve done,” you said, pulling off your sooty nightdress and casting it aside. 

Muzan’s breath hitched. He remembered your shape in vivid detail when he remembered nothing else of his human life; every curve and crease of your form, the warmth and plush softness of your thighs cradling his head. He remembered your taste, your scent, the way you had praised him, the way you had held him afterward and told him he had done well. But you were somehow even more beautiful having aged half a decade. 

He should have despised it; the relentless march of time, the fleeting nature of your mortality. But he could not despise you. Never. Time had softened you, made you somehow ethereal to his eyes. Muzan had never truly believed in gods, but you elicited the same reverence in him he imagined the temple monks felt when they beheld the rising sun. To him, you were divine, a vengeful goddess. 

And who better to walk at his side for eternity?

You leaned back in, taking hold of his cock once more, your touch sending jolts of searing torment through his body. It was too much, and yet he craved you so completely he was even willing to endure your cruelty.

And while you mercilessly jerked his cock, you slapped his chest again. And again. Of course, the physical pain was nothing to him, but your audacity, the way you humiliated him… it made heat pool in his chest, kept his cock from going limp, made his cheeks rosy, and before long he was little more than a blushing, mewling mess. “Please…”

“Please what?” Your soft hands pumped up and down his length, using his cum to make them glide. “Is this where you beg my forgiveness?”

“No… no I would never beg that… I don’t need your forgiveness– ahh-hahh–”

You bestowed another slap to his breast. Gods, it thrilled him to no end, to watch the blood and heat rising in your face, to know he was pushing you and you would keep on giving. Your domination was beautiful, your touch addictive. And you were enjoying this as much as he was. He could see the arousal in your face; the way your pupils almost drowned out the color of your eyes, your staggered breaths, and flushed cheeks. 

In five years of slaughtering every mortal he encountered, five years of watching them cower with tear-streaked faces and eyes bulging with fear, he hadn’t found a single one so unrattled by his demonic nature. And he simply adored you for that fact. Among others. 

He couldn’t stop himself from collapsing forward, to press his face to your neck, breathing in the intoxicating scent of your skin. How his body ached for you; both the delectable taste of your flesh, and the divine sanctum of your cunt. “Please,” he whimpered. “Please…”

“I mourned you,” you said, your lips against his ear. “I wished you were back in my arms on the nights I had nothing else to cling to besides memories. And all along you were this… monster.”

He should not have cared. It was against his nature to feel empathy or even regret… but some part of him did. Some small, shriveled part of him did regret hurting you.

When you grasped his jaw between your fingers, he allowed you to lift his chin, moaning as your tongue slid up the length of his throat, warm and wet and voracious. His body undulated involuntarily, his hips pistoning away from you as the stimulation grew unbearable. 

“If I’d have come to you sooner you…” His body jolted as you took hold of his cock once more. “Mmhgh… you would have hated me even more than you do now.”

"Oh my foolish demon Lord, I don't hate you." You whispered, flicking his nipple with your tongue. "How could I bring myself to hate something so pitifully beautiful?"

"Pitiful? The gall…"

You smirked. "Yes, pitiful. Look at you, Muzan.”

Raising his head, he looked down at his body and a gasp escaped his lips. His chest was flushed pink, littered with bite marks he had no inclination to heal, his nipples swollen and glistening with your saliva. His cock was bright red at the tip, glazed with his own spend, twitching in your grasp. The humiliation of it all only made him need you more. “Only for you.”

“Such a pretty sight. So overcome. So utterly helpless. All for me.”

Your praise, your derision… It was too much. His broken breaths and clenching muscles made his chest and belly judder as he drew nearer his climax. His cock throbbed in your hand.

"Ah… you're close again?" You taunted, slowing your strokes to an unbearably languid pace. “Human or yokai, it’s all the same, Muzan. Your cock will always belong to me.”

"Ohhhh-oh-oh-oh curse you…" he ground out in agony, his eyes screwing shut. "If you don't hate me, why then do you insist on torturing me?"

“Tell me to stop,” you whispered against his ear.

Damn you. “Never.”

“Good. You take your punishments well, Muzan.” You smirked as he fell against you once more, desperately trying to buck his hips against your palm. “Tell me, who owns your cock?”

“I won’t say it.”

You pinched his nipple harshly, making him whine. 

His dignity was in tatters and you had the single thread holding him together in your grasp. “Fine.” He bared his teeth as your thumb teased the weeping slit of his cock with languorous circles. “You do.”

“Good boy.”

