[Douma relaxingly lounging on a zabuton, her head resting on Y/N's head who's on her lap, humming–then stares down at him with her usual grin that doesn't have it's usual mockery]
Fem!Douma : Oh darling, it's quite troublesome and interesting... I thought I'd always see humans as fragile weaklings, toying with little humans like you is always oh so amusing... And yet, here I am, completely protective over you
[Y/N, who had been running his fingers through her hair, freezes, stares up at her and starts blinking]
M!Reader : ….Haha, well that means I'm lucky don't it?
[Douma reaches her hands down below Y/N's waist, making Y/N jolt from the sudden movement as Douma finally wraps her arms around his hips and now placing her head on his shoulder]
Fem!Douma : Why of course you are~ I could devour you in an instant, and yet, all I want is to keep you by my side forever and... Chuckles... Devour anyone who would touch you~
M!Reader : ….Somehow, that’s both the sweetest and the most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard.
[Douma chuckles, pulling him closer and starts rubbing her cheek onto his cheek with her genuine smirk and with her eyes closed]
Can douma absorb period blood through his dick? Kind alike cockwarming?
I swore I answered this one, so sorry 😭
To answer your question, I think he can absorb period blood with his dick, but that his dick would try to absorb the vaginal walls too, so it would be unpleasant for both him and the the person on their period (not gendering period for trans umbrella).
He would adore eating and drinking that blood, tho, and a lot more. While period blood tends to not be as rich as normal blood, he would definetely enjoy a change of taste of whst he regularly eats and like that the person keeps reacting to it. Would probably try to overstimulate the person, maybe even bite a little.
♡ cw: descriptions of sex, oral sex, unprotected sex, Douma being a complete liar, dominant Douma, Douma being a JERK, creampies? creampies, slight degradation & humiliation, loss of virginity, basically sexxxx.
♡ Douma is known for being cunning, so no figure he was able to fool you~
Humming softly you cleaned the delicate vases in the cool spring water allowing all sprinkles of dirt to get off of the vase. Your thin white dress was floating slightly in the water not bothering you the slightest. You would come down to this spring every now and then to wash different things, a way of blessing an item. Being an angel who had just recently arrived on earth you were getting used to the whole angel thing, you didn’t have much to do just visit small communities and offer small blessings. Blending in was easy, you had the appearance of a normal human your wings only being out when necessary since being here you haven’t run into any problems. Until.
Shaking the access water from the vase, you began making your way out of the water dressed, completely clinging to your body and showing off your lovely figure. Nipples poked through the long sheer gown, showing off the hue of the nubs.
“My my my, a woman shouldn’t be out here all alone you know” You turned your head left and right looking for the mysterious person who spoke suddenly. Facing back forward you were met with a pair of rainbow-colored eyes. You jumped slightly causing you to fall into the spring and drop the vase you were blessing causing it to break.
“Oh no you’ve fallen in, my deepest apologies. Please take my hand and allow me to help you out.” He smiled sticking his hand out to you. You took his hand as he helped you up and brought you out of the water.
“What might you have been up to? Out here all alone, how dangerous.” He kept that smile on his face, something about him was hypnotizing it was like his eyes put you in a trance.
“I was simply cleaning some belongings, I come quite often I was doing fine. Thank you for being concerned sir.” you smiled at him shaking the access water off of you.
“Oh no problem at all, a beauty like you must be protected you never know what could be lurking in the shadows out here ready to gobble your up.” His head tilted slightly to the side. Perhaps he was right, you know demons are real and they like to prey on the innocent. So it could be quite dangerous for you, you’ve only spent a total of 8 days on Earth and all has been swell so far.
“Perhaps you’re right, it is best that I do get going thank you for helping me.” you began walking away grabbing the one other vase that had not been broken.
“Ah, I can’t let you go just yet it is my fault that your other vase broke. It is only right if I replaced it. I have a dear friend who makes the loveliest vases you would just adore. So please allow me to replace it?” he placed his hands together almost begging you to come with him.
