#kny douma

[mokitobear]

Misc

[satoruined]

NSFW HEADCANONS

MDNI 18+ CONTAINS: muzan ‧ kokushibō ・dōma ‧ akaza | fem!reader . explicit sexual content . headcanons

鬼舞辻 無惨 KIBUTSUJI MUZAN

❅ ── edging is one of his many cruelties, and he’s exquisitely sadistic about it. he’ll watch you squirm, listen to your begging, and only allow release when your voice cracks into sobs. not that he’s merciful, but because he finds your swollen eyes and runny nose unbecoming.

❅ ── control disguised as generosity. he’ll make you ride him, but only so he can sit back and watch how pathetic you look scrambling for your own pleasure, while he corrects your pace with a lazy hand on your hip.

❅ ── takes particular delight in humiliating post-climax rituals: watching his spend leak out of you, ordering you to push it back inside with trembling fingers while he scolds you about how wasteful and ungrateful you are. his tone is closer to a lecture than dirty talk, but the cold authority in it makes your pussy clench all the same.

❅ ── aftercare is selective at best. he might smooth your hair back or examine the marks he left with the detached eye of a critic, as though checking a painting for flaws. if he’s feeling magnanimous, he’ll even hold you for a while, though his embrace is stiff, his skin unnaturally cold. affection offered as a favour, not a given.

黒死牟 KOKUSHIBŌ

❅ ── isn’t vocal in the conventional sense, but he mutters in a low rasp when he’s close, words half-intelligible, praising and damning you in the same breath. his dirty talk is sparse, they take the form of orders (“spread your legs wider. hold still.”) that leave no room for refusal.

❅ ── values control above all else. if you try to assert power over him, he will correct you with severity.

❅ ── cannot resist marking you. loves sinking his teeth into your shoulder or throat, leaving half-moon dents and dark bruises that blossom under his mouth, but he stops short of blood.

❅ ── often corrects your posture during sex, and you do it because his displeasure is rarer than praise and therefore terrifyingly precious.

❅ ── has a fixation with filling you. presses in deep, keeps you spread open until his spend is dripping out, and still thrusts shallowly to push it back inside.

❅ ── slow thrusting that turns into violence only when provoked. he can be methodical for hours, then ramp up suddenly with a directive so small you almost miss it and find yourself sobbing with the force of it.

❅ ── soft moments are almost always conditional. a whisper of praise, a chaste kiss to your temple, they are rewards and you will crave them because they are so seldom given.

童磨 DŌMA

❅ ── doesn’t really feel desire the way most do, but he recognises a shallow level of lust like one recognises hunger: a gnawing, bodily itch. so he follows it with zeal, as though fucking you is simply another form of consumption. and dōma is enthusiastic to the point of unnerving, praising you between mocking giggles, all while splitting you open on his cock as if he’s sharing an inside joke with himself.

❅ ── foreplay is essentially provocation. doma delights in pissing you off. his usual antics include nuzzling along your jaw without actually kissing you, circling your clit with a frozen fingertip until you’re thrashing.

❅ ── verbal degradation is his lingua franca. “such a greedy little thing, can’t believe you’d sink so low for me” paired with a smile so saccharine it almost sounds like a compliment. the jolly cadence creates a dissonance, because he never drops the cheerful act.

❅ ── has an air of cheer even while being cruel. especially then. no matter if you’re begging or crying or even cursing at him—he only laughs, clapping his hands as though you’ve told a particularly good joke.

❅ ── finds your tears hilarious and hot, usually licks them right off your cheeks while laughing.

❅ ── overstimulation. keeps you in his lap, while he tsks about how sensitive you are, how silly it is that you’re trying to wriggle away when your cunt clearly doesn’t want to let go. if you cry, he cups your face sweetly and coos, “adorable! i knew you’d look prettier like this.” (he genuinely thinks he’s complimenting you)

❅ ── doesn’t understand aftercare in any genuine sense. wiping you down, holding you close, murmuring soft reassurances etc. those are things he mimics because he’s seen people do them, like an actor reciting lines from a play. the gestures are hollow, but his smile is so bright enough you believe he means it.

❅ ── cums inside you every single time because… well. why wouldn’t he?

猗窩座 AKAZA

❅ ── soft dominance is his default. doesn’t degrade you, won’t even tolerate you degrading yourself in a non-sexual context (he gets viscerally upset) . instead he builds you up with firm praise.

❅ ── refuses to finish before you. it’s a code of conduct, carved into him as deeply as his martial discipline. whether it’s his tongue flattening against your clit, his fingers curling inside you, or his cock stretching you out, your orgasm is the opening act, and his the encore.

❅ ── loves testing your limits, but not without consent. he’ll push you harder, but the moment you use your safeword, he halts as though your word is law. nothing makes him prouder than coaxing another orgasm out of you while you’re trembling: “just one more, you’ve got this. i know you can.” this is essentially a form of devotion, his belief that you are stronger than you think.

❅ ── his refractory period is basically nonexistent a.k.a he gets hard again real fast, but rarely pushes for more unless you initiate. when you do, he smiles almost sheepishly, like you’ve just given him another reason to be grateful for your existence.

❅ ── aftercare with akaza is meticulous to the point of ritualistic? he wipes you down with care, kneads the strain from your muscles until the ache fades. his body runs hot, and he uses it like a blanket, wrapping you against his chest, one broad hand stroking your back in steady passes until your breathing evens. always keeps watch while you sleep.

[popebride]

GETTING CAUGHT! 弐弦 FT. DOUMA

desperate gasps left your lips as your body lay against the silken sheets of DOUMA’S bed face-first, your eyes were glassy, your lips parted.

douma ground his hips against your plush ass in a relentless, yet lazy speed.

“ahh, such a stupid girl,” he crooned, eyes shutting blissfully as his hand gripped your wrists back, claw-like nails digging into your skin. “did you really think i wouldn’t notice? you’re funny!” he sighed, his thick cock abusing the inside of your pretty pussy, his tip kissing your cervix in a way that made you choke.

your mission was to infiltrate his cult, to pick apart his life, to find a weak spot—to find a way to kill him.

yet, you sorely underestimated him. how stupid could you be? despite his laid-back and playful nature, douma wasn’t stupid, and the moment you believed so was your gateway to failure. despite his truly agitating nature, he was observant, frighteningly so. the moment he caught your hardened gaze lingering on him with something more venomous than adoration he would see in his typical followers, he knew someone was trying to get a upper hand over him.

silly girl, the demon slayer corps must’ve wanted you to get caught really. throwing you into the cage with a predator that wasn’t as clueless as he was made out to be—you were too prideful, too naive, believing you were five steps ahead. and now here you are. getting fucked by the enemy. and despite the fire in your words, the way you spewed out half assed threats that meant nothing to him, douma was pleased to feel how your cunt tightened around him.

were you truly this wet for him? how funny.

if only your fellow slayers knew how your cunt squeezed an upper rank’s cock like it was trying to milk it dry.

“you’re shameless, you know?” douma continued, sighing blissfully as he pressed his body against your back, using it as a way to keep you pinned down. his lips grazing your ear as he made a show of moaning loudly against you. “you feel so good too!” he moaned, “so warm, so tight.. ahhh.” he sighed, “what would you do if i filled you up, hm?” he giggled.

your eyes widened, yet you clenched your jaw.