As soon as the words left your lips his orgasm erupted, his seed squirting from him in pearly ropes, spraying his thighs and belly as his back curved in euphoria. The broken, feral cries which emerged from him were muffled by your lips as you pulled him into a claiming kiss.

Even as he came undone, you managed to send desire spearing though his body, sucking his lower lip the way you had when he was mortal, your arms wrapping around his back, holding him firmly to you.

“Ffffuck, let me taste you,” he begged as you broke away from the kiss, gazing up into your eyes and despising the desperate whininess of his voice. One night was not enough. He needed to spend his unending years with you, surrendering to you and earning your adoration. "I need to taste your cunt. I need it.”

And you, merciful goddess of vengeance, were only happy to oblige.

Muzan groaned as he dragged his tongue through the slick folds of your labia, sending frissons of pleasure rolling through your body. You lay on your back with him between your thighs, head raised to watch him devour you. Despite everything, his beauty still enraptured you; the ebony waves of his hair spilling over your thighs, his crimson eyes fixed on yours, the subtle curve of his lips as he tasted you again. So beautiful and so utterly wicked.

“That’s it,” you said, pulling in a shaking breath as his tongue lapped at your clit. “Keep doing that. Don't stop until I say.”

As a human his technique had been sloppy, unskilled but eager, and as a demon he was no different, only now his strength was unfathomable, and he apparently no longer needed to breathe. What he apparently lacked in experience he made up for with fervor, licking you with such frantic and animalistic passion you could hardly stop from crying out. Your hand came down to thread your fingers through his hair, your grip tightening as you bucked your hips against his mouth.

Gods, by rights you should have despised him; the monster who had left your life in tatters, but try as you might to hate him, your weary soul craved the comforting abyss of his. You knew the hands which clung to your thighs had choked the life from people. The mouth hellbent on driving you to euphoria had feasted upon human flesh. The heart you felt so strongly bound to was wicked and inhuman. 

And none of it mattered. 

None of it mattered because for the first time in five years, you had some semblance of control. The monster lapping at your core was yours to command, bending to your whims because it pleased him to do so. No one was begging you to save lives. No one needed you for anything more than your cunt. 

With that beast between your thighs you finally found peace. Muzan gave you such simple, primal pleasure which deadened the rest of the world. The cries of the dying, the fists pounding at your door, the choking coughs of the sick and frightened villagers who clung to you and pleaded with you to do what you could not… all silenced. 

The pounding rhythm of your heart, the gasps emerging from your lips, the growls and wet sound of his mouth devouring your essence, they drowned out the constant hum of the world. 

“Please,” he whispered against your cunt as he circled his nose around your clitoris and lapped at your entrance. He pressed two fingers inside you, pumping them slowly and sending electricity rolling through your spine with every thrust. 

You were close, your muscles clenching and breath becoming staggered. “Please…what?”

“This. For eternity.” His lips surrounded your clit, lavishing it with a deep, loving kiss before whispering against it, “Let me worship you forever. Let me take you away from all the death, the sickness, the misery.”

“Yes,” was all you could manage as you came undone, fingers tangling in his long hair, pushing him down to grind your cunt against his ravenous mouth.

The feral growl which emerged from him only extended your pleasure, your walls fluttering and clenching around his fingers as he put his wicked tongue to divine work. Waves of euphoria rolled through you as you cried out in bliss, only vaguely aware of a brief pinprick of pain deep in your cunt. 

And amidst the pleasure you felt the sensation of being filled, as though it was his cock inside you, spilling into you, pumping you full of his seed. But that couldn’t be.

“Muzan…” you gasped, “that’s enough.”

His chin was glistening with your essence as he withdrew his fingers and pulled back to kiss his way up your body.

“You are mine forever,” Muzan said as he lay down beside you. His breath was hot against your neck. “And I am hopelessly yours. If you are my moon then I am your wolf. Your hands are the only hands wound around my leash, your voice the only sound that can bring me to heel.” His eyes drifted over your flesh. “Please let me taste you.”

“Haven’t you tasted enough? Ever the greedy nobleman, even when you’re no longer a man.”

A slow smirk tilted his lips. “I don’t mean your cunt. I mean your blood.”

Logic told you that you should be disgusted by his request, but you were anything but. Some part of you was curious, some part of you no longer feared pain. And some part of you was deeply aroused by the thought of it. 

“Very well,” you sighed, “since you were so good for me.”

The sharp pain of his fangs piercing your neck was only momentary, before pleasure overtook it, stronger and even more consuming than any orgasm. It throbbed through your body, pulling primal cries of bliss from you. 

