A Demon's Desire for Flesh (Douma x Reader)
You walked in on Douma having a meal, so you proposed a more sensual rather than tasty offering of your flesh...
“Hm?” Douma uttered, head tilted almost cutely to the side like there wasn’t dried human blood on his lips.
The five bodies of his female worshippers littered the room. Some cleaned to their skeleton, others only half-eaten.
You braced yourself for his answer to your proposal.
Well, it’s not like you were strong enough to do anything about it if he rejected you. You only joined this crazy cult to escape another day starving on the streets, and you had never wielded a sword. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the true nature of this cult’s leader.
“Oh, what a brave sacrifice!” Douma finally proclaimed, eyes shiny with tears that couldn’t possibly be genuine.”But you see, that’s not as appealing as the taste of your flesh.”
Before you could even look at the door, firm hands planted on your shoulders from behind.
“Oh, but you’re trying your best aren’t you? So hopeless! So tragically weak and hopeless, yet you refuse to give up! Ah, my heart swells with sympathy,” his voice rumbled from behind, slathered with fake pity.
No normal human could move that fast. Well, the state of the deceased women before you was a clear indicator that Douma wasn’t a “normal human.” You barely blinked and he closed a ten foot gap in less than a second. This was a warning.
“Such desires left with my humanity so long ago, but you couldn’t have known that. Ah, poor you!”
What you had, stupidly, proposed was a more sensual rather than tasty offering of your flesh. It’s not everyday you encounter a demonic cult leader partaking in his latest meal. Not that you meant to, of course. So many rooms and so little preparation for what you could possibly discover within the Eternal Paradise Faith temple. You panicked and offered the only thing you had on you that didn’t lead to immediate death: your body. Becoming a demon’s sex slave in exchange for your silence sounded better than being ripped to shreds and eaten.
You desperately tried not to retch as a clawed hand carded through your hair.
“Don’t be scared, I’ll help you reach eternal paradise–”
“How do you know you don’t have these desires anymore?” you interrupted, all in one breath. Desperation gnawed at you.
Silence permeated the room. The clawed hand paused in your hair.
All at once, Douma appeared before your eyes again, hands grasping your upper arms, trapping you in place.
“My my, as if miserably offering your body wasn’t brave enough, you now ask a man how he knows he doesn’t yearn for sex? Oh dear, perhaps ‘brave’ was the wrong word to use. You’re hopelessly stupid!” he chuckled, multi-colored eyes never leaving your own.
“... Have you tried?” you challenged. If you were going to die here, you might as well die trying.
Kibutsuji Muzan made it abundantly clear the existence of demons was solely to serve him. Consume human flesh for strength, hunt for the blue spider lily, eradicate the Demon Slayers– sexual desires did not fit into his plan. Then again, neither did Douma’s twisted hunger for female flesh and Akaza’s blatant disdain for it, despite the benefits. He supposed free will, albeit non-directly beneficial to the Master’s cause, did exist.
An unfamiliar ache below also spiked Douma’s curiosity. He always viewed humans as food, and like most normal people, he did not wish to sleep with his food, but when such an opportunity presents itself…
“Your final, feeble attempt at life has moved me! I shall–”
A hand cupping his lower appendage ended with your back slamming against a wall you had previously been 15 feet away from, not hard enough to break anything, thankfully.
“Impatient, are we?” Douma mused.
A clawed hand ripped your remaining clothes off with dangerous precision, not a slice on your untainted skin present.
Your heart was beating out of your chest and you were sure Douma knew it. Making yourself as appealing as possible was the last chance you had to prolong your fate, so you obediently glued your hand to your side.
A blush crept to your ears at being stark naked before such a beautiful man, all things considered.
Two fingers suddenly gripped your chin, forcing it upwards.
“Good girl,” Douma muttered before slamming his lips onto your own.
You had zero experience to back this proposition of yours. Hell, you had seldom been courted, but the way Douma’s tongue moved made you question if the man truly hadn’t done anything like this recently. He was far too skilled.
Air you didn’t notice was stolen suddenly filled your lungs as a knee shoved itself between your legs, the tips of your toes still barely on the ground.
