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kakushino · 8 months

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Be my Owner

Demon pet! Tomioka Giyuu x AFAB! Reader

Demons mated for life, sharing lifespan with their mates.

Tags: mild allusions to depression (reader), demon pet AU (domesticated demons), in heat, smut, nipple play, mating, dom-leaning bottom reader (i think???) Word count: 7,4k

Masterlist | My Pet Demon collab

You knew you were not well mentally; the deep hole, where your heart should be, made itself known a long time ago. What you didn’t understand was the reason you… required a pet. And it wasn’t even any pet - a dog would have sufficed, maybe - but your best friend gave you a fucking demon.

You didn’t know what you did to deserve your best friend but this was a bit… over the top. Especially now as you stared your new charge in the impossibly deep blue eyes.

Giyuu was a serious-looking demon, long black hair a little tangled and dry, giving it a distinct spiky shape, cute dark blue horns poking out from his head. He also had dark eyebags, which was hardly surprising, given that he’d had to travel in the sun, which weakened demons a great amount. An overall gaunt appearance was what made your heart want to keep it - keep him.

Demons had become domesticated in the last century or so, becoming glorified pets and workers, though there was a movement about giving them rights by law. You supported that movement passively, but you would have to immerse yourself in it more, now that you owned a demon.

He’d been silent the entire time you and your best friend talked, not moving an inch, and he was still not saying anything when they left.

“So…” He perked up a little when you started to speak. “Uhm… When was the last time you ate?”

Giyuu shifted on his feet, the first true response to anything that was said that day. His voice was a little raspy, though not overly deep, and it retained a soothing quality. “...three days ago.”

Your friend told you he needed to feed at least once a week, so to be safe, you had to get some meat for him. It would do you no good to starve him, what with his current appearance. “And what type of meat do you prefer?”

The question made him raise his eyebrows briefly, before they fell back into a neutral expression. It seemed not many people, if anyone at all, asked him that. “Salmon.”

You had some salmon filets in the freezer that you could let thaw in the sink for him. It was a curious choice, less… usual? You would think he’d go for more human-like meat, such as pork. Oh well, you would have to look up diet options for him. Your friend told you he was a mutt - a mixed type breed - so you would heed his preference to salmon as well.

You tried not to think how much you focused on feeding him right, when you yourself often skipped eating for days.

Your life with Giyuu settled into a new routine.

You spread your couch for him for a few days until you could get him a true bed. He always seemed surprised by these little gestures of… human kindness you displayed for him.

The first night on the couch, he’d hardly moved from sleeping on his back; the second he was turned onto the side; by the time a week went by, he’d relaxed enough to snuggle close to the green and yellow bunny plushie you had given him.

You took to feeding him twice a week, which always made his eyebrows twitch before he dug in. Though you followed some advice you found on the demon diet, you tried to incorporate salmon as much as possible, so he could enjoy his favorite meat. You found out he was quite the messy eater, bringing a smile to your face whenever you had to gently wipe off the fish scales or other raw bits off of his cheeks.

Since his hair started to tame down a little from its tangled mess - though the baths he’d taken helped too - you thought the diet was a success.

You ordered some clothes for him. Most of them fit him, some were oversized, but all were made for comfort. Sweatpants, cotton shirts, one hoodie for when the weather became colder, some underwear and socks. You would take him shopping for a pair or two of shoes later, as he’d come bare-footed, as well as buying him more clothes that fit him properly - and also maybe jeans and a dress-shirt, for other occasions... What you received through mail would be enough for now.

The bed arrived. Your flat wasn’t that big, forcing you to put his bed in the living room corner instead of his own room. You tried to give him privacy, giving him several choices of different curtains and screens - of which he’d chosen a sliding-door type screen reminiscent of shoji doors.

Taking care of Giyuu gave you a strange satisfaction. Fulfilling his needs came to you like second nature, and you always pushed through your exhaustion to do things for him you would rarely do for yourself before he came into your life.

You started to see merit in owning him when you actually went to take a shower after not showering for three days, thinking ‘I must be stinky to him’. You changed your sheets right after that and laid in your clean bed in a fresh set of clothes with your window open to let in the evening air. It was odd. You felt better somehow, despite the two basic actions taking up the rest of your energy.

Your eyes wandered to the door which led to the living room and wondered about Giyuu’s situation. At times it felt like the two of you were two sides of the same coin. Did either of you really have a purpose in life?

Did Giyuu truly deserve to have an owner like you - struggling with basic human needs?

Probably not.

But you were all he had.

With that depressing thought, you drifted off to sleep.

Before you knew it, it was four months, nearly five, into your companionship arrangement.

One thing you felt bad about was your hermit-type lifestyle. You worked from home as an editor, which was good for your mental health, and also for your new pet, as you were always home in case something happened. It had a bad side too though - like staying cooped up in the apartment forever.

While you worked, you allowed Giyuu to stay in your room with you, setting up a small corner for him with a large beanbag, and a few books to read after you confirmed he was literate. At the moment, he was spread out over the chair on his back, reading through Game of Thrones for the nth time. He really seemed to like that book, perhaps you should get the next one in the series, though you never got to finish the first one, courtesy of your limited energy levels throughout the day.

Or perhaps - your thoughts flitted to the Demon Rights movement - you could see if there was a meet up somewhere nearby, so he could interact with other local demons. You remembered they sometimes did those…

You opened up your social media, the one you recently created solely to interact with the local DR group, and checked the upcoming events. It took a little bit of scrolling but you saw one that suited you.

The Night Parade A.K.A. DR’s 13th Meet up!

It was in a park about 30 minutes away by foot, and the start was around an hour after sunset, which was perfect. The description encouraged people to bring their demon companions for much-needed socializing while the humans could see what others do to help their demons acclimate in homes and other living arrangements.

The last sentence made your heart plummet down to your stomach.

A kindly reminder that demon companions are required to wear collars by law.

There was a link to their website which offered sustainable collars which didn’t hurt the demons while wearing it.

You saved your work and looked up more information about demon collars, immersing yourself in the vast world that was the Demon Rights site and other sources. Once you deemed yourself at least partially educated on the issue, you went back to the DR e-shop and scoured it for one you thought would be okay for your demon companion.

“Giyuu?” you glanced at him, the book he had been holding in his hand was bookmarked and closed, laying on the table you placed next to his beanbag. He’d been reading not a second ago, how was he so fast? At least he didn’t stand up as he had been prone to do the first month whenever you addressed him.

At times you wondered if he was mute, but then he surprised you by speaking with you in a low voice - which happened more often as he got comfortable. “Yes, owner?”

“How do you feel about going outside?”

His eyebrows twitched, which you had come to interpret as excitement. You liked to think you were getting better at reading him. “Whatever you want to do, we will do, owner.”

You nodded. “Well… To go outside, you need to… wear a collar,” you said softly, looking at him and gauging his reaction. He gave away nothing. “And, well, I did my research and there were multiple options and I found one that might-” You beckoned him closer and he practically shot to your side, very nearly startling you. “Oh! Yes, do you think this one would be alright?” You scooted a little to the side with your chair, letting him lean in to see the screen.

It was a relatively plain collar, with nichirin cord hidden in the fabric, and though the locking mechanism was very simple it abided by the law standards. There were no wisteria poison pouches nor electric shock add-ons as your ‘normal’ ‘pet shop’ might offer. The e-shop offered several color options as well.

You watched him as he read the specifications. Was it too much? Maybe you should get just a plain one for other ‘pets’ and try to disguise it as a proper collar.

Still… it felt wrong to put a collar on Giyuu, as if he were an animal. The thought of degrading him like this made your stomach churn.

“Can I-?”

“Go ahead.”

He took the mouse and clicked on the wine red option. Giyuu stood up straight and looked at you blankly, waiting for you to understand what he meant.

Your eyes flitted between him and the screen, raising your eyebrow. “You want this one?”

He nodded.

You supposed it was better than choosing a color for him. You quickly added it to the cart, along with a… leash. The whole situation made you feel icky.

Giyuu hovered over you for a moment longer, before you waved him off to his seat with a mutter of ‘thanks’ over your shoulder.

A deep sigh left you, and though you didn’t see, he picked up on it, observing you for a long moment.

At times he wondered if it was him who burdened you so. He knew however that the problem lay deeper inside of you than just a pet like him. He could smell it on you, the lack of certain hormones that fueled human happiness.

And just as he could smell the lack of them, he could recognize when their levels spiked up - like when you watched him reading in his little corner, or when you saw him dozing in his bed, or enjoying his meat. He also registered that you liked to see him grooming himself, like brushing his hair (rather wrestling it into a manageable mane) and putting oils onto his horns.

His horns, and hair, had been dried out for a long while, the previous shelter not doing much to help out his problems.

Thanks to your tender care and change of diet, he saw his water marks returning too. The one on his chest was the first to appear, the dark blue standing out against his skin. You had yet to notice.

That was the thing he prided himself in. He was not a mutt, as most people assumed. His coloring was a little unusual but he was of the Urokodaki line, Tomioka branch of Water demons. Giyuu was probably one of the last pure blood demons there were, making him stronger than others - if fed properly. And you did. You listened to him and fed him a fish-based diet for his needs.

You were the first owner who asked him about his opinion and cared about it. And that was one single fact which would make him loyal to death to you. He would gladly wear a collar with your name on it, outside and inside, with pride.

Because he was yours, body and soul.

You had nearly forgotten about the event until your calendar gave you a notification. The package from the e-shop had arrived only two days after you ordered it, and you had yet to open it, leaving it to collect dust. The uncomfortable feeling returned. You very much did not want to put a collar on Giyuu, it had to be humiliating - for him - and the last thing you wanted to do was make him out to be some sort of beast he certainly was not.

“Uhm, so,” you started nervously. “We are going out today…”

Giyuu was looking down at you head tilted slightly, as you stood by a small package on the counter. He remained silent.

“I’m really sorry but uhm, by law you need to have a collar… when we go out,” you reminded him gently, fumbling with the package. “I didn’t want to do it but I really need to. I’m so, so sorry. I hate to do this,” you took a deep breath to calm down as you finally took the collar out.

It appeared high quality, the color matching the picture you remembered exactly. There was a complementary tag with Giyuu’s name and your phone number engraved on it; though very standard, it still made you upset.

You fumbled with the lock mechanism to undo it so you could slip it on him. Giyuu kindly lifted his hair up when you reached around his neck to fasten it. You tightened the strap only slightly so it wouldn't chafe, checking with your fingers between the material and his cool skin if it was loose enough; it was.

Electric shocks ran down his spine when you finally touched him - for the first time. You ran a little warmer than he did, and that pleasant contrast against him made the contact all the more enticing. He could not help but close his eyes, content.

“I’m really sorry, once again,” you mumbled, turning back to the box to take out the matching leash you ordered along with it, tears of frustration filling your eyes.

Giyuu finally said, “I don’t mind.”

His words made you freeze.

“I can wear it at home too, if you’d like, owner.”

The walk to the park was dark, obviously, but you somehow didn’t fear the night with Giyuu by your side… on a leash.

I can wear it at home too, if you’d like, owner.

Why did his words not bother him at all? You were upset with yourself; did you really create an image of being possessive of him? Did he think you kept him at home because you didn’t want him to run?

The questions and emotions that followed kept swirling in your brain, even as Giyuu nearly breathed down your neck with his closeness despite giving him as much lead as you could.

The park was closer than you thought. You weren’t the first to arrive, thank god, and you took a moment to admire the decorations, before you turned to Giyuu.

His horns gleamed in the soft light of the fairy lights that were put up by the organizers. His skin seemed to have a warm glow to it for the first time. Looking at him now, you could tell he became much healthier in your care and that made your heart squeeze.

How cruel must his previous owners have been to him to reduce him into the wraith he had been when he came to you?

You shook your head and untucked the leash from his collar. Once on the event grounds, you were free to let the demon companions roam and socialize, and you did want Giyuu to have friends outside of you - if you could call yourself his friend at all.

You were his owner after all.

His dark blue eyes observed you for a moment, as if asking for permission or guidance.

“Giyuu, I want you to have fun with other demons here,” you told him softly, a complex mix of emotions stirring up your belly.