“you wouldn’t—!” you spat, struggling uselessly against him, he only held you tighter; your attempts to gain strength remained fruitless, given how his body was pressed against yours. douma, ever the strong man, towering, and with the muscles he had? you were already at such a disadvantage that it was difficult to properly squirm. let alone break free. “oh, but i would.” he hummed, you could practically hear the sickening grin on his lips. “you’re just so tight, it’s like you don’t want me to pull out!” he laughed, mocking you shamelessly. feeling his hand slip under you, down your stomach to your puffy clit, you gasped.

your eyes shut tight. trying your very hardest to ignore the heat coiling in your lower belly, shame filling your senses. you were getting off to a demon fucking you—not just any demon. an upper rank. it was humiliating.

douma toyed with your clit, his hips going down harder, the slap of skin muffled by the fact he was still fully dressed, only his cock was out, his pants hanging from his meaty thighs, he sighed blissfully. “you’re squeezing me so tight, do you like it when i play with you like this?” he asked, voice soft in a poor excuse to sound innocent. it grated your ears, yet you didn’t reply, grinding your teeth—douma pinched your clit, your hips shook, before you let out a strangled moan.

he let out a small gasp, cursing under his breath as he felt your cunt flutter around him, his balls ached, and his cock twitched.

“i can’t help myself,” he moaned, voice strained in pleasure as he went still above you. his hips shuddering as he let out a loud guttural groan, his face flushing as he smirked blissfully, feeling his warm milky cum filling you up. “oh.. oops, sorry,” he chuckled, as if he hadn’t just filled your pretty pussy with his cum.

you gasped, the shame only intensified at the realization.

“you motherfucker!” you cried out, trying to shove him away, douma only giggled, straightening up so he wasn’t suffocating you with his weight, his hand rested on the fat of your ass as he pulled the skin apart to see how his cock stayed nestled inside your creamy cunt. “oh, c’mon, it’s not so bad!” he hummed, his other hand grabbing the base of his cock as he pulled it out, watching the way his softening cock pulled away.

he hummed in satisfaction as he watched his cum slip out of your pussy, you shut your eyes, your face burning in embarrassment.

he sighed, “don’t be so shy now! i bet it feels nice, right? all warm inside your tummy, how cute.” he teased, leaning back onto his calves before he shoved his cock back inside his pants.

he reached over, petting your head like you were some stray.

“tell the corps to send a better spy next time, yeah?”

[nyankochan]

Heat and Desire

synopsis: Apathetic, Douma doesn’t understand why when he’s around you, this certain heat pooling in his body won’t go away. He’s never felt this way toward anyone, let alone a mere human.

content: Douma x fem!afab!reader, Yandere tendencies, cunnilingus, overstimulation, outdoor sex, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, mentions of blood, needy!Douma

wordcount: 3.5K

a/n:outside of Akaza, this dork is unfortunately one of my favorite demons.

“Y/n-chan! Y/n-chan! Y/n-chan!”

You roll your eyes at the repeated call of your name, but choose to ignore the ashen haired man who enters your room without explicit permission in order to continue reading your book. Of course, this does nothing to deter your unwanted guest, who merely plucks the book from your hand.

“Y/n-chan,” Douma whines. “Are you ignoring me? Don’t ignore me.”

You exhale an annoyed sigh. “What do you want, Douma?” You snatch the book back, making him smile.

“Oh! Are you mad?”

“I’m not mad.”

“Hmm…but you seem mad.”

“I’m not!” You snap. The slightest headache begins to form at the base of your temple. Sighing, you try to regain your composure, steeling your expression as you faced the childish demon who thoroughly seemed to enjoy your annoyance.

You knew Douma was a demon from the start. It’s not like he really tried to hide it but it was a matter of anyone that joined his Eternal Paradise Faith cult was just desperately and blissfully naive, truly believing Douma to be some god. Your friend included.

Your friend had been swamped with debts she couldn’t pay back, which was arguably her own fault. Instead of owning up to her gambling addiction, she sought out the help of this so called “god” who was said to help people resolve their problems and reach paradise. Instantly, it sounded like a load of bullshit, but your friend, so desperate to clear her debts, fell for the charms of the “god” and leader of this evident cult: Douma.

Something had immediately struck you as odd about the man when your friend dragged you along to the cult. For starters, the characters“upper rank two” were etched into his rainbow colored irises and his light hearted nature wasn’t what you quite expected of someone who was supposed to be a god.

Then. Your friend went missing. Rather. She was killed.

You knew you fucked up when you accidentally walked into a bloody sight with Douma devouring the remains of several women, you friend included.

The man was a demon.

Rumors about demons had circulated for centuries and not once did you think they were true until then. Yet, you oddly weren’t afraid. Douma, despite being a demon, never was openly hostile towards you. He treated you exceptionally well compared to his actual followers, so one would argue that he was pretty fond of you. Not that you were sure you believed that, but escaping would be futile. After all, where could you run that a demon couldn’t find?

“What could you possibly want that requires you to disturb my peace with your presence?” You manage to say calmly albeit annoyed.

“Such harsh words, Y/n-chan,” Douma said, feigning hurt. You tense as he draped himself across your shoulders, wrapping his arms around you body in tight—possessive—hug. “After all, I merely wanted to give you the gift I got.”

“I don’t want your gifts,” you snap. “The last time you “gifted” me something it was a bloody kimono belonging to a victim you killed.”

“Awe, and I thought you would look so pretty in it, but never mind that! This one, I think you’ll actually love.” Before you could protest, Douma throws you over his shoulder and carries you out the room he had designated to be yours.

You feel your face flush and despite you hitting his back (it didn’t hurt him at all), Douma eagerly takes you to the surprise he had awaiting. He was strangely giddy about your potential reaction. The feeling was odd, something he hadn’t experienced before. It made his chest constrict and a weird nausea settle in his stomach. Emotions were foreign to Douma, but whenever it came to you, a strange heat always simmered in his body.

He couldn’t tell if he liked it or hated it.

When bringing up his concerns to his fellow upper moons, Akaza merely broke his jaw and Kokushibou ignored Douma’s woes altogether. So, Douma decided to do a little experiment to see what was the cause of this sensation and if it had anything to do with you.

“Here we are!” Douma cheerfully said, finally setting you down. You angrily recoil from the demon, still flustered from how he carried you.

“Why couldn’t you have just let me walk like normal?” You huff.

“Because your reactions are so cute!”

Rolling your eyes, you then take in your new surroundings and gasp in awe.

Douma had brought you to a garden.

Stone wove a path through rows of gorgeous flowers whose petals glistened in the moonlight. A pond sits in the center, lotuses floating on top with bright orange koi swimming underneath them. It was all breathtaking.

“Do you like it? Do you?” Douma asks like a little kid.

“It’s beautiful…” you gasp, still gaping in awe as you walk the path. Douma follows close behind, smiling as per usual. “But why go to such lengths for me? What do you get out of doing something so nice for me?”

Faltering in his step, Douma’s smile wavers ever so slightly as your question rings in his mind. Why did he do this? Why was he going through so much trouble just to please a mere human? What did your opinion even matter? He was a demon after all. An upper rank at that!

Yet, seeing the excited shine in your eyes. The gentle smile on your face as you reached out to the koi fish in the pond. Your light laugh as they splashed about. It all intensified that heat coiling in his stomach.

“Y/n…” Douma starts. “I—“

He never finished what he was about to say, suddenly appearing in the Infinity Castle, summoned by Nakime. For the briefest second, a scowl crosses Douma’s features and a sour anger constricts his chest. Annoyance.

You were left startled by Douma’s sudden disappearance. He was there one moment, walking the garden with you and the next second you turned around, he was gone. You were somewhat used to his sudden departures at times and tried not to question it as you continued to enjoy the serenity of the garden.

It made you wonder how Douma created such a thing. How long did it take to plant everything? Did he construct it all by himself? And why just for you? You were definitely flattered, and your traitorous heart relished the sentiment.

“No,” you scold yourself. “He’s a demon. Don’t fall for his tricks. He can kill you at any moment just like the others.”

Sighing, you push thoughts of the rainbow eyed demon and take a seat at the pond’s edge, blissfully unaware of another set of eyes watching you.

The sudden meeting drags longer than Douma would like and he’s unusually antsy while waiting for it to conclude. So much so that Daki comments on his inability to stay still.

“I was in the middle of something before I was so rudely called upon,” Douma snaps. Something that he doesn’t usually do which catches the other upper moons off guard.