Douma’s lips danced with your own, his tongue being granted dominance you were far too eager to give while clawed hands began exploring the expanse of your body.
A hand planted itself on your hips while another began palming at your bare breast.
The uncontrollable moan Douma had elicited from you snatched his interest.
“More… I want to hear more of that,” he said, teasing your nipple now.
Your heavy head fell forward onto Douma’s shoulder at the motion. Barely anything was happening and you were already moaning? God, he probably thought you were a whore… well, it’s not like that mattered anyways.
Something muffled next to your ear, was Douma saying something?
“What?” you asked, lifting your head.
The hand once gripping your hips left to trail your face, sharp nails tickling your jaw.
“This is no time to feel dizzy, darling, I’ve barely started with you. I asked, would you have offered yourself to me if you didn’t think you were on the brink of death?” he repeated, suddenly diving for your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys and lovebites in his wake.
Each suckle of his lips sent you reeling. Bites that would’ve had you terrified moments ago only further dampened your cunt.
You nearly forgot he asked anything before a sharp pinch of your nipple brought you back to reality.
“I don’t– I don’t know?” you stuttered, unsure why he was even asking.
“Wrong!” he declared, biting you hard enough to draw blood. “My followers are always so loyal. ‘Yes, Lord Douma,’ ‘Of course, Lord Douma,’ they’d say, but you’re different. Why are you even here?” he asked, greedily lapping up the trickles of blood.
Should you lie? This guy probably has some insane worship kink from all his years being the idol of a cult, but you were also sure he could tell if you weren’t being completely truthful.
“Just call me ‘Douma,’ you clearly aren’t a true follower of mine.”
Struggling to come up with a decent response that didn’t result in your immediate demise, lips covering your own preventing you from speaking.
The taste of your own blood on his lips was far more titillating than you cared to admit.
“My, how pathetic your story must be! Getting caught up in a faith you don’t believe in only to end up helpless at the hands of the very god you don’t follow. Pitiful, so pitiful,” he deemed, featherlight kisses peppering your face.
“You don’t seriously think you’re a god, do you?” you couldn’t help but snap. Maybe this would get you killed, but you couldn’t deny feeling at least some sympathy for the truly hopeless members of the Eternal Paradise Faith. They truly believed someone as monstrous as Douma was worthy of reverence.
A dangerously wide smile stretched across his cheeks.
“Of course not, but it’s fun to imagine isn’t it?”
You barely registered the shift in movement when suddenly Douma looked down on you from above. Your back now pressed against the cold floor, goosebumps tickling your skin in its wake.
“Perhaps you– oh,” Douma paused, observing the very obvious pool of arousal on his knee. “For a non-believer, you sure are sensitive to my touch,” he ultimately remarked.
Your eyes shamelessly latched onto every new curvature of bare skin revealed as Douma disrobed himself. For a very ungodly being, he surely had the looks to rival one.
Before you could blink, you were abruptly thrown into his nude lap. You didn’t dare peek at what awaited you below, not when he was looking at you like a predator finally scoring his prey.
“For someone who claimed to not yearn for sex, you sure seem to be enjoying yourself,” you dared to utter. Sure, you didn’t take a peek at its full glory, but it was impossible not to notice the erection in your lower peripheral vision.
A thumb you didn’t notice creeping suddenly teased your clit.
“For someone trying to live, you sure talk back a lot,” Douma argued.
Wondering if offering your flesh to this monster was a mistake, you couldn’t help but bite back all the noises your body craved to make.
You swung your arms behind you to hold your body up, distancing yourself from Douma as much as you could while a cold finger prodded your entrance.
“Don’t be shy now,” Douma started. “I told you I wanted to hear more of you.”
A finger with a thankfully retracted claw entered you, whimpers refusing to escape clenched teeth erupted from your throat.
Maybe you were an idiot for offering sex and then feuding with a being who could kill you in an instant, but you figured pushing your luck couldn’t hurt more than death. The hope of escaping this room alive faded the deeper Douma buried his finger in your sopping cunt.