Giyuu could pick up on each and decipher them easily though - you were anxious, sad, yet your ‘happiness’ levels weren’t that low… It was a strange smell on you, especially with how you encouraged him to go ‘have fun’.

But in the end, he strived to make you happy. If you wanted him to talk to others, he would do so.

You watched him walk away towards a group of demons further into the park. You had to tear your eyes away from him, lest you keep staring at him all evening.

Though he recognized some of the demons in the gathering, one in particular nearly made him pull a face.

Shinobu.

The butterfly demon was a menace.

And she made herself known the second she spotted him.

“Oh my, if it isn’t Giyuu. I didn’t know shelters allowed mutts to roam the streets.”

He pressed his lips together in a tight line. Shinobu wasn’t blind, she saw he had a collar, and she knew, of course she knew, that he belonged to a human now. Yet she still chose to taunt him with these untrue things.

“I’m not a mutt,” he focused on the other false information she sprouted. He knew he looked different, but he was of purer blood than her, which she had yet to sense. His face mark had still not appeared either.

She grinned, “Keep telling yourself that and you might actually believe it. Where is the poor human who’s stuck with you?”

He tensed. He was not going to share anything about you with Shinobu of all people.

“I bet the shelter had to pay them to take you so you would stop stinking up the place.”

“That’s not true,” he told her quietly, unwilling to make a scene and ruin your evening. For you will surely come running if you found him arguing with another demon.

“Not that you were worth much in the first place. Probably had to sweeten the deal somehow…”

Only your opinion of him mattered to him. He didn’t care about Shinobu’s grandstanding… but should she take your name into her mouth, he would surely not hold himself back.

“What, did you spread your legs for your owner to take you?”

“That is a false assumption, Miss Demon, and I would kindly suggest you shut up about things you know nothing about.”

Giyuu turned slightly towards you, not letting Shinobu out of his sight in case she tried something. His heart beat fast.

“Ara ara~ did I hit a nerve? My apologies~” Shinobu’s smile was empty of any emotion, yet it was obvious she felt she was right with her assumption. She checked her wrist as if she had a watch there. “It seems the time I had for you ran out. See ya~”

Watching Shinobu retreat brought Giyuu no satisfaction even as he stepped closer to you. He was tense, and he could smell your anger wafting off of you as well.

Had you really come to his defense? He would not have let her talk badly about you, of course, but your presence and words warmed his heart. His chest feeling tight as the strong drumming of his pulse beckoned him to start a dance with you - one he was not sure he could finish just yet. Even so, his teeth ached with need.

His dark blue eyes finally met yours, an unknown emotion swirling in his stomach as he breathed in your scent. You were slowly calming down, shoulders relaxing. Oh, he felt he could purr when he realized it was his proximity that made it so, his face gaining a pleased flush hidden by the darkness of the night.

Giyuu stepped closer to you again, nearly leaning into you in a daze.

"Are you okay?" Your worried voice snapped him out of his trance.

You had defended him and now you were worried? Fuck. He wanted to show you he could protect you too, that he could care for you too, that he could provide for you too…

"I am. I apologize for ruining your evening, owner," he tried to infuse as much of his devotion as he could into his voice, though it was not enough. It would never be enough. His brain whirled with thoughts of how he could show you how he felt for you.

You rushed to reassure him otherwise, making one of the parts inside him preen. “You didn’t ruin anything, Giyuu… What that demon said was uncalled for. If I knew who her… owner was, I’d have a talk with them.”

The situation truly made you mad. Giyuu might not have been as aware of her accusation, but you’d looked up everything the Demon Rights movement protested and felt sick at what you found.

Demon prostitution.

Forced, of course.

You were glad he had been in the bath at the time, because your reaction had been so visible and uncontrolled you had to walk outside for a minute to breathe.

The thought of you forcing Giyuu into that kind of thing made you feel even sicker inside as you calmed down in the cool outside air.

Your demon pressed close to you so close you could feel his reassuring warmth, his torso nearly touching your arm. You breathed in his scent and blinked slowly, lulled by his presence.

A black haired man caught your eye. No, not man, a demon - a demon with an electric collar, one you quickly scrolled past when you saw it in the e-shop. He seemed to be snarling at another demon, a very pale blonde one, before a human woman touched his arm, speaking to him with a smile.

You recognized the woman from the DR group - she was one of the organizers, Mrs Kamado.

You observed the interaction between the black haired demon and the organizer, realizing that the electric collar was needed for him. He seemed to have selective hearing and it was obvious that she didn’t use it heavily at all, choosing to talk him down instead… which seemed to be working.

“His name is Muzan.”

You turned to the young man standing next to you. He had a scar on his forehead, his eyes and hair a dark color with shades of red gleaming through when the light hit him just right. “Sorry?”

“The demon is Muzan, he’s an old coot and a bit of a brat but he isn’t that bad,” he explained with a smile. “Oh, sorry. I’m Kamado Tanjiro, my parents are the ones who organized this.”

“It’s nice to meet you. My name is [Name],” you introduced yourself, fully focusing on him.

A click coming from behind you made your head snap around. Giyuu was standing there, looking away from you, seemingly uninterested in what was happening in front of him. You frowned in confusion, turning back to Tanjiro.

Even with the hiccup at the start, you counted tonight as success. After your brief introduction to Tanjiro, who you learned was an University student at the Ubuyashiki University, he showed you around, guiding you through meeting many owners and demon companions throughout the night. You didn’t meet with the female demon who bothered Giyuu again, thankfully.

You dropped your keys into a bowl by the door with a tired sigh. All the socializing drained you.

You dropped Giyuu’s leash to take off your cross-body bag before you turned to him to take off his collar. You frowned, noticing the gleam of the metal lock seemed a bit dull compared to before.

No matter, you took off the leash and reached for the mechanism.

It did not budge.

You tried again, getting the same result.

“This is strange… Come with me,” you took his hand and led him to sit on your couch so you could see the collar properly in the light of your living room.

The metal was scratched - badly. Your heart dropped into your stomach. Was there a physical fight between Giyuu and the female demon before you noticed them? How had it gotten so busted up?

You tried to open it again and again, your attempts getting a little desperate as you tried to find a new angle.

Tears of frustration filled your eyes.

You never wanted to make Giyuu wear it. How were you going to take it off of him? It must be so insulting, being degraded into a pet.

Fuck, you fucked up.

Pale warm hands covered yours, halting your efforts. Your eyes met his, the impossibly deep blue of Giyuu’s soul stared back at you. There was no fear, no judgment. He was looking at you kindly, as if it was not your fault, as if he wanted to reassure you.

Your throat clogged up with emotion.

“I do not mind, owner,” he said lowly. “I don’t mind keeping it on at home.”

You pressed your lips together in an unhappy line. “I’m sorry, Giyuu…”

His fingers grabbed your hands in a loose hold and he brought them up to his lips, nuzzling the knuckles gently with closed eyes. “Do not be, owner. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You had nothing to be sorry for, because he had been the one to destroy the mechanism. You would have never allowed him to wear the collar at home, even if he asked. He had realized that while you were putting the collar onto him, and that’s why he did it.

It worked.

He smiled when you turned away from him.

After a shower, Giyuu laid in his bed, staring at the bunny you had given him when he first came to you. The pattern had reminded him of his old friend a little, but the scent had been yours, all yours.

It was clear to him the bunny plushie had belonged to you before you gave it to him, even if you washed it before he received it.

Now months later, your scent was gone.

But he could easily imagine it as he hugged the bunny close to his chest. He could imagine it was your body against his, warming him; your scent, the one he breathed in today, that enveloped him in comfort and… something else.

There was a strange feeling in his gut that he ignored for the moment.

Would you hug him, if he asked for it? Would you scent the bunny plushie, if he asked for it? Would you become his bunny, if he asked for it?

He quickly backpedaled.

His bunny?

He… quite liked that. You could be his bunny, and he would be your protector, as it should be.

The feeling in his belly spread into his chest, making him feel hot in his pajamas. Giyuu was confused as to what it could be, pondering on the issue as he snuggled the bunny even closer, imagining it was you.

What had happened differently today?

You gave him the collar, you went to the park, you walked back, you tried taking off the collar…

You touched him.

His hips bucked, making his eyes snap open. He was… humping the bunny unconsciously, thinking of you.

Though Giyuu realized it was strange to do so, he continued, fantasy overtaking his mind as he closed his eyes again. Your body, pliable and warm under him; your voice, the pretty moans it could produce; your cunt, sopping wet about to be filled with his cu-

Oh fuck.

Giyuu realized what was happening.

He’d entered his heat.

The morning came too early.

Your clock read 10:36 AM when you groaned, knowing you won’t be able to sleep anymore. The least you could do was get up and do your hygiene, even if you didn’t feel that hungry for breakfast.

You tiptoed into the bathroom, the sight in the mirror nearly sending you back to bed. You had dark circles under your eyes, your cheeks puffy from sleep, and your hair messy. Nevertheless, you ran your hands through your hair to make it half-presentable, and brushed your teeth, checking your notifications on your phone. There was a friendship request on your social media from Tanjiro, which made you smile and quickly accept.

By the time you were done with your teeth, you had already started up a conversation with him as he talked about the bakery his family owned. You promised to visit him, and the bakery, when you had the time.

The living room was dark, as it had been since you’d gotten Giyuu. You walked closer to check on him, the bit of light from your open bedroom door enough to see him by.

He was snuggled with the plushie you’d given him. The cute sight brought a smile to your face, and you went to cover him back up with his blanket, when you noticed something odd.

Giyuu was sweaty, his pajama shirt damp and his hair sticking to his face as he panted softly, noises of discontent leaving him as his brows furrowed.

You quickly stepped closer to him, sliding the shoji-like curtain along smoothly. You reached out to touch his forehead, worried.

Just as you felt the heat of his skin, his hand grabbed your wrist tightly. “Don’t,” he rasped out, his eyes opening a sliver, feverishly bright.

You frowned, “But Giyuu, you’re burning u-”

“You can’t-” he gasped when you pushed past his weak resistance and touched his sweaty forehead. Again, he tried to fight your hand on him. “You can’t touch me.”

“What? Why can’t I?” you pulled back slightly, trying to respect his boundaries but also worried out of your mind, leaning over to look him in the eyes.

He let out a strangled sound, nearly crawling back in the bed away from you. His face was flushed a deep red as you reached for him again. “I’m in heat.” He pushed his bunny plushie against you, but you only set it aside and grabbed his wrist. “S-stop touching me, I- I can’t-”

I can’t hold myself back, is what he wanted to say. Giyuu had wanted to say a lot of things before touching you properly. He had wanted to court you, to give you proper courting gifts and attention, to show you he could be a good mate. This unplanned heat triggered by your touch last night was throwing a stick into his plans.

He wanted you, he needed you.

You were oblivious to his thoughts, worried out of your mind. “But isn’t the heat painful? Why don’t you take off your shirt?” You didn’t press forward but still gave him no room to escape. “I want to help you, Giyuu.”

Did you even know what you were saying? What your words were doing to him? His face flushed an even deeper red.

You misinterpreted his blush for embarrassment and your thoughts raced in circles. How could you make him more comfortable?

“Why don’t I take off my shirt too? Look,” you quickly discarded the oversized shirt you slept in, leaving you in your panties as you knelt in front of him on his bed. “Now your turn.”

Giyuu was stupefied, and pliable, as you sat him up and took off his shirt as well, making you gasp. His chest was half-covered with demon markings of deep blue imitating water in the way they flowed and centered - it was like an artist splashed him with color and left it to dry.

Your fingers reached out to trace one such mark going over his heart, making him shiver. You glanced up at his face to check if he was alright.

Giyuu seemed to be in a trance, staring at your exposed chest. The sight made you blush as you finally realized the situation you were in.

“Can I touch you?” he asked roughly, his voice raspy.

“I- okay…” you assented in confusion.

Once he’d gained permission he nearly attacked your chest with a hunger previously unknown to you. His hands cupped your breasts and his hot tongue laved at the skin, quickly getting to one of your nipples to circle the areola. His lips closed around it, sucking it harshly, making you cry out in pain.

“Stop!”

As if burned, Giyuu pulled back, saliva connecting your nipple and his glistening lips, a teary eyed expression on his face.

The sight hurt your heart, and you sighed, giving up. “Just be gentle, okay?”