As an angel, giving the man a chance would be your moral duty. “Sure, however, I am soaking wet.” you sighed referring to the soaked sheer dress you were still wearing.
“Here” he wrapped an overshirt over your body, taking your hand. “Let us be on the way, I stay not too far from here” he began walking taking you with him. It took quite literally no time to get to his “home” it was more like a temple. Quite off that you did not see this any other time you wandered these woods, possibly you’ve missed some areas.
He pushed open a set of cold stone doors, the room decorated with nothing but shades of red and hints of black. The room was cold, not your average cold but below-freezing cold and you wearing wet clothing which made it no better. Your nipples began hardening making you cross your arms along your chest attempting to shield them from the male in the room with you.
“My would you like to shed your wet clothing? You would only get sick wearing such clothing at this temperature. I will go get you a towel, you may remove your clothing.” he hummed slightly making his way from the bedroom area. You began removing the overshirt from your body, laying it on a nearby rack. Peeling off the wet dress, you were left in your bare state. You had really no reason to wear any garments under your clothing, although you didn’t own any anyways. Jumping slightly, you felt a cloth being brushed along your skin.
“Shh it’s just me dear.” the familiar voice ranged out. He ran the cloth along your back, your arms, and slowly down your legs. It was almost embarrassing being exposed so freely to a man you hardly know but there was something so charming about him.
“No need to be so shy, I'm simply aiding you as it was my fault you fell in anyway.” he hummed. He made his way to the front of your body brushing the towel over your breast and making a circular motion with the cloth.
“Hm, it would be better if you at on the bed. I can dress you better that way” It was as if your body moved on its own causing your bottom to make a connection with the bed. He took the towel and began drying your left foot making way up your leg. Switching to your other foot, he began drying up your leg making his way up to your thighs. Taking the cloth he began drying your thighs, ensuring to absorb any moisture from the spring.
“Spread your legs,” he stated as if that was a normal thing to say to any woman.
“Uh, I-” Your face flushed to a shade of strawberry red.
“I’m just drying you off any I can’t dry you properly when you’re clamping your legs together locking their moisture in,” he states hands finding themselves on your plush thighs. Although it did not matter considering the strong grip he had on your thighs, you cracked your legs open slightly only for him to spread them wide open. Taking the cloth once more, he began wiping at the inner parts of your thighs getting rid of the last bit of spring water. He dropped the cloth to the floor, allowing his ice-cold hands to dance along your body. He ran a finger up your body, stopping right at your chin.
“You just smell of innocence, never been touched by a man or woman if you’re into that. The way you glide through the water of the spring just begging to be eaten up.” your face twisted up in confusion, what was he getting at?
“As I was drying you, you don’t think I noticed the way you tensed up or the way you clamped your legs together as if begging for me to touch you more?” he brought his face close to yours those rainbow eyes glowing even in a room with little to no light.
“Sir I must not do this, it isn’t right and I must remain pure.” you turned your head away from him.
“You will still be pure, just do whatever your heart desires~” his cold tongue licked along the side of your neck making you squeal. He lapped at your neck licking from the bottom all the way to the tip of your chin. You felt him push your body back slightly, your back coming in contact with the cool sheets. His large body towered over yours with ease. He licked at your neck again, this time trailing down making way from your shoulders to your right nipple. He licked ever so lightly at the bud that had been hardened by the temperature causing your to squirm under his body. He took his time with your nipple, sucking at the bud getting it nice and wet, rolling it along his tongue. He brought one of his fingers up your leg, dancing its way up to your warm entrance. You’ve never been touched by anyone like this before, it was a new feeling of complete bliss. Your body felt as if it had electricity flowing through it. His finger poked at your entrance, swiping slightly to remove the stickiness of your juices that held your folds together. Stroking at your entrance was enough to get your hips rolling. Just as he switched from your right nipple to your left, you felt him insert one of his cold fingers inside your warmth. He moved the solo finger slowly, allowing you to adjust to his finger. The feeling of his finger inside you and him toying with your nipple was almost enough to send you over the edge.