“Yes, because you’re so busy running that cult of yours,” Akaza scoffs.

Instead of saying something snarky, he turns to Nakime. “If we’re done here, send me back.”

“The master has—“

“Send. Me. Back.” Douma interrupts coldly, his tone Invoking a silence across the room. There is a brief pause, the other demons tense from upper two’s sudden chilling anger before Nakime strums her biwa. The door back to the garden appears and Douma quickly rushes to it without another word to the others.

Instantly, the smell of blood fills his nose when Douma returns to the garden. A sweet smell he’d caught one over time but knew well enough to be yours. The sight that greets him makes his blood turn to ice.

A demon.

A low ranked nobody that Douma would never care to know their name nor face.

And you, pinned to the cobblestone path by their claws, the smell of blood emanating from the injury on your shoulder.

“Let me go you bastard!” You scream. You kick your legs, trying to do what you can to push away the demon that suddenly attacked you with no avail. “I’m going to kill you! Get off me!”

The demon chuckles, amused by the struggle. “Usually, I don’t like such scrawny meals but beggars can’t be—“

Your eyes widen as ice encases the demon, turning it to a shimmering, crystalline statue. A second later, the ice shatters, splintering shards in ever direction. One nicks your cheek. The demon is gone.

“Tch, a rather bold move to try and touch my playthings.” A familiar voice that would normally bring you relief calls, except, their tone was just as chilling. Douma approached, arms crossed with an unamused expression on his face that borders a frown. Something you’ve never seen him do.

Kicking some of the lingering ice shards into the pond, Douma kneels down before you, examining your face. He grabs your chin and turns it. Heat simmers through his veins upon seeing the scar that marred your skin. Red still dripped from the gash. Douma licks the blood off your cheek, making you shiver.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asks.

“N-no…I’m mostly fine…” you say meekly. His glare intimidated you. “T-thank you…for saving me…”

“Hmm.” Douma places a firm hand on your shoulder and with the other, pulls your kimono down. His eyes dilate at the sight of claw marks on your smooth skin. Not only did another demon infiltrate his territory, it touched what was his. It tainted his property. Death wasn’t enough of a punishment. He’d go to hell personally and ensure the lowlife suffered for eternity.

An equally sour feeling Douma couldn’t quite grasp tugged at his chest when he thought about how you got injured because of his neglect. All because he got summoned for a stupid meeting, he wasn’t able to protect you. It was infuriating.

“I’ll be back,” Douma announced, standing to leave. His tone still was cold. You gathered quiet rage from his demeanor.

“Wait! Where are you going?” You ask, grabbing his hand. “It’s fine now! You already killed the demon, so what’s the problem?”

“The problem is you’re mine!” Douma yells. You recoil back startled. His eyes narrow as he takes you in, slightly disheveled from the attack and partly exposed from when he pulled back your kimono. The scent of your blood further envelopes his senses and Douma can’t think about anything but how intense the heat in his body is. It’s suffocating. He feels like he can barely breath, let alone focus.

He hates it. He hates the feeling. He hates how much of an effect you have on him.

At the same time, Douma doesn’t want anyone to have you.

“Your body is mine to ruin,” Douma warned, his voice dangerously low as he corners you. Like a predator trapping his prey. “Not for some lowlife unimportant demon to touch. You are mine to ravish. You are mine to devour. No one gets to kill you but me.”

“Y-you’re not going to actually kill me, are you?” You hate the way you voice cracks. Fear courses through your nerves making your legs weak. And Douma notices. He notices everything.

The subtle increase in your heart rate. The way you press your thighs together to quench the heat pooling in between them. The smell of your arousal. Amusement flickered in his rainbow irises. So you liked being the prey in this situation.

“Hm, I supposed not right now, I won’t,” Douma muses. He grips your chin, claws digging into your skin drawing pearls of blood. You try not to wince as he licks the beads of liquid from your face. “But,” he adds. “I am going to break you.”

The demon kisses you as if he were trying to devour you, forceful, needy, desperate. Pinning you against the nearby wall, he swallows your moans as his fangs graze your bottom lip, threatening to draw blood. You feel lightheaded. He’s too strong for you to push away, so you succumb to the kiss. A whimper leaves you as Douma’s nails dig into your wrists.

“Such a pretty sound,” Douma murmurs, pulling away finally and leaving you breathless. Your swollen lips glisten red with blood. His grip tightens making you wince. “Make it for me again, m’kay?”

Douma’s lips press against your neck next. Cold as he kisses down to your chest before impatiently tugging at your kimono, tearing the fabric off your body like it were paper.

“W-wait! T-that was expensive—“ your breath hitches, your train of thought halting as Douma takes one of your breasts into his mouth. You let out a shaky moan as his teeth grazes your sensitive nipple, tugging at the bud. His hand gropes your other breast, squeezing the mound in his palm and making your knees go weak. He guides you to the stone floor, skillfully removing the remainder of your undergarments until you lay bare before him. The cool outdoor air leaves you shivering.

“D-Douma…what if someone comes outside or hears…” you ask meekly as the demon continues his assault on your breasts. He nips at your skin hard. His hands squeeze your hips.

“Then I’ll gauge their eyes out,” he retorts curtly. “Only I get to see you like this. And what such a pretty little thing you are,” Douma coos. His hand traces down your body, over your curves and you shiver in reflex. “I truly can’t wait to devour you. Every inch of you is perfect. I don’t know where to start.” A sadistic grin twists across his face. “Let’s see how long it takes for you to come undone. Be a good girl and don’t disappoint me.”

Your heart rate picks up as Douma kisses up your calf and over your knee, taking his time to worship every inch of your skin. You wince, letting out a shaky breath as when he nips at your thigh. The taste of your blood on his tongue makes the demon moan.

“Your blood is so sweet. I can’t help but wonder what you taste like elsewhere,” Douma muses.

“D-Douma—“ you gasp as his breath fans against your bare cunt. He grips your thighs tightly to keep you from closing them as he begins to devour you, sucking on your folds greedily. Your back arches from the ground as you cry out, but Douma’s strength has you pinned and unable to escape as he continues to sloppily drink up your arousal as if it were the last thing he’d ever taste.

You feel your head spin as the overwhelming pleasure overloads your senses. Tension coils in the pit of your stomach, your toes curling as you teeter on the brink of release. Tears brim your lashes. Your back arches up, pressing yourself firmly against his face as you tug on his hair, making him groan.

“A-ah—w-wait—Douma!” The tension finally snaps. Pleasure coursing throughout your body in waves. Douma continues to push you through your orgasm, overstimulating your clit as he teasingly rolls his tongue across the sensitive bud which makes you plead for reprieve.

Just as he expected, your release was sweet. Addicting even. The way you tasted left his mind reeling, his body strangely and foreignly hot with a feeling of need he hadn’t experienced before. It coursed through his veins igniting his blood on fire, rushing south until his cock was painfully hard against his hakama pants. It was intoxicating and maddening. Better than even the finest marechi blood. Still, Douma couldn’t stop— didn’t stop until you were all but in tears, your legs trembling over his shoulder.

“S-shit…” Douma groaned. “Y/n~” The way he moaned your name was borderline sinful, panting it like a mantra over and over in between breaths. And before you knew it, the demon was kissing you desperately, his hands grappling anywhere on your body. “Ah…Y/n…m-my body…my body feels so hot.” His hips rutted against yours, the heat of his arousal pressing against your throbbing pussy where you ached for him. “W-what are you doing to me? Make it stop.”

“D-Douma please,” you whimper, tugging at his shirt. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him close, rolling your hips across his erection. “Please. Need you inside me please.”

Douma groans, a shiver coursing through his body. He quickly sheds his clothes, wanting to feel your warmth directly and they had become uncomfortably restricting. Your eyes widen slightly as the demon takes his stiff cock into his hand, whimpering as he fists himself for some sort of relief. It shouldn’t surprise you that he was big. His cock was thick with a prominent vein running down the side of the shaft. Pre-cum pearls from the tip as Douma continues to work his hand up and down the base, searching for his release.