He nodded and licked your nipple much more gently, staring you in the eyes the whole time, gauging your face for any discomfort.

There was none, the texture of his tongue sending sparks of pleasure down your spine. You breathed out shakily, closing your eyes as you arched your back slightly, offering him more, urging him to continue.

Giyuu hummed against your flesh, making you shiver, his thumb stroking the unattended nipple softly. Your breath hitched, and you gripped his pajama pants tightly, the slight shift of the fabric giving him enough stimulation to moan. It reminded you that there was something more stiff than your nipples.

Your hand trailed up, cupping his hardness. He bucked his hips, moaning into your chest as you started to pump his shaft through the pants, wetness gathering at the tip.

Giyuu cursed under his breath, switching to the other nipple to give them equal attention with his gentle sucking, whining when you squeezed the tip of his cock a little, his teeth grazing your breast.

You very nearly whimpered when he did that. In retaliation the hand stroking his cock grabbed the hem of his pants instead, your other hand reaching inside to stroke his length unobscured.

Giyuu had to pull back from your breast lest he bite down as he groaned through his teeth, resting his forehead on your collarbone, his tongue darting out to lick at your skin while his thumbs continued to play with your nipples. He could hardly resist leaning more into you, rising to his knees and burying his head in your neck, hot open-mouthed kisses trailing all over you as your head fell back, giving him more access.

He laved at your skin, kissing it, sucking on it, creating deep hickeys as he pleased, the sensation drawing low whines and moans from your throat.

Then, he bit down on your pulse point gently.

Your hold on his cock tightened, the next stroke rougher than before.

“Don-Don’t! I’m about to-!” You quickly let go. He groaned loudly, as if in pain when your hand retreated from his pants. “Please, I need-!”

Your face felt hot, his desperate state made you so turned on you didn’t know what to do with yourself, except squeeze your thighs together. “What do you need, Giyuu?”

He felt as if he wanted, no, needed to eat you up, as if you were prey and him a predator - as it should have been before demons turned into glorified pets.

But the feeling was too other to be just hunger; it was also thirst, for the sweet sounds you made when he marked you up, for an even sweeter sound you would make when he bit you and claimed you as his own.

“T-turn over, owner. I need you,” he told you breathlessly, his voice gaining a raspier quality as he pawed at your hips, claws retracted. You’d told him you would help him, didn’t you? Well, he was asking for that help now.

The panties you wore were soaked, and you knew what exactly he wanted you to do. You knelt in front of him and took the panties off, obeying his request and turning around to offer yourself to him on your hands and knees.

There was the sound of fabric being ripped apart before his hand grabbed your ass, thumb digging in as he pulled your flesh back just enough to expose your pussy. “I’m sorry, I just- I just need you.”

Giyuu slid the tip of his cock between your pussy lips, gathering your juices and spreading his precum all over, before he finally started to push in. He let out a shaky, drawn out moan.

The stretch burned slightly, and you could do nothing but grip the sheets under your hands and push back against him, wanting more.

“Sh-shit-” He bottomed out, his length pushing against something that made your arms give out and you fell forward, your forearms now supporting your weight.

“Can’t help myself-” he pulled out halfway before slamming back in, a whine leaving his throat at the feeling. His hands held your hips in a bruising grip.

Then, he set a rough and fast pace. He fucked you like a beast unleashed, like you were his fucktoy, his thrusts uncoordinated and sloppy - disharmonic, desperate.

You clenched your eyes shut as fireworks sparked behind your eyelids as the heat built up between the two of you. Giyuu was near-painfully thick and long. Even inexperienced, his dick hit all the right places, drawing breathy moans past your lips quietly.

He himself became non-verbal, panting and keening lowly as he tried to chase his ecstasy. He leaned forward, his right arm supporting his weight just over your shoulder, left hand snaking around to stroke your puffy clit in tight circles, completely out of rhythm with his thrusts. His lips placed open mouthed kisses on your shoulders, nibbling on the flesh and sucking hickeys, staking his claim as the knot in your belly tightened.

Then, near the height of your pleasure, you felt a pinch at the junction of your shoulder and neck.

As if triggered, your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami, making you quiver in Giyuu's tight embrace, even as he still rocked his hips against yours in frantic tight circles, keening against the bite in your shoulder. Each thrust inside sent another wave of pleasure, until you did not know when one ended and another began. You could hardly form a thought, only sounds you vaguely recognized as yours left your throat.

Warmth spilled inside of you after an erratic series of rough thrusts, his arms hugging you tightly, putting his whole weight on you.

The slight pain in your shoulder faded as Giyuu pulled back to lick the bite gently. His half-lidded eyes stared as his saliva closed the punctures, slightly discolored flesh covering the mating bite mark.

Your eyes felt heavy and you were tired, but his cock was still hard even after finishing…

"Can- can I-?"

You closed your eyes. "Mhm, if it'll make you feel better…"

His arms let up a little, laying his forehead between your shoulder blades. "You're tired…"

There was no use denying it. "Yes. But, doesn't it hurt?" You rolled your hips experimentally; his hands gripped your body tighter as if to stop you.

"We can stay like this… I don't mind," he said, his cock twitching. Giyuu rolled you both onto your sides, staying inside. The movement made your inner muscles spasm and he bucked his hips. "Fuck… perhaps, only a little…"

In contrast to his pace before, he rocked into you gently and slowly, letting you feel every inch without overwhelming you.

"This okay?" he asked in a strained voice. You only hummed in response, enjoying the intimacy.

Giyuu spilled his seed twice more into you as you half-dozed in his warm embrace, letting out a high pitched whine once in a while at the overstimulation, yet he could not stop - not until you were overfilled and it was seeping out around his dick.

You must have drifted off at some point, the next thing you remembered was Giyuu kissing your shoulder gently, muttering, “Mhm, good morning… or evening.”

You sighed out, relaxing in the warmth of his embrace. “How you feelin’?”

“Perfectly fine, or at least a little better,” he whispered, nuzzling into you.

You were sore, and the stickiness of dried sweat and cum on you started to bother you quickly. You wanted a shower.

You tapped his arm with your finger and made to move away from him.

“No, no, don’t move yet,” his voice was strained as his cock twitched inside of you. “I won’t be able to control myself-”

You smiled tiredly and arched your back a bit, pushing your ass against him.

“Ye-es, fuck-” His hips rutted forward, muttering “Yes, yes, yes-” like a mantra, his arms tightening around you as he chased his pleasure inside of you yet again, his and your cum from before enough lubrication for what he did.

Your muscles were sore but you let him do as he pleased, his moans and heavy breathing making you feel hot all over. You knew you wouldn’t be able to finish but you didn’t mind, his noises bringing you a delight of its own.

Your hand came up to caress his arms gently as he fucked you, a whine leaving his throat at the tender touch, the next few thrusts sloppier and more forceful before he slammed as deep as he could with a shaky groan. Heat filled you again as he came.

You smiled widely as he panted, pulling out and making his seed spill over your thighs.

His hold became looser as he pressed soft kisses on your back and shoulders. “Sorry…”

You hummed, “There is no need to apologize. I could use a shower though, you coming with me?”

“Yes.” Giyuu opened his arms as you stood up. You were grateful your floors weren’t covered by a carpet, so any splatters his semen would make could be mopped up.

After a long hot shower, where he made sure to knead your muscles and wash your back for you gently, you wrapped yourself in a towel, and went to the kitchen to grab something to eat, your tummy rumbling with hunger.

Perhaps Giyuu needed some meat too?

It was nearly two months later when you could attend another DR meetup (15th, you missed one during that time due to a deadline you nearly forgot). You’d kept in contact with Tanjiro, quickly becoming close friends as he complained about managing Muzan and you about ‘adulting’.

You didn’t reveal the fact that you started sleeping with Giyuu. After that first night, it seemed as if a dam had broken, and he became clingy and needy for you nearly every chance he got, going as far as distracting you during work with neck kisses and warming your pussy with his cock.

It was not all about the sex either, he started going with you when you went out to shop for groceries, no matter the time of the day, keeping close to you like a dark protector and glaring at anyone who dared to look at you wrong.

You thought it was strange but let it be. He wasn’t harming anyone so it was probably fine.

“If it isn’t [Name]!” Tanjiro greeted you with a hug, earning him a low hiss from Giyuu. Tanjiro offered him a handshake, which Giyuu took, but you could see the amount of effort he had to spend to not crush Tanjiro’s hand, making you laugh a little. It was cute how protective he was of you.

Muzan was arguing with Douma, the pale blond demon from last time, a few steps away from the Kamado family, while Nezuko tried to drag him back to the organizers. Douma was smiling as his own owner - a ginger-haired woman - hugged him from behind to pull him away.

You spent a small while talking to each of the Kamado siblings, asking about school and such, when Muzan joined your little group.

He took one look at you and scoffed loudly. “I can’t believe you mated with that loser.”

Everything stopped. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared wide-eyed at him. “What?”

He rolled his gleaming red eyes in annoyance. “Are you stupid? Your loser of a demon, you mated with him.” Muzan shook his head and crossed his arms, staring at you down his nose.

You could only blink a few times, slowly turning to Giyuu.

“I- what?”

Giyuu had an innocently impassive look on his face, as if nothing was wrong. You could see, however, with your trained eye that there was a bright blush adorning his ears and a drop of sweat disappearing under his collar. He remained silent.

AN: I want to credit the idea for Muzan as a bratty demon of the Kamado family to @sunandflame because she was the first one who came up with it, among other ideas we brainstormed while talking about this at first.

I'm a bitch so there will be part 2 in the far future when I get the horny for it.

dividers made by the amazing @/benkeibear (I love you, Rhy)

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #tomioka giyuu #smut #giyuu x reader #giyuu x y/n #giyuu x you #tomioka giyuu x reader #giyuu smut #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer x reader #reader insert #kakushino

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brailsthesmolgurl · 1 month

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DAMNATION

A legend foretold that the princess' heart is the only way to save his people. What happens when he refuses to take her heart when he had foolishly fell in love with her? But, what if she wanted to give his people the life that they deserved? Warnings: Angst, No Comfort, Death of Character, Blood and Gore, you might let out a tear or two, there could be an alternate ending in a parallel universe. Slight Spoiler for Rafayel's lore.

"Rafayel, please, please, please let me help your people." She sniffled, eyes and nose a hue of red as she held onto the sleeves of the God of the Sea. They had been at this argument for days, and time is not exactly in Rafayel's favour. His people are dying, and her heart, is the only thing that could save his kind from extinction.

It has to be out of her own will, they said. And here he is, watching y/n with his eyes that had taken up a shade of dark purple. The lack of lighting within her chambers had given him a good camouflage for his frown. He got her, to surrender her heart by her own will. But, Rafayel could not do it.

His right hand reached up to wipe the tears falling down her cheeks and he spoke softly, as if to conjure up whatever willpower he had left within his system to convince her to stop talking about this. "My love, you know I could not bear to lose you. I know my people may be in pain and suffrage, but I also know that you deserve the world. With me."

"BUT I ALREADY SAID I CAN!" Y/n shouted, the grabbed the candle holder by her bedside table and threw it across the room, her tears are now flowing like streams down her cheeks. Rafayel held her as she collapsed into his arms, sobbing and curling into a ball. Her voice a hushed whisper as she spoke. "How is living here any better than being dead? I am constantly locked in my tower, I had only ever been out whenever you are around and I just can't find myself to live like this anymore."

Her sigh ached Rafayel's heart, it hurts him deeply to watch her cry and to watch her make such a decision for him, for his people. He was caught up in between, eyes wandering across her dark room as the last source of lighting was put out. The moonlight however, casted a silvery-bluish sheen into the room, making the overall room more gloomy than it already is.

Rafayel took in a deep breath, muttering something about 'there must be another way to this', and he used his long index finger to lift up her chin, so her eyes meet his. "My love, I want you to stay put right here. I will be back by dawn tomorrow and we shall make a final decision on this. Please, heed my advice and just stay here alright? I will be back for you, as always my quintessence."

He placed a kiss on her forehead, her cheek and lastly on her lips. Just like how he would always comfort her. Pulling back, he noticed the way her eyes struggled to open and with that, he slowly laid her back onto her bed, and tucked her in. She must be exhausted from the amount of crying she had for the night. Smoothing his hand over her silky brown hair, he presented a sad smile, eyes wavering while he looked at her for one last time for the night.