He released your nipple from his mouth, a thin trail of saliva bridging between the two. Your body tensed up as you felt him slide down to your lower half, cool breath tickling at your entrance. Taking both of his hands, he pushed your thighs apart spreading them to the widest of their ability. You felt his tongue lick with the perfect amount of pressure at your clit causing you to let out an erotic moan. You heard him chuckle slightly before he dove into your cunt licking sloppily while sucking harshly at the right areas. He sucked at your clit rolling the nub along his tongue, cool breath mixed with your warm heat causing your back to arch off of the bed. He gripped at your thighs, cuffing them into his hands holding you in place as he lapped at your cunt as if it was his last meal on earth. Your hands soon found their way to his golden hair, gripping the hair in your fist tight but not tight enough that it’ll cause pain. As if it was not enough already, you felt him release one of your thighs, taking two of his fingers and pushing them into your entrance. You groaned feeling the pressure of his fingers mixed with the feeling of him eating at your heat. Before you know it, he flipped you over so you were now on all fours and he was laying flat on his back. Your body hovered over his as he locked his hands into your thighs once more, pushing your heat down onto his face and allowing him to smother himself with your juices. The feeling was too much as your legs began shaking, but that did not stop his pace at all. With one final suck at your clit your body trembled to feel a euphoric feeling flood over your body.
You began catching your breath, chest heaving with each breath. You have never experienced this feeling, not once in 100 years. Was this wrong? Dragging you out of your thoughts you felt something fairly large Without any warning, you felt your inside being stretched to the fullest. The feeling was a mix of pain and pleasure and at the moment you were definitely feeling more pain.
“Please Sir I can’t take it.” your face scrunched up as the burn started to slowly fade.
“Oh but you can, and you will” he smiled showing those rainbow eyes. Looking into them almost had you in a trance, you didn’t realize that he began moving as you stared so deeply into his eyes. It wasn’t until a sharp snap of his hip that brought you to your sense. With every stroke he was slow but sharp, letting you feel every inch that he had to offer. Taking your hands and pinning them above your head, he began adjusting the pace. Things had gone from slow and sharp to a new pace of fast and rough. Each thrust was jagged, snapping so harshly into you as if he wanted to rip you in half. Your breast bounced at each thrust, the bed creaked loudly through the room, and the only sound left would be the sound of your squelching cunt that filled the room with its wetness.
“Fuck, you’re so tight I could barely fit still.”
“Gonna stretch you out nice and good just for me.”
“My hell you’re so fucking wet’“
You whined as his fast rough pace began puncturing your insides, you could feel every inch of him within the deepest parts of your stomach. Your cunt swallowed him whole, as it had been stretched as if it had been perfectly molded to his shape. He removed himself from you, once more finding yourself being flipped back onto all fours. He pushed you back down creating the perfect arch for him, allowing himself to push deeply back into you, The burning was still there as his raw flesh met your soft spongy walls. He dug himself deep into you, the deepest you’ve felt him go so far. He lowered his body, his chest resting on your back as he wrapped his hands around your lower waist slamming himself deep into you. You gripped the sheets under you, as a new wave of please came over your body.
“Sir please” you called out eyes shut tight body barely can hold on much longer. He licked at your ear, whispering a bunch of sweet nothings.
“Who would’ve ever thought that fucking an angel would be this easy? Oh, I have to tell the other uppermoons.” he chuckled body still pressed deep into yours. Uppermoons? What..
“Demons and angels aren’t supposed to be together but I think we fight together perfectly like two missing puzzle pieces.” Demon...? He was a demon?
“Oh don’t tell me you really couldn’t tell. How sad, the big scary demon just devoured the poor innocent angel. What are the odds you let a demon not only fuck you but take your first time?” he laughed not missing a single thrust.
“Don’t tell me you like that, your clamping down on me mighty tight” Your face flushed with shock so many emotions ran through your head.
“Don’t worry, your Lord Douma will take good care of you.” he snapped his hips sharply one last time enough to push you over the edge. You felt his own bodily fluid mix with yours, invading your intimate areas. He pulled himself out of you, laying your body down softly. He propped himself up staring at you with those rainbow eyes once more, this time a kanji symbol appearing in them. How can you be so dense, sadly to say you kinda liked it?