A second finger had your arms trembling, growing weak at holding up such a tortuously pleasured body.
Douma set an impossible pace as his fingers curled into you, unforgiving in his pursuit of your noises.
A new sensation rolled over your stomach.
Wandering the streets throughout your life, you’ve heard plenty of strangers’ conversations. You recalled a particular one between giggling courtesans describing what it means finally release; to let go of that last strand of dignity. Something below would wound itself tightly, begging to snap. Your entire body would be flooded with indescribable pleasure and women lucky enough to feel this sensation would find themselves addicted. What was the word those courtesans used? It was something quite improper…
Tears pricked your eyes. “I’m– I’m gonna–”
And the fingers relentlessly pumping into you stood still.
Anger flooded your being and the noise of discontentment that left your lips only deepened Douma’s smile.
“Tsk tsk, I told you I want to hear you, but here you are covering your noises.” His fingers left you completely and were shamelessly brought to his lips, tasting you. “Go on and beg the god you don’t believe in for a sweet release, yeah? Go on, use your words.”
Strength you didn’t know you had coursed through your arms. You found yourself shoving Douma to the ground, now straddling his stomach.
Douma wasn’t threatened in the slightest.
“Giving up this game already? Aw, you were a cute one too!”
Despite his vague threat, Douma did nothing but watch as you backed off his body and positioned yourself between his legs.
“Hm? Unless you’re prostrating, that’s a strange position to beg from.”
If Douma was going to be a dick, so were you.
“Hey, did you hear me? Because I don’t hear any pleas.”
Speaking of dicks, you abruptly grabbed his and shoved your throat down as deep as possible. The pain was worth whatever strangled noise Douma let out.
You didn’t have a demon’s speed or stamina, but you did have Douma’s full attention as you sucked his dick at an agonizingly slow pace, using your hand to make up for what your throat couldn’t reach.
“Is this– what, are you mad I asked you to beg? What a strange punishment–”
Darting out your tongue, you licked up the full length of his shaft, swirling around his tip. Eye contact unbreaking as you sped up.
It was Douma’s turn to bite back a delighted moan and suddenly you understood why he was so eager to hear your own.
You pumped him faster and a lewd mix of precum and your spit dribbled down Douma’s cock.
Tears clouded your vision. The members of his cursed cult were right to think Douma had been blessed by the gods, but wrong to think it was only his eye color that proved it. His thick cock made your jaw ache and you almost feared what it would do to your insides. Did something like this even fit inside a normal person?
The noises Douma couldn’t hold back spilled from his pretty lips and filled your attentive ears. It wasn’t hard to figure out what Douma liked when he was so vocal.
He sounded close, whimpers barely audible indicating whatever you were doing was pleasurable. Before you had the chance to reel back and torture him the same way he did to you, a clawed hand rested atop your head.
“Darling, you didn’t really think you had control here, did you?” was the last thing you heard before he slammed your head to the base of his cock.
He fucked your throat raw. You almost wondered if this was how Douma was going to kill you, forcibly suffocating you with his impossibly girthy dick.
He wasn’t close, that asshole just wanted to tease you with the idea of winning.
Consciousness nearly left you before Douma abruptly dragged your face up to his own. You fumbled to stabilize yourself, straddling Douma again to avoid him scalping you with the firm grip he held on your hair.
“I find that pretty little mouth of yours is also quite pleasurable when it’s wrapped around my cock. Tell me, would you rather I bury my dick in that delicious throat of yours, or should we try something more… mutually beneficial? All you need to do is use your voice.”
You weren’t even trying to be stubborn this time, but you could barely find your voice amidst its recent abuse.
You barely parted your lips before the world turned around you. Douma’s beloved eyes studied you from above, an unexpected plush feeling enveloped your back before realizing he must’ve moved you both to a bed.
Two fingers shoved into your opening this time, far less gentle than his original prodding.
“Hey hey, are you getting shy now? Surely you can’t,” a third finger pounded into you, “be changing your mind now, hm?”