He had to make a choice, either it would be to sacrifice her or to sacrifice his people. Both bringing an equally heavy burden to his heart and soul. Call him a god, they said. But he is no longer one as he harbored such selfish thoughts to his own desire. Putting on his mask, he got off of the bed, stood at the window and then plunge down into the waters below.

...

It has been a few hours, and y/n rose from her bed, still groggy from her sleep. She looked out of her window to find her windows were widely opened, the moon shining brightly and she wondered to herself when did Rafayel left. It should be a couple of hours ago as the last thing she recalled was his lips on her face. And she recalled meeting him right after dinner time ended.

A whistling tune was heard from outside of her window, a tune so melodic that she was enchanted to approach her window sill. Her hands glided over the smooth stone slab and she peeked her head out before she was met with a boy in the waters below her towers. The scales on his body signified that he is a Lemurian, just like Rafayel.

"What are you doing here?" Y/n panicked, eyes darting all over her surroundings to scan for any witnesses around. You see, if Lemurians were caught, they would be pawned off to the wealthy, as it showcases the sign of one's wealth. And that was how Rafayel met y/n. But y/n knew that possessing a Lemurian would not grant her a new status nor the freedom she had longed for, hence, she freed him after they had promised to find each other again in the future.

"My name is Arvia---" Before he could even finish, he coughed, desperately holding onto his chest as he heaved for his breath. "I came to---" Another cough, one of his hand sprung out from the water to close his mouth, to silence his coughs as he did not want to draw any unwanted attention. As he withdrew his hand, y/n gasped. Crimson stain on his pale white hands, people on land may have identify it as lung infection, but she knew that Lemurians are leaning towards the grim reaper's will.

"Please, please my quintessence, I know My Highness would not let us near you." Blood trickled down the sides of his lips as he spoke. "But I plead you, as my mother has been in suffrage for the past few days, she could not speak anymore, let alone sing. All of my siblings are met with ill coughs, just like mine, carrying crimson taints. I beg of you, shall you have the means to save Lemuria, please meet us at the sea stacks as dawn strikes."

Another cough comes at the end of his sentence and she watched as he harshly pounded his chest, as if doing that would ease his cough better. "I'll be there!" Y/n responded without hesitation and her determined eyes were met with Arvia's aquamarine ones. The young merman wiped the blood off of his lips and he nodded his head before he dived back into the water, a hint of his tail peeking out as he swam back into the deep waters.

Y/n rushed back into her room and opened her wooden wardrobe, eyeing the gowns that she owns and picking one out that is made of the thinnest material possible. She wanted her movements to be stealthy and languid, hence the thin material would come to be more useful than a heavier drape. She changed into the white gown, and grabbed her fur coat to drape it over her small stature. Glancing at herself for the last time in the mirror situated next to her wardrobe, she felt a pang of sadness coarsing through her body.

She has chosen her own journey, she has decided on her own death. But it was all for the better right? One small sacrifice for the greater good. Staring at her own reflection, she realised her tears had streamed down her face. Why is she crying? She had no idea. But perhaps it has something to do with the ending of her life. No matter how convinced she is of her death being a greater sacrifice, she could never forgive herself for going against her lover's will.

She wiped off her tears and huffed. "This is it. My death shall come with a greater meaning. Rafayel would understand eventually." Before she could change her mind, she grabbed the rope Rafayel had made for her and she tossed it out of the window to climb down from her tower.

...

Perhaps the gown was not the best idea. Strong winds and thin gowns are not exactly complimentary to one another. Her fur coat however, ended mid waist so the length below her waist was bare to the wind's torture. It took her quite a while to arrive to the location that was appointed by the merman.

The huge rock sat in the middle of the sea, unwavering as the waves crashed against it. The sky was dark but along the silhouttes, there was hints of an orangy-yellow shade, a sign that dawn is approaching. Y/n took off her footwear and laid them onto the sand, and she took off her coat to lay it next to her footwear. The wind batted against her whole body even more harshly, making her shiver and tremble as she made her way into the waters.

As the sun started to rise even more, she noticed a few heads emerged from the further ends of the vast ocean, as if watching her as she made her way towards the rock. Arvia then bobbed his head out of the waters and he spoke. "You came, my quintessence. Come, take your seat on the rock." He looked ghastly, eyes sunken in and scales fading of its usual bright colours. He held out his hand and guided y/n up towards the rock.

Another merman surfaced from the depths of the ocean and y/n recognised this merman. He was always stuck to Rafayel's hip when she met Rafayel for the first couple of times. She never got to know of his name but she assumed that he plays an important role in guiding and supervising Rafayel's actions. "I believe we had met for a few times, when I was on land with My Highness. My name is Amund and I was summoned by my people to perform the sacrificial ritual on you."

His eyes glinted a sheen of red as he spoke to her. Was this the guy that Rafayel had warned her about? 'My people are of gentle nature, but I am afraid one shall lead them all towards perdition.' Rafayel's voice rung in her head. "Do you, my quintessence, know the risk of such sacrificial ritual?" Amund questioned her, eyes raking over her body in an uncomfortable manner.

"I will be able to save Lemuria right?" She responded, eyes filled with hope. "Will I?" She second guessed herself and Amund said nothing but nodded. He raised his hand to beckon to his fellow Lemurians and some of them started approaching her. "Wait, what is happening?"

"As long as my quintessence is at will to give us the God of Sea's heart, we will ensure that the sacrificial ritual is done with the utmost care and respect you deserve." A dagger appeared in Amund's hand. Silver dagger with red crystals adorning it's hilt, it definitely does look like a ceremonial dagger.

"Are you going to drown me first? Rafayel told me that as long as I am willing to give out my heart, then I could be drowned prior to the ceremony. Is it not?" She remembered Rafayel told her some details about how the ceremony takes place but given she was not drowned yet, she was curious if there was a different course of ceremonial action. "My quintessence, as I mentioned earlier, you deserve the utmost care and respect for your sacrifice for the people of Lemuria." He held up the dagger and gave a look towards the other mermans that were surrounding her. "Make sure she stays still throughout the ceremony." The mermans then grabbed her arms and legs and they stretched her limply across the rock. Y/n however, knew that she could not back up anymore at this point.

But, what she did not know was that this so-called ceremony was nothing more than a mere revenge to be taken upon Rafayel. The god who chose to leave his people to pursue his love with a mere mundane. Amund, does not approve of this relationship and neither does he want that to ever happen again. He wants to watch Rafayel suffer like how his people did.

"Stay still my quintessence, this would hurt." Without another word, Amund stabbed the dagger into her collarbone and y/n screamed in pain, tears started flowing from her face but she could not move as she was held down tightly. The pain did not stopped as the dagger dragged from her collarbone to the sides of her breasts. Her screams never falter just like her blood that never stopped flowing, staining the rock and eventually dripped into the ocean.

...

Rafayel had returned to her chambers but she was nowhere to be found. "Y/N? Y/N?" He called out to her name quietly as he walked towards her bed. Flipping the sheets, he was only met with the sight of her pillow stacked together to form a silhouette of her. He turned around and noticed the wardrobe that was sprung open, and her satin lounging attire tousled into a ball on the hardwood floorings. Confused, he looked over to the window sill and his guesses were right, she had escaped from her tower.

Without hesitation, the God of the Sea jumped out of the window and plunged right into the waters, not even caring if that had caused a huge splash to alert the guards as he had no time left to spare. He had to rescue her.

Earlier on, when Rafayel had left her chambers, he went back to Lemuria to speak with Amund. When he arrived at Armund's door, Arvia came out of the house, eyes widened when he was face-to-face with the lilac-haired God. "Your highness." Arvia half bowed and went along his way. Swimming past Rafayel and off into the weeds that were littered around the towns of Lemuria.

"What was Arvia doing here?" Rafayel asked as he closed the door to Amund's abode and finally meeting Amund's eye.

"His family was in dire need of some pearl essence. His mother's throat was ruined and his siblings are all ridden with coughs that drains their blood." Amund responded as he placed vials and bottles of medicine back onto the shelves. The clinking and clanking of the vials and bottles are the only sounds filling the silence before he continued. "Your Highness, you cannot delay any further. Our people are dying. And they desperately need the heart."

"Amund, listen." Rafayel spoke in a stern tone, hands running through his lilac strands as he looked frustrated. "I can't bring myself to do it. I just can't." The vial containing the pearl essence floated out of Amund's grasp and he looked at Rafayel with widened eyes. There comes the shouting, "You would rather watch Lemuria wilt just to save a woman that you have feelings for?! How dare you say that?! What do you think the people of Lemuria would have thought, that their one and only hope has decided to betray them all for the sake of a mere mortal?!"

Rafayel winced at Amund's booming voice, although he looked saddened with the situation at hand, his voice maintained the same as his posture, still and calm. "There shall be another way to change fate. I will do whatever I can to save my people but without the cost of losing my beloved bride. The decision is final." He turned to leave but stopped, whipped his head back and he warned. "Anyone who acted against my orders shall die upon my hand."

...

The waves batted against the shores, feigning a scene where the water desperately wants to come onto the shore. Just like how the mermans once dreamed of wanting to walk on land and having to dive back into the waters based on their own will. But they were bound, bound to the waters as coming onto land would not impose any leverage for them.

Rafayel ran across the beach, eyes searching every inch of land and water to find his beloved. The sun is rising and the pastel skies no longer gave Rafayel a sense of comfort but it added onto his paranoia, assumptions of the worst case scenario constantly teasing their way into his mind.

His heart suddenly hurt like someone had shot him with a canon ball and he fell in his steps, clutching onto his chest as he struggled to breathe. Not long after when he regained his breath, something felt different in him. Something felt like a--- a beating heart. Rafayel gasped at the feeling as it further confirmed his nightmare.

He ran as fast as his mundane legs could carry him down the shore and passing a cliff, he witnessed a figure, sprawled out on a rock limply, and he screamed. "Y/N!"

He trudged the waters and climbed up the rock, not even caring that the barnacles had sliced off pieces of his sole. He did not care at all as the scene in front of him would trigger bloodshed afterwards. Y/n laid on the rock, eyes closed, but blood trailed from her eyes, nostrils, and ears, staining her once beautiful white dress into a bright crimson red. Her chest bared a gaping hole exactly where the heart was supposed to be situated.

Rafayel reached out his shaky hands to touch her cheeks and in that moment, he got a brief flashback of her last moments. Her screams echoed through his mind, but none of her screams mouthed the word 'STOP'. Amund was there, alongside with a couple of other mermans that were holding her down. Amund was slicing into her skin, carelessly opening up a big hole on the left side of her chest just to retrieve the heart from her.

Rafayel's tears streamed when the flashback showed y/n stopped screaming and twitching when Amund grabbed the heart out of her body, holding it high up in the air as if it was some trophy earned. And just like that, the flashback ended and Rafayel was snapped back into reality, with her body laid right in his arms. He whimpered, but no sounds were emitted from his throat, his cries were silenced by the throbbing pain within his heart.

Watching her pale and faceless expression, Rafayel held her face close to his neck, getting his body stained with her blood like how he would always get paint stained on his clothes whenever he was painting portraits of her. But this time, he did not want the stain to be washed off. He did not want it to fade either, as it would remind him of the pain his own people had brought upon him.

"Why?" He asked the air, as you would no longer be the one to reply to him. "Why would they do this to you?" His voice a hushed whisper as the ocean started to rage. "Why couldn't they at least make it painless for you?" He was referring to the drowning that should have taken place prior to the ceremony of removing her heart. It would have hurt way lesser than this, it would have been more comforting, it would have lessen the bloodshed that would be committed by Rafayel.

"I will always, always wait for you my love. No matter how long it takes." He stood up, with her still in his arms, and he looked out into the horizon, staring into the waves that would soon remind his people of his identity of being the God of the Sea. The dark clouds started to close in, accompanied with lightning strikes that fears the men at seas. Rafayel held her lifeless body, clinging onto whatever warmth that was left from her body before he mustered up the courage to say this. His eyes turned from the usual blueish-purplish shade to a dark set of purple pupils. "I shall bring damnation to my people as how they had brought damnation to me."