Welcome to the Douma brainrot!! I would like to ask you to write something about Douma experiencing emotions for the first time thanks to his S/O but, since he doesn't really get what he's feeling, he just starts becoming more obsessive towards them because he wants to know more~
oooh, i hope this is somewhat along the vein of what you were hoping for! also have i told you guys how awesome you are with these prompts? because holy shit
veins are lit and my blood's on fire (douma x gender neutral!reader, demon slayer)
Douma feels… strange, around you.
He’s grown attached to humans before, deigned to keep them around because they roused his interest or had some talent or skill he found pleasing. Never has he felt anything more than passing amusement for them, or pity.
But you… What is it that he feels for you?
Douma ponders it while he watches you sleep, your head pillowed on his lap and your breaths coming deep and even. He reaches for your face, nails dragging along your cheek. Your nose scrunches at the ticklish touch, but you slumber on, unbothered.
Hmm. Curiosity, perhaps? He certainly finds some merit of surprise in your ability to slumber so peacefully in the presence of a demon such as he. You’re no fool; you know he is no human, or at least you must suspect it, and yet you seek him out regardless, wishing to remain in his presence without succumbing to the simpering pleas and praise his followers lay at his feet.
Douma finds it… refreshing, and as he studies your sleeping face, tracing its dips and curves with his colorful eyes, he wonders what other surprises you might have in store.
*
It was inevitable that you should see him this way.
He watches you tremble on the threshold, your eyes darting between his blood-stained face and the lifeless girls strewn about his feet. You seem frozen, rooted in place by the spectacle, and though he smiles at you, lips curled in a welcoming grin, something blooms in the vicinity of his chest that he can’t quite identify when you flinch.
“My dear - “ he starts, and as if your body were merely waiting for the sound of his voice, it jerks violently away from the door. Away from him.
Ah, he realizes as he rises to his feet. That feeling in his chest has deepened, intensified, and he knows now what it must be.
Disappointment.
You cry out as he appears before you, falling back onto your rump and trembling like a leaf in a storm when he follows.
“Surely you knew,” he says, falling to his knees atop your frozen form. A bitter film costs the back of his throat at the obvious evidence of your fear, and he fights the urge to frown.
“Please don’t d-devour me,” you plead, and he has never seen your eyes filled with such fright.
He laughs, or tries to. It’s not as joyous as its usual fare, and for the first time in his long, long life, the blood caking his mouth tastes sour. How annoying.
“I have no desire to,” he tells you honestly, lifting a hand free of blood to cup your cheek. He half-expects you to flinch away, but you remain still, watching his face, searching his eyes. What must you be searching for, he wonders. He’s grown so dreadfully curious about what thoughts must be going through your head. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me at an… indelicate time,” he chuckles, glancing over your head to the remnants of his half-devoured meal. “Sorry about that!”
Your chest rises and falls beneath his. You’re shivering and afraid, but you’re listening.
The thought of giving you up is a distasteful one. The thought of devouring you, as scrumptious as you might taste, is even worse.
Douma sighs.
Confusion swims in your eyes as he releases you, rising to his feet and gesturing toward the threshold to his chambers.
“Go,” he tells you, though his insides churn unpleasantly at the thought. He buries his hands beneath his robes to prevent them from snatching you back into his arms, inwardly marveling at the strange sense of desperation clawing at his gut.
You rise clumsily from the floor, studying him for a long moment before you scurry from the room. Your scent lingers in his nostrils long after you’ve disappeared, and though his teeth clench and his nails bite into his palms with the strength of the urge, he does not pursue you.
Instead, he returns to his meal, though where once he would have feasted with abandon, after your departure his hunger feels muted, his feeding lackluster.
Strange, he thinks, frowning as he casts his morsel aside. He stares at the threshold to his room, empty and bereft of your presence. Somewhere in the vicinity of his chest, something aches.
This feeling, he could do without.