“Ah—it’s so hot. Can’t stand it,” Douma groans. “My body isn’t listening to me. It’s like it has a mind of its own—“ He shudders, letting out a low moan as he cums ropes across your breasts. Heaving slightly, the heat pooling in his stomach doesn’t fade. If anything, seeing you covered in his release only intensifies it. His cock twitches in his hand, begging for more.

“This heat won’t go away,” he whines, bending down to kiss you again. “If you and I become one, will it finally go away?” You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him closely as you feel the tip of his cock press against your cunt. Douma shudders. Your legs wrap around his waist, spurring him forward. He bites your shoulder to ground himself, accidentally breaking the skin in the process.

“Ack—D-Douma…it hurts…” you whimpered. You didn’t know what hurt more. The bite or him stretching your walls as he eased his cock in. “A-ah. T-too big.” But the demon didn’t seem to hear you, delirious from desire.

“F-feels so good. Want more.” Douma gripped your hips before roughly thrusting in to the hilt. You gasp as he hits your cervix. Your pussy’s lips flutter around his length, struggling and trying to accommodate to his size. “Ah…you’re sucking me in,” the demon groans. He nuzzles against your neck, breathing raggedly. “I knew it’d feel so much better… if we became one with each other.”

“D-Douma…move. Please.”

Douma kisses you again, tenderly. His hand finds yours, fingers intertwined as he rocks his hips. Slowly at first before his pace quickens with that same needy desperation. Rough and hard as he fucks into you. Each thrust has his cock dragging against your spongey walls, pressing deeper and deeper to where you’re most sensitive. Each time his hips snap against yours, your toes curl feeling the delicious stretch of his length. That budding pressure returns as the coil of pleasure winds itself up again.

“Ah—Y/n~” the sinful way Douma says your name has you clenching around him. He groans at the feeling. “S-so good. Is this what heaven feels like? If so, I don’t want it to end. Please, give me more. I want it. I need it. Please.” He’s rambling incoherently. His cheeks flush pink as his pace grows sloppy. He could feel his cock throb. The heat was unbearable, threatening to explode.

And suddenly, the tension snapped without warning.

“Ugh—“ Douma groaned, eyes rolling back. He buried himself all the way to the hilt inside you. His orgasm hit and it hit hard. His dick pulsated with each subsequent spurt of cum. His hips still as he emptied inside you, pinning you to the ground as his body gave out. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel your insides snap. Your pussy clenching tightly around Douma as your own high shakes your body.

Douma stirs first. You’re still trying to catch your breath, when he slowly rocks his hips. You whine from overstimulation, but the ashen haired demon merely lets out a low chuckle.

“Ah, I can get addicted to this feeling,” Douma sighs. He runs a hand down your stomach tenderly, pressing slightly on the indentation of his cock in your womb. His thighs are slick with your release, a ring of white sloppily coating the base of his cock. And each time he moved his hips, how easily he slid through. How your pussy was made to take him. “You see how we fit perfectly together? We were just meant to be.”

You groan, feeling his cock throb once more. “H-how are you hard again already?”

Douma grinned. “When it comes to you, I don’t ever think the heat inside me will be quenched. But that’s okay! It’s bearable when it’s you.” He licks the wound on your shoulder before kissing your neck, jaw, then lips. Douma then flips you on to your hands and knees. You both moan out as he eases his cock back in, his hips stuttering to press deeper. Douma grabs your hand once more, intertwining your fingers.

“So stay with me, Y/n-chan. We can be together for the rest of eternity.”

[vrystalius]

Fell first, fell harder — Demons.

Who fell first? Who fell harder?

Pairing: Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, Muzan x gn!human!reader

Genre: Fluff

Note: Since the hashira version got so popular…

Muzan Kibutsuji // The Demon King

He fell first and fell harder.

Muzan does not choose his partners willy-nilly. He is supposed to become the peak of evolution, the greatest being there is and was and so far, his human partners were rather disappointing. They cried and had to be killed once they found out the truth of his inhumanity, so none of them were around for long.

That is when he found you. You were a regular, almost boring human being. Nothing special. Or at least, that is what Muzan thought at first when he met you as the new apprentice of the florist he consulted every now and then, your face having dirt smudges and fingers small cuts made by thorns, but still you gave him the kindest smile he had seen in a while. You captivated him, just like that.

After courting and convincing you to move in with him, the presumed very rich businessman, and finding out that he is actually much more horrible than a regular man, and yet you continued to surprise him by showing barely any negative reaction. Only ask of you was for him not to eat humans in front of you, of which he’ll oblige.

It was hard not to fall head over heels immediately. Muzan grew fond and protective of you, asking you to remain in the infinity castle instead of his regular home to have easier access to both your lips to kiss for recharging energy but also keeping an eye on you for safekeeping. He is smitten.

☀︎

Kokushibo // Upper Moon One

He fell first, you fell harder.

It was hard not to fall for you. You are not terrified of his appearance like you’re supposed to, you’re warm, both with the way you act and how you feel. Kokushibo almost feels guilty for making you shiver a little whenever he touches your arm and you’re just… you.

You make him feel a glimpse of humanity, if he likes that or not is still up for debate. Kokushibo can relax around you and his shoulder’s relax for the first time what feels like in centuries.

But despite his heart melting for you first, yours probably vaporised. You loved everything about him. His quiet nature means that he is a great listener for your rambles, his tall body is perfect to lie on top of, his arms can do the grocery carrying (despite him not needing even a bite of anything you bought!), and he is quite gentlemanly.

So despite him being a terrifying demon, you can’t help yourself. Neither can he.

Douma // Upper Moon Two

You fell first. He fell much, much harder.

How can you not fall for him, seriously? Douma is handsome, kind, tall, compassionate… the list could go on for eternity. You‘re certainly not the first nor the last one to fall for his charm but at the same time you knew that your Founder probably will not reincorporate the same feelings for you. You were correct.

Douma had a lot more feelings about and for you than you could ever comprehend. The pleasure of feeling the sadness of heartache, anger arose by jealousy and intoxicating bliss when near you is making his head spin. He is almost overwhelmed and overstimulated by all these things he‘s feeling all at the same time— there was nothing for so long. You filled the void that has been aching inside him for so long.

Whenever you‘re not paying attention, he stares and admires you. When you visit him in his chambers, he could bounce of the walls and claw you by his fingers for you to please, please don‘t leave. Not yet.

And Douma has you, he‘ll never let go. Never again. You‘ll experience the full extent of his newfound ability to feel as much as your human body can handle, biting you, trapping you beneath his body and his presence always being nearby, no matter what time of day or where you go. Freedom? Why would you waste thoughts on that when you can instead think about your dearest and always nearest darling!

☀︎

Akaza // Upper Moon Three

He fell first. You fell harder.

Humans are laughably fragile, and so he did not plan to waste another thought on the idea of spending positive time with someone. Why bother searching out human company like Douma does? To let someone inflate his ego and hop onto his lap, ready to get eaten? No thank you.

Although he did tell himself many, many times that you are just a stupid human, going on stupid walks through the stupid woods at stupid night. Since you’re this stupid, Akaza will make sure you actually end up back home, as he did every night.

Therefore it’s not very hard for him to get over his annoyance about you being a silly human and actually falling in love.

You were the one that fell much, much harder. He’s sweet and attentive, always brings you goods that he snatched from closed shops and whatnot. Akaza likes spoiling you and knowing that you’re cared for, which you, of course, like too!

He’s incredibly attractive (which he doesn’t realise himself) and actually has a very kind heart beneath all the judging side-eyes and whole demon thing. You can’t help but to love him, even with the attitude

☀︎

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!