Sequel here: Retribution

Parallel Universe Ending is up! Read through Retribution and you shall find the link for the parallel not-so-angsty ending!

And there you go my darlings, I wanna watch that tear drop :)

I think I will come out with an alternate not-so-angsty ending if i feel like it sometime in the near future. Lemme know what you guys think hehe <3. If any of you fancy for any requests of similar calliber or even new ideas, drop me a dm :>

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel angst #rafayel lnds

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slytherinslut0 · 1 month

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theodore nott • may i have this dance?

info: smallish blurb for @thatdammchickennugget’s hogmarch challenge. prompt four. (i know im a day late lol sorry mari ily)

summary: theodore told everyone that dances weren’t his thing and decided he wasn’t going to attend the yule ball. when you agreed to go with cormac, he realized that he’d made a big mistake, and was there for you when you needed him most.

tags: soft and fluffy. shitty cormac per usual.

You should have seen it coming.

You should have damn well known that accepting Cormac's half-assed invitation to the Yule Ball was practically signing up for one thing and one thing only:

a one-way ticket to misery.

The sting of his abandonment wasn’t even the worst of it--though it did occur almost immediately, sneaky bloke somehow managing to slither off before Dumbledore even had the chance to make it to the podium to give the opening fucking speech.

Truthfully, you probably could have gotten over that. With enough drinks, that is.

The real kicker came after the bewildering manner in which he vanished into the ether. The moment he reappeared all the same, as if nothing had even happened, accompanied now by your ex-best friend, clinging to his arm like a fucking lifeline.

His smirk, so brazenly triumphant, seemed to stretch wider than the chasm between you, swallowing up his entire face in a painfully irritating display of mockery and betrayal as he shot you an infuriating wink from across the room, leading your friend through the crowd and into position for the first slow dance.

That was it. There was no goddamn way you were staying in that cursed room for even a millisecond longer.

If not for your ironclad resolve, you were fully convinced you would have set the entire room ablaze in a whirlwind of rage as you stormed out.

Yet, as you downed nearly half the flask of firewhiskey you had concealed beneath your flowing emerald green gown, a profound epiphany struck you: that wretched excuse for a human being didn't merit even a fraction of your emotional investment.

What he truly warranted, from the depths of your seething soul, was a resounding void of utter insignificance.

And with that realization burning in your chest, you pivoted on your heels and pushed your way through the throng, feigning ignorance to Pansy's concerned calls and Mattheo's mocking gaze as he reached out to grasp your arm, undoubtedly ready to ridicule you for being left high and dry before the first damn dance.

Your friends had warned you of this inevitable outcome, but your stubbornness had clouded your ears to their warnings.

You live and you learn, right?

"Wrong," Mattheo, Theodore, Enzo, Blaise, and Draco would have most definitely retorted in unison.

You could practically hear it in the recesses of your mind as you pushed through the large double doors and out into the warm spring breeze flowing through the corridor. They would have reminded you that sometimes it pays to heed the advice of someone who's walked the same path, that perhaps they were genuinely trying to watch out for you for once.

Of course, you would have simply scowled and rolled your eyes in response. You didn't need advice from anyone, definitely not them. Although…it certainly would have paid off to listen just this once…

Just then, in that fleeting moment of mental pondering, an intriguing thought popped into your mind;

Perhaps, just perhaps; you were the problem here.

…..No. Nope. Not even close.

You forcefully dismissed that nagging notion the very second it dared to intrude. No, you couldn’t, and simply wouldn’t entertain the idea that you were at fault here.

The reason you were making a hasty exit from the Yule Ball before the first dance had even commenced, the reason the echo of your black heels striking the cobblestones beneath them reverberated throughout the damp and desolate corridor, was solely because of Cormac.

If you were the problem, you’d be the one in there dancing with whomever you pleased, paying no mind to the feelings of others. Your Yule Ball evening was over. And not even the combined efforts of Godric Gryffindor, Professor Snape, Salazar Slytherin and Filch's bloody cat could have kept you from fleeing.

But in truth, if you were being completely real with yourself, you weren’t even all that bummed. A very large part of you didn’t even want to partake tonight.

Perhaps that was due to the fact that the man you longed to accompany the dance with had adamantly declared his aversion to such festivities, and simply decided not to attend.

But that’s neither here nor there at this point.

As you reached the threshold of the courtyard, your gaze fell upon the breathtaking scene unfolding before you: a moonlit evening enveloped in a torrential downpour, each raindrop hammering against the emerald expanse of grass with relentless force.

It was as tragically beautiful as it was suiting.

And as you were lost in the beauty of nature's fury, you were startled by a husky voice slicing through the stillness, calling out your name from down the hall. Nearly leaping out of your own damn skin, your head snapped to the side, your eyes meeting those of a tall, strikingly handsome Italian man striding purposefully towards you.

"Hey," Theodore called out, his voice gentle yet determined, "Wait up."

You rolled your eyes before you could even stop yourself. Force of habit.

“I saw you leaving,” he continued, his steps quickening as he closed the distance between you. “Are you okay?”

You met his concerned gaze with a raised eyebrow, a hint of sass colouring your reply, "don’t I look okay to you?"

Theodore's gaze caressed you, hunger evident in his half-lidded eyes as they roamed over your form with a blend of admiration and concern. Barely audible, a curse slipped from his lips in Italian before he locked eyes with you once more, a palpable shift in the intensity of his gaze.

"You look more than okay, Bella," he murmured, taking a single step closer. “Doesn’t mean you feel it.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart quickening its pace in response to his proximity. As Theodore’s words washed over you, a shiver ran down your spine, your skin tingling with the heat of his gaze.

This was the man you’d longed to attend the dance with tonight. The one who swore he’d never take part in such idiocy. Standing before you, clad in an all black suit.

You didn’t even have a thought to question it—to question him—on what the hell he was doing here, dressed like that—because as you stood there, your temperature rising, you met his eyes, a mixture of vulnerability and longing swirling within your own.

“Maybe not,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, “but somehow…you make it hard to feel anything else.”

Theodore's lips curved into a knowing smile, and his tongue darted out to wet them, his eyes locking with yours in silent understanding.

"Then maybe," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, "we should find a way to make you feel everything."

Your entire body froze in place as Theodore slowly extended his hand towards you, the world around you fading into insignificance as if time itself had paused, as if someone had cast a spell on the clock. Almost entirely speechless, you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from his, the anticipation thick in the air as the distant strains of a slow dance song filtered through the corridor, emanating from the Yule Ball.

With a gentle smile, Theodore broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper, "may I have this dance?"

As your lips parted to respond, a whirlwind of emotions danced across your face, your eyes flickering between his outstretched hand and the captivating depths of his gaze. A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of your mouth, your usually sassy self left utterly speechless, and with deliberate slowness, you surrendered your hand to his, relishing in the warmth that flooded your senses as he drawed you closer and into his embrace.

Theodore’s hands found their place on your waist with a gentle yet firm grip, pulling you closer to him as if to reassure you of his presence. You reciprocated by resting your palms on his shoulders, feeling the heat emanating from his body, its intensity seeping through the fabric of his suit jacket, igniting a tingling sensation in your fingertips.

You let your eyes trace a path up his strong chest, taking in the subtle rise and fall of his breath beneath the fabric of his shirt. It was then that you noticed the emerald silk tie adorning his neck, its colour mirroring the rich hue of your dress almost perfectly.

Utterly mesmerized, you couldn’t comprehend the way this man had rendered you so bloody speechless. You’d never have expected any of this in a million years.

Finally, you managed to exhale, your voice barely above a whisper, “you…you matched my dress…”

Theodore’s eyes softened as he looked down at you, a tender smile playing on his lips.

“Only because I knew you’d be wearing it,” he replied, his voice warm, a soft caress against your skin. “Cormac is a fucking idiot.”

A breathy laugh escaped your lips, mingling with the soothing melody of the rain and the gentle hum of the slow dance tune. You blinked, looking up at him through your lashes, finding yourself lost in the depth within the ocean of his eyes.

“You knew he’d ditch me,” you whispered, the words barely audible over the soft cadence of the music. As you watched Theodore’s eyes trace the curve of your lips, a flicker of realization dawned upon you. “You were betting on it.”

“I knew you deserved better,” he murmured, a soft swallow rippling through his throat as he spoke, his eyes shimmering beneath the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through the rain-soaked courtyard. “And I was hoping you’d see it too.”

“Why didn’t you try to stop me?” you whispered, your voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

You thought back on the advice from the others. All those times Theo was quiet, just watching. Listening.

Theodore’s expression softened, a rueful smile gracing his lips as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “Would you have listened, Bella?”

You could feel the subtle tension dissipate as Theodore's touch lingered on your cheek, and with a gentle swallow, you met his gaze, a playful glint dancing in your eyes as you considered his question.

"Perhaps not," you replied, your voice as teasing as the grin gracing your lips. “I am quite stubborn, aren’t I?”

Theo chuckled, and you were going to leave it at that, remain silent and enjoy the moment for what it was, but as your eyes found his once more, a surge of honesty flooded your senses, rendering you momentarily breathless. The subtle rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips curved up while donning that devilish smirk of his, the sensation of his thumb brushing against your cheek—it was simply all too much to ignore.

"But, you should know,” you confessed softly, "I truly only wanted to go with you."

Theodore blinked, his gaze flickering with surprise at your admission, as if he hadn't expected you to voice your feelings so openly. But there was no denying the electricity crackling in the air between you, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken desires that had lingered beneath the surface for far too long. His fingers threaded gently through your hair, coaxing your face closer to his, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"Dances have never really been my thing, Bella..." his voice, a mere whisper, sent your limbs shuddering with nerves. Your fingers trembled slightly against his shoulders, the only anchor keeping you grounded in the intensity of the moment. "But I'd slow dance across the entire castle with you if you asked..."

Leaning closer, Theodore's breath mingled with yours, the warmth of his words sending a shiver down your spine. As he leaned closer, you could hear the subtle hitch in his breath, the tremor in his exhale.

"I was a fool...” as he hovered inches from your lips, you could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the tension between you reaching its breaking point. “…for not mustering the courage to ask you myself.”

You wet your lips, your eyes bouncing all over his face, your entire body trembling with urgency, with need, with hunger. You’d hardly even heard his words at this point.

“Tell me, Bella…." he breathed, the words longing for an absolution only you could grant him. “Will you ever manage to forgive me?”

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you leaned as close as you could possibly get, your lips just barely grazing against his, savouring the moment for every bloody second it had.

"Kiss me," you murmured through a grin, your voice barely above a whisper, "and perhaps…just perhaps, I'll find it in my heart to forgive you."

With that, he dipped low, two strong hands finding your face, capturing your lips with his, and you sighed, lids closing, reaching to forage into his hair. A soft exhale escaped him, the kiss deepening, and he cradled your head, holding you closer, his other hand falling to support your neck, thumb skimming your jaw.

You whined, joy glowing in your chest, and you eased against his body, the both of you melting into each other, melting into the moment, the sound of the rain and the rhythmic tune of the slowdance fading away in the foreground.

And as he slowly pulled away from the kiss, Theodore's eyes met yours again, blue orbs shimmering brighter than the moon.

"I’d spend a lifetime making it up to you," he vowed softly, urging your head to rest gently against his chest. "Starting with this dance."

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korpglugg · 2 years

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oh my GOD i have a dramatic self-expression -shaped hole in my life i need to play a ttrpg and/or start larping or whatEVER

#i have a friend who larps who has suggested i get into it #i should probably heed her advice BUT. that's scary #mine

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ja3yun · 4 months

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Melting Point | P.SH (teaser)

brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, smut (mdni), praise kink, angst, swearing, confliction, chapters are updated with individual warnings.

synopsis: when circumstances unexpectedly bring you and your brother's long-time ice skating rival, park sunghoon, together, you discover a surprising connection. However, your brother forbids any relationship between you. Will you heed his advice or follow your heart?

wc: tba (80-100k)

release date: 09.02.24, 5pm GMT

end date: tba

tag list: CLOSED

a/n: hi! I am currently working on the final touches of this fic. It should be ready mid february. I hope you enjoy this series when it comes out <3

The cold hits as you walk into the arena and the sound of skates gliding along the ice fills your ears. You walk to the middle of the second row on the bleachers and sit down, unpacking your bag and crossing your legs to give you more room to lay your laptop and paper on. It’s a juggle to get everything balanced but you’re a master at it now.