*
He doesn’t expect to see you again.
And yet… here you are.
He says nothing as you approach him, your hands folded over a book and your eyes determinedly cast to the ground. You settle at his side, your customary position since this peculiar attachment began, and crack open the spine of your tome without saying a word.
Douma studies you - there are shadows beneath your eyes that denote a clear lack of sleep, and though you’re taking great strides to appear nonchalant, your fingers tremble against the pages of your book.
But Douma is feeling generous, and says nothing of it. Instead, he grins, his cheeks aching with the strength of it, and when he catches you watching him, his smile only grows.
Once again, you’ve surprised him. What’s more, the sour feeling in the pit of his stomach has completely dispersed, leaving behind something that he might dare to call relief.
Imagine that! Is this what it is to be truly human, to be overcome by one debilitating emotion after another? How do they ever get anything done?
What more could you teach him? Surely there must be more, agonies and bliss the likes of which Douma has always observed in others, but never experienced himself.
The demon can hardly wait to feel them all.
*
Hunger, Douma recognizes - felt and indulged without a thought whenever the desire struck him.
Hunger like this -
Well, he has never experienced hunger quite like this.
Your eyes are wide, blown black save for the lantern light reflected in their depths. Your skin burns where your bodies touch - hips, chest, thighs exuding heat - but every remaining inch blooms with the chill of his Blood Demon Art.
Douma traces the fingers of ice that drift along your arms, your throat, your legs, leaving raised gooseflesh in their wake. Spiderweb-thin and clear as glass, the ice encases you like a second skin, leaving you shivering from head to toe, and though he’d fed hours before - and overindulged, if he were being honest, in preparation for this encounter with you - hunger gnaws at Douma’s flesh at the sight of your trembling.
What a glorious feeling! He’s practically trembling himself at the strength of it, stricken with the desire to ravage, to consume, but not to devour.
He thumbs at your bottom lip, and when the temptation proves to be too great, ducks his head to get in a quick nip. It isn’t hard enough to break skin, but Douma feels the blood rise to the surface, leaving your mouth tingling with a delectable warmth that he can’t resist chasing after.
And oh, how quickly you rise to meet him! Your hands grasp at his clothes, your thighs squeeze at his hips, and your mouth falls open on a sodden gasp whenever he dares to pull his teeth away. It’s hunger, it must be, the same desperate, clawing ache that has taken to gnawing at Douma’s insides at the mere sight of you.
What agony!
More, he thinks, circling your neck with a row of sucking bites, tasting ice and blood and the salt of your skin. Each cry and moan and gasp of his name is fuel for the hunger tearing through him; he wants to hear more, to taste more, to feel more.
How lucky Douma is, that you’re so desperate to give it.
I was summoned when I read the name "Douma"!!! My trash monster husband! Please write about Douma wanting his S/O to be turned into a demon so they can live together forever, but read isn't sure of this. But Douma insists so much
ohoho, i love this prompt and really hope i did it justice. having only the anime to go off of, i did wind up catching up on the chapters with douma in them to get a better idea of his character, hopefully that comes through here. enjoy!
tw: manipulation
the weight of your world in my spine (douma x gender neutral reader, demon slayer)
“Imagine it,” Douma tells you, his hands grasping yours in near-childish glee. His sharp nails pinch at your skin, one of many unintentional pains he bestows upon you. He forgets, sometimes, of your fragility. Or forgets to acknowledge it. “I could teach you all I know, nurture you into a fine demon. Perhaps you may one day climb the ranks to join my side as an Upper Moon, hmm? What a pair we would make!”
A pair of killers. Blood-borne monsters.
“And what of your master?” you ask, finding that path of thought far easier than the one Douma seeks to lead you down. “Would he not be displeased, to know you bestowed such a gift upon me?”
Douma laughs, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. “Master Muzan trusts my eye,” he tells you, his eyes drinking you in, colorful prisms bisected by the kanji that denote his rank. “And there is none so worthy as you.”