I have so much yogurt in my fridge. I’m eating it everyday and I am sick of it, but I have to finish it… Eughuhhhuhuh why did I buy so many yogurts. Very proud of what I’ve written for Douma btw not sure why

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33 You are loved.

[yanderslutt]

𝐢 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮…

yandere ! douma finds you after years... of running

f/a: @/66628nim11

i tried to scream, but lilies clouded my mind thе petals softly floating into my eyes

summary ; in which after many years of escaping the grasp of your former lover he finally finds you.. and when he does... he finds out you've been hiding a big secret..

cws ! yandere themes, stalking, captivity, coercion, dubcon undertones, emotional breakdown, manipulation, child/family obsession, breeding kink, explicit sexual content, threats of violence.

-

the evening was supposed to be ordinary.

your basket was already half-full, the weight of fresh vegetables pressing against your hip as you lingered by the stall. the villagers greeted you warmly, exchanging small talk, a laugh here, a smile there. for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe that this was real...that this peace was something permanent, not borrowed.

but the sky betrayed you.

it shifted too quickly, colors bleeding from soft dusk into a dull, bruised gray. the chatter around you blurred into background noise as your stomach tightened. you noticed the crows first. they were darting across the rooftops, too many of them at once, wings frantic as if fleeing something unseen.

your fingers tightened around the coins in your hand. you placed them gently on the stall’s counter, forcing a polite smile. “thank you,” you said, voice steady, though your gut twisted. you turned, the basket heavier now, not from the produce but from the weight of unease. the villagers kept speaking as though nothing had changed, but you could feel it—something pressing down on the air, something that didn’t belong here.

your eyes swept the street, catching shadows stretching too long in the corners, catching the way the wind seemed to hush as though waiting. you adjusted the basket against your hip and reached down, fingers finding the small, warm hand you cherished more than life itself.

“come on,” you murmured softly, tugging your son close as the crowd thinned. he looked up at you with those wide, curious eyes that always seemed to notice more than you wanted him to. “mama… why do you look scared?”

the question made your breath hitch. you forced a smile down at him, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “i’m not scared, sweetheart. just… tired, that’s all.” he didn’t seem convinced. his gaze flicked to the basket. “what did you get? is it for soup again? or the rice cakes?”

the simple questions should’ve soothed you. they should’ve grounded you back in normalcy. but your heart wouldn’t slow down, not with the air so heavy, not with the sky churning gray above you. “yes,” you answered, voice a little too thin, “for soup tonight.”

your son’s face brightened, but then his brow furrowed again. he tugged at your hand, lowering his voice the way children did when they sensed something was wrong. “mama… you don’t look well.”

his words struck harder than you expected, as if he had peeled back the mask you were trying so desperately to wear. you crouched a little, enough to look him in the eyes. “i’m fine,” you whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “but listen to me, alright? you stay close. no matter what happens. you don’t let go of my hand.”

he blinked, confused, but nodded slowly. “okay…” the silence between you both stretched for a beat too long. and then, a shadow stretched across the cobblestone, creeping toward your feet like spilled ink.

the air dropped colder, as if the sun itself had recoiled.

he stepped out from between the narrow stalls, movements smooth, unhurried, like he owned the cobblestone beneath his sandals. taller than you remembered, his frame sharper, his presence heavier. his hair spilled down his back in long silver-gray strands that shimmered against the dimming sky, as if he had been carved from the storm itself.

your breath caught. “well, well…” douma’s voice rang out, light and lilting, but soaked in venomous sweetness. “look at you. i half-expected you to be bones in the dirt by now. instead—” his eyes slid over you, cold, glimmering, unblinking. “—you’ve gone and made yourself a little life. how precious.”

your throat worked as you swallowed hard, heart thundering so loud you swore he could hear it. instinctively, your grip on your son’s hand tightened until his small fingers pressed into your palm. you said nothing. couldn’t...

douma’s lips curved into that same smile you thought you’d never see again. it hadn’t changed. eternal, painted on, as cruel as it was empty. “did you miss me, little flower?” he teased, tilting his head just so, his voice sing-song, mocking. “all those nights, did you think about me? wonder if i’d come back for you? mm, you must’ve. because here you are, shaking like a leaf.”

he still hadn’t acknowledged the boy at your side. not yet. and that omission made your blood run colder than anything else. your son tugged at your hand again, whispering, “mama?” you shushed him softly, never taking your eyes off douma, every instinct screaming that the nightmare you had spent years outrunning had finally caught you.

you shifted, half-stepping in front of your son, the basket of vegetables nearly tumbling from your arm. your body curled instinctively, shielding him with every inch of yourself, as if you could block the weight of douma’s gaze with your own trembling frame.

but his eyes had already found him. douma stilled. the air itself seemed to freeze as his sharp gaze slid down, settling on the small boy at your side. your son looked up, wide-eyed, sensing the stranger’s attention.

the smile on douma’s face didn’t change, but something flickered behind it—interest, amusement, a cruel sort of delight. “oh…” his voice dropped to a near whisper, as if he’d stumbled on some divine revelation. “and who is this?” you pulled your son closer, your hand gripping his small shoulders so tightly he flinched. “he’s nothing to you.”

douma chuckled, a low, airy sound that made your skin crawl. “nothing? mm, no, little flower. children are never nothing.” his gaze sharpened, gleaming like ice under the moon, studying the boy’s features—his dark lashes, the curve of his mouth, the faint trace of something achingly familiar.

he tilted his head. “when was he born?” your heart plummeted. douma’s smile widened, the sharp edge of his teeth flashing. “he looks…” he hummed, drawing the word out, savoring it. “…a great deal like me, doesn’t he?”

your throat locked up, every lie you’d prepared dissolving under the weight of his stare. “tell me, darling,” he crooned, stepping closer, the air thick with his presence, “is he mine?”

your chest heaved as you pulled your son tight against you, his small body nearly hidden behind the folds of your robe.

“he is none of your concern,” you snapped, voice raw, trembling but loud enough to cut through the thick air. “you don’t get to ask about him. you don’t get to touch him. you have nothing to do with this, douma!”

for a heartbeat, silence. then—cracks. the smile didn’t vanish, but it warped, twitched, stretched too thin. the edges of his voice trembled with something darker than amusement.

“nothing to do with this?” he echoed, his laugh ringing out sharp, brittle, unhinged. “i’ve missed half of his life. half, little flower. do you know what that does to me? all those years i could have been watching him grow, hearing his first words, teaching him to obey.”

he stepped closer, his voice dipping into a hiss, the mask of joy bleeding into rage. “you stole that from me.” you shook your head, eyes blazing despite the terror clawing at your insides. “you don’t deserve him. you don’t deserve any of this—”

his foot hit the cobblestone hard, the sound cracking like thunder as his composure finally shattered. “shut up!” the word roared out of him, startling villagers in the distance, his voice a whip that lashed through the street. the child flinched, clinging tighter to your robes.

douma’s smile was gone now, his teeth bared, his eyes wide and gleaming with fury. “if you don’t come back with me, i’ll kill you right here.” his gaze cut to the boy, then back to you, deliberate, cruel. “and then i’ll take him. i’ll raise him myself. oh—don’t you think he deserves to know his real father?” his tone dipped low, venomous and sweet, the threat sinking into your bones.

“comply, little flower,” he whispered, grin crawling back across his face like a demon reborn, “or i’ll bury you at his feet.”

your arms wrapped around your son so tightly his small frame shook against you, his face buried into your chest as tears blurred your own vision. every step you tried to take backward felt like walking into quicksand.