You couldn’t speak if you tried. Besides your throat being fucked raw, all you could do now was helplessly whine at the violent ministrations happening below.
Douma pecked sweet kisses across your neck and shoulders, his own voice impossible to miss as it rumbled right next to your ear.
“Come on now, you can’t tell me you’d rather me fuck your poor mouth instead of your desperate cunt, can you?”
His breath tickled the shell of your ear.
“I mean, you’re already this wet for me, but perhaps you’re a masochist.”
His fingers withdrew from you once more and you bit back a scream.
“I could always use your mouth all for myself, but then what about your own pleasure? Ah, but if remaining untouched through this ordeal is what you prefer–”
“No, please,” you choked out.
“There’s that lovely voice of yours!” Douma cheered. “Are you going to beg for what you really want? Go on! Go! Go!”
An incoming snide remark was interrupted by Douma’s dick rubbing against your bare folds. Slick coating the long length as he moved, patiently waiting for an answer.
“Please, fuck me,” you muttered through gnashed teeth.
His thumb moved to abuse your clit.
“What? I thought we were already in the midst of intercourse. I’ve fingered you twice now and you shoved my dick down your throat. Did you want something more than that?” His smile looked anything but innocent.
“Douma– fuck, please just fuck me.” Your face burned with the strength of a thousand suns. “I need you in me, bad. I– I’ve never been touched before, and I’ll give my body to you wholeheartedly.”
You cringed. It was true you were a virgin, but to utter such distasteful things to a man you’re not married to, nonetheless even courting…
The tip of his cock teased your entrance, coated with your arousal.
“What a cruel woman you are, lying about the ‘wholeheartedly’ part, but that doesn't matter. Virgin or not, no other man will ever pleasure you like this,” Douma declared, easing himself into your cunt.
You didn’t dare hold back your noises this time, fearful he would deny you another orgasm.
What started as whimpers of pain grew to sobs of pleasure as Douma’s cock stuffed you full, reaching far deeper than his fingers ever did.
“You’re taking me so well,” he cooed from above. “ I fully expected this to break you in two.”
Before you could decide if he was being serious or bragging, cold lips enveloped your own.
Kissing a demonic cult leader in the midst of him fucking you at a pulverizing pace felt a little more romantic than you were prepared for, all things considered, but you supposed you should be grateful. You were still surprised this plan even worked and Douma didn’t kill you immediately for interrupting his meal. At least you could leave this world saying you had great sex.
Shameless moans and broken pleas echoed off the walls, the sound of wet slaps against soft flesh filled the space.
You thought your insides might burst from such a large object penetrating you, but you couldn’t deny adoring feeling so full.
Nails nowhere near as sharp as Douma’s claws rippled down his back, bloodied scratches healing again and again at your pitiful attempts.
“I can’t mark you,” you decided, breaking the kiss.
Douma chased your lips, almost failing to notice you said anything at all before you continued.
“My neck is a mess, there’s a bite mark on my shoulder, and god knows what my hips look like with those claws of yours,” you whined, a sharp grip on your sides reminding you just how bruised you’d be after all this. “And I can’t even scratch you.”
“My, you almost sound possessive darling,” Douma said, piercing a spot that had you seeing stars.
“I’m– fuck! I’m going to be a mess after this and you’ll still look untouched.”
Vanity wasn’t your strong suit, but you couldn’t help but mourn for your mottled skin. Well, you probably wouldn’t leave this room alive, so it shouldn’t matter too much.
“Your mark won’t be physical, but I promise you’re the first person to see me in such a state as a demon,” Douma purred, your walls threatening to trap him in at his words.
Douma, noticing this, picked up to a pace you didn’t think was possible, even for him. A hand bruised your hips from the constant squeezing while the other lightly wrapped around your throat. His thumb mindlessly grazed over your jugular vein.
“Ah, so the idea of exclusivity gets you going? How adorable! How pathetically adorable!”
You didn’t have the strength to utter a response as Douma pounded into you. Your mouth lolled open and your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head; your face was the textbook definition of being fucked out of your mind.
“Wow~! You look so adorable like this,” Douma praised.