How you managed to catch the eye of such a creature, you would never know. You wait for the day his strange infatuation wanes in favor of his hunger, but though he gazes upon you with fevered glee and touches you with an eagerness that threatens to consume you, your blood remains unshed.
Should you count yourself blessed? Or cursed?
The answer eludes you.
“Tell me you will consider it,” Douma urges you, his fingers squeezing yours. You wince at the sharp sting of his nails against your flesh, but his eager eyes, brilliant in the light of the moon, are your undoing.
“I will,” you promise, and you mean it. Perhaps that should frighten you most of all.
*
Spring has barely graced the land with its breath when your village is beset by a storm. Ice and snow blanket the ground, smothering the newly sprouted crops and sending your neighbors shivering into their homes.
A last lash of winter’s might? You have your doubts.
Doubts which are proven true when you awaken in the night, trembling from the cold, to Douma’s gleeful face.
“The night is young, my dear,” he tells you, hand held aloft and nails extended toward you. “Come, play with me.”
You’re trembling before you even leave the sanctity of your bedroll; by the time Douma pulls you out into the snow, your teeth are chattering.
Rather than annoy the demon, he seems enthralled by your body’s reaction. “Oh my! You’re shaking like a leaf!”
He pulls you close, spinning you gaily into his arms as if in dance. The cold steals your breath, pricking your flesh like barbs, and you huddle close to the demon in a desperate urge to leech some warmth from his skin.
And warm he is, flushed with the satisfaction of a demon well-fed.
If he kissed you now, you think foggily, you would taste blood.
That thought should terrify you, and yet you burrow closer, pressing your face into the crook of Douma’s shoulder and snaking your arms around his waist.
He smells of incense and blood, iron and ice, and his arms, when they wrap around you, hold tight.
“If I knew you’d missed me this much,” Douma chortles, his lips moving against your ear, “I would have returned to your side much sooner.” His nose grazes your jaw as he ducks his head, wisps of his silvery hair tickling your skin. You wonder if this is the moment he tastes your flesh, and brace for the impact of those sharp teeth to break your skin. “Have you missed me?” he asks you, and you can picture him perfectly, his teeth poised against your throat as he awaits your answer. Your pulse begins to race.
“O-of course, Lord Douma,” you stutter, your words trembling from the cold.
“And what of my offer?” The sharp points of his canines catch at your skin, and a shiver rockets through your frame hard enough to jerk your body within the cage of the demon’s arms. He laughs against your throat, throaty and warm. “Have you come to a decision yet?”
Your breath catches, the icy air chilling your throat. Would he truly accept any answer other than the one he desires?
And what is it that you desire? To accept his offer, to become a demon? To remain by his side for as long as you lived, even if it meant consuming the flesh of humans to sustain yourself?
“I - “ you start, your pulse pounding like a drum at the base of your throat. “I am afraid.”
Douma pulls back to gaze upon your face, taking in your expression with a curious gleam in his colorful eyes. “A detriment of your kind,” he replies, though he doesn’t seem displeased by your answer. “To be discarded with ease when you become a demon.” When, not if. He pushes his brow against yours, his breath warming your face. “No fear, no pain, only you and I and all the years stretching out before us. How powerful we would be. How beautiful.”
Despite your fear, his words curl within your mind like a great serpent basking in the warmth of the sun. You can think of little else but the world he lays at your feet - a life everlasting, and at his side.
And still you cannot give him the answer he wants. Not yet.
Douma sees it in your face, and though his eyes become glacial for a short, sharp moment, it doesn’t take long for his usual cheerful mask to slip back into place.
“It would be a lie to claim I wasn’t disappointed,” he tells you, his palm curling around your cheek. “I had hoped to entice you to my side tonight, you see. But I can be patient.” His nails drag along your skin, curling around the jut of your chin. Those eyes bore into yours, wheels of color in a sea of white. “A little longer then, yes? I can grant you that.”
He doesn’t say it, but you know - the next time he asks will be the last.
*
You reek of fear and desperation, and though Douma’s arms around you serve as protection enough against the gazes of the other demons gathered around you, your body trembles with the desire to flee far from this dreadful place.
“You take far too many liberties, Douma,” a crimson-haired demon snarls, eying you with thinly-veiled disgust.
“Jealousy is unbecoming of you, Akaza,” Douma teases, making a show of dragging you closer, his chest flush against your back. “Be nice, yes? You’ve a new sibling soon enough. I would think you’d be thrilled.”
The demon - Akaza - scoffs, but leaves the pair of you to your own devices without further comment. You cannot say the same for the others - a dark-haired demon who watches you with three pairs of yellow eyes, a beautiful demoness who eyes you with cruel glee, and a woman clothed in black whose face is shadowed by her long, black hair.
There are others, you know. You can feel them somewhere in this strange fortress, and you know they can feel you too.
“Pay them no heed,” Douma murmurs against the crown of your head. His voice is light and airy, bloated with joy. “They are eager to welcome you into the fold, but the night is young and they are hungry.” The implication is clear, and though you are frozen with fear, you cannot bring yourself to be surprised that this is where you’ve wound up. You knew it was coming. Your fate had been decided long ago.
“Tell me,” Douma urges you, his hand cupping your throat, nails scratching lightly at your skin. “Will you accept my offer?”
To say no would ensure your death - of that, you have no doubt. Whether it would be Douma or one of his cohorts to strike the blow, you cannot say, but it is coming. You have finally run out of time.
And you are human, and you are afraid, and there is no answer other than the one you know you must give. The one Douma wants.
You need to know then that Douma is very, very evil (and sexy). He seems silly but he's actually cunning, and again, evil. He'd definitely be the delusional yandere, and that's what I'm going to ask here: he stalks his love, invade her house at night while she's sleeping and watches her. He talks to everyone like he and reader are already a couple. Meawhile reader is like "who this man?" thank you and happy b-day (late sorry)
after catching up on the manga, i gotta say your description of him is spot-on lmao. hope you enjoy this!
tw: dub-con
unravel, devour (douma x gender neutral!reader, demon slayer)
You have a shadow.
You catch him in the corner of your eye one night - a flash of silver hair and the edge of a sharp smile in the crowd - but when you turn your head, he’s gone. You feel the prickle of eyes on the back of your neck all the way home, and though when you check there is nothing but the wind and the moon and the cold glimmer of a thousand stars staring back at you, you take care to fasten the latch on your door as soon as you scramble inside.
The next morning, you find a rose on your window sill, its petals icy blue and wreathed in frost. When you press curious fingers to the stem, a lance of cold encompasses your body, sharp as steel and bone-deep. You jerk away from the offending chill, shuddering violently, and unease grips your heart as you recall the strange man in the marketplace. Had he done this? Left this in the night, without your knowing?
You're being foolish, you tell yourself, rubbing your arms to chase away the lingering chill and casting your eyes away from the flower. You’re on edge for the rest of the day, unable to shake the sense of paranoia that clings to your mind as you go about your tasks, your thoughts drifting time and time again to the visage of that strange man you had glimpsed the night before.
You find yourself lingering in the Entertainment District long past dark, purely for the added sense of safety the crowd provides you. Scanning the street proves pointless, affording you no sign of silver hair, though you strain for some sign of the man’s presence anyway.
It’s only when you hear the girls on the balcony above you crooning at someone in the crowd that you spot him.
Silver hair, pale skin, that sharp smile, and -
“Ooh, those eyes!” The girls above you sound positively enamored, and despite your fear, you can’t begrudge them their admiration.
You’ve never seen such brilliant eyes, the irises boasting every color of the rainbow in a display that both repels and fascinates you.
“I’m afraid I’m already preoccupied this evening,” he calls cheerily up to the girls, who parrot a chorus of disappointment before turning their sights to more amenable patrons.
The man’s eyes never leave yours. The crowd ebbs around him, parting automatically as if by instinct to avoid contact, and though you long to flee from his sight, you find yourself rooted to the spot.
Until he smiles - joyously, welcoming, and full of teeth.
You run, cold fingers burning a trail of ice down your spine. You feel his eyes on your back long after you’ve escaped his sight.
No human had those eyes. No human had those teeth. No human could craft such delicate flowers from ice and leave them on your window without alerting you to their presence.
That strange man was no man at all, but a demon.
Your sleep that night is restless. You wake in a panic more than once, eyes darting about your home in search of your silver-haired shadow, and though you find yourself alone each time, your body remains tense, your heart thrumming uncomfortably in your chest.
Despite your unease, you eventually succumb to slumber, though your dreams are filled with the demon, those brilliant eyes gleaming with desire while he works to devour you.
You wake with a start, at once fearful and strangely flushed, only to realize in shock that you’re not alone.
“Did you dream of me?” The voice is a silken drawl against your ear, the weight of the man - the demon - against your back making your blood run cold. The arm tossed about your waist feels like a vice. “Tell me.”
“W-who - “ you stutter, struggling to force the syllable past your lips. Fear grips your tongue, but it isn’t alone - a cold the likes of which you’ve never felt before has overtaken your home, and when you search for its source, you’re dismayed to see your window and door covered in a thick layer of ice. Despite your certainty that morning has come, the ice blocks even a hint of light or warmth from seeping in.
“Oh, you needn’t worry about the sun,” the demon rumbles, having no doubt noticed the direction of your gaze. “My ice is impenetrable. Nothing will interrupt our day together.”
“Our day - ?” you repeat, utter confusion overtaking your fear. “Sir, I - “
"Sir?” the demon laughs, the boyish sound at odds with the fierce strength he’s displayed so far. “I assure you, my love, Douma will suffice.”
You barely register the reveal of his name. My love, he called you, when you had never even met. “I… I don’t know you. You don’t know me.”
“Of course I do,” he insists, and in a moment he’s hovering over you, hands pressed to the ground on either side of your head. His long hair pools over his shoulder, silvery strands tickling your cheeks, and this close, you can see that those brilliant irises are scarred with the characters for Upper Two. “You’re drawn to me, are you not? Don’t lie - I’ve seen it, seen you searching for me, seeking me out. You even accepted my gift.”
He gestures to the rose sitting on your windowsill, perfectly preserved in its layers of frost.
You open your mouth to protest, to insist that he’s mistaken, but before you can, Douma lowers his head, his lips parting to reveal the tips of his sharp teeth.
“We’ve both had our fun with this little game of cat and mouse, have we not?” His eyes gleam with promise, with desire, and it’s so similar to your nightmare that your heart leaps into your throat. “I think it’s time we both claim our prize.”
You close your eyes as his mouth touches yours, your lips falling open on a gasp of terror as you brace for pain, for blood, for the agony of being devoured.
But the demon seems content to merely kiss you, lips moving nimbly against yours - soft as the petals of the flower he had gifted you and not nearly as cold as you’d expected.
You contemplate jerking your mouth from his, remaining unresponsive or biting his lip in retaliation, before you feel the barest sting of his teeth raking over your bottom lip and remember exactly who - and what - you’re dealing with.
It’s easier than you’d wish to surrender yourself to his ministrations, allowing your mouth to soften beneath his and your lips to pry easily around his tongue. The pleased sound Douma releases at your supplication startles you as much as your reaction to it - your body flushes hot, your fingers twitching and curling into fists to prevent yourself from doing something foolish, whether that be attempting to push Douma off of you or pulling him closer.
And yet it appears your body has a mind of its own, for between one frantic heartbeat and the next, you find your fingers grasping handfuls of the demon’s silvery hair - pulling, yes, but not away.
“Sweet,” Douma murmurs against your mouth, huffing a laugh that warms your already burning lips. “I knew as much. Sweet enough to swallow whole.”
Your breath stutters at his words, though your body remains pliant and warm beneath his. You’ve felt his strength, seen his power, and as much as you might wish to rebel against whatever appetites he seeks to satisfy with you, there is no scenario where you escape from his grasp unscathed.
And so you reach for him yourself, swallowing his pleased laugh with a kiss of your own, hoping that sating one desire will save you from the other, and knowing your fate has been sealed either way.