“please…” your voice broke, a trembling whisper meant for him and him alone. “don’t look. just keep your eyes closed, sweetheart.” but douma was already there.

his hand—cold, unyielding—slid around your waist, fingers pressing cruelly into the fabric of your robe, anchoring you against him. the gesture looked gentle, guiding, but there was no softness in his grip. “that’s better,” he murmured, smile stretching once more as if your despair fed him. “you see? just like old times. you fit right here, don’t you?”

you stumbled as he tugged you forward, steering you as though you had no will of your own. the street faded behind you, the dimming sky swallowed whole as the shadows of his domain opened. your son clung tighter, whispering, “mama… i’m scared…”

the words shattered what was left of your strength. hot tears slipped down your cheeks, silent and unending, as you tightened your hold around him. “hush,” douma cooed mockingly, leaning close so his lips brushed your ear. “don’t cry. you’re coming home. back where you belong. back where you should’ve stayed.”

each word dripped with possession, with rage disguised as love. and though your body moved, guided by his hand at your waist, your soul felt trapped in the cage of his mansion already—the place he had always called home, the place you swore you would never return to. yet here you were.

the walk to the mansion felt endless, yet far too short. the gates loomed, black iron curling like the claws of some beast, and beyond them—the place you had sworn to never see again.

douma guided you inside with one hand still at your waist, your son clinging silently to your side. his little eyes darted everywhere, confused, frightened, but too small to grasp the true horror of where he was being led. “look at this,” douma sang softly, as though giving a tour of paradise instead of a prison. “your new home, little one. so grand, so beautiful. you’ll learn to love it here, just like your mama did.”

your son’s grip on your robes only tightened. douma’s stride never faltered as he brought you up the winding stairs, down a candlelit hall lined with tapestries and vases too delicate to touch. finally, he pushed open a carved wooden door. inside: a bed, too large for a boy so small, soft quilts folded neatly, the windows latticed to let in just enough moonlight.

“your room,” douma announced with a flourish, releasing you only to spread his arms wide. his tone was bright, cheerful, wrong. “do you like it? it’s all yours. every corner, every pillow. you’ll be so comfortable.”

you swallowed hard, running a trembling hand through your son’s hair as he pressed against you, refusing to move toward the bed. “go on,” douma coaxed gently, crouching down until his eerie smile met the boy’s frightened stare. “settle in, little one. mama will stay with you until you fall asleep. isn’t that nice?”

then he straightened, his gaze sliding to you. his smile stayed fixed, but his voice dipped lower, meant only for your ears. “and after you put him to bed…” his breath brushed the shell of your ear, icy and sweet, “…you’ll come to me. in my chambers. don’t make me wait.”

you sat on the edge of the bed, basket long forgotten, your son curled into your lap. he clung to your robes with small fists, his body trembling, his eyes glossy with fear he couldn’t put into words.

“mama… who is that man?” he whispered, voice shaking.

your heart clenched so tightly you thought it might stop. you smoothed his hair back, forcing steadiness into your tone though your tears hadn’t fully dried. “don’t worry about him, sweetheart. i’m here. i won’t leave you.”

he blinked up at you, searching your face for truth. after a long moment, exhaustion from the day’s weight pulled at him, his small body giving in to sleep as you hummed softly, the tune fractured by the tightness in your throat.

you waited until his breathing evened, until his tiny hand loosened its grip on your sleeve. gently, you laid him down and tucked the quilt over his shoulders, kissing his forehead with trembling lips. but when you straightened, the door was cracked open.

a sliver of candlelight spilled across the floor. and in that light—douma’s silhouette, waiting. you froze, breath caught in your lungs. he leaned against the frame as if he’d been there the whole time, watching. his eyes flicked to the boy once, then back to you, and his smile curved slow and deliberate.

“good girl,” he whispered, voice soft as silk, sharp as glass. “now… come to me.” he stepped back into the hall, leaving the door open, the command hanging heavy in the air like a noose.

“years,” he said, voice thin, trembling—not with weakness, but with rage tightly leashed. “years i searched for you. and you… you were raising my son in secret?” your lips parted, words caught in your throat.

he crossed the room in two long strides, hands shooting out to seize your chin, forcing your face up to his. his grip was cold, unyielding, fingers pressing into your jaw hard enough to bruise.

“you dared to run from me?” his tone sharpened, the softness stripped away, replaced by the bite of something feral. “you thought you could keep him from me? half his life, little flower, stolen.” his breath fanned hot against your skin as he leaned closer, his expression a mask of delight stretched too thin.

“i should break you for this.” yet even as his words dripped with violence, his thumb dragged along your lower lip, slow, deliberate, as though savoring the tremble there.

“but…” his smile reappeared, bright and brittle, eyes wide and glassy. “i missed you too much. i should be furious—and i am—but seeing you again…” his lips hovered at your ear, his voice breaking into a shiver of laughter. “ah, it makes me want to devour you whole.”

he pushed you back until your spine met the silken wall, his hand still locked on your waist, pinning you in place.

“you belong here,” he hissed, teeth flashing in something between a grin and a snarl. “to me. to this house. to our son. i’ll never let you leave again.” his forehead pressed against yours, too close, his laugh airy and cruel.

“after all…” his tongue traced the corner of his mouth, gaze blazing with obsession, “what kind of father would i be if i didn’t reclaim what was mine?”

your throat burned as his grip pinned you against the wall, his forehead pressed to yours, his words cutting through every ounce of resistance you had left. but something in you cracked.

“you don’t understand,” you choked out, your voice breaking, trembling against his hold. “every night in this place… i couldn’t breathe. i couldn’t even think without feeling your eyes on me. i was trapped, douma—trapped in your mansion, trapped in you. i thought if i didn’t leave, i’d lose myself completely.”

your hands pushed weakly against his chest, not to fight, but to steady yourself as your tears came harder. “i spent nights curled up, crying into my hands, wishing i was anyone else. wishing i could feel free, just once. you call this home, but to me…” your voice fractured, collapsing into a sob. “to me it was a prison.”

his eyes widened, almost childlike with fascination, as though your pain were something he could taste. “a prison?” he repeated softly, tilting his head, lips curving. “mm… how dramatic. but look at you now—crying in my arms again. just like before.”

you shook your head, the words tumbling out faster, uncontrolled. “i ran because i thought it was the only way to save myself. and when i found out about him—” your hand covered your mouth, muffling the sob, “—i couldn’t let him grow up like me. i couldn’t let him feel this… this chain around his neck.”

your knees buckled, but douma’s grip didn’t let you fall. instead, his arms closed tighter around you, caging you to him as your tears dampened his robes. “oh, little flower,” he murmured, voice honeyed, soothing, yet laced with venom. “you sound so broken. so sad. all these lonely nights, all that suffering… and for what? you still ended up back here. back with me.”

he laughed lightly, pressing his lips to your temple in a mockery of comfort. “all your pain did was prove how much you need me.” his fingers slid into your hair, tilting your head back so your tear-streaked face was bared to him. “but don’t worry. i’ll take care of you now. i’ll take care of both of you. you’ll never have to think again. isn’t that what you wanted?”

your chest shuddered with another sob, your body betraying you as you sagged into his arms—terrified, furious, yet so bone-deep exhausted that the fight slipped from you in waves. and douma, smiling wide and cruel, held you as though you had just proven his point.

his fingers dug into your waist, cold and possessive, while his other hand cradled the back of your head as though you were something fragile. his eyes shimmered with something dangerous—rage, longing, obsession—blurring together until you couldn’t tell which drove him more.

“you think i didn’t suffer too?” douma breathed, his voice no longer sing-song but ragged at the edges. “all those years without you, i thought i would unravel. every night, i imagined your face, your voice, your warmth pressed against me.” he leaned closer, lips brushing your cheek where the tears had fallen. “i was starving without you.”

you shivered, turning your face away, though your body betrayed you by trembling against him. “stop… you don’t mean that. you don’t care about me—you never did.”

he laughed, low and sharp, his breath hot against your skin. “oh, little flower, i’ve never cared for anyone the way i care for you. your pain, your anger, even your hatred—it all belongs to me. you belong to me.”

his lips pressed against the curve of your jaw, soft at first, then lingering, burning. your breath hitched, your hands rising to push at his chest, but the strength in them faltered. because part of you—traitorous, weak—still remembered.

the nights he’d held you close, whispering nonsense in that sweet tone until you fell asleep. the way he could make the world feel distant, muted, when he wrapped you in his arms.

you hated him. you hated that you still wanted the comfort, the charm, the cruel tenderness only he could give.