You felt your body nearly give out when Douma shifted positions once more. His cock never left your desperate pussy as you were suddenly on top of him.
Eager hands planted themselves on your hips, pushing you to grind while Douma was otherwise unmoving.
“Why– why did you stop?” you managed to squeak out.
Douma almost unnoticeably grunted when your walls squeezed him. You both ached for motion.
“This was your idea, darling. Surely you can’t expect me to do all the work, right?”
What would’ve sounded like a cocky taunt was dramatically undermined by the look on his face. For a man threatening to eat you instead of fuck you not too long ago, he sure seemed eager.
… Or maybe he was eager to get this over with so he could finally eat you? Well, you figured you’ve had your fun. Might as well finish this off with a bang.
A sharp motion of your hips caused a moan to explode from your exhausted throat. This position sent Douma’s pretty cock far deeper than before.
Your knees felt weak and your pussy felt impossibly full as you slowly grinded onto his dick. Tears obscured your vision of Douma’s expression, but if his quiet noises were anything to go by, you thankfully hadn’t lost his interest yet.
“I would’ve,” you abruptly sputtered.
“Hm?” Douma answered, hands unconsciously trying to help your hips pick up speed.
“You– shit, you asked if I would’ve offered myself to you if I didn’t think I was going to die?”
Sinful noises permeated the room while Douma remained silent.
“I fucking hate to admit it, but anyone in this doomed cult would be lying if they said they didn’t want to get in your pants.” Whimpers punctured each word, driving yourself mad while you slowly rode Douma’s blessed cock.
Unbeknownst to you, Douma was looking for any sign you might be lying. A twitch in your brow, an increase in your already rapid heartbeat, a stutter in your breath– anything that would indicate you were just another stupid human hopelessly clinging to life. He found none.
Claws pierced your hips, holding you still as Douma drove into you, treating you like his personal fuckthing.
“Ah, just what am I supposed to do with you?”
Hips snapped against your own at a speed only Douma could set, piercing such a deep place only Douma could reach, and causing noises to erupt from you that only Douma could ignite.
“I try forcing you to put forth some effort here, and you go say something like that? Are you trying to get fucked to death?”
A familiar sensation erupted below.
“Please Douma, just fuck me! Fuck me to death, I don’t care– just don’t stop!”
You didn’t even have time to warn Douma before you finally felt something snap as you came all over his cock. A sensation unlike any other was followed by warmth enveloping your pussy as Douma finished inside you at the same time.
You collapsed on the beautiful yet deadly man below you, your chest heaving as you chased after lost air while Douma barely seemed affected.
A few moments of blissful silence was interrupted by the panic that flooded over your body. The deed was done and Douma had no reason to keep you around.
The man in question carefully untangled himself from your limbs, allowing you to settle on the bed for what you assumed to be the final moments of your fleeting life. You spent most of your life homeless, alone, and without any real goals.Your shining win in life was sleeping with a monster, so it’s not like you’d be someone missed.
“Those silly humans are probably lost without my presence for so long– what feeble beings.”
Eyes scrunched in fear opened to see Douma casually getting dressed, humming as he went. Not a care in the world.
Heading for the door like nothing happened, the demon turned to wave. “Bye bye!”
“Wait!” you yelled, nearly tumbling to the ground. “Aren’t you going to– well, y’know–”
Douma blankly stared, eyes giving away nothing before he burst into exaggerated emotion. “Oh! Is that why you were so nervous? I never said I was going to kill you.”
The partial remains that originally caused this entire mess littered your peripheral vision.
Confusion colored Douma’s features. “No? I rather enjoyed our time together and you’re cute to look at!”
You couldn’t decide if you should be horrified or relieved at his simple reasons for not murdering you.
“Please don’t touch the other girls while I’m gone,” he said, referencing his unfinished meal. “I’m saving them for later. I’ll bring you some new clothes too since I tore up your other ones,” he finished with a wink. “Bye bye!”
The door thudded shut and you couldn’t help but wonder what the hell you got yourself into.
(Note: This is cross-posted from my ao3 @/CherryGourds)