Typing in your password you hear the skates coming towards you and scraping to a halt but you don’t look up.

“If you’ve come to spy on my routine you aren’t doing a very good job at hiding.” Sunghoon playfully remarks. You hadn’t even noticed it was him who was skating, since it was usually Wonyoung gracing the ice you just expected it to be her. He looks at your mess of a lap and scrunches his full eyebrows, “Like you’re really not making it discrete.”

"Oh, no, I'm just studying," you say as you look up and gesture to your laptop. As you start typing again, you catch his sneer and turn to face him once more.

“You expect me to believe that?” The look on his face is incredulous when you don’t budge, “Don’t they have libraries at your Uni?”

Sunghoon’s tone is accusatory and you don’t like it. “Look, I don’t have beef with you okay? That’s the wrong Kang sibling.” There is no reason for him to be giving you attitude right now, you hadn’t done anything wrong, an innocent bystander in all this.

Deep down he knew that too, but he couldn’t be too careful.

He examines you and how much of the truth you're telling, crossing his arms and resting his chin on top of the barrier. “So, what? You genuinely just sit here and study? Does the cold stimulate your brain or something?”

“No, it’s like white noise at this point, it's comforting.” Glancing up, you see his still dubious expression, “Ugh, look I come here all the time, ask anyone!” Your arms gesturing to the empty rink is not really helping your case.

Having had enough you slam the laptop shut and stand up, “Whatever, I’ll just go somewhere else.”

Sunghoon shoots his arms up to mock surrender, “Woah, Sweets, calm down, I was just making sure. Need to air on the side of caution, yeah?” His voice softens.

Making you uncomfortable wasn’t on his list of things to do, but his mum made it very clear your whole family wasn’t to be trusted, and he always heeded his mother's warnings even if he thought she was being overdramatic. “Listen, stay here as long as you want but if I see your brother doing a double toe loop into a triple axel I know who to blame.”

With a smirk, you sit back down, “See now you’ve just told me your big secret,” a laugh leaves your lips, “Changed your mind on trusting a Kang so soon huh?”

He’s flabbergasted.

Did he really just tell you part of his routine like it was nothing in an instant after he just told himself not to be so trusting of you? You’re more dangerous than he first thought and you aren’t even trying.

After seeing the realisation come over his face you laugh loudly, “Sunghoon, don’t worry. My brother can handle you on his own, he doesn’t need to cheat to beat you.”

“Say that to my 8 first places over him.” The arena goes silent. It’s not like you could argue with him, Sunghoon did beat Minhee in a lot of skates.

Trying to lighten the mood he points to you, “No pictures.” He jokes and skates away adroitly.

You don’t see the smile creeping onto his face, or the way he tries to shake you out of his head. The conversation between you both made him want it to be the start of many more, much more.

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #aj writes

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beesmygod · 10 months

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we can all look back on and laugh at this when im wrong, but it seems like social media in its current incarnation is dying an undignified and overdue death. it turns out throwing all of humanity into one room and expecting everyone to develop a single ethos was beyond insane conceptually and the artists who built their following on social media are probably in a tail spin right now. people jumping to bluesky are insane lol. did you forget jack dorsey is the idiot who got us into this mess in the first place. why would you choose to subject yourself to this shit again. for what purpose?

the stock answer i got was that "for discoverability/audience" and if that's true thats a problem. i've been hollerin about this to anyone who would listen prior to this but the customer base of twitter (and all social media) is its advertisers. they have not been shy from the start about that fact because its the only way they generate income, as far as i know. YOU (the user) are the product. YOU (still the user) are also what draws people to the site. there is not a social media website on earth that has figured out that making a good website (which would require hiring and paying for quality labor over an extended period of time) is more likely to result in economic success than exclusively courting the businesses whose interest is in making the website worse to use with ads. at no point were our interests ever a factor.

in fact, imo, the number of people following you is not an accurate representational sample of your audience. the reasonable assumption you should make is that the vast majority of numbers involved with any website (esp those with a vested interest in showing off big numbers to VC investors or advertising execs) are inflated or just outright fake. the numbers exist solely to drive you insane and make awful people happy. the numbers cause you and everyone around you to start spontaneously spawning myths about a beast called "the algorithm" that possesses the incredible traits of being both something you can game for success or blame for your failures. it coerces you into enacting out nonsense superstitions to try to counteract or appease it in the hopes of, let's be honest, breaking it big and going viral. this way, you, the creator, do not have to do the hard work of building up a rapport with an audience. none of this goes anything but adds more numbers for the ceos to look at and nod approvingly or disapprovingly at.

the people running the world today are, without exaggeration, cartoon villains. they are deeply stupid, devoid of empathy, and open about their intent to do deeply evil acts in order to further their economic interests. trying to derive some kind of financial benefit from the creations of these unapologetic losers was always bound to be a wasted effort. the best thing i can say about twitter, a website i was banned from countless times and returned to out of stubborn desire, was that i got to make some great jokes with friends and cause some chaos lol. letting people know i have a web comic was always a secondary function once the realization of what social media was turning out to be set in like 7 years ago. any artist who insists that you have to do this or that on this or that social media site is trying to drag you down into the quagmire of online numbers poisoning.

run away!!! children heed my advice!!! the joy of creation does not lie on a path that encourages you to cater to the lowest common denominators while casting your net. just fucking have fun with it. if its not fun then it wont even be fun to do financially anyway. and isnt that, like. the point.

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cuubism · 2 months

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emotional support part 3 of physical therapy au

It is not exactly a short walk to Dream's flat, but Hob drops him off at his door anyway. Dream can't remember the last time someone did something like that for him. Took so much time just to make him feel safer.

He should just thank Hob and go in, but instead he hesitates in the entryway. He can't deny how it makes him feel, Hob's kindness, and interest in Dream's art, and then him jumping to Dream's defense so viscerally and unapologetically. Hob is... good. Kind. Dream does not know if he deserves it, but for a moment he allows himself to want it.

"You going to be okay?" Hob asks. His eyes are so kind. And Dream wants. It's been so long since he's wanted.

He leans in to kiss Hob and--

--Hob catches him with a hand against his chest.

Dream jumps back, shame coiling hot in his throat. Even when he thinks someone kind might want him, he is still only misreading--

"Dream," Hob says. His expression is still kind, though his smile is a bit pained. "I can tell you're spiraling, love."

That word again. Why would Hob say it if he does not mean it?

"If I am wholly wrong and you do not feel anything then please just say so," Dream sniffs, trying and failing not to feel completely stupid.

"You're not," Hob says--which catches Dream before he can fall completely into the net of melancholy that had begun to entrap him. "I'm just--" he runs a hand through his hair with a self-deprecating laugh, his general self-assuredness slipping for the first time Dream has seen. "I'm trying to be sensible."

Dream doesn't understand. It's true that Dream is not exactly a sensible choice in partner, that's been proven, but--

"It just doesn't look very good does it?" Hob continues. "Chase off your asshole ex only to come onto you at your own home? That's real respectful, isn't it?"

"I came onto you," Dream points out. Hob wants to be respectful of Dream? The bar is currently low when it comes to respecting Dream. Dream thinks he would rather have the kindness than the respect. "And I do not mind."

"Well, that's the problem, isn't it?" Hob says. "Look, believe it or not, and you'll probably believe it, but I've been widely known to be impulsive as hell. But I still don't want to be the guy jumping on you the moment you get out of a bad relationship."

This... had not truly occurred to Dream. "I do not think you will be like him."

Hob takes his hand then, the bad one, the one he's fixed. He does it carefully. "No, I know. But I'd hazard you didn't think he'd be like that before you got together, either."

"I... suppose not." Hob is different, though. He knows it.

"Let's just finish our work with your hand first, yeah?" Hob says, squeezing his hand lightly. He seems genuine. He does not seem like he is just making up reasons to turn Dream down. "I think you need to get back to some normalcy, and then you'll know for sure if you really want this."

"I do want this," Dream says. He does not want to lose touch with that feeling. Of wanting something for himself.

"Then you'll still feel that way later on, hm?"

Dream can't find fault with his argument. Though he can't help but still feel that little curl of shame. Embarrassment.

Hob raises Dream's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. Dream's breath catches.

"Goodnight, Dream," Hob says, letting his hand go again. "I'll see you next week."

And with that, and a smile, he leaves Dream standing in his entryway.

Dream presses his hand to his chest. Perhaps Hob is right. Perhaps he is too... fragile... for this right now. He certainly feels fragile. But Hob makes him feel less so. Not more.

But Hob is not the one who ended up in a relationship with someone who reacted to disappointment by smashing his hand with a hammer. So perhaps Dream should heed his relationship advice, and not his own.

He retreats into his empty flat. Shuts the door, locks it, deadbolts it, and shoves a heavy box of unpacked books in front of it for good measure. Then sits on the floor where there should be a couch and takes out his paints. It still hurts his hand to hold the brush for any length of time. But even to this day, it's the only thing that soothes him.

It's just typical that the time Hob really wants someone is the time he decides he needs to be responsible for once in his life. But he just... he needs time. He needs to know that Dream isn't just... fixating on him because Hob's actually treated him nicely when the last person who cared for him didn't. He doesn't want to do this if Dream is just using him as an emotional rebound from a bad relationship. He's become too enamored with him for that. And he's no king of ideal relationships himself, but he doesn't think it's the best time to be starting a relationship when Dream is still carrying the literal scars of the last one.

Damn if he doesn't regret turning him down, though. Just a little.

He hopes Dream doesn't decide to bail on their regular appointment. In fact, since dropping Dream home, he's been so fixated on the possibility that he fucked it all up that he's stress-cleaned his entire flat. Then he bought finger paints to see for himself how well it works as an exercise. All he's really succeeded in doing is proving that Dream is better at art with one and a half hands than Hob is with two, but maybe it'll make Dream feel better.

He brings his attempt at finger painting to their next appointment. And he's so relieved when Dream does show up. He looks a bit more balanced than he had the other day, too. The hurt in his expression when Hob had turned him down had been painful.

"I decided to try out your exercise," Hob tells him. "To prove to you how well you're doing, if nothing else." He shows him the painting.

And Dream bursts out laughing.

"Hey," Hob protests, but can't stop his smile at the joy on Dream's face. "Don't be mean about it or anything."

"What is this meant to be?" Dream asks, taking the painting and studying it.

"It's a landscape."

Dream turns it ninety degrees. Squints. "Ah, yes, I see that now."

"Well now you're just being a dick about it."

Dream only smiles, then puts the painting away in his bag.

"Oh, you're taking it with you, too?"

"You have mine," says Dream, pointing at the painting of cats that's still propped against the wall by Hob's desk. "So I will put yours on my fridge."

"Oh, great," Hob grumbles. But he can't be upset about the smile on Dream's face.

He's glad to see that putting a pause on things hasn't hurt their developing friendship. If anything it seems better. Perhaps Dream's had time to think things over, too.

"But you see, don't you?" Hob says. "Even while you're recovering, your skills are still way better."

"I... see, yes," Dream agrees, ducking his head. "I. I did try painting again. But it hurts."

Because you're probably overdoing it, Hob thinks. "How's your hand feel now?"

"...Sore," Dream admits.

"Can I see?"

Dream gives him his hand, and Hob feels victorious that it's with less hesitance than he had once done. He starts massaging Dream's palm where it feels the most tense, and watches Dream's wary expression--he must have thought Hob was just going to move his hand this way and that and make it hurt--melt into surprise.

"Do you do this with all of your clients, Hob?" he asks, weakly.

"Only the ones I really like," Hob says, and winks. Can't have Dream thinking he's not interested, after all.

Dream blushes, but lets Hob keep playing with his hand. He really does have such gorgeous hands. If Hob ever runs into that ex again he might have to do more than punch him.

"That helping?" Hob asks, and Dream nods, but he's still blushing so it's somewhat unclear in exactly what manner it's helping.

"Good," Hob says anyway. And finds he's truly hopeful that they'll get there. With Dream's dexterity, with... other things.

It's just going to take a bit of time.