“no…” your whisper cracked, tears spilling as your head pressed back against the wall. “i can’t—i can’t let myself—”

“shh,” he cooed, silencing you with a kiss against the corner of your mouth, his thumb stroking your cheek as if to soothe. “don’t fight it. i can feel how much you missed me. your body’s shaking for me, not against me.”

his lips ghosted over yours, not quite kissing, just close enough to make your heart pound in betrayal of your mind.

“you ran, but here you are… melting into me again.” his grin widened, though his eyes glistened with something deeper, something raw. “and i’ll never let you leave. not now. not ever.”

his lips finally claimed yours, crushing and sweet all at once, tasting your tears as though they were nectar meant only for him. the kiss was overwhelming—demanding, merciless, the kind that stripped away every defense you had left.

you pushed at his chest weakly, but his grip on your waist only tightened, pulling you flush against him. “don’t…” you tried to whisper between gasps, but your voice broke when his mouth trailed down to your throat, teeth grazing your skin like a promise.

“don’t what?” douma breathed against your pulse, the smile in his voice maddening. “don’t take back what’s mine? don’t remind you how good it feels to be wanted?”

you shuddered, fingers curling into his robes, torn between pushing him away and clinging to him. your mind screamed no, but your body… your body betrayed you, arching into the cold press of him.

“see?” he murmured, his tongue flicking against your collarbone as though savoring you. “your heart beats for me, even after all this time. your body remembers me, even when your mind tries to lie.”

his hand slid up your side, cold fingers tracing the curve of your ribs, your shoulder, before cupping your jaw to force your eyes to meet his. his irises glittered, too wide, too bright, pupils dilated with something feral.

“look at me, little flower.” his tone sharpened, commanding. “you ran, you hid, you lied—but still, you’re trembling for me. admit it. you wanted me, even in your loneliness. even in your freedom.”

hot tears blurred your vision, but you couldn’t look away. your lips trembled as you shook your head, whispering, “i wanted… peace.”

douma laughed, low and airy, pressing his forehead to yours again. “peace is boring. peace is empty. but me?” his lips brushed yours again, a cruel tease. “i make you feel alive.”

his hands pinned you there, body caging yours against the wall as his kiss deepened, rougher now, every movement laced with the fury of years he believed you stole from him.

and though your mind screamed, your body betrayed you again, answering his hunger with your own desperate, confused need.

“that’s it…” he purred between kisses, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “cry, fight, break all you want… you’ll always return to me. because i’m the only one who can ruin you this perfectly.”

the evening air was charged with tension as douma's lips claimed yours once more, his kiss demanding and possessive. his hands roamed your body, fingers digging into your flesh as if he wanted to leave his mark on every inch of your skin. you could feel the anger and desperation radiating from him, his need to reclaim what he believed was rightfully his.

despite your mind screaming at you to resist, to fight against his touch, your body betrayed you. you found yourself arching into his cold embrace, your fingers clutching at his robes as if you were drowning and he was the only thing keeping you afloat.

douma's lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, trailing down your neck, leaving a path of searing kisses that made your skin burn. his hands slid down your back, gripping your hips and pulling you closer, until there was no space left between your bodies.

"mine," he growled against your skin, his voice low and feral. "you're mine, little flower. always and forever."

your mind rebelled against his words, but your body was already surrendering to his touch. tears pricked at your eyes as you felt yourself falling under his spell once more, your resolve crumbling with each brush of his fingers against your skin.

douma's hands moved to the ties of your robe, deftly unfastening them and pushing the fabric off your shoulders. the cool air of the room sent goosebumps across your exposed skin, but the heat of douma's gaze kept you from feeling cold.

his eyes roamed over your body, taking in every curve and plane, his hunger evident in the way his pupils dilated. he reached out, tracing the curve of your breast with a single finger, smirking as your breath hitched in response.

"you see?" he purred, his voice smooth as silk. "your body knows who it belongs to. it remembers my touch, even if your mind tries to forget."

you wanted to deny it, to push him away and run, but your body was no longer listening to your mind's commands. instead, you found yourself leaning into his touch, your skin craving more of his caresses.

douma was all too happy to oblige, his hands exploring every inch of your exposed flesh, leaving trails of fire in their wake. he worshipped your body with his touch, his lips following the path of his fingers, kissing and nipping at your sensitive skin.

as he lowered you onto the bed, his body covering yours, you knew that you were lost. douma had you under his spell once more, his obsessive love consuming you both. and as he moved within you, his eyes locked on yours, you knew that there was no escape from the chains of his love.

you were his, body and soul, and he would never let you go again.

douma's lips curved into a wicked smile as he trailed his fingers down your stomach, pausing at the edge of your undergarments. his eyes, dark with desire, locked onto yours as he slowly slid the fabric down your legs, exposing you completely to his hungry gaze.

"you're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with want. "every part of you is perfect, little flower. and all of it, every inch, belongs to me."

he settled between your thighs, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. he inhaled deeply, a low growl emanating from his chest. "the scent of your arousal is intoxicating," he purred, his tongue darting out to taste you. "i could spend hours just breathing you in."

you whimpered as his tongue made contact, your hips bucking involuntarily at the sensation. douma's hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he began to feast on you in earnest.

his tongue delved into your folds, lapping at your essence with long, slow strokes. he circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, teasing the sensitive bud until you were writhing beneath him, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"please," you gasped, your voice breathy and desperate. "i need more."

douma chuckled against your flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. "so impatient," he teased, his tongue never ceasing its ministrations. "don't worry, little flower. i'll give you everything you need."

he slid a finger inside you, curling it to hit that perfect spot within. you cried out, your hips bucking against his mouth as he worked you with his tongue and finger in tandem. he brought you to the edge again and again, only to back off at the last moment, leaving you a whimpering, pleading mess.

"please, douma," you begged, your voice cracking with desperation. "i need you inside me. please."

douma lifted his head, his lips glistening with your arousal. his eyes were black with lust, his expression feral and possessive. "say it again," he demanded, his voice rough with desire. "tell me who you belong to."

"i belong to you," you gasped, your hips rolling, seeking relief. "i'm yours, douma. always and forever."

he surged up your body, his robes falling away to reveal his lean, muscled form. he gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he lined himself up with your entrance.

"never forget it," he growled, his eyes locking onto yours as he thrust deep inside you.

you cried out at the sensation, your body stretching to accommodate his thickness. he filled you completely, his pelvis grinding against your clit with each snap of his hips.

douma set a brutal pace, his hips slamming into yours with enough force to rattle the bed frame. he leaned down, his lips claiming yours in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to taste your screams of pleasure.

"you're mine," he grunted with each thrust, his fingers tangling in your hair to hold you in place. "you'll always be mine. i'll never let you go again."

your body coiled tighter and tighter, your climax approaching with the force of a freight train. douma reached between your bodies, his fingers stroking your clit in time with his thrusts, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"come for me, little flower," he rasped, his hips slamming into yours harder, deeper. his eyes burned with obsession as his words tangled against your lips. "i’ll make it up to myself… to us. i’ll give you another child. one i don’t miss half a life with."

he grinned, wide and wicked, his voice dropping lower, more feral. "we’ll start over. i’ll breed you again and again until we do it right this time. you’ll give me another son, another daughter… as many as it takes."

his hand gripped your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze as he drove into you mercilessly. "no more running. no more hiding. you’ll stay here and bear my children until you remember you were always mine."

his words sent you hurtling over the edge, your body spasming around his as your climax crashed over you. douma followed moments later, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself deep inside you, his seed painting your walls with his ownership.

you collapsed onto the bed, your body spent and replete. douma curled around you, his arms holding you tight against him, as if he never wanted to let you go.