“Mmmhh…” A deep moan emerged from him as he drank your blood, his cock throbbing against you. 

The ecstasy was overwhelming and never ending; your cunt still throbbing while his teeth penetrated your flesh. That feeling of fullness bloomed in your belly, a heat gathering deep in your core, the pain of it deadened by the pleasure of his bite. Your lifeforce leaked into him as he lay beside you, his unattended cock pressed against your hip as he compulsively rutted against you.

Finally, he withdrew his fangs, lapping at the wound he left in his wake, savoring every drop of you. And at once your body was consumed by the throbbing pain in your core. 

“Gods… what did you do to me?” you asked, gasping for breath as your hand coiled around his bicep, anchoring you to him. The slick heat of his tongue on your throat made you ache.

“I gave my moon a gift.” He brought his trembling fingers up to cup your face, peppering your cheeks with soft persuasive kisses. “More than pleasure. More than love. I have given you eternal life.”

“What– Muzan… what is this?”

“Yokai,” he whispered against your ear. “We are the same, you and I. I gave you my blood and you gave me yours.”

Your heart rate spiked as the meaning of his words settled upon you. It was his blood inside you. The essence coursing through your veins was no longer just yours but his as well, his demonic power flooding through you, transforming your mortal body into that of a demon.

And it burned. It burned so badly you wanted to tear out your veins.

Some part of you fought back, perhaps your soul, or perhaps simple animal instinct, snarling in the depths of your mind that he had no right to this, no right to steal away your humanity and pull you into darkness with him. But that protest was swiftly silenced by the lure of the abyss he offered.

Muzan was the devil, but you welcomed his oblivion, knowing that the ceaseless din of life dared not enter his shadow.

So instead you clung to him, crying out in agony and euphoria as he held your convulsing body to his, the tender touch of his fingers threading through your hair at odds with the pain flowing through you.

"No more death," he said, holding you as agony and darkness engulfed you. In the shadows, only his voice remained. "You will live eternally at my side, bound to me as I am to you.” 

Muzan’s body no longer needed air to live, and yet he released a shaking breath as he lay in the aftermath of passion. He had given you so much blood– more than he had ever intended. It was a miracle that your cells hadn’t rejected his gift.

You had survived the initial transformation but had not yet awakened. Try as he might to detach himself from concern, Muzan's blood-red gaze remained fixed on you, waiting for movement.

And he despised that. He despised that he had allowed such turmoil, that his defenses were lowered and the last vestige of his humanity still clung to his soul like a parasite. It was against his nature to feel anything beyond bloodlust and hatred, to crave anything but violence. But as you slept peacefully at his side, the heart he thought long-dead ached with the thought that you might never wake. 

He should not have cared whether you lived or died. And yet, he couldn't stand the thought of you slipping from his grasp. Perhaps it was simply his pride, refusing the world the audacity to take what was his. Or perhaps it was the fact that your presence, your love, your domination quelled his raging soul.

And, oh, when your eyes opened, when they shone with renewed strength and divine malice, he could hardly contain his excitement. He bit into the back of his hand as he took in your visage; his perfect creation, his love, his moon. Any resentment was entirely forgotten.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered, sitting to observe you as you pressed your tongue to the tip of your fangs. You were his triumph. You were proof of his genius, his power, his wisdom.

Your eyes darted around the room, wide and frantic as if seeing the world for the first time. “I can feel your strength in my veins.”

How that pleased him. To think that he had succeeded so spectacularly, that he had known instinctively to create you and had achieved such perfection. 

And you were right. He knew it the moment you slammed him to the ground and pinned him down, straddling his hips and grinding your heat against his weeping cock. 

He had imbued you with near terrifying strength. 

Despite his own demonic power, as he tried to raise his hands from where you held them to the tatami mat, he found himself as weak against you as he had been during that first encounter when his mortal body was ravaged by sickness.

Somehow, he had made you even stronger than himself.

And damn it all, that excited him beyond anything he had ever known. There wasn’t a force on earth that could hold him down but you.

He was powerless as you lowered yourself onto him, the wet heat of your perfect cunt squeezing his cock and pulling a pathetic whimper from him. 

“That’s it,” you grinned, your fangs protruding over your lower lip. “You make such pretty sounds for me.” You pressed your clit to his mons and rolled your hips, damn near euphoric as you ground against his coarse hair, seeking friction. It seemed your transformation had heightened your hedonism, and Muzan found himself little more than a tool for your indulgence. 

“Curse you to hell,” he groaned, the heat rising in his face as you used his cock for your own selfish pleasure. 