#my brain is somewhere else this week and this is the only thing i feel capable of writing. not even because of fixating on it just because #it's so much simpler than my other fics 😂 this is all I am capable of handling brainpower wise #probably just need more sleep...#also dream in this universe needs sooo much therapy oh my god #dreamling #my writing #physical therapy fic #long post #cw abuse

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turtletaubwrites · 2 months

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Bend Until You Break ~ Part 1

Thank you for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup for a Yandere!Law that the Reader goes to for help with a serious health condition, only for Law to take a liking to her... I swear I will write sweet Law one of these days, but for now please enjoy Yandere!Law. This contains !!DARK CONTENT!! so please check the warnings, and skip this one if it may be triggering or uncomfortable for you. This one's for us hypermobile baddies out there. 🥄

Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist

Word Count: 2679

Ao3 Link

Summary: You have struggled with mystery pains and injuries for most of your life, and had resigned yourself to suffer after every doctor told you there was nothing wrong. But when a world renowned doctor/pirate comes to town to offer aid in exchange for supplies, you decide to give hope one more chance. Maybe you'll finally find a doctor you can trust.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush)

A/N: This chapter is SFW, but I'm adding in many tags to start out with since this mini series will contain heavy/dark content. PLEASE heed the tags, and do not read this fic if you aren't comfortable with these topics. Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃

Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional. Hopefully you'll have better luck than Reader 🙄

I should just leave. He’ll just tell me the same things. It’s a waste of time.

You were close to convincing yourself to walk away, especially as the discomfort and pain of standing in one place for so long started radiating up your body.

The line got shorter, and you stretched and bounced, trying to hang onto a sliver of hope.

“Hello, how’s your day going?”

A talking polar bear in an orange jumpsuit waved at you from behind a small table, handing you a clipboard.

“I-I’m well thanks. How…”

“Good! It’s always nice when the captain can help people. He’s the best! Just fill that out, and he’ll be with you soon.”

Looking at the form brought you out of the shock of speaking to a bear. Instead, it filled you with intense frustration, until you were practically boiling in your skin.

‘Rate your pain from 1-10.’

How the fuck am I supposed to rate all the different types of pain I’m in on any given day?

‘Circle the parts of the body where you are experiencing pain.’

I could put circles over so many things. Might as well circle the whole fucking chart, and have them call me a liar.

‘List your diagnoses, and family medical history.’

I don’t have one, doctors never find anything. Mom has some similar symptoms, but they're so mild that she's never tried to get a diagnosis. You’re the one who’s supposed to figure this out!

You resisted the urge to vent your anger onto the page, bullshitting your way through instead. You tried to write in the most convincing way to get this new doctor to take you seriously.

This new doctor. “The Surgeon of Death.” A fucking pirate.

But he was supposed to be the best, and he was here on your shitty little island for a couple of weeks, trading medical treatment for the town's supplies. You had already heard reports of “miracles,” that he could perform surgeries in an instant, that he could fix anyone.

Please fix me.

This was it. You couldn’t take anymore trying after this. Just trying to get a doctor to listen to or believe you was almost worse than the daily pain. Almost.

“Miss Y/N? The captain is ready for you now. My name is Bepo, by the way,” the bear grinned as he took the clipboard from your clammy hands. At least you hoped it was a grin.

He handed the form back to you as he led you through the dimly lit hallways of this strange submarine. It felt like you’d entered some other realm, an underworld, on your way to strike a deal with a demon.

As long as he can fix me…

“Here you are,” Bepo motioned as he opened a large metal door. “You’re in great hands.”

Hands.

Hands were the first things you noticed as you entered the examination room.

Those hands were tensed over the back of a rolling chair, gripping the thin padding as if waiting for you so he could sit down.

Long fingers mesmerized you, tattoos etched along the back of each hand. And as you stepped into the well lit room, you saw the word “death,” spelled out across both sets of those fingers.

The sound of his throat clearing snapped your eyes to his, your skin flushing as you realized he’d been speaking to you.

As you realized how fucking gorgeous he was. His black hair looked a bit mussed, but it only added to the effect, along with his goatee, and his dark, pretty eyes.

Already more useful than my other doctors. Easy on the eyes.

“May I look at your form, miss?”

‘Oh, of course,'' you stuttered, thrusting the paper toward him. “I’m Y/N.”

“Dr. Trafalgar. You can take a seat.”

Well, his bedside manner seems pretty standard, you thought with a small sigh, sitting down on the familiar crinkly paper covering the exam table.

He circled behind you to close the door, and what sounded like a lock clicking into place had your heart rate spiking.

“Stand up, please,” he said firmly, your form still unseen in his hand.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you said–”

“Walk to the corner, and sit back down, please.”

His voice was unreal. You would have jumped through hoops for him anyway, praying that any doctor would listen.

But his command seemed to curl into your brain, and you followed it immediately.

“Why are you favoring that hip?”

“Oh, it…”

Here’s where your credibility would fall apart. Your nails dug into your palms as you willed him to believe you.

“Sometimes if I stand too quickly, it feels loose. Sometimes it pops, and is so painful that I can’t put any weight on it.”

He stared at you for a moment, and you fought not to recite a list of excuses, to try to explain why it hurts when you’d never been injured before.

“And your right knee?”

“Oh, it’s not bad right now. It used to swell sometimes, and was really painful. But it’s not as bad as it used to be.”

“Did you sustain any injuries?”

“N-No. None that I can recall.”

His lips quirked a bit before he reviewed your chart.

Believe me. Believe me. Believe me.

“You’ve reported your shoulders as being your most pressing concern. Why is that?”

His eyes were almost painfully sharp as he scanned you, focusing on your face as you answered him. He’d sat backwards on the rolling chair, his arms folded across the back with his legs spread wide to either side.

“They’ve been acting up recently. They often feel… loose. That’s how it feels to me. Sometimes if I move a certain way it almost feels like they pop out of place. But I can still move them after, it’s just incredibly painful. And then it’s weak, and I can barely hold anything.”

“What are some of the activities that have caused this to happen?”

He was impossible to read. But you couldn’t lie. He wouldn’t be able to help you if you lied.

“Um, brushing my hair. Taking off a jacket. P-Putting a sports bra on.”

“Did you used to have longer hair?”

“What?”

“Do you keep your hair above your shoulders to prevent shoulder pain? Or does brushing it still cause issues at this length?”

“Oh. Yes, actually. I used to have much longer hair.”

“I imagine you’ve adjusted many aspects of your life to cope with this pain.”

Warmth flowed into that deep voice, and you shivered as you watched him steeple his fingers against his lips for a moment.

“If you are comfortable, I would like to run through a few simple movements to check your flexibility. Many of which you can do on your own, but I will check in again if you are comfortable with me touching you for the others. You can always let me know if you would like to stop.”

“Okay.”

The doctor dug through a drawer to pull out a clear measuring device, almost like two rulers connected at one end. He adjusted it, creating an angle before setting it aside.

He never picked up the device again, and you fought not to shake. He looked at your elbows, your knees, your thumbs, your pinkies, frowning slightly as you followed his instructions.

“Now, please bend over, and try to touch your toes. Just go as far as you– hm.”

Your palms were flat on the ground, just as they’d always been able to go. You could even put the back of your hands down, and stretch them along the ground behind you if you wanted to.

“Doctor?”

“You can take a seat.”

Wincing as you sat, you shook out your legs, feeling his eyes as he watched your every movement.

He stood, towering over you as he came close.

“For this next part of the examination, I will be touching you with my hands, and in some cases leaning or holding parts of your body against mine so that I can check the range of motion in your joints. I may also massage certain tight muscles to help you relax as we move through the problem areas. You have quite the list for us to get through, but if at any time you wish for us to stop, just let me know. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you breathed, your face angled up to meet his.

“Do you consent to me touching you?”

His voice came out softer once again, and you couldn’t hold in a shiver as you consented.

Those fingers…

His long fingers were so gentle as they crept across your body, testing, pushing, pulling. You fought to listen to his commands, pushing against or holding your body how he told you.

“I imagine that seeking treatment has been challenging for you,” he rasped as he leaned over your face, his fingers gently massaging your shoulders.

The pain and pleasure of his hands testing you had brought up a strangely emotional pressure, almost like tears in your throat.

“It has.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It must be incredibly difficult to suffer so much pain, and not be believed.”

You started to nod to keep your voice from cracking, but he pressed his fingers into your skin just a bit.

“Can you keep still for me,” he whispered, and it sounded so close that you opened your eyes.

“Just relax,” the doctor soothed as he stepped away, pulling a few tissues out to press against your cheeks and temples, catching the tears that had spilled when you’d opened your burning eyes.

“I’m sorry, doc–”

“No need to be sorry, Y/N. You have been suffering, been living with pain for years. It’s all those doctors that left you like this that should feel ashamed.”

His fingers had returned to your body, still relaxing, and testing.

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Please, call me Law.”

He was pressing gently along your collarbones as his name rolled over you, a small sound escaping your throat as you melted beneath him.

“Do you have a good support system? People in your life that can help you with this?”

“I mean, my mom and my boyfriend help me. They’re supportive.”

He took those fingers away, and you mourned them, wishing you could feel that soothing touch forever.

“I’m going to test your hips now, Y/N. Please tell me if you experience any pain.”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling self conscious of your breathy voice. His words just kept pouring over you, his voice so relaxing, so good.

“How does that feel, Y/N?”

“Fine.”

He had your leg stretched along his torso, your foot dangling over his shoulder. You clamped your eyes shut. The sight of him between your spread legs, pushing your leg toward you, had you biting your lip, trying not to make any more embarrassing noises.

“How’s this?”

“Fine.”

He hadn’t gotten close to your limit, but he went agonizingly slow. You could feel his firm abs warming your thigh through your clothes, his thin shirt not doing much to keep the press of him at bay.

“You said that your mom and your boyfriend support you. How do they do that?”

“Oh, uh,” you shook your head, trying to focus on the question, and not the gentle rocking motion he’d started as he pushed you even further.

“They help me when… They help me when I’m having bad days. They listen. They both do little different things when things are bad.”

“How’s this?”

“Still fine.”

“You can go further?”

“Yeah, I can–,” you had reached for your thigh, planning to pull it toward your chest to show him, but his eyes above you stopped you before his voice did.

“I’ll get you there, Y/N. You can hurt yourself if you rush. Can you take it slow for me?”

“Perfect,” he praised when you nodded, still gently rocking your body forward and back as he pushed, finally reaching the limit.

“That is quite the range of motion,” he noted, carefully laying that leg down to move to the other side. “May I?”

He set himself up again, moving slow as he used his body to stretch you.

“You said that they help you on bad days, is that right?”

Meeting his sharp eyes, you took a minute to understand.

“Yes, they do.”

His face tilted a bit as he pressed closer. He started that gentle rocking motion, almost thrusting against you to help your body relax.

“But Y/N, from what I’ve seen today, it seems like all of your days are bad. Aren’t they?”

“I…”

“All these years with no one to believe you. It must be hard to believe yourself sometimes. Do you think they really believe you, Y/N? Do they believe how much pain you’re in as you struggle through each day? As you stand up too fast, or brush your hair? Do you think they understand?”

He’d pushed closer, looming over you as he held your thigh against him.

“Why are you–”

“I need to make sure that my patients have the support systems they need.”

His voice had smoothed back now, from almost heated to cool and detached.

He’s the only person that’s ever seemed like they understand. He must believe me. Of course he would be passionate about it, he’s a doctor. A doctor that believes me.

Closer and closer, his eyes watching yours.

“Do they believe you?”

“I think,” you started, eyes wide as you fought more tears, “I think they try to believe me. They just… They don’t know what it’s like. They don’t understand.”

“How’s this?”

“It’s fine.”

“Alright, last push.”

Your thigh was pressed between your bodies, and he stayed there.

“Does this hurt, Y/N,” he rasped, his breath warming your face.

“No.”

He helped you stretch your leg out on the table, sitting backwards in the rolling chair before he told you to sit up.

“I believe I understand the cause of your pain, and why you’ve had a difficult time obtaining a diagnosis.”

“Can you fix it?”

Your thrill of excitement got caught in your throat at the look in his eyes, his palm up to halt your questions.

