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muzansfangs · 3 months

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Mojito + Douma & Kokushibo

Devotion.

Starring: Douma x f!reader; Kokushibo x f!reader; Douma x f!reader x Kokushibo; mention to Gyokko and Muzan;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, threesome, public sex, dom!Kokushibo, dom!Douma, sub!reader, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, anal penetration, double penetration, bitemarks, hair pulling, reader is a demon, manhandling, blood drinking, violence in battle, consuming humans, dispicable use of blood as a cosmetic, kind of sacrilegious scenary (sex in the shrine area);

Plot: As one of Douma’s most loyal followers, you had some privileges. One of those was being turned into a demon and trained to climb the ranks of the Upper Moons. When Gyokko died, Muzan chose you to take his place. In the middle of a training session with the leader of the Eternal Paradise Cult and the Upper Moon One, you accidentally hit them with your blood demon technique: aphrodisiac blood. Pinned down by your comrades, you were demanded to show them your devotion.

Drink chosen: MOJITO (double!penetration, threesome, anal sex, vaginal sex, marking the partner);

MASTERLIST FOR THE EVENT | RULES FOR THE EVENT

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The Moon glowed solitary in a starless dark sky. Under the pale light provided by the satellite, you were sitting on the cold stairs of an ancient shrine, forgotten by the neglectful humans who had built it centuries ago to probably appease the divine wrath of their god. Ivy and dirt blanketed the abandoned building, now deemed a pit of demons and curses by the local folklore. Pitiful. It was nothing but pitiful. You grimaced at the thought of the typical human inconsistency and stupidity.

Still, not long ago, you were a human too. Some memories from your past life still flashed in your mind. Who were you before you turned into a blood-thirsted creature? You were a devoted young girl, living in a Temple in which people disappeared mysteriously from their beds in the dead of the night. It was a ritual, or this is what the Leader of the Cult wanted his followers to believe. Those humans were doomed. Their naivety and faith were their downfall. However, while he deliberately manipulated the whining mass of people seeking protection and blessings from him, he had never tried to hide his identity, his nature, to you. Loyal to him, you had always stood by his side, not manifesting horrified expressions, when he devoured people in front of you. Your fingers were usually threading through his silky platinum blond hair, whilst he fed. Humming sweet melodies for him, helping him to bathe, you had gradually become his life companion, or something close to it. Along with the favors and attentions he required, he did not abstain from asking you to indulge into the bed with him.

Satisfying your Lord, though, did not feel unpleasant. There was something enthralling about the way he broke you down and built you up.

To show you his gratitude, Douma had therefore turned you into a demon to preserve your beauty. It was amusing how you had inheridated some of his characteristic. Your nails, pointy and lilac, were among them. Your devotion intensified. By the time you had trained enough to be capable of not shaking in front of Muzan Kibutsuji, Douma had suggested him to make you one of the Twelve Kitsuki. You felt on top of the world, the glory of finally standing at the top ensnared your senses and you gladly complied to the King of demons’s order to show your loyalty to him.

Standing up now, you detected the subtle attack coming from your left. Dodging it was easy, the golden tessen aiming at your neck cut a mere strand of your hair. You smirked, kneeling a few feet away from your opponent. Pearly fangs shining under the moonlight, Douma waved his hand at you casually.

“Ah, you’ve become so agile, Y/N-chan!” Douma stated, as you casually approached him with a soft smile on your red-painted lips. He, only he or another demon could say what it was smeared over your mouth.

His hand gripping your hair and straining your neck made you wince. His tongue darted out of his mouth, lapping at the dried blood you used to decorate your lips. Your clawed hand gripped his cheek, nails digging onto the smooth flesh enough to pierce his flesh and draw blood. You had become so much rougher with each other since you had become the new Upper Rank Five. Your animalistic and savage nature had kicked in, surprising your carefree friend to some extents.

“And you are perpetually needy” you whispered, lips hovering over his, before you ungraciously shoved him off of you and caused him to tumble onto the ground.

Douma was fascinated, watching as you rested your bare foot on top of his broad chest and bit down onto your wrist. Oh, how much he loved feeding from you. The sight of your crimson blood dribbling down your skin and splattering onto his face made his cock throb into his pants. The need to be inside of you was unbearable. The Upper Moon Two diligently opened his mouth, tongue welcoming the drops of blood you were so generously letting drip from your wound. Once again, you were subservient, indulgent.

His hand slided up your naked calf, squeezing it suggestively, rainbow-colored eyes locking with yours as you sighed and decided to cruelly deprive him of your proximity, of your intoxicating blood.

Douma groaned, pushing himself up on his elbows as your skin regenerated quickly “Ah, come on, what did I say to piss you off now?” he asked you, but he did not receive an answer from you, because the air around the shrine suddenly became asphyxiating. Your eyes grew round, your knees almost buckling under the pressure, upon ascertaining the Upper Moon One had joined you two. You were expecting him to come; whenever Muzan gave orders, he was the only one who never failed his expectations.

Bowing your head respectfully at the highest rank of what remained of the Twelve Kizuki, you greeted him “Kokushibo-dono, it’s a joy to welcome you here. We were just waiting for you to begin” you cooed, breaking the eeare silence enveloping the area.

You knew nothing about him, beside his sense of honor and an incommensurable admiration for the progenitor of your specimen. A rational, taciturn man who hardly ever barged into the unimportant squabbles taking place among those below him. What mattered to that man was the impertubable balance of powers.

An high-pitched gasp from behind you, caught your attention and, in a blink of an eye, Douma was standing right next to you “Ah, Kokushibo-dono, it’s been so long! You have declined all of my invitations to visit my residence… It’s a shame, really! Recently, I’ve taken in a couple of lovely girls. I looked forward to share them with you” the Upper Moon Two ranted, that fake overjoyed smile curving the angles of his lips upwards, while he sneakily swung his arm around your waist, yanking you against his side.

You sighed, a pout on your lips, before you searched for Kokushibo’s gaze to begin your training session. While you were more than capable of taking down a Pillar on your own, you still had some troubles in controlling your blood demon technique and, with the incoming war, Muzan wanted you to be extremely proficient, impeccable. Letting you train along the two strongest demons alive was the best way to improve your skills.

The former Demon Slayer sized you up, hand resting onto the hilt of his katana out of habit “Y/N. — he greeted you, his six bloodshot eyes then darting on the tall man at your left — Hard times require total concentration. There is absolutely no time to slack off and indulge into sordid, deplorable activities. Get in position” he sternly said, causing the younger demon to sneer and plant a kiss on your cheek before distancing himself from you leisurely.

You had no idea of the specific schedule he had chosen for you, yet the moment your nose was pierced by the fragrance of human blood, and your ears heard heavy footsteps rapidly consuming the road leading from the woods to the shrine, you put the pieces together. You looked at Kokushibo, not surprised by his lack of an explanation. Slayers. Those humans running straight to their death were Slayers the Upper Moon One had purposefully conducted to you.

“Oh, is that food? Please, tell me pretty girls in black uniforms are coming for us…” Douma chimed, his smile broadening as he tried to take a step towards the dark forest.

Kokushibo’s gesture of the hand, though, was enough to stop him from doing anything more than watching the scene unfold before his dreamy eyes.

Being the center of the attention had never been more difficult than now. Your eyes scrutinized the area, your nails ready to rip to shreds whomever had the audacity to attempt to slice your head off of your shoulders. A few seconds passed by before you spotted the group of young Slayers running towards you. Ready for battle, glaring at you, they unsheathed their blades. Six humans, not exactly weaklings, craved your head. But before you could just charge at them, Kokushibo spoke out again.

“Use your technique. Focus solely on it”.