“Now now, Muzan,” you chided, your voice as foreboding as an oncoming storm. “Play nice, or you’ll never get to cum again.”

His lip curled, bearing his fangs as you rode him at an agonizingly languid pace. “What have I done?” he groaned, throwing his head back as you kept him hanging on the edge of pleasure. “I’ve created a monster.” Try as he might, he couldn’t break free to grip your hips and control your pace. Your thighs kept him wedged so he couldn’t thrust up into you.

When you came his eyes flooded with tears of frustration and adoration and anger, even the walls of your cunt made stronger and more devastating by your transformation. Every pulse of your orgasm squeezed his cock almost unbearably tight. 

“Ah-ah-ah fu-uh-uhck,” he groaned, the sinews in his neck straining as he clenched his own core and tried once more to buck his hips into you, desperate for release. “Please please please please.”

“So you do remember your manners,” you smirked as you lifted your hips, until only the very tip of his cock remained buried inside you.

Gods, he was on the verge of tears as he raised his head to watch it almost slipping out of you. “No please, no please don’t stop… let me cum please don’t do this to me.”

Desperation cracked his voice but he no longer cared about his dignity. It was irreparable at this point anyway. His ego was gone, his only concern was that you kept on pleasuring him.

“Say you’re sorry for all you’ve done.”

“I’m sorry,” he cried, as sincere as he had ever been. “Forgive me, forgive me please.”

You simply threw your head back and laughed, dropping down onto his cock with enough force to drive a cry from his lips. And you fucked him hard, fast, the pleasure so intense his legs trembled. You released his wrists and lightly slapped his chest again and again, not enough to hurt, but enough to make the fat and muscle ripple beneath your blows.

Curse you. Curse you and the way you made him adore you. Curse you and the power you so mercilessly and perfectly wielded over him. 

“Oh fuck,” he gasped, sucking in a breath as the first throbbing pulses of his orgasm rocked through him. “Oh fuck.”

“Cum for me, Muzan. I won’t stop until it’s dripping out of me with every thrust.”

You tore him apart with your pleasure, his back arching as he flooded your cunt, cumming harder than he ever had. What a monster you were, what a wonderfully malevolent goddess.

“Nghh, fuck,” he groaned, covering his flushed face with his arms as you rode him tirelessly, not a drop of his seed spilling from you. “It’s too much… please…”

The gleam in your eyes said you were far from finished. “Now, Muzan… I’m disappointed. Surely you’re not so easily defeated. I know you can keep cumming for me, my pretty king.” 

Curse you. He was simply helpless. 

Tags: @vampcubus @cloverussy @birbgoboom @chiyoso @taramultiuniverse

And he adored it. 

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.

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!!

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!

well don’t mind if i do

Can I request SAGAU with reader coming into Teyvat but being very hush hush about it and they get a job at Wangshu inn or something but one day they end up cutting themselves and boom golden blood? Sorry if this is too specific

Don’t apologize, I love this idea!

I have so many ideas for this one ranging from crack to angst hskakdk

Let’s say that all the documents about the creator have vague descriptions so they aren’t too sure about your appearance. The only key signs of being the creator are golden blood and crystal like tears.

I hope you like it! I think this may be my first request ^.^

—

Yandere!SAGAU x Secret!Creator!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 2.5

Your arrival to Teyvat is sudden. One second you had fallen asleep at your desk after a long night. The next second you lift your head and you’re in a completely new environment.

Surrounded by greens and vegetables you note you’re on some sort of farm. You warily get off the ground, dusting off the dirt from your clothes. You look around hoping to figure out where and how you had ended up in this unfamiliar place.

However, what catches your eyes in the dimly lit farm, is a little glowing blue figure floating wispily.

A seelie?

Your heart drops and your eyes squint through the dark taking in more of your surroundings. Your eyes finally land on a large statue in the distance.

Your thoughts are confirmed as you drop to your knees, eyes locked on a Geo Statue of the Seven.

You’ve read the stories, you know what happens.

“Hello? Who is out there?” a shaky voice calls out. You want to get up and run but the shock kept you in place.

An old man makes his way over, holding a lantern over you. The light illuminates your worry-stricken face. Thoughts run wild in your head as the old man helps you into his home.

Not wanting to risk being chased by all these powerful characters thinking you’re an imposter, while also afraid of being confined by obsessive acolytes, you think it’s best that your arrival to Teyvat is kept a secret.