“I believe it may be a connective tissue disorder, which would explain your hypermobility, as well as the complications you’ve had with many parts of your body. You've already met the criteria for one type based on our examination today. I would like you to come back tomorrow so that we can review more of your symptoms to be sure, and to discuss treatments.”

“You can do surgery, right? Can you fix it?”

You had gestured to him, your body panicking with failing hope. A gasp left your throat as those tattooed fingers caught your hand, his thumb rubbing over your skin as his voice went low.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. This is not a condition that can be cured,” he confessed, squeezing your hand as your body slumped. “Connective tissues run throughout our entire body, and if I am correct, yours may be weaker than most. 'Loose,' as you said. Unfortunately, there is no known way to repair or replace those tissues.”

A weight fell over you, and you found yourself not quite in your body. Your body that you’d fought so hard to fix.

That can never be fixed.

The doctor pressed your hand between his, smoothing over and warming your fingers until you were present enough to meet his eyes.

“It may not be curable, Y/N, but it can be managed. You don’t need to suffer alone in such pain like you have been. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that things are better for you. Do you trust me?”

There was something so intense about his face. The way he looked at you felt heavy, like he really did see the weight you’d carried all these years. You sank into those gray eyes, and realized you did.

“I trust you, Doctor.”

“Please. Y/N,” he hummed, releasing your hand, “call me, Law.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Welcome to my frustration with the health care system 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel

Part 2

#cw dark content #cw yandere #cw doctors #trafalgar law smut #eventual smut #trafalgar law x reader #one piece smut #reader insert #fem!reader #x reader #turtletaub fics #one piece x reader #trafalgar law fanfiction #fic requests #use of y/n #cw chronic pain #cw medical #smut

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meadowscarlet · 1 year

Text

inflicted desire ━━━ kaz brekker.

pairings: kaz brekker x fem!reader.

summary: you were simply a crow and nina's closest friend, but kaz doesn't understand why he feels the need to be near you or protect you when you can protect yourself; he is closed off and unreadable, and he couldn't articulate his feelings properly, until you were hurt on the job.

warnings: the normal six of crows shenanigans.

author’s note: a reposted fic. do not copy, post on another site, translate or claim any of my works as your own or you will be reported! nav.

Kaz Brekker did not make mistakes. He was a thief, not a fool, the Dregs' leader, and Ketterdam's most notorious man. He had a sharp intellect and was astute; no one ventured to cross him out of fear, or they were rational enough not to.

His plans were meticulous, and if something went wrong (which was unlikely), he had hundreds of backup plans ready to go. And everything went well, but there was a glimmer of realization that Kaz had made the biggest mistake of his life. It was bothering him, and he had a nagging feeling of uneasiness.

If he had merely noted when he met you—charming and intriguing—when he visited the House of the White Rose to inform Nina about a job; he should have simply ignored you when you passed him in the hall without a second glance, but Kaz had been effectively intrigued.

Nina told him that you were her closest friend and the one person in the White Rose who kept her sane. Nina was cautious, with a guarded gleam in her eyes and a reluctance that could get you killed in Ketterdam, when Kaz inquired whether you had any skills.

Nina had given Kaz a sharp gaze and said, “Recruiting her in the Dregs is dangerous.”

“Nina dear,” Kaz drawled. “It's dangerous everywhere in Ketterdam. And I think your friend would appreciate getting out of here every now and then.”

Nina told Kaz about your bewitching qualities with a little more trepidation. You were charismatic, a pretty face and a cunning smile that could tempt wealthy merchants to give you kruge and a wise convincer. Nina also mentioned that you had good combat skills. Kaz Brekker had smirked at the time, his thoughts racing. He was well aware that he needed you on his team.

That was his very first mistake. You were good at your work—you did a brilliant job and Kaz knew you were a terrific addition to the Dregs—but as the days passed, he began to have an underlying feeling inside him that he quickly dismissed whenever you were there. Kaz often wondered if he should have heeded Nina's advice about not recruiting you in the Dregs, but he'd been blinded by his curiosity, and he bitterly regretted it.

He recalled one mission in which they were meant to spy on a handful of Pekka Rollins' men. Kaz remembered how meticulously he had prepared for this; he had gone over blueprints over and again until his eyes were weary, but he would not rest—never. Kaz was scrupulous with his plotting especially since it involved Pekka Rollins.

When there's a lovely girl around and they're inebriated, men are simple to seduce. So, of course, your main task was to play the inquisitive girl, allowing men to reveal their drunken secrets while you sat, looking pretty. Despite the fact that you were skilled in this vicinity, Kaz didn't like the plan, but he needed Inej on the roofs and Nina by the door, so you were left as an option.

As he saw you woo one of Rollins guys, he felt a prickling sensation inside him. You were dressed in a velvety white dress that accentuated your contours; you stood out in the darkness of Ketterdam, and you shone brightly. Kaz may not believe in Saints, but he was convinced you were one by the radiance of your smile and dress.

He despised seeing you sitting on a drunk Dime Lion man's lap, and Kaz noticed you looked uneasy, so he fought the impulse to smash the man's head with his cane until his skull cracked satisfyingly. He reminded himself that this was a job, and he needed to do his part. Despite your unsettled expression, he could see your ears perk up, and that's when Kaz recognized the man had begun to speak.

Kaz watched you giggling and touching the man's forearm while drinking your drink; you were playing your part wonderfully as usual. And it all happened very quickly; when the drunken man leaned close to you, another man approached him to stop him, and Kaz realized the man knew who you were.

The man had said something to the inebriated man, and the latter had suddenly sobered up, and Kaz realized chaos had occurred. Because of the drink you drank, you appeared tipsy, but Kaz could see how your eyes flared in terror and your gaze immediately darted to him.

Kaz had set out on foot to get you, but Nina had beaten him to it. Nina had grasped your wrist and pulled you away in alarm before the man could grab you. Shots were being fired, and Kaz could see Jesper rousing his revolters to fire back at the men who were shooting at you and now at Jesper.

Kaz was so concentrated on the men and the bullets that he missed you limping in Nina's arms as he pulled his own gun. Nina wore a worried expression on her face and was essentially bearing half your weight. And Kaz could see it: there was blood on your abdomen that was obvious and evident through the white of your dress. As Kaz focused on you, gunshots faded into the background, and he was startled out of his reverie when Jesper told them to leave.

He didn't normally listen to Jesper because he was the one who gave the directions and commands, but now his feet followed Jesper's, his leg jerking in pain as he hobbled, yet his step was swift. He remembered the blood on your adobem, the way Nina's eyes widened, and he was filled with dread. It was terrifying. Since Jordie, he hasn't felt like this in years.

Kaz knew Inej was close behind him, quiet and concealed like the Wraith she is, as his Crows hurried to the Slat. As you limped beside Nina, Kaz could see you being held by her, and he turned to Jesper, a sensation inside him that he didn't want to convey.

“Run after Nina," Kaz rasped coldly. “Help her with Y/N.”

Jesper didn't need to say anything else as he ran to Nina, and when he caught up with both girls, he grabbed your waist and helped half of your weight as Nina and Jesper carried you to the Slat. Kaz despised hearing a hint of fragility in his voice, but Jesper didn't seem to mind.

It didn't matter to Kaz if Nina could hear his rapid heartbeat. Kaz saw that the others were watching him as his eyes swept you laying on your bed with Nina mending your wound. Even though your face was pale and your breathing was unsteady, you were alive, Kaz was not soothed. Despite her concerns, Nina had been firm, requesting medical equipment from Matthias, who had followed orders.

Kaz isn't concerned about the Rollins information right now; all he wants is for you to be alright. He remembered your eyes widening in panic and searching for his first. He swallowed a lump in his throat and shook his head, focusing on you instead. And there was so much blood, Kaz gripped his cane tightly in his fist.

“Heal her,” he murmured.

Nina gave him a cold stare. “I'm trying, Kaz, but there's just too much blood.”

“I don't care,” Kaz said icily, his gaze matching hers. “Zenik, heal her.”

Inej had left, but not before praying to her Saints for you to be well. Jesper walked away as well, noticing the gloom in Kaz's voice and Nina's gaze. Matthias was retrieving more medical supplies, creating a tense atmosphere with only a feverish Kaz, an anxious but indignant Nina, and an alive yet barely Y/ N.

“You should leave, l'll get to you once l'm done,” Nina remarked as she resumed working in your wounded abdomen.

Kaz stood firm in his position. “I'm not going anywhere.”

With a shake of her head, Nina replied, “Your heartbeat is distracting me.” Kaz noticed her hand quivering. “I can sense your nerves, Brekker, and it doesn't help that l'm worried about her as well.”

He was terrified; he had shown vulnerability, and Nina had noticed. She knew he cared about you, and he had never experienced anything like it with anybody else. When Inej was stabbed, Jesper was shot, or Matthias, Wylan, and Nina were hurt, Kaz's heart didn't rush as rapidly. It was always you who made his heart race with nerves and a need to protect you if you were harmed.

When Kaz glanced at your hand, palm up, he felt compelled to grasp it. Not Jesper, who had brought you to the Slat, or even Nina, who stroked your hair away from your face every now and then, but he should be the one holding you and aiding you. But Kaz knew that idea alone was impossible; he couldn't think about it without shivering with distaste, so he stayed, a safe distance away, with a tremendous desire to hold you.

Nina fixed her gaze on him. “I assume she'll be a little hazy when she wakes up, so don't ask her any questions about the information.”

“I don't give a damn about the information,” Kaz remarked indifferently.

Kaz despised the mischievous glimmer in her eyes as she shot him a shocked glance. “Kaz Brekker not caring about the information that's about Pekka Rollins? Somebody pinch me.”

He gave her a skeptical look as he rolled his eyes. “Keep her alive by doing your work, Nina dear.”

Nina shrugged her shoulders, but her eyes were gloomy. “She's not dead, Kaz,” she said with a shake of her head. “Since the blood loss, she'll be unconscious, but she'll be fine—she usually is.”

Kaz nodded in agreement. What Nina said was right; it was not uncommon for someone in the Crows to be hurt—it happens all the time, especially during heists and jobs—but the jobs were mostly successful, and Kaz had been blunt in assigning you the safest task (charming people) because a selfish part of him wanted you to be in the middle of the job so he could keep an eye on you.

But, despite his composed demeanor, he seemed to crumble everywhere around you. Perhaps you had charmed him, as you had charmed so many others, by bewitching him with your entire being, causing his black heart to seek you out. When you were around, there was always an inflicted desire within Kaz, which he had always disregarded until now.

Kaz wanted to kill the man who had touched you, as well as track down the person who had shot you. He remembered your bright eyes dampening in fear and a brief tremor of despair as you realized you'd been caught, then blood splattering across your white dress and Nina's worried expression as she carried your limping weight.

Nina snarled, “You're doing it again.”

With his dark eyes, Kaz looked at her. “What?”

“I know you love her and all, but I need to focus, and your heartbeat is incredibly distracting right now,” Nina rambled.

Kaz stilled as he heard the word he didn't want to associate himself with. “In Ketterdam, love is neglected; it is reserved for the weak.”

Nina surprised him by laughing. “What are you doing right now? Whenever Y/N is hurt, you appear weak—you're in your vulnerable form.”

Kaz wanted to kill Nina by saying things he knew were true, but he was ignorant and stubborn to accept it. Nina gave him a knowing look as she cleaned, healed, and wrapped a cloth around your wound before kissing you on the forehead and leaving Kaz alone with you.

Kaz strolled over to where you were laying after a few moments of contemplation. He examined your flawless face, which, despite seeming pale and near death, was nonetheless lovely. Kaz paused for a while before raising his gloved palm to your cheek and tucking the errant strand of hair away.

He sat down near your bed, putting his disgust aside. Despite the strong temptation, he did not grasp your inviting hand. Kaz had stayed by your bedside the entire night, never leaving your side. Nina had stopped by every now and then to change your bandage, but she had said nothing about Kaz's overstaying or even asked him to leave.

When Nina was treating your wound, she had said, “You should rest, Kaz.”

Kaz gave her a sidelong glance. “Don't tell me what to do.”

Nina may have been right, but she was also wrong. Kaz did not believe he was capable of love, yet he had a great desire to be with you. To be in your company, to receive your gorgeous smile, and to simply be in your presence. And this time he wasn't going to ignore it.

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