Commissions

Upper Moons & Muzan in heat - headcanons

Warnings: fem!reader, some extra short smut, suggestive content Synopsis: If Muzan and the Upper Moons were in heat, how would they behave? Requested by: @within-eyesight ♥

MASTERLIST

Muzan

When Muzan Kibutsuji, the progenitor of demons, enters his heat, his desires become insatiable. Known for his pride and desire for control, Muzan prefers to initiate spicy time by seducing his chosen partner, whether it's a demon or a human. He uses his supernatural charm and allure to captivate them completely. Muzan's approach is subtle yet forceful, employing a mix of his demon powers and charismatic personality to bring his partner under his spell. Once he has them fully enraptured, Muzan revels in dominating them completely, pushing their limits and indulging in their darkest fantasies.

​Kibutsuji, his eyes glowing crimson, leans in close to you, a human whose heart races in both fear and anticipation. He runs a slender finger along their trembling jawline, relishing the way your breath hitches in response. "Oh, my dear, you have no idea how desperately I crave you. Your every breath, your every moan will be mine to savor. Surrender yourself to me, and I promise to show you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams." His voice drips with a potent mixture of desire and command, sending shivers down your spine. Muzan's predatory gaze never wavers as he slowly traces a trail of delicate kisses along your neck, his lips brushing against your skin like velvet.

You remain unaware of the exact moment when and how Muzan overpowers you, pinning you forcefully to the wooden floor of his chamber. His immense weight presses down upon you relentlessly as he thrusts his cock back and forth, filling the room with the sounds of his deep grunts and your subdued whimpers. Desperately, you clutch onto his shoulders, clinging for dear life.

Douma

Douma, the Upper Moon Two, has a reputation for his sadistic and playful nature. When he experiences his heat, he becomes even more mischievous and unpredictable. Douma initiates spicy time by luring his desired partner into a twisted game of cat and mouse. He enjoys toying with their emotions, tantalizing them with hints of pleasure while also teasing and tormenting them. Douma's approach is characterized by a constant push-and-pull dynamic, alternating between intense moments of passion and sudden withdrawal. He thrives on the thrill of the chase and the element of surprise, making the experience an exhilarating rollercoaster ride for both himself and his partner.

​Douma smirks devilishly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he toys with you, a mere human being who struggles to resist his charm. He teases you with a sultry laugh, his voice tinged with anticipation. "Oh, my sweet little plaything, you can try to run, but we both know you'll come crawling back for more. The game has just begun, and I can't wait to see how long you can withstand my insatiable appetite." His voice carries a seductive lilt as he closes the distance between you, his fingers dancing along your exposed skin of your shoulders with featherlight touches. Douma revels in the power he holds over you, your reactions fueling his insatiable desire for control.

With both legs positioned against his wide shoulders and your head tilted back, you express audible pleasure by moaning and screaming his name with every forceful motion Douma delivers, intensifying as he penetrates you deeper due to the angle, his sturdy grip caressing your breasts as he pounds into you with full force.

Akaza

Akaza, also known as Upper Moon Three, is a relentless and fierce warrior. During his heat, his primal instincts take over, intensifying his already formidable strength. Akaza initiates spicy time by engaging in combat-like foreplay, combining his martial arts prowess with his desire for dominance. He enjoys testing his partner's resilience and stamina, pushing them to their limits physically and emotionally. Akaza revels in the raw power and passion of the experience, seeking to establish his dominance over his partner. However, beneath his aggressive exterior, Akaza also craves a genuine connection, albeit in a somewhat twisted and possessive manner.

​Akaza, his eyes burning with a primal fire, circles you, a brave human who stands your ground despite your trembling, trying to fight him. His voice carries a hint of aggression, mingled with desire. "You dare to challenge me? Your strength is admirable, but it's your resolve that entices me. Let's see how long you can endure my touch, how long you can withstand the overwhelming heat that consumes us both." His deep voice resonates with a mixture of dominance and longing as he closes the distance between you, his powerful aura enveloping you. Akaza's touch is both demanding and tender, leaving a trail of heat in its wake as he explores your body with possessive determination.

Soon, you're riding him, feeling the touch of his calloused hands on the curves of your waist, urging you to quicken your pace with each movement of your hips. Akaza's head tilts backward as he endeavors to enhance the pleasure, meeting your rhythm by thrusting his own hips into you, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix with each push.

Kokushibo

Kokushibo, the Upper Moon One, embodies elegance and refinement. During his heat, his typically composed demeanor becomes more intense and passionate. Kokushibo initiates spicy time by creating an atmosphere of elegance and sensuality. He engages in elaborate rituals and ceremonies, drawing inspiration from traditional Japanese aesthetics. Kokushibo's approach is marked by grace and precision, focusing on the art of pleasure and the exploration of his partner's senses. He values the harmony of body and soul, seeking to transcend the physical realm through a deep connection with his chosen partner. Kokushibo's desires are a delicate balance of refinement and primal urges.

​Kokushibo, his dark hair cascading around him like a waterfall, gazes into the eyes of yours, a human filled with a mix of curiosity and nervousness after meeting Upper Rank One for the very first time. He speaks softly, his voice resonating with elegance. "Ah, my dearest child, let us transcend the boundaries of pleasure. Through artful touch and sacred connection, we shall discover depths of ecstasy beyond mortal comprehension. Allow me to guide you on this exquisite journey of the senses. Trust me." His words hold a poetic quality, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of wisdom and desires. Kokushibo's movements are graceful as he traces intricate patterns along your skin, every touch deliberate and filled with reverence. He revels in the symphony of your desires, seeking to create an experience that blends the physical and spiritual realms.

You find yourself on all fours, feeling the weight of Kokushibo's strong hand pressing your head firmly against the mattress as he thrusts into you with an intense, primal rhythm, his grip tight on your hip as your plump ass jigles with each of his thrusts. You can't help but anticipate the bruises that will surely adorn your hips tomorrow.

Bitter Poison

(The sequel to Sweet Elixir)

Pairing: Sub!Muzan x Dom! Female Reader

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

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

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

By all accounts it was a bloodbath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Muzan despised humans. 

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

But…

Not you. 

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

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

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

And then you kissed him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were his moon now. 

His only moon. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. I killed the doctor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ngh…” He panted. “I’m… almost—”

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

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

“Good.” You stopped and released your grip. 

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

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

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

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

And who better to walk at his side for eternity?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pitiful? The gall…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn you. “Never.”

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

“I won’t say it.”

You pinched his nipple harshly, making him whine. 

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

“Good boy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And none of it mattered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Muzan…” you gasped, “that’s enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What– Muzan… what is this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had imbued you with near terrifying strength. 

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

Somehow, he had made you even stronger than himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Curse you. He was simply helpless. 

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

And he adored it. 

Can someone explain what they have to do with this 😭😭😭🙏🏼

Pov: Adam running to get married with Y/n

@russelross68 thanks for the idea!

POWERFUL

VALENTINO X DAUGHTER READER

PART 1 (part 2)

Summary: Being Valentino's daughter, you should be used to this, right? You should know him, right? But you really don't.

Genre: Smut, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Psychological

Note: Val is referred to as Daddy throughout, Readers age is not specified

WARNINGS: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Incest, Sexual themes, Sex scene (not involving Val or Reader), Val is an asshole, Val is a psycho, Sexual talk, Non-Con themes,

(SPOILER WARNINGS) Val forces reader to watch sex scene in shoot, Val undresses reader, Val asks reader sexual questions

Let me know if i missed any!

(Partially proof read)

The room is colder than usual, a lot colder. Even with the pink heater right next to your bed you still feel a chill go through your body. You can't even begin to reach out to make the room warmer, hands so shaky and stiff you feel like you'd die of hypothermia if you even tried to adjust the heater. 

So there you lay, wrapped in blankets of silk and soft fur and pink hues. You shiver, you sniffle, you even cry a little. 

Then after what feels like forever, the door to the room opens softly. You can barely peek over the covers, but you do anyway. You see Daddy's figure over the fluffy blanket, walking into the dark room and shrugging off his fur coat. He then flicks on the light switch, causing your eyes to water at the swift adjustment of light. Then Daddy looks over to you, wings floating hypnotizingly behind him like a cape. Every step makes you warmer, wanting to feel your Daddy's warm hand atop your head. 

"Oh my baby, you look so awful!" He gasps, jolting towards you so he can place his hand against your forehead. You feel comfort as you reply with a raspy 'hi'. 

"No, no, no. Baby we must get these blankets off you, you're burning up!" Daddy says, pulling the two thick blankets from your shaky frail body. You whine, trying to pull the blankets to your body again, but Daddy swats your hand away. “No, Baby. You can't have all those blankets on you. You’ll kill yourself, I can't let that happen to my precious girl, hm?” 

“But I'm cold..” you whine, voice crackly and sick as you sink yourself deeper into your pajamas. Daddy flashes a toothy smile, showing his bright golden tooth similar to your own. “I know you’re cold, but if you keep putting those fucking blankets on you you’ll just get more cold,” Daddy says, pushing your arms away from yourself so he can begin to unbutton your pajamas. You gasp, pushing his hand away. 

“What are you doing, dad?” You ask, re-buttoning the button he undid. Daddy pushes you back down to the bed softly, with his large hands against your chest. “Daddy.” he corrects, “I’m taking off these pajamas so you can cool down, doll. You can't be wearing these pajamas.” 

“O-oh.. okay Daddy,” you say, relaxing beneath Daddy’s touch as you watch him unbutton your buttons one by one. There's this weird feeling in your stomach that you can't really pinpoint, but you don't want it to stop either.. Every single button reveals a new patch of skin, a new area to Daddy and you like it. 

—

Today was the first day you could come with Daddy to one of his shoots, and you couldn't be more excited. Daddy is always open about his job, and sex, and really anything to do with the idea of sex. You've met Angel before, who is the person you’re going to see today in the shoot. Daddy even helped you pick out a good outfit, though most of your wardrobe is courtesy of Velvette. He'd ended up picking a cute dress for you and a fluffy red coat that kind of matches his own. 

“Okay baby, let me remind you that you can't talk during filming, but feel free to ask me any sexy questions you have.” He grins, his gaze dark. “Also don't go anywhere without asking, I don't wanna lose you in the many holes we have in the studio,” Daddy laughs, poking your cheek as he opens the door to the studio, pushing you in with a hand on the small of your back. 

Immediately you’re faced with many pairs of naked breasts and crotches, causing you to flush as you cover your eyes.

“Hello everyone! I apologize for the hold up, I was helping my daughter pick an outfit!” He presents you like a golden prize, though when he looks down at your small figure all he can see is your red face and covered eyes. He leans down to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Baby,” he says rather softly, “It's rude not to stare. Take a look around at my sex dungeon! They don't bite~” Daddy assures, watching as you take your hands from your face, looking around with a red face. 

“Okay everyone, let's start from the top, shall we? Do we have everyone?” 

An assistant finds themself at Daddy’s side, tapping his shoulder. He looks down at them, slightly annoyed as he nods.

“Um sir, we’re missing Angel Dust again, he wouldn't pick up the phone and we-” 

“He what? I told him multiple fucking times that today my daughter was coming- and you’re telling me he’s NOT FUCKING HERE!?” Daddy yells, causing you to flinch at his anger. This is usual for Daddy, yes, but he never gets so angry around you. He has tantrums, he yells, he throws things. But never around you. 

Suddenly he looks back to you, leaning down to your level. You can tell he's angry, very fucking angry. But he would never be angry at you. No. Never. 

“Baby, little issue. It appears Angel decided he had better things to do than fucking show up. So I'm just going to step out for a moment, okay? Make yourself comfortable on Daddy's chair for me, alright?” He says, squeezing your cheek as you look up at him with large eyes. You nod, looking over at the chair he's referring to before sitting on it, pulling your knees to your chest immediately as you do. Daddy smiles, patting your head. 

“Good girl,” Daddy purrs, turning around. “I’ll be right back,” he says, before stepping out of the room into a door you don't recognize. 

The chair he told you to sit on is beautiful, looking like a pair of mogh wings similar to the ones daddy has. Though they seem more like butterfly wings, really, up close almost having a regal feeling about it. You can't help but turn around on the chair, sitting on your knees as you drag your hand against the wire framing.

You don't know much about Daddy's job, really. You feel like you do, but you really don't. Being here, in the studio feels so new, despite every single time Daddy has talked about his studio to you. 

And the Daddy you saw today is also different. He is bigger, scarier, more intimidating and regal. Whilst the daddy you know is sweet, fun, cuddly, and soft. It's different, and you’re not sure you like this difference. He can't be like this actually though, right? He's just putting on a mask to keep his employees in line, right? 

Daddy’s chair reminds you of him. It's nice and pretty, and yet thin and odd. You don't understand him, and you like it that way. 

But do you? Do you really like not knowing him? 

You pull your coat tighter on your body, nuzzling into the soft fabric and familiar smell of Daddy’s perfume. You kind of miss Velvette right now. She's like a sister to you. She makes you so many clothes, she goes with you to Cafe’s, and she most of all knows you. 

You realize during this entire time you’ve been in your head Daddy has been outside of the room, and you’ve been in a room with a bunch of naked people. Maybe you could get comfortable with this, comfortable in the studio. 

With a bang of the door against the wall you see daddy stomping into the room, towards where you are currently sitting on your knees the wrong way around on his chair. He looks annoyed, very annoyed. Almost furious. Or he does until he meets eyes with you, immediately looking happy and chipper like he usually does. He smiles at you, before muttering something to his assistant and turning back to you. 

“Okay baby, he’s coming. Just a little miscommunication, he forgot it was today. Even though I told him fucking 100 times-” Daddy’s eye twitches in annoyance, before he remembers who he's talking to and smiles again. “He won't be long,” He says, picking you up effortlessly and sitting down, placing you on his lap. 

“Did you yell at him?” You ask, placing your hands against his broad chest. Daddy looks down, surprised; then he smiles, stroking your hair back and placing his hand on your lower back. “Well I had to, Baby. How else would I get my bitches to behave?” He asks, pulling you closer to him. You frown, looking at the ground. “I dunno.. maybe just be nice to them?” 

Daddy tilts his head, face unreadable. 

“What's that going to do? I don't want a bunch of brats running around my studio, baby. What Daddy does in his work is for a reason, baby. No need to question me, okay?” He says, placing up a figurative wall at the idea of treating his employees with more kindness. You nod, however. He's right, isn't he? You don't know anything about this, maybe you just have to be mean. 

Once again, a loud bang fills the room as a door hits the wall, angel dust running in obviously stressed and anxious. He looks around, before looking at Val and sprinting over. 

“I'm so sorry Val, I completely forgot. It won't happen again, I promise-” Daddy hushes him, a hand firm against your lower back. “Now now, Angel. It's fine. Just go over there and take off your clothes, we’re already behind schedule.” Daddy says, voice rather pensive yet commanding. Angel nods quickly, running over to his dressing room, emerging quickly completely naked. You blush, watching Angel run over to the set butt naked. 

The set is simple, a single couch, coffee table, and background wall with a heart pattern. Daddy said this shoot was about Angel’s Ex breaking in and…  raping him. Daddy said that rape is a very popular genre so he does a lot of them. Yet the idea makes you feel sick. 

“Baby, why so red? I can't have my baby girl be a prude,” Daddy utters, looking down at you through his heart shaped glasses. You shake your head, “No, I'm not.. I’m just not used to all this..” you look around. “Nudity..” You say, looking down at Daddy's hand as it moves to your bare thigh. Your leg tingles from Daddy’s golden claws. 

“Oh don’t worry Baby, you’ll get used to it~” Daddy purrs, leaning down to your ear. “Especially when we get to the fucking,” Daddy chuckles darkly, squeezing your thigh as he looks over to the director and nods. The direction squacks “ACTION!” And the scene begins. Immediately you can tell that Angel does not know how to act very well, but he does a good job nonetheless. 

“Oh no! It's my killer ex! W-what are you.. uh.. doing here!?” Angel yells, covering his bare crotch as his “ex” walks onto camera. He's a big strong guy with broad shoulders and pointy ears, wearing a signature ‘cool guy’ outfit with leather and chains. He grins, walking over to Angel's naked figure. 

“I’m gonna fuck you! Cause I miss you so much-” 

“Oh no! Someone save me!” Angel wails, placing a hand against his forehead as he leans back, as if he's a damsel in distress. Immediately the large man pounces onto Angel, tearing off his pants and shoving his large cock into Angel’s.. ass.. “No one’s saving you!” 

“Daddy,” you whisper, looking up at Daddy with wide eyes. “Yes Baby?” He whispers, thumb pressing into your inner thigh. “This scene is very…” you look over at the set, where Angel is getting railed by the large guy. “Brutal..” Daddy chuckles, placing a hand on your knee and shifting you so you straddle his thigh, facing the scene. “That's the point baby, this is how Daddy makes his money.” 

He places his sharp golden pointer fingers against your cheeks, making sure you face the scene and can't look away. You gulp, feeling a discomfort fill you as you watch the scene. Watch Daddy’s work. 

You feel Daddy's warm breath against your ear, raspy as he whispers, “Does he look like he's enjoying it?” Daddy asks, you answer, “No,” Daddy chuckles, “Good,” you feel his teeth against your ear, sharp and threatening. “Does it look like he's starting to enjoy it?” 

You look at the scene. 

“A little..” 

“Good, does it look sexy?” Daddy asks, closer to your ear than before, you can almost hear every syllable articulated. “...yes?” 

“Good” 

Daddy's hands are tighter on your face, making you look as the big one cums in Angel. 

“Do you like it?” 

You gulp, feeling Daddy's tongue against your ear. He’s just playing, right? 

“Y-yes..?” 

“Good girl,” he moves one hand to your thigh, lowering it so it's on your inner thigh. 

You see Daddy’s glowing pink eyes in the corner of your vision. 

“Are you wet, baby?” 

You gasp, feeling him lick his rough tongue firmly against your ear. 

“Yes,” 

Daddy presses just the knuckle of his pinky finger against your panties. 

“Perfect.” 

“CUT!” 

Daddy’s hands are immediately off of you. You can't see straight, your stomach in shambles. 

“Okay, let's set up the set for the next one!” The director yells. 

You look up at Daddy, who is looking at Angel. 

He was just playing, 

Right? 

Kimetsu no Yaiba Virtual Hug Project: 4/? (Muzan + Upper Moons + Enmu + Rui)

Finally completed the main demons from the series! This one took a long while compared to the rest… _(:3 」∠)_

The next set(s) of Virtual Hugs will now be done at my own pace, and I won’t reveal the exact list of characters I plan to draw. Do look forward to it, along with other projects that I have in mind!

As usual, you may save, repost or use the gifs on your blogs as you wish, so long as you adhere to the permissions posted! ٩( ᐛ )و

Important links:

Permissions

Master List

How to catch doumas eye!

Things that would help you catch his eye:

Be a human (I think he would like a weaker s/o cuz he likes the power difference)

Be a woman (We know he's far more interested in women then men)

Not be a demon slayer (If you'd catch his eye and you were a demon slayer he'd probably become hell bound on eating you :( )

Be pretty (kind of superficial but he likes a pretty lady)

Be a member of his cult (He would have to have self control around you and wouldn't immediately eat you so he'd get time to know you

To avoid being eating and let him live longer youd probably have to have a talent that could entertain him ex: Singing, dancing, acting(?) Maybe even be able to create things like paintings, pottery, woodworking.

He likes being worshipped so he'd like having you give him things you made or if you preformed for him. (Easy way to becoming a favorite)

A way to draw his attention towards you would to be quiet at first, not to fan girly like the other members. When you talk to him you talk to him as though he's just like you, a fellow human. Makes him feel more humane you know?

He likes mystery so not telling him how you wound up on his doorstep would enamor him and encourage him to get to know you better.

Ideal personality traits:

Caring: He would like watching you develop attached to things and express sympathy and gentleness since those are things he can't express.

Attentive: He would like it if you took notice to him being emotionless but wouldn't judge him. When he admitted to it and you said.

"What a terrible thing to live with."

He swore his heart almost started to beat.

A bit sassy/ snappy: If you were just nice all the time I feel he would get bored so throwing out the occasional sassy remark would entertain him, but if you were throwing insult after insult he'd get bored of your attitude and feel disrespected probably leading to him killing you. Its like a balance of both.

Quiet: As previously stated he'd be intrigued by someone's who's quiet and doesn't talk much even though it seems like he'd give up. He'd probably keep trying to talk to you and pry answers out of you or in the very least get more then one word answers.

When you open up to him he's as close as he can get to happy because he feels special!

Also I think he would like to be his s/o only relationship so they kind of depend on him for social interaction and physical contact.

Shy: He loves it when you mumble or speak quietly like he's in love with it because it makes you look so small and scared. He especially loves to tease making you get all flustered is a giant bonus.

Short post but I think I made it canon so I'm still pretty proud of this

The Owl Has Claws

Pairing: Travis x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, protectiveness, mentioned sex work, kissing, domestic fluff

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: Fic written for @everykewlusernameistaken.

You and Travis loved each other more then anyone in Hell. You may have had an open relationship but you cared for each other more then anyone in Hell and beyond. “Love ya, gotta go to work now but, hey, I might get a nice bonus. Then I’m taking ya to a fancy dinner.”

You smiled at Travis before he left for work. You knew how hard he worked to provide for both of you, and bragged about all the movies he got to direct. Before you watched him leave, you kissed him firmly, his ears moving back and forth in happiness.

There were a lot of movies that he directed, sometimes asking you if you think the script is good enough. “I’m not writing a porno for you Travis.” He barked out a laughter every time you brought that up.

As the day went by you couldn’t help but feel there was something you were forgetting. Something related to Travis. Not his hat, not his tie, not his phone, he texted you just a bit ago. What was it?

“Shit! His lunch!” It was still on the counter! You meant to give it to him but were then swept up in his flattering words.

You picked it up and rushed out the door. You never met his boss but you heard stories about the great, big and scary Valentino. One of the VVV’s and the leading man of any aspect of adult entertainment in the Pride ring. Also stories of him being rather harsh and unforgiving to his employees when they made mistakes.

You couldn't help but feel nervous as you made your way to Valentino's Studio. The hallways were dimly lit and the air was thick with the scent of smoke, alcohol and sex. You took a deep breath and knocked on the door, hoping that you wouldn't make a fool of yourself in front of the infamous Valentino, and your boyfriend.

Valentino's voice boomed from inside the room, yelling insults to whoever was in the room with him. You entered cautiously, clutching the lunch box tightly in your hands. The room was cast in red and pink lights, a filming room, staff members running from one end to the other. It was more organized then you thought it be. “Wow.” You whispered, catching the attention of Travis and Valentino.

“Sugar?” Travis’s voice came out as a high squeak, his ears flat against his head.

“That’s your bitch?” His imposing figure and sharp gaze made you feel even more intimidated. “Travis, you sly owl. How’d you ever get a hottie like that?”

Travis looked from side to side, almost looking guilty of something. Guilty and mildly scared. “Ah, I’m a lucky man, mister Valentino.” His grin felt completely forced as he looked up at the tall moth demon. Valentino chuckled at his reply and turned his attention to you, the new person in the room.

Valentino walked towards you slowly, three hands on his hip, one holding his cigar and taking a long drag of the red smoke. The drug that he makes. “Hm, and what exactly brings you here sweet thing?” Now that his attention was fully on you and no one else you felt a cold chill run down your spine, making you freeze on the spot. “Speechless. I’m not surprised. Many people are in my presence. Don’t blame yourself.”

“Uh… I’m here to…” You coughed when Valentino blew a puff of smoke into your face, the drug making you dizzy for a moment. “Travis.”

“Ah! You want a role! I’m not sure if Travis is actor material but if you’re into him it can work. Everyone is horny for someone, darling!” The red smoke circled around you, around your hips and your neck, tightening it’s hold. While Valentino’s smirk and eyes glowed pink, showing his power in this place.

Travis quickly stepped between you two, breaking the chains of smoke.

“Trust me sir, I asked many times. This one.” Travis nodded his head towards you, “Not one for the cameras.” He chuckled, or tried to.

“Okay! Okay, sir, uh… let me just um… step outside for this, it’ll only take a second heh!” Travis pushed you back towards the door while keeping the other hand extended towards his boss. That smile was still on his face, but his while body seemed to be on edge from talking to Valentino that way. He was scared, really scared, and yet he was standing up for you in front of everyone.

Travis was never the bravest demon. He cold throw down in a bar brawl for sure, he could get in a few fights, but it was always with low-lives, drunks, demons who he knew wouldn’t be a big deal. Before every Extermination he would make sure everting in your shared apartment was secured so the angels couldn’t get inside. But he has never stood up for those so much more powerful then him.

You especially didn’t think he’d stand up to one of the VVV’s. And his own boss no less. All for your safety and comfort. He might have been a sleazebag through and through but he loved you, he cared about you and in that moment he made sure you knew it.

“Oh my fucking god. I thought he was gonna rip me limb from limb back there. Shit!” Travis leaned against a wall and fanned himself with his hat, his heart shaped eye darting around the room to make sure you’re alone. “What the fuck are ya doing here?!”

“You forgot your lunch.” You gave him the heart shaped box, your smile small and shy. “Thought you might be hungry until your shift is done so…yeah.”

Travis’s eyes widened as he looked at the box. “Oh. I guess I was in a hurry.” His hands brushed against yours as he accepted, “Thanks doll. Ya always take such good care of me.”

“Well someone has to. You trash owl man.” You cupped his cheeks and kissed him, already tasting the alcohol on his tongue, “They give you the good stuff here huh?”

“Only the best from mister Valentino! Just don’t be alone with him. He’s a little… well he can be a lot to handle for newer folks. I don’t have a lot to do today so ya can wait till I’m done. Gonna try and see about that extra cash.” Brave of him to ask after the display he put on for Valentino. Just goes to show how much Travis cares about you.

His work took almost the whole day but within it you got swept up by Velvette, dressed up like a doll and then told you weren’t what she was looking for after all and kicked out by the social media Queen herself. An eventful way to be sure. At least she let you keep the fancy clothes she put on you.

“Oh man, am I glad I’m not on the other side of that camera. My ass could not-” Travis stretched his arms from side to side as he walked into the hallway, “Oh! The fuck- what happened to ya now? Not that ya don’t look nice it’s just eh… different. In a good way!”

“Thank you. Velvette dressed me up and then told me I wasn’t pretty enough for the shoot.”

“Ya look pretty enough to me, doll!” Travis pulled you into a big hug, “And take a looksie at this! I managed to get that bonus. Something about bringing in armcandy or some shit, I donno.”

You were spun around in a big hug and lead through the hallways, trying not to look at the many suggestive pictures of your boyfriend's boss. It was kinda hard when they were all over the damn place. Eventually the two of you made it to the car. Playing a gentleman, Travis opened the door for you and closed them, then jumped over the hood of the car trying to look all cool.

He tripped.