The farmer that found you, a widowed man with no offspring, decides to take you in. To avoid feeling like a burden, you help out the old man in anyway you can, starting with farming. As if the land is trying to show their love for you, the vegetables you plant grow absurdly quick. They grow larger than the farmer had ever seen before. Vegetables farmed by your hand come out with the perfect texture and consistency. To the farmer, you’re like an angel descended from the skies.

It isn’t long before the old farmer’s business booms with the best vegetables in the market. However, he’s become too old and it’s become too difficult for him to transport all of these vegetables from his isolated little home to the shops down in Liyue Harbor.

You volunteer to do it for him. It’s the least you could do in return for him letting you stay rent free. Despite your willingness, you still can’t fight the anxiousness that comes with traveling in Teyvat.

The first time you enter Liyue Harbor, your hands are so sweaty you nearly drop the boxes of vegetables you are holding. Staying the whole day to sell vegetables in Liyue Harbor means that you are exposed. But when you finally came across your favorite characters, you realize you worried for nothing.

You first meet the Traveler and Paimon. The exchange is simple. They buy a few of your vegetables then leave to Wanmin restaurant to use the stove to cook some meals.

Then you meet Xiao. One day, a group of Hilichurl’s almost attack you while you are transporting goods to Liyue Harbor. He quickly wipes them out while you hide behind the cart you are pushing. Xiao simply looks at you for no more than 5 seconds before disappearing.

After that, the worry of your face being recognized begins to fade. If it weren’t for your oddly golden blood, you would have forgotten that you’re the creator.

You become accustomed to living life in Teyvat. It is peaceful. No exams or deadlines. Such simple tasks done day by day. You spend one day farming and the next transporting vegetables. You sit at your little shop selling items before heading home and helping out the old man. It’s not super easy but it’s a lot less stressful than your life before.

Everyday you get to bask in the sunlight and enjoy fresh air while you admire the scenery you had only ever seen through a screen. You are content and happy.

Until one day you accidentally make the smallest mistake.

Xiangling is a regular of yours. Your vegetables are by far the best she’s ever had and you quickly become her source of ingredients for her dishes. She speaks so highly of you that Zhongli, one of the characters you fear most, decides to drop by your little shop.

His presence is intimidating with his golden eyes peering down at you and his tall stature towering over your little stall.

Despite his slightly domineering presence, his voice is as smooth and soothing as you remember it to be and you’re able to calm down enough to treat him like any of your other customers. You’ve already met many characters and none of them were able to recognize you. How could he be any different?

Except he’s not like the others.

He’s nearly 6000 years old. He’s seen things others haven’t and most importantly, he’s worshipped the existence of the creator far longer than any of the Liyue Citizens have been alive.

From the very beginning, he sensed that there was something different about you. Something familiar and oddly inviting. The former Geo Archon thought he knew everyone residing in Liyue but it’s his first time coming across you.

His eyes can’t help but follow your every move as you wrap up his box of vegetables. You finally finish tying up his box with some sturdy rope and grab a knife to cut off the long ends. Just as you’re cutting the rope, your hand slips.

The sharp knife slices shallowly into your opposite hand. Zhongli is only barely able to catch a glimpse of gold before you drop to the floor.

It isn’t the pain that’s brought you to your knees but the fear. You crouch over your hands, covering the wound as best as you can hoping with all your being that he hasn’t seen anything.

Both you and Zhongli can feel your hearts beating faster than ever before.

“Are you alright?”

The former Geo Archon attempts to walk over to the other side of the stall, when he hears the Traveler call his name. His attention wavers and it gives you just enough time to wipe your blood away and stuff the handkerchief into your pocket.

Zhongli glances at you amidst his conversation just to see you finish covering your wound with a bandage. Any trace of blood is gone and the wound is completely covered.

He walks away from the Traveler to speak with you. The geo archon’s eyes never once leave your hand as he stands in front of you.

“Is your wound alright?”

You nod waving your hand a little.

“Just a small wound,” you say, hoping he’d accept your answer and move on.

But he isn’t satisfied.

“Are you sure? It look like it hurt. It’s important to put some cream on it so it doesn’t get infected.”

“Of course! I’m a lot stronger than you think.” You smile before repeating his total. The Traveler ends up paying for the vegetables and the two leave, but not without Zhongli glancing a few more times at you.

When his figure completely fades, your smile drops.

It seems you’ve stayed a bit too long in Liyue.

Shaky hands clumsily pack up your stall as you race to close up the shop early and quickly head home before the Geo Archon decides to return.

While you rush, you don’t notice the small white handkerchief falling out of your pocket nor do you realize that the small piece of cloth would be the sole cause of the upcoming chaos that erupts throughout the nations of Teyvat.

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

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."