-

whew.. anyways..

[candiyaa]

Hello! I love reading your headcanons! I was having a tough day and the recent headcanons with insecure reader made my smile!

Can I also request for some headcanons? Uppermoons, Muzan and yoriichi with a s/o who feels the aggressive affection towards them? Like how we normally feel with cute things or the person we love and would out of nowhere hug them tightly, cooing and squealing sweet words or just bite them— like on cheek or arm?

I’m so so soo glad you liked it !! And I simply loveeee the idea !!! I believe my love language is actually aggressive-affection lol thank you so much for requesting it I’ve never thought about it before !!

𝐊𝐍𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒/𝐎 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Upper Moons (1-3) ; Gyutaro ; Muzan and Yoriichi.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ʚɞ : None ?

𝐌𝐔𝐙𝐀𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐉𝐈...

The GIF speaks for itself he's pissed lol... but secretely likes it.

At first he was just so flabbergasted like genuine shock.

"Why are you...squealing ? And biting me for... ?!"

He would often freeze anytime you'll attack him with those then relax.

He would sometimes grith his teeth or gruff in annoyance but notice how he lets you ?

He got so used to it that it became so predictable.

He'll just start dodging your bites attacks or anything that could physically "cutely harm" him when he feels like it.

Just to annoy you.

He likes the hugs the most. (But would never admit it even if you threaten to bring back Yoriichi to life)

Despite the scowl, he never steps back. His arms twitch like they want to hold you. But they never do. Not yet.

"Enough."

"But-"

"That's the 113th space invasion of the day"

"Well talking about personal space, you did invide Ubuyashiki's mansion-"

"That's diiferent-"

"That's space invasion still."

"..."

He braced himself for the 114th one...

𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈...

Literally lets you tackle-hug him mid-battle and just smiles. 🥺

The first time you bit him, he paused before gently laughing like : "That was unexpected..."

He finds your affection healing. After leaving a life of lonliness, your love and presence feels like a new light.

THAT MAN BLUSHES!

Every time you would bite his cheek or arm he would look confused, then blush, processing what you just did.

"Is this your way of showing fondness?"

His responses are always innocent, trying to understand the why you did that.

He finds it really cute.

He'll quickly get accustomed to it and will do the same.

He doesn't even resist or show any negative feelings toward it, while he's usually the composed and soft one, a bit of lovely chaos in his life is not for him to refuse!

But he'll be more on the gentle clingy side not straight out aggressive.

He'll hold you close, cage you in between his arms cooing at you, trying to make you laugh and never let go.

He's like a golden retriever, always ready for your little stunts and never gets tired of them.

"You are the most curious soul I've ever met. Please stay the way you are..."

𝐊𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐎...

Completely shaken.

Your random tight hugs or kisses on his cheek leave him STUNNED.

"Is this… affection? I am… not accustomed to such warmth."

He’s still learning how to interpret physical affection (MY SHAYLAA)

He doesn't really know how to return that much energy at first, he's used to being calm and composed so having an energetic s/o like this completely shatters that part of him.

He would be lying if he said he didn't like it.

The first time you bit him oh THAT MAN FLINCHED.

Not because it was painful but because never in centuries someone had done that to him EVER.

He's sooo touch starved but has no idea know how to initiate, so deep down he's very thankful that you're the one initiating it.

He would act like he doesn't like it at first. But secretely loves it!

He tried to bite you in return once, little did he know he created a kink.

Sometimes when you go under his radar and manage to "surprise" him, all six eyes blink slowly, staring down at you.

Processing your affection like it’s a puzzle before relaxing and sighing. (I promise he loves it tho)

*sees you approaching in his periphical vision*

"Don't."

"I haven't done anything yet!"

"You were going to."

"I wasn't...well okay please just one more bite-"

*he teleported somewhere far away from you*

𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐌𝐀...

ABSOLUTELY LOVES IT.

Finally someone who matches his energy!

Whereas bites, squeals or hugs he loves them all!!

He would wrap his arms around you and spin you in response everytime, with both of you squealing like idiots.

It's like a never ending mix of fun and banter.

He exaggerates every reaction just to make you laugh.

You would kiss his cheek ? He would fake-die dramatically.

The first time you bit him he just paused like "...", before smiling creepily.

And right there you knew you were done for...(Run if you still can..)

You're both biting each other now and he clings to you any chance he gets.

And that shi hurts fr tho like have you seen those FANGS ??

But deep inside… that affection means everything. He never had love like this.

"You know you can't hide from me right ? No matter where you are I'll always find you ~ My bites don't even hurt that bad I promise I won't bite you this time! I just want to feel you close again." he coos, looking for you.

"There you are."

"DON'T-"

*bite*

𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐀...

He would FREEZE then relax.

His body just naturally tenses at any contact after being so conditioned to react quickly if any fights were to occur.

You would bite his cheek softly and giggle. And he doesn’t react. Not at first. Until he exhales and whispers, (more to himself) "You’re dangerous…"

Not because of your strength, but because of how easy it is for him to let his guard down around you.

Over time, he starts seeking it.

And he'll start living for it. He acts like he’s unfazed but he adores how affectionately feral you are.

Like you could literally lunch yourself at him and he would catch you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And if you ever stop being aggressively affectionate — if you go quiet one day, that’s when you’ll realize how much he craves it.

"Hey. Bite me or something. I’m starting to think you’re mad at me..."

𝐆𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎...

He literally glitches like Muzan but worse. Affection?? For him???

If you bite his hand or cheek teasingly, he stares like you just unlocked a secret part of him.

"Wh...what are you doin’? Stop that! …No wait… don’t ?"

He thinks you’re making fun of him at first.

But when you kiss his scars like they're the most beautiful piece of art or call him cute names, he just melts.

Understanding that what you're showing him is just pure energetic affection and not mocking in any way, just a new kind of affection he never had access to before.

He would look away and blush at every cheek kiss or bites, feigning annoyance, muttering under his breath as if he wasn't craving it.

At first, he wouldn't know how to say thank you or reciprocate this aggressive affection.

So he would let you do it again. And again. Until it feels safe.

He eventually starts biting you back, but gently of course he's quite aware of his fangs ( *cough* not like a certain cult president) and playfully. His excuse ?

"Well YOU started it..."

⋆˚✿˖° Hey there!!! Hope you guys liked this one as well it was funny making it thanks for the request once again! And as said in my previous post I'm trying to post as much as I can like in the following days and might take a small break after! I apologize again, the requests might, as you can see, not come in orders! Ignore any grammar mistakes or misspelling once again please lol 😭 I'm sorry I'm trying my best!! Sending lots of love, xoxo. ⋆˚✿˖°

[kawaiikween666]

Thinking about needy, perverted boys.

Needy pervy boys who

get hard ons from any insult you throw at them , even if it’s sarcastic.

jerk themselves off while they think about all the ways you could be mean to them and use them.

fantasize about you using them as your personal dildo without any regard for their pleasure and however much energy they have left.

wish you’d spit on them and spit in their mouth and call them mean names :(

want you to bend them over and use your strap/dick on them like they’re a flesh light.

want you to tie them up with a vibrator, a cock ring, a chastity cage, nipple clamps and a gag while they squirm and beg for hours on end for some type of attention from you

have dreamed about you fucking them in a public space where there’s a high risk of you both being caught if he doesn’t shut up with his borderline whiny and girlish moans.

hump your leg desperately and pathetically looking for some type of relief

want you to fuck them absolutely stupid until they’re a blabbering mess.

Armin Arlert (AOT) | Enmu, Douma (Demon Slayer) | Nagito Komaeda (Danganronpa) | Solivan Brugmansia (The Kid at The Back) | Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds) | Coat Guy, Wireface (No I’m Not a Human) | Ren/[REDACTED] (14 Days With You) | Any of your faves!! <3