His deep voice, for some reason, sent shivers down your spine. Probably, you were just enthralled by the massacre about to take place in the holy territory underneath your feet. Or maybe you were already losing control. Nevertheless, you quickly switched your attention back on the youngs group of humans in front of you.

“Good evening” you cooed, smiling faintly at the now shaking people looking at you and your frightening friends in horror.

“Upper ranks… We’re dead. Tell the crows to send a Pillar” a female Slayer blurted out, sweat beading her forehead as she frantically looked at both her sides in search for possible ways out of this situation.

“A Pillar? Are you fucking blind? We need more than a Pillar here!” her comrade said, eyes not leaving your frame as you sighed and shook your head. It was pointless. What could three Pillars do anyway against three upper ranks? Nothing.

Your eyes glinted, your hand caressing the cheek of the female slayer who had suggested to call a Pillar. You heard them gasp, when they realized you were standing practically among them, not fearing their deadly blades at all. You were blatantly challenging them, awaiting for the right moment to devour them. You giggled, before you disappeared from the small circle around you, holding the young fighter in your arms before you speaking again. Back in your original spot, you were running your fingers through the silky black hair of the girl, her body writhing under your touch as you leaned your face down to your let your lips graze her earlobe. It was time to satisfy your whims and you did not hesitate to activate your technique.

“Blood demon art: the human puppet” you whispered, the white sclera of your eyes fading into black.

Before your victim could even register what was happening, blood threds connected to her joints and she naturally dropped to her knees in front of you. Adoration in her eyes, she hugged your legs, the effects of your aphrodisiac blood driving her nuts.

“What’s happening? What did she do to her?” the head of the group snapped, trying to assess your reactions to figure out what your power could do.

Honestly, you were having fun. There was no pressure of ending things quickly for once. You had all the time in world to enjoy your minutes of glory and you did. You smiled at the girl at your feet, clasping your hands together as you listened to her words.

“How can I serve you?” she meekly asked you, cheeks flushing up as you hummed and gestured at her friends at her back, hunger for blood making your mouth salivate, albeit you tried to get a grip of yourself.

“Those people have offended me. Why don’t you kill them for me?” you asked, watching in glee as she hastily picked her sword back up and sprinted towards them. Ready to defend themselves, the slayers cursed your name as the group had apparently decided to split. You watched in interest three of them charging at you, homicidal instinct in their eyes, while the rest of them sparred with their comrade.

All the while, you had felt Douma and Kokushibo’s eyes on you, studying your moves, contemplating your choices and strategies. They had not bothered helping you out and they did not seem interested in it anyway, at least, until a disaster happened. Trusting blindly in your abilities, you had waited too long before activating your technique. The moment you did, you were forced to block the slash of a slayer with your forearm. The impact was powerful enough to cause your blood to spill, accidentally splattering on your two colleagues faces, staining their lips and inhebriating them.

Faltering, you had no time to apologize that a katana sliced through your opponent’s head. The thud of his body colliding onto the ground was followed by the screams of terror and agony of the others. Soon enough, you were surroundered by bunch of dismembered corpses, no more sounds echoing in the calm forest, if not… Heavy breaths, grunts of frustration. Affected by your technique, the upper moon One and Two were staring right into your eyes, their fangs protruding from their gums, ferally hissing to fight the primal urges of dominating the weakest prey in front of them. It was your fault. The second form of your blood demon technique was literally called ‘primal lust of the hunter’.

Taking a few impish steps back, you tried to comfort them “I promise the side effects are going to wear off in a few—”.

“How long?” Kokushibo growled, planting his sword onto the ground. You had never seen him like that.

“Kokushibo-dono, I… I—”.

A sudden grip on your forearm, yanking you towards them, made you gasp in sheer embarrassment. That look in their eyes, that way of staring you down in hunger promised nothing less than a long night of submission ahead of you.

“How long?” the Upper moon One hissed on your face, his grip on your forearm intensifying, until you confessed the truth.

“Until you reach the peak of your ecstasy” you blurted out, earning an hysterical laughter from Douma, who grasped a fistful of your hair and encircled your waist with a hand. His abs glued to your back, he rotated his hips against your rear, the clothed bulge underneath the layers he wore poking at you with unbridled hunger.

You shuddered, closing your eyes “I can help you! I can help you both!” you fretted, body on fire as their hands began to undress you with urgency.

Probably, this was the biggest mistake of your life, but the famous thing that happened once ever in a lifetime too. Lips devoured yours instantly, the guttural groan escaping Kokushibo lips made your disclose your lips automatically to let his tongue invade your mouth. Your hands threaded your the former Slayer’s hair, tugging at his ponytail to squash his body against yours. Fangs sank onto the crook of your neck, your whimper swallowed by Koksuhibo, as Douma hand slipped underneath your ripped kimono and masterly cupped your sex.

How many times had he done that to you? So many nights, so many nights but not a single one of them could compare to what he was making you feel right now. Douma always took his sweet time in tearing you apart, but his thumb did not indulge much on your throbbing clitoris.

You whined in protest, only for him to take a step back and unbuckle the belt of his pants “Sorry, Y/N-chan, but I feel… Oh, my sweet gods, I feel like I could burst into my own pants, if I don’t fuck that pretty hole of yours. Not much prep today, okay?” he rasped out, sweat running down the valley of your breasts along with the blood still dribbling down your collarbone in irregular crimson lines from his harsh bite onto your neck.

When the Upper Moon One pulled away, his hands discarding his robes onto the ground, finally granting you the celestial sight of his chiseled body, you struggled to keep your composure: the body of a warrior, the body of a divinity. The body of a man who had trained for centuries, in the desperate chase to proclaim himself the strongest slayer alive.

“Her womb is mine” he declared firmly, causing your knees to buckle, when he grasped your hips and made you straddle him easily. Douma surprisingly did not retaliate, kneeling right behind you instead as his hand slipped down between your thighs to collect some of your juices.

He growled, the pads of his fingers collecting the result of your wanton before smearing them onto the entrance of your puckered hole. You writhed, glancing at him from above your shoulder, before pulling him into a sloppy kiss “You better worship the ground I walk on after this” you whispered, only for a pathetic whimper to leave your lips as Kokushibo’s calloused band grasped your jaw unceremoniously and turned your head towards him once again.

“He’s your superior, but I personally don’t see the number one etched in his eyes” the man darkly said, pushing his hips against yours and witnessing to the way you came to realize his hakama were now loosely hanging down his hips. His cock, standing as a ramrod, was probbing at your entrance with arrogance, his free hand angling your hips to favor the penetration.

“I apologize, Kokushibo-dono. — you breathed out, arching your back as he lined the bulbous tip on you clenching hole — Douma and I are familiar with this kind of entertainment” you explained, breath hitching in your throat when the blond man at your back began to slide a finger into your backside to stretch you out a little. He was seething in anger, frustration of not having the chance to paint the welcoming walls of your pussy in white, as he always did.

The Upper Moon Two smirked “That’s right! I think Kokushibo-dono will absolutely love to hear how much of a slut you are when you are stuffed so full of cum that you twitch like a fish dying on the shore” he remarked, your eyes screwed shut as you felt your tight walls swallowing his fingers into your most private parts.

Were you going to be able to walk after this? If they actually injured you, was your demonic regeneration going to heal your wounds?

“Enough talk” Kokushibo flatly said, unsympathetically pinching your right nipple to hear you squirm under his ministrations as well.

And, gosh, you did. What made him groan out in pleasure, his stolid mask slipping, was the way your pussy squeezed him up perfectly when he entered you. Hands planted onto your hipbones, Kokushibo guided you up and down onto his length. The girth had almost made you regret your choice of taking care of their impellent needs, but the way he occasionally let the head of his cock kiss your cervix made you cry out loudly, shamelessly, your head lolling back on Douma’s shoulder as he also began to slide into you.

You had no idea how you had managed to, how your body had adapted to that tempo, to the way they were manhandly you, but when Douma had filled you up to the brim, his pelvis slapping against your arses, you knew you had showed your devotion to them.

“Fuck! I— O my God… — you whimpered out, vision blurry as tears ran down your cheeks copiously — K-Koku, Koku, I can’t” you inhaled sharply, only for him to snort at your face, a powerful thrust causing your whole body to collapse against his.

“It’s Lord Kokushibo to you”.

His words, vivid in your mind, were the only thing you remembered hearing from him after they were done with you. Panting, a mass of sweat and fluids, you were sandwitched between them. Kokushibo came deep into you, arms almost possessively keeping you in place, his gestures so cold and methodical. You wondered, you wondered if a long time ago he had been married, if he had fucked her with the only intention of impregnating her because you were damned if he had not given you that impression.

Douma was breathing heavily, tongue lapping at the umpteenth wound he had left onto your neck, as he softened into you. He had not pulled out as well, you could feel his sperm oozing out from your abused hole as you barely had the energy to nuzzle your head into Kokushibo’s chest.

He did not caress you, neither said a word, but he allowed you to rest like that for a little while. Your training had just begun.

AUTHOR NOTE.

A big thank you to the anon who had submitted this request! I said it once and I’ll say it again: writing threesomes is amusing! Also… I might have a thing for Douma, that’s pretty evident by now. Thank you for your support and see you in the next work!

Likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!

x o x o

Dt: @doumadono @mrskokushibo my angels✨❤️

TAGS: @axesfordays @flakeygod @tomatoeshater @areyouflying @bakugosgirl01 @crystal-freak24 @the-nex @squ4respace @akazas-left-tatted-butt-cheek @wooyugta @ilubplants @the-faceless-bride

#doma x reader #douma smut #douma x reader #douma x y/n #kny smut #kimetsu no yaiba smut #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader #upper moons x reader #kokushibo smut #kokushibo x reader #kokushibo x y/n #kokushibo x you #michikatsu x reader #michikatsu smut

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heavensmysteries · 2 years

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LUKE 6:49

“But the one who hears my words and does not put them into practice is like a man who built a house on the ground without a foundation. The moment the torrent struck that house, it collapsed and its destruction was complete.”

What came to my mind just now is the reality of heaven and hell. One is paradise and one is torment. One, you reign with Christ for eternity. One you perish for all of eternity. Have you ever stopped and thought about what it must be like being in those two places? I cannot begin to fathom what heaven will be like because we live in a world filled with death, hurt, pain, destruction and sadness. I cannot begin to fathom what hell is like because the ‘gnashing of teeth’, sounds excruciating. Imagine burning forever? Both locations exist outside of time. Both locations are real. It only takes the Word, dreams and people’s experiences on youtube to send a chilling tickle down your spine.

Many Christians have adopted the belief that you can do whatever you want in this life because God loves you and God loves everyone. When it comes to controversial topics such as LGBT, Feminism, Civil Rights, Abortion and other movements, modern day Christians have just agreed with everything because only God can judge, right?

Yes, indeed that is true, but God’s judgment is righteous. He does not judge in accordance with what the world thinks is right or wrong. He has a different moral standard and we can see that from the Bible. Jesus lifted man’s ethics to the highest degree. The Law taught that you have to love everyone as you love yourself. Jesus came and said, “...what credit is that to you. Even sinners love those who love them...Love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back.” (Luke 6:32, 35). Go over and beyond for everyone. If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn your other cheek for them to slap. In order words, do not retaliate. Repay people back with kindness, even if they do evil to you. Even when they do evil to you.

Some would say we should live life like it’s our last. However, I believe we should start preparing for eternity since it is forever. God likens someone who knows about the Word of God but does not put it into practice to a house which eventually gets destroyed because it has no foundation. The person lived a life of pleasure, they were wealthy because they could afford to build the house in the first place, yet it did not last. It was always going to fall! We need to be people that believe in Jesus and ask Him on a daily purpose to reveal His Word to us. Don’t rip out pages in the pages in the Bible or skip over a chapter because it doesn’t align with your current views. Start asking God to open your eyes, so you can see things the way He sees things!

#HolyBible #Bible #Scripture #Jesus #God #Father #TheSon #HolySpirit #thetrinity #faithful #eternity #hell #heaven #paradise #hades #afterlife #Faith #evil #good #bad #GospelofLuke #Gospel #Gospeldaily

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al-islam · 2 months

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اللَّهُمّ إِنِّي أَسْأَلُكَ إِيمَانًا لاَ يَرْتَدُّ، وَنَعِيمًا لاَ يَنْفَدُ، وَمُرَافَقَةَ مُحَمَّدٍ ﷺ فِي أَعْلَى جَنَّةِ الْخُلْدِ

Allah, I ask You for unwavering faith”eman”, everlasting blessings, and the companionship of Muhammad ﷺ in the highest eternal Paradise.

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trancylovecraft · 2 months

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Yandere Douma x reader?

(KNY) YANDERE! DOUMA x READER: Headcannons

RECEIPT ✂- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

BARISTA'S NOTE: i entered the nowhere dimension the other day and returned with a forbidden scroll that told me how to homo my text. also WARNING! this thing is LONG. GENDER: Femme FANDOM: Demon Slayer

Thank you for ordering!

Come again soon!

Let's see.. Douma! Upper Moon Two? Leader of the Eternal Paradise Cult? Emotionless demon who likes to eat women specifically for their nutritious value?

Oooooo, This is gonna be a tough one for you!

I view Douma as an Obsessive, Clingy, Possessive and Sadistic yandere.

Obsessive in the way that Douma just can't help but get to know everything about you! His beloved! Every little thing you are- Your hobbies- Your personality- The way your eyes flicker when you're overjoyed. All of it is such a drug to him!

Clingy in the way that you must be close to him at all times, It's a need. Douma will always be touching you in some form, Whether it be an arm around your shoulder- You sitting on his lap or your lips on his. Wherever you are- You must be nearby.

Possessive in the way that you're his with no argument. To him, You are his belonging. And as such if he wants to toy around with you then he will, Your reactions to this only serve to amuse him which leads onto our next point.

Sadistic in the way that he just loves to poke and prod at you to get a reaction. He loves to see you squirm, To cry or laugh. It doesn't matter whether it's positive or negative- As long as you react, He'll be just fine.

Whether you view Douma as a product of his upbringing or an evil-to-the-bone bad guy- It doesn't particularly matter.

I'd think the only way he'd ever become truly obsessed is if you yourself somehow spark something in him. A strike of colour in a greyscale.

I see two ways of this occurring.

The first is where you're a member of his cult. Perhaps a rather beautiful or talented one that manages to ensnare his attention. Perhaps something about you stands out from the others, Or maybe you're average- Who knows? All that matters is that you caught his attention.

The second is where you're a demon slayer. Maybe you're a Hashira or a lower ranked slayer, One that just happens to stumble across a massacre caused by our one and only. Maybe you impress him with your skill, Or Douma may want to save you as a snack for later, Only to grow feelings towards you in the coming times.

I'm gonna go with the first.

Okay. So you're a member of The Eternal Paradise Cult! Let's say you were born into this convent, You grew up in this convent. The Buddhist statues and the prayer ceremonies- It's all you've ever known. You worship some immortal figure with red eyes, Preached to you by your convent's prophet, Douma.

Douma is a rather unfamiliar figure to you. For one, You barely see him- Not having spoken a word to him at all! You only see him during ceremonies and occasionally on night-time walks.

You're described by your fellow men and women of faith as a woman with a sweet and demure nature. You're known for the way you can bond with a Shamisen, How your fingers run across the strings and you can serenade crowds in an instant.

But you don't perform for the cult, Not like some of the other girls- No.

You much prefer to keep your talent's to yourself, Maybe play a private concert if another member asked you nicely enough. Despite the constant praise- You don't particularly think that you're good enough to perform, Let alone for his grace!

Maybe one day if you improve.. Perhaps someday..

Douma himself is a man of the arts. He enjoys dancing, He has women flock to him to play their music for him. Tapestries of fine colour hang from every wall in the convent.

So it's safe to say as he's taking a stroll through one of the more secluded area's of the convent, He pauses once he hears such a beautiful melody.

Now Douma, Despite his penchant for the Arts- Isn't particularly moved by it. Though he enjoys the tune of a biwa or a koto, Enjoys the colours upon a pallet- Nothing really touches his heart, Nothing really makes him feel much as usual.

However there was something about this tune, Something about the way that shamisen was being strum.. It was interesting for him, It was a tune he hadn't ever heard in his centuries of living..

So he slides open the shoji door, Stepping inside as his eyes search the room..

To land on you.

You sat there on your knees, The shamisen delicately cradled within your arms as you tug at the strings with a pick. It was such a strong yet gentle tune you hummed along to, Not quite noticing him yet, Too invested within your instrument to care about your surroundings.

Douma finds it rather.. Amusing. Yes. That was the word. He stood there, His golden fan splayed across his mouth to conceal the expression laid upon his face. The music was so much more.. Poignant now that he was closer.

You're jolted out of your trance by the clearing of a throat.

You turn around with a mild expression, Ready to greet and/or apologise for the noise to whatever person that walked in here- Only to come face to face with the founder himself.

"O-Oh my- Your grace! I didn't notice your presence, I apologise-"

You quickly set your shamisen to the side, Lowering down so that your forehead kissed the tatami mats, Bowing to him in deep respect. Your heart thunders in your chest, Still reeling from the shock of seeing him there.

Douma finds that funny, The fan fluttering over his face to conceal the amusement on his face. He steps forward, Telling you to raise your head in such a kind and friendly voice.

He tells you that he had been on a stroll when he heard such beautiful noise. He asks you if you were the one to play it, Even though he already knows the answer to it.

You blush in embarrassment, Nodding your head as you gesture down to your shamisen. You feel both flattered and awkward that he had heard you play, And even call it beautiful..!

Douma asks you to play again, So you do. By the end of it he's clapping, Smiling, Telling you how the gods have blessed you with a talent none other has. He invites you to play for him tonight, Telling you that you should join the girls that do it on the regular.

And you- Of course- Aren't one to deny his grace, Are you? Especially since he had taken the time out of his day to listen to your music and call it beautiful..

So tonight you play for him, You do the best you can.

And that's how it is.

You join his little group of women who play for him each night and admittedly you enjoy it. Douma himself takes a rather keen liking to your talents, So do the other girls in your group.

Suddenly in your solitary life you gain much more friends, More recognition for your talents. Douma makes sure to keep you as one of his best musicians, Something that makes you so excited- To be so favoured by His Grace..!

And at some point, He promotes your status even higher to become apart of his harem. You have such a pretty face after all, And hey, There's a new space ever since he accidentally ate another girl who was apart of the harem. So don't worry about crowding him!

Your quick rise through the ranks of Eternal Paradise surprises you and your friends. All of this happens so fast- But you don't question it to Douma, His judgement is absolute of course! He's a messenger of the gods, So of course this all must be natural..!

It's difficult to say where he grows an obsession.

Though I'd say that it comes all at once, Douma has not point where it begins to 'grow', No, One moment he could be acting just as he usually does and the next he could be on his knees, Pupils in heart shapes as he fawns over you like a lovesick puppy.

Though I doubt he would actually show it, Though that's certainly how he feels on the inside when it does happen. Douma keeps these new emotions in check, Only really letting the 'louder' parts of it out in private.

But lets say that this obsession happens months into you joining his harem. You haven't gotten intimate with him yet to your surprise.

Lets say that during a festival down in the nearby village of Hiyohara- A celebration that your convent celebrates with the upmost favour is occurring once more. It's a favoured holiday of yours- A time you love and cherish while spending it with your family.

But somehow this time you end up with Douma, Maybe because you became lost in the crowd and just lingered near the familiar figure of His Grace. Maybe he let you accompany him, Even though he had no care for you at this point in time.

Maybe he saw it as entertainment, Maybe you amuse him.

But either way you're with him now, Wandering around the festival in Hiyohara, Following him to try out whatever he chooses to do.

But somehow- Things develop.

As you're wandering around, Following him along- You trip.

Your foot gets caught on a rock, Your eyes barely being able to widen before you faceplant dead into a puddle caused by last nights rain.

Your clothing is ruined, Your face is covered in muck. You're not injured but you push yourself up on bruised elbows. Douma flicks his fan across his face, Concealing

He expects you to feel ashamed- To break down in embarrassment- You were with him after all, All his cultists would never-

But you don't.

You don't break down or seem ashamed to have embarrassed yourself in front of him, No- Instead you laugh. You begin to giggle, Smiling as you wipe the mud off your face and swipe it off your hair- Saying how clumsy you were for tripping.

Your laugh.

It was music to him.

To see that unaltered- Raw- Human emotion displayed on your face was enrapturing to him and he had no idea why. The way your eyes lit up, The way your grin stretched from ear to ear in a shameless mirth before him.

For some reason- Douma felt his heart begin to thump in his chest.

As soon as you get up you notice how he has gone rigid, Completely solid as if he was frozen in time. You can see how his expression just looks absolutely shocked, His usually pale- Stark white skin beginning to redden around the face.

You don't understand what was happening.

Douma on the other hand was going through what was almost a religious experience. Suddenly he notices the world around him, His heart pounding, His eyes widening. He can feel sensations flooding through his chest- His cheeks and his heart.

He feels alive.

And it all came from.. You?

Douma in the following days/weeks definetly changes his behaviour. For the first time in his centuries old life he feels love- He feels joy- Excitement even! He can barely believe it, Almost in denial at first.

At it all occurs when he's around you. You.

Douma doesn't question stuff like this, Stuff he see's as silly. But what he also sees is you, How wonderful you are- How much you bring out this addictive emotion inside of him. He doesn't care how you did it- Not in the slightest.

Douma definetly begins to get much more favourable towards you, Even more so than before. Every night you will play your music for him and he will listen, All the while his eyes trail across your face, Your body. All admiring with a gleam in his eyes.

Expect him to make much more appearances where you are. His smile on his face as he makes his way towards you, Ignoring the shocked looks of the other cultists who can't believe that His Grace has shown up amongst them.

Douma definetly gets more touchy, More friendly with you. A hand on your shoulder? An arm around your waist? If he's feeling ballsy then maybe a small kiss on the corner of your lips as he leans down towards your ear to tell you what music he wants you to play for him later.

You don't question the intimacy- No, You're apart of his harem, That's to be expected but..

Think of this all as an experimentation stage for Douma. What he's doing, His intimacy and his extra time with you is to make sure that what he's feeling comes from you and you alone- Not some other factor changing that.

And once he gets his results?

Yeah. No. He's hooked.

I'd say up until this point everything is relatively normal with him, Well- As normal as you can get with Douma but I digress. You go about your daily life, Play music for him each night while Douma continues to feast on his cultists as ceremonial practice all the while his mind lingers to you.

But that doesn't last for very long.

As Douma takes one of his daily walks through the halls of the convent- A habit he picked up out of boredom during the day- He pauses.

Douma was stopped beside a corner, Looking out through an open door to see two figures standing within the sun-soaked gardens. He can't really see who it is at first, Considering that both backs were turned but..

One of them- He could tell it was you.

You were giggling, Admiring the prospering plant life around you as you stood next to some unknown figure. You were almost brushing shoulders with him, A smile on your face as you looked at him, Your shamisen held delicately in your hands.

In any other scenario, Douma wouldn't care about what was going on- He wouldn't even bat an eye but-

You were too close to him, Yes, Douma thought. You smiled at him so brightly that it felt like the sun was sizzling at Douma's skin. You seemed happy to be there with.. With that man. You had your shamisen, Did you play it for him..?

Oh no.

Oh no no.

Douma felt his eye twitch. Felt his innards begin to turn and his blood run even colder than it ever did.

What was this?

This feeling in his stomach that made the rest of him feel as frozen as ice.

Why were you with him?

Who was he?

Shouldn't you be back inside out of the sun, Where he was? Away from whatever human man was talking to you so freely right now.

He could just rip his guts out right now, Would you like that? He could just tear and tear away at his flesh for you if you wanted, Would that get you away from that man and back to him?

Douma didn't like this new feeling in his veins. He grasped at his stomach, His eyes widening as he felt his body react to this disgusting sensation. He didn't like this feeling. He didn't like it one bit.

Douma's smile is near contorted on his face as he watches the two of you walk away amongst the gardens. He near keels over, Holding on the corner for support.

He didn't like this feeling.

He didn't like how you talked to that man so freely.

...

That man.

It's a day like any other, At least that's how it starts out. You wake up in your room as usual, Get dressed, Do your hair and makeup before walking out into the hallways to head to breakfast.

As apart of Douma's harem, You're allowed to take partners other than him, Douma isn't usually jealous so the rest of his harem tend to have partners of their own.

You too, Have followed in their footsteps as you met another cult member that you hit it off with. He seemed to enjoy your music, Laugh at your jokes and vice versa. He was a nice guy, Someone you got along with well.

And it was obvious you both shared looks between each other.

So as you enter the breakfast hall it comes as a shock to hear that he had ran away during the night. It's heresy to the convent to forsake your religion by running away, You had just seen him yesterday and he was plenty faithful then so-

Why had he ran?

You ask Douma about this but he just waves you off with a saddened look across his face, Saying that some people just aren't able to be enlightened, That they stray from the path.

And you believe him. Of course you do.

He's your leader after all.

Soon after that things change.

Douma has requested that you now sleep with him in his quarters, A move that has shocked both you and the rest of the faithful. The rest of the harem has never gotten the privileges of sleeping in the same bed with him, Even after 'session's per se.

Douma requests your presence much more often, Always disguising it as wanting to hear you play your shamisen but it always ends up with a cup of sake and a conversation.

His physical touch becomes much more intimate now, Much more public. A kiss on the lips is common, His hands squeezing your cheeks like you're the cutest thing even more so.

He views other humans as cattle, But not you- No.

It's a shock to find out that one day during a sermon, Douma declares that the gods have sent him a wife. An eternal lover. It's even more shocking when his eyes lock on yours, Telling everyone that it is you who the gods have declared to be his partner.

You're absolutely shocked, But also terrified.

You can't be sent by the gods. You just.. Couldn't.

You're showered in gifts by the cult, Praised and honoured as the God's new gift to them but all you can think of is how.. Fake this all seems. The way Douma looked at you during his declaration, Something about it seemed so.. Wrong.

Something wasn't right.

Douma himself is thrilled to have this work out for him. Declaring that you were chosen by the God's worked well- Made sure that you wouldn't try to go for anyone else as well.. You're no longer apart of his harem, You're promised to him and him alone.

Having other romantic interests is out of the question now.

If you do show signs, Any at all, Of being interested in another man..

You'll be told they've ran away during the night- Or got chosen for the next Ascension.

That reasoning doesn't seem to make sense anymore.

Expect Douma to be with you at all times now, Your ability to go wherever you pleased in the convent revoked in favour of staying in his quarters with him. If you want to go out you must be with him.

He lives through your emotions. If you're sad, He's sad. If you're happy, He's happy. He feeds off of your feelings like a parasite, You're something he can invest what rotten soul he has into.

Which is why he tries to make you as happy as possible.

You want food? Delivered with the finest of cutlery. You want expensive clothes? Your closet is filled to the brim the next day. You want jewellery? Made with the largest of gems and polished until it hurts the eye.

Even if you're humble and don't want the richest of things- You'll get it anyways. Douma can't have his wife- A woman declared to be sent from their god walking around in 'rags' now can he?

When sleeping in his bed expect to be the small spoon. When you are, Douma holds you just a bit too close to him, His nose buried in your hair. Even when you're fast asleep he's wide awake.

He leaves after a while to do as he usually does, But he always spends an unordinary amount of time just laying with you.

You bathe with him now in his private bathhouse. Douma love to take baths in sake so you'll be doing the same with him, Often times on his lap. It's up to your imagination what happens afterwards.

He also enjoys dancing so he'd expect you to try learn some. Even though it's not your forte (That belonging to music-) You try your best to keep up with him, Nervously now.

He doesn't let you talk to nobody anymore, No one that's not the monks or a very trusted group of people that Douma approves of.

You're now to be worshipped along with him as a gift from the gods, Offerings given to both you and Douma now.

Douma I think may actually try to drink some of your blood- Perhaps collecting it while you slept or bringing it up as a sort of 'ritual' for lovers that you've "just not heard of."

Once he does get a hold of your blood, Expect him to savour it like ambrosia, The taste better than marechi as he eagerly sips away at it.

He'd turn you into a demon at some point, However not now as he still values your human qualities. Douma still wishes to keep you like this until the day comes where he decides to immortalise you as a demon.

If you try to bring up your doubts to Douma about being sent from the gods, Douma will try to convince you that you were- Your beauty- Your skills- All of this was made for him.

It's an honour to be with him.

You agree, Right?

Douma, Despite his lack of emotions can read you like a book. He can tell that you're growing suspicious, That you've got a gut feeling that something was wrong. He tries to tell you that it's just jitters..

If you ever find out about Douma's demonic nature..

Screaming, Crying, Throwing up. You're horrified, Absolutely petrified that you've been worshipping a demon your entire life without even knowing about it. You gave gifts to him, You praised him, You worshipped him-

The amount of people he must've eaten- The amount of lives he must've taken-!

Trying to run away would be insanely- And I mean insanely difficult. The convent is already guarded to keep people in and with you there is extra supervision not just from the monks but Douma himself too.

The only way I ever see you actually escaping would be playing the long game and doing it during the daytime, But I'm talking about years here- Douma can read you, If he suspects you of not being all that devoted to him then he'll know.

If you actually do succeed in escaping then Douma would go insane. And I mean it. He'd slaughter members of his cult in a rage, His talons tearing through their skin like paper as he rampages.

This emotion is new to him after all- Anger, Desperation. All of this is so incredibly potent because of it, No one to keep him in check since you escaped.

If you thought him discovering Jealousy was bad..

Douma would get a hold of himself after a while however, No- Douma is an intelligent demon. He's conniving and collected, He just lost it for a little bit.. Just a bit. Don't worry, He's back to normal.. He's collected himself.

Douma will never stop looking for you. Members of his cult may even be dispatched to look for you while he does so at night-time. Your scent is memorised in his head, He'll follow whatever trail he can get- He'll track you down one way or another.

He presents himself as less-than-good at tracking- However that all changes when it comes to you.

If he finds you, You'll be dragged back kicking and screaming all the while Douma has that same smile on his face. He's passive aggressive for sure, Making sure you hurt yourself in your struggle all the while demeaning you.

If you were hiding out in any town or village then Douma will massacre everyone and anyone in your vicinity. He'll drag their corpses back with him too, Food for later- Food for your transformation.

You'll become a demon, Douma is not loosing you again. He'll cut open his arm and hold you down, Forcing you to drink his blood- Knowing that Muzan will accept this new demon as the last two turned out to be promising.

He'll make you eat the bodies of the people you use to love- Your friends, Your family. All the while telling you that this is what happens when you try to disobey him in such a happy tune.

Despite how fake he seems, He really is genuine when he tells you how much he loves you- How overjoyed he is to have you back.

All the while wiping the blood off your lips with his thumb.

Leaning in to kiss you surrounded by the flesh of dozens.

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mrsshabana · 11 months

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“𝐈’𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮”

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟖: 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary You are one of Douma's most loyal followers, and he decides that some affection from you is exactly what Gyutaro needs. But Gyutaro is worried because he has no experience in this department, so Douma steps in to guide him. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x Douma x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, threesome, oral sex, vaginal sex, creampie, manipulation. ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 2.5k words

✧:･ﾟ→ Kinktober Masterlist

“Oh Gyutaro, you are going to love this,” Douma chimes excitedly as he leads upper moon six through the elaborately decorated halls.

Gyutaro curiously follows Douma, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“But I did! This is a special occasion!” he squeals, “It’s not every day that we get a new upper moon!”

With Douma’s guidance, Gyutaro and Daki were able to quickly rise through the ranks. But of course, only Gyutaro was the true upper moon six. While he worked hard to become stronger, Daki was too busy terrorizing weak humans. And when a real challenge came along, she went crying to Gyutaro for help.

Gyutaro takes his new rank very seriously, so he doesn’t want to waste time with meaningless gifts and celebrations. But he respects Douma, so he puts up with his shenanigans.

When the upper moons arrive at a door at the end of the hall, Douma puts his hand on the handle and smirks deviously before twisting the knob and pulling the door open.

Gyutaro’s eyes widen at the sight before him. A beautiful young woman wearing elegant robes with seemingly nothing beneath them.

“A human?” he murmurs, “But why?”

The smirk on Douma’s face widens, “But for pleasure of course.”

Gyutaro shakes his head and holds his hands up defensively, “N-no, I don’t need things like that. I-”

“Shhhh,” Douma shushes him before he can finish his sentence, “I know what your weakness is, Gyutaro. You’re lonely,” his gaze softens as he looks into Gyutaro’s eyes, “Painfully, painfully lonely. And I’ve given you the solution right here.”

Gyutaro clenches his teeth and shouts, “I’m not lonely! I have my sister! She’s all I need!”

“Oh really? Are you sure?” He leans in closer to Gyutaro and whispers, “I think we both know that there are needs that siblings cannot fulfill.”

Gyutaro frowns and looks down at the ground, letting Douma’s words sink in. He hates to admit it, but it’s true. The connection he shares with his sister is immeasurable, but there are times when he wishes he had more. Wishes he could be loved in ways that he thought weren’t meant for men like him. He was always too ugly, too cruel, too repulsive. Even before turning into a demon, he never would have imagined having something akin to romance in his life.

“Fine,” his voice cracks as he gives in, “But… I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t worry, Gyutaro,” Douma grins and puts a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

You curiously watch as the two demons approach you. Scared but also excited for what is to come next.

Ever since you accidentally walked in on Douma devouring a human corpse, he’s been trying to figure out what to do with you. Lucky for him, you are a devout member of the Eternal Paradise Cult. So even something as shocking as seeing your leader eating human flesh couldn’t sway you from your faith. Your loyalty was to Douma and the cult, first and foremost.

At first Douma was going to dispose of you himself, but you were too beautiful to just kill like that. He had to come up with some way he could use you. And what better use for a cute human woman than to give some much needed affection to the demon that needs it most? And not just any demon, a demon that he takes great pride in teaching and guiding.

He knew you would be perfect for Gyutaro. Hoping that having a beautiful woman by his side could boost his confidence. So much so that perhaps he wouldn’t let his insecurities hinder him in combat anymore. That was the hope at least.

Douma had already made you aware of what was supposed to take place tonight. He told you that you would be introduced to a dear friend of his, and that it would be your duty from now on to serve him.

Keeping his words in mind, you smile and bow politely as the demons approach you.

Both men take a seat in front of you, surrounded by fine silks and embroidered pillows.

“This is Y/N,” Douma says with a smile. “Pretty isn’t she?”

Gyutaro nods shyly, “Y-yeah… she is.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Gyutaro,” your soft voice is like a melody to him. He almost chokes hearing such kind words directed towards him.

“See? She’s incredibly obedient!” Upper moon two says with glee, “Why don’t you try touching her?”

Gyutaro’s eyes go wide and a blush creeps onto his cheeks, “Touch her?” He gulps and looks at your sitting form. With a shaky hand he gently slides his hand under your robe and touches your thigh, “She’s so soft…”

“Try touching her here,” Douma suggests as he takes Gyutaro’s other hands and guides him to your chest. Softly cupping Gyutaro’s hand over your breast, “See? She likes it.”

A soft whimper escapes your lips and your face heats up as Gyutaro touches you.

“C-can you show me what else she likes?” Gyutaro says shyly, looking at Douma for guidance.

Douma’s lips curl into a deceitful grin, “Oh but of course Gyutaro! It is my job to guide you after all.” He wastes no time slipping his clawed finger under your robe and slipping it off of your body. Leaving yourself bare, the lustful gaze of the upper moons fixated on your body.

Gyutaro’s eyes are filled with nervousness and excitement, while Douma’s eyes are much more calm and calculating, though he looks just as eager.

The rainbow eyed demon gently pushes you down to lay on your back and carefully parts your legs. Exposing your most sensitive area to their hungry eyes. Gyutaro stares in awe, his cock already rock hard and jutting out under his baggy pants.

“Right here,” Douma glides his finger down your slit, “she likes to be touched here.” He uses his fingers to part your slick lips, “Try touching her with your mouth.”

“My mouth?” Gyutaro says in confusion.

“Yes! Go ahead and taste her, I assure you she’ll taste delicious.”

Gyutaro doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, but he’s so eager to play with his new toy that he acts without thinking. Moving to lay on his stomach, and position his head between your legs. He gets right into it and begins to sloppily lap at your pussy.

“ Ah! ” you gasp at the suddenness of his actions. Your instincts tell you to close your legs but you fight off the urge, knowing that you must obey the orders from Douma no matter what.

But luckily for you he intervenes, “Slow down Gyutaro,” he chuckles, “try softly licking her here.” He gently tilts Gyutaro’s head upwards until his tongue hits your clit.

Gyutaro holds onto your thighs as he slowly licks your clit and rubs circles into it with his tongue. Looking up for your approval, he’s pleased to hear your soft moans and to feel your body relax under him.

While Gyutaro is getting acquainted with your pussy, Douma figures he might as well have some fun too. Moving to lay beside you, he takes off his shirt and leans towards you.

“Don’t worry Y/N,” he coos, “I’m going to teach Gyutaro how to take care of you.”

“Thank you, Lord Douma,” you moan.

Douma hums to show he’s pleased with your obedience, then he moves closer to your chest and begins sucking on your pert nipples. Kissing and circling his tongue around one, while his hand plays with the other - gently pinching and tugging.

Gyutaro gains more confidence as he hears the sweet sounds you’re making for him, “She’s so wet,” he says between kisses and licks.

Douma momentarily takes his attention away from your breasts to take a look at your wet cunt. “Wow Gyutaro! Look how wet you made her,” he cheers, “You’re learning so quickly!”

“Does this mean…” he trails off, looking away - too embarrassed to say it out loud.

“That she wants you to fuck her?” Douma verbalizes exactly what he had been thinking, “That’s exactly right!”

Gyutaro moves his face away from your core and wipes his mouth with his hand, “B-but… I’ve never done anything like that before. What if I mess up? Or…” he trails off again but takes a deep breath to recompose himself, “Or break her?”

“There’s no reason to worry, Gyutaro, I am here with you,” Douma coos, “And I will guide you the entire time.”

Gyutaro is a panting mess, staring at you with a lustful gaze as you can see his cock throbbing under his pants. While Douma gives you a look of reassurance, one that gives you a sense of tranquility.

“Go on and get on top of her,” Douma instructs, holding Gyutaro by the shoulder and guiding him to position himself on top of you. Which he promptly does, crawling on top of you and caging you beneath him. He’s seen humans having sex in the district before, so he thinks he knows what to do next.

He pulls down his pants and grabs the base of his cock, gliding his tip along your slick folds. “C-can I put it in, Y/N?”

You’re so surprised that he even bothered to ask that it takes you a moment to respond, “Of course you can.” You smile sweetly at him, cupping his cheek with your hand.

Your gentle touch makes his head feel fuzzy and he’s unable to think about anything other than being inside of you. So he pushes his hips forward and tries to slide into you, but he can’t seem to find your entrance. Aimlessly pushing into you, resulting in whines of discomfort to leave your lips.

“Be careful with her, she’s fragile. Let me show you.” Douma grabs Gyutaro by the hips and tilts his body until he is properly angled towards your entrance. Then he slowly pushes Gyutaro’s hips forward - his aching length finally sliding into your tight entrance.

Gyutaro’s eyes almost roll to the back of his head as he lets out a moan of satisfaction, “ F-fuuuck! She-she feels so warm.”

“The intimate embrace of a woman is truly unmatched, I knew you’d like her,” Douma grins, seemingly pleased to see Gyutaro enjoying his gift. “Start off slow, you don’t want to hurt her.” He keeps a hand on Gyutaro’s hip, guiding his thrusts to a slow pace. You can feel that Gyutaro is aching to just fuck you as hard as he can, but Douma is keeping him in line. Guiding his movements to ensure not only your comfort, but a better result in the end.

“Pay attention to her, Gyutaro. Listen to her moans and look closely at her body, you can speed up once she’s ready.”

Gyutaro nods and continues at the steady pace Douma had set for him. Groans of pleasure escaping him as he plunges his cock into your velvety walls.

Watching you get fucked by his apprentice makes his cock twitch. He thought he would be able to ignore it, but the temptation is too much to bear. There’s no harm in indulging right? He might as well use you while he can. So, Douma pulls down the front of his pants and languidly strokes his length as the sound of your moans fills his ears.

You’re so busy being pounded by Gyutaro that you don’t notice it at first. But when Douma’s cock suddenly appears hovering over your face, there’s no missing it. The size is similar to Gyutaro, long and girthy with large veins decorating the shaft. Though Douma’s looks more human than Gyutaro’s.

“Hey!” Gyutaro growls, “She’s my present.”

“Come on Gyutaro, I’m just trying to show you how it’s done,” he lies through his teeth, “Don't you want to know how to receive oral sex? I’m doing this for you after all.”

Gyutaro scowls and looks up at him, momentarily putting his thrusts to a halt, “Fine.”

Douma smiles innocently before looking down at you - placing his cock against your lips, “Open wide, dear.”

With a nod, you open your mouth wide and tilt your head back. Douma slides his thick length down your throat as Gyutaro goes back to abusing your pussy.

“ Ahh that’s it, good girl,” Upper moon two moans as you take him into your mouth. He begins slowly thrusting into you, you now having to take double the abuse.

Gyutaro picks up the pace as jealousy begins to rise within him. He wishes that was his cock inside of your mouth right now. But he’d never admit that watching you take a dick down your throat actually turns him on. He grabs your hips tightly, and thrusts into you more aggressively. The sound of skin slapping and the groans of pleasure from the two upper moons fill the room.

Tears roll down your cheeks as you’re filled with an overwhelming pleasure. Gyutaro is ramming into your sweet spot while Douma is ramming into the back of your throat, only giving you a few seconds to catch your breath before he forces you to take him again.

“You’ll be a good little pet for Gyutaro won’t you?” Douma teases.

“Mm mm hm,” you hum. The vibrations from your throat bring another wave of pleasure through Douma.

“ Ahh , you’ll pleasure him as good as you are to me right now, won’t you?”

“Mm hm!” you nod eagerly. At this point your legs are trembling and you fervently suck on him. One of your hands is holding onto Douma’s thigh, while the other is wrapped around Gyutaro’s wrist. Both men picking up their pace. But you are the first one to reach your peak.

Your gummy walls tighten around Gyutaro as you gush all over his pelvis. Moaning and gasping around Douma’s throbbing cock, that threatens to spill at any moment.

The sensations of your orgasm quite literally milk Gyutaro dry. He’s quick to follow you, moaning and tilting his head back as he fills you full of hot sticky cum. His black nails digging into your flesh as he shoots rope after rope into you.

And finally, Douma cums down your throat. Moaning and grinning as he’s filled with a sense of satisfaction. His dick twitches as he empties his load into you, staying so deep down your throat that you have no other choice but to swallow.

“Great job to both of you,” Douma says with an affirming smile as he slides his length out of your mouth.

You’re barely able to process anything that he’s saying. All you can do is pant and tremble beneath the two demons. Drool rolling down your chin, and cum seeping out of your cunt.

Gyutaro finally slides out of you and gently places you back down on the pillows. He tenderly runs his thumb along your hip.

“Still think you don’t need her?” Douma asks with a cocky grin.

“Fine… I guess I could find some use for her,” Gyutaro blushes, “Thanks for the present.”

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #douma #douma x reader #douma x y/n #gyutaro smut #douma smut #kny smut #demon slayer smut #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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samantabrzozowska · 11 months

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"We all have one dream, we

all dream of eternal love and

of the eternal life in God's paradise."

With love Sam

#mermaid girl #mermaid #childhood dreams #child of paradise #gospel #god's children #spirituality of the eternal child of paradise #faith #paradise #god's love #god's creation #believer

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cheeekycharchar · 1 year

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The Forbidden Fruit, Choices and Fear

[A GOOD OMENS META ANALYSIS OF AZIRAPHALE POST S2] I know everyone is still upset about that gut punch of an ending to GO S2.. and many are also extra upset at Aziraphale.. I'm in so much pain over it too but.. I have to rationalize that damned "I forgive you" line that broke all our hearts to comfort me until we get S3.. I basically overanalyze our favorite cocoa loving Angel to explain his reaction to the kiss and why we all need to be a lil kinder to him.

2500 BC in the Land of Uz.. Aziraphale, the Angel of the Eastern Gate, had the fear of God put into him. And this affected the rest of his immortal life up until that kiss.

Angels, after the Fall and the great war between Heaven and Hell, had the fear of the Almighty's wrath put into them. They all fell in line and stayed in line. Or else they'd end up like their fallen brethren.. or worse. But there was one lil Angel that had since toed that line..

"Didn't you have a flaming sword? Yeah, it was flaming like anything." "…Gaveitaway.." "You what?" "I gave it away!" As far as we've seen, this is the first time Aziraphale did something "bad". And he's already feeling the pressure. The guilt. The fear. He didn't follow the rules. He didn't do exactly as he was told. And suddenly, here's a Demon slithering up next to him and making him doubt his choice even more. The same Demon that snuck past the guardians of Eden and tempted the first human's into eating the apple, breaking the rules and getting them kicked out of paradise on Earth.

"Bit of an over reaction if you ask me. First offence and everything. I can't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway. "Well, it must be bad.. [..] Otherwise.. you wouldn't have tempted them into it." "Not very subtle of the Almighty, though. Fruit tree in the middle of a garden with a 'Don't Touch' sign. Makes you wonder what God's really planning." "Best not to speculate. It's all part of the Great Plan. It's not for us to understand. It's ineffable. It is beyond understand and incapable of being put into words."

Already the seeds of doubt are tinkering in his mind. Stay in line. No more questioning the Almighty's plans. That's what got all the bad Angels thrown out of Heaven and then Adam and Eve exiled too.

"I do hope I didn't do the wrong thing." "Oh, you're an angel. I don't think you can do the wrong thing." "Oh, thank you. It's been bothering me." "I've been worrying, too. What if I did the right thing with the whole 'eat the apple' business? A demon can get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing. It'd be funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one." *chuckles* "..No. It wouldn't be funny at all!"

And then we get to season two's opening reveal. Crowley and Aziraphale had actually met before the wall of Eden.

"But that's idiocy!" {…} "It's not our job to advise the Almighty on the details of creation." "Well, then whose job is it?" {…} "Well, if I was the one running it all, I'd like it if someone asked questions. Fresh point of view."

And thanks to Aziraphale mentioning the Great Plan to Angel Crowley.. it put seeds of doubt into his mind. Making him question the Almighty's plans.

".. I'd hate to see you getting into any trouble." "Thanks for your help. And thanks for your advice. I wouldn't worry though. How much trouble can I get into just for asking a few questions?"

And then 10 million Angels fell. Kicked out of Heaven and marked as evil, unforgivable, and without God's love for eternity. Then we get the flashback to the story of a a prosperous man of outstanding piety named Job and how his life was destroyed because of a bet between God and Satan to test his faith even in adversity.

"What did he [Job] do? "Job? Nothing. Job's the nicest man in the world. That's why he's so perfect for the bet. You see, God was saying how righteous Job was and how much Job loved God. And Satan pointed out-- that maybe that was just 'cause God's been so nice to him. ..God's letting Satan destroy everything Job has. And then we'll see."

Now remember, the great flood wasn't too long ago. Where the Almighty wiped out nearly all of the human race with a big storm cause they were tetchy aka simply irritable, bad-tempered and annoyed. So this time, Aziraphale actually questions Heaven about this bet when he finds out that Job's children will be killed.

"Trust in God's plan, Aziraphale. Always." "Of course. So, once Job's trials are over, everything is restored to him?" "Even better than that. God will reward him with twice as much as he had before." {…} "I think they quite like the old ones [Job's children].. And if.. we kill them-" "-Aziraphale… we are the good guys. We're not killing anyone. What we are doing is simply not stopping hell. What they do is up to them."

His faith is wavering. He can hardly believe that Heaven would actually destroy a good man's family without truly understanding the fragility and consequences of human life/death; all to test him on a bet.

"Are we sure that Sitis wants to give birth four more times?"

Furthermore, they would be forcing Job's wife to give birth 7 more times despite Aziraphale's warning of them loving their original 3 children and that Sitis may not actually want to give birth to more children at her age. Hence taking away her choice. But thankfully, good ol' Crowley is the worst demon ever and is secretly protecting Job's children and goats. Something they're keeping between the two of them. And then during this deception… Crowley tempts Aziraphale with his first bite of food.

"Have an ox rib." "Are you trying to tempt me?" "Not at all. Angels can't be tempted, can you?" "Certainly not." "Well, there you are then. You're free to try the food."

A temptation he quickly falls into. A choice to eat the food and enjoy it to gluttony. Another sin under his belt. In the end, Virtuous Job passed his test but had the shit reward in return. Except Crowley and Aziraphale secretly saved the children.. which lead to Aziraphale lying straight to Heaven.. again.

And this is where he finally falls apart.

"I'm ready to go." "Go where?" "To Hell." {….} "But you have to. I'm like you now.. A demon.." "You think you're a demon?" "I'm a fallen angel! I lied.. To thwart the will of God." "Well yeah, you did, but I'm not gonna tell anybody. ..Are you?" *shakes head no* "No. Then nothing has to change, does it?" "…But what am I?" "You're just an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can." "That sounds um.." "Lonely?" "Yeah. But you said it wasn't." "I'm a demon. I lied."

As Crowley always tells him- Demons lie. And Aziraphale lied. Again. And now they're keeping this huge secret between the two of them. To never be spoken of or else possibly face the wrath of God. THIS scene right in this minisode here is SUCH an important part of Aziraphale's character and his future choices. And that's what it's all about, isn't it? Choices? The ability to choose between good and evil.

"Look, I am good. You, I'm afraid, are evil. But people get a choice. You know, they cannot be truly holy unless they also get the opportunity to be wicked." "Yeah, that only works if you start everyone off equal. You can't start someone off like that and expect her to do as well as someone born in a castle." "Ah, but no, no. That's the good bit. The lower you start, the more opportunities you have."

What we learn from this wee Scottish body snatching story is that something can be seen as evil but could actually be a good deed from a different perspective. And that Aziraphale truly believed that the lower you start, the more opportunities you could have. But he also believes in divine punishment. Punishment that can be dealt at any time for any thing. Big or small. From a few questions that make you lose God's love to selling corpses for survival money and accidentally getting your best friend killed or just having too much faith in God could destroy everything in your life for a bet. All of which he has witnessed with someone good (Crowley, Job, Elspeth, etc) losing everything that's important to them in the most horribly way. But Aziraphale remembers the hard lessons he learned; of inequality and responsibility of your actions and the choices you make.

Someone born into poverty doesn't get as much out of life as someone born into a rich lifestyle. Or.. a lowly snake and a lowly principality falling in love and being forgiven may not be as easily dismissed as a Duke of Hell and Archangel finding love in one another and simply being allowed to run away to the stars together without any punishment. It's all of these moments, these lessons that Aziraphale learns throughout the years that change his view on life but he still remembers the wrath of God throughout existence. Something as little as a question could get you kicked out of Heaven, eating an apple could get you banished from paradise or you could be the most faithful perfect and loved person and still have your entire life destroyed over a bet. What does he know most about the Almighty? They're "tetchy" and unpredictable.

"Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate. Where is the flaming sword I gave you, Aziraphale, to guard the Gate of Eden?"

He then conceals the truth to God themselves of the choice he made to give humanity a fighting chance of survival by giving his holy sword away. And is left alone without another word. Forced to walk on egg shells for the rest of his existence out of fear.

"So, giving the mortals a flaming sword. How did that work out for you?" "The Almighty has never actually mentioned it again.." "Probably a good thing."

That fear of the unknown consequences to his past actions.. his lies.. for good or for bad.. he could fall at any moment or lose everything he holds precious (aka his Angel-ness and Crowley).

"I'm not an idiot, Crowley. Do you know what trouble I'd be in if.. if they knew I'd been fraternizing? It's completely out of the question." "Fraternizing?!" "Well, whatever you wish to call it. I do not think there is any point in discussing it further."

So what does he always do? Deflects.. to protect himself. To protect Crowley. Not saying the real truth out loud. Keeping the reality of their relationship an unsaid secret like always.

But sometimes, actions speak louder than words.

"Should I say thank you?" "Better not."

Yet again, he breaks the rules. Doesn't even want to hear a thank you. Again, it must all go unsaid.

"You go too fast for me."

Crowley has always been one step ahead of him. Asking questions, falling, breaking the rules, etc. Aziraphale isn't ready yet. He's not ready to lose everything he holds dear to him by admitting out loud all of his sinful choices or else face the punishment he's been fearing for thousands of years.

"Go off together?" "How long have we been friends? Six thousand years."

Aziraphale starts panicking here. Crowley is saying too much out loud. Deny deny deny.

"Friends? We're not friends. We are an angel and a demon. We have nothing whatsoever in common. I don't even like you."

This bandstand breakup was literally Aziraphale freaking out about doing too many bad things dealing with the whole anti-Christ situation and Crowley getting too close to saying what they truly are to each other. But the fear is too much and he lies again. But this time to himself. Aziraphale has only ever wanted to do the good thing. To make the correct choices. To be on the right side. But he's always faltered. Made choices that he was sure were the bad ones. Lied on occasion. Kept secrets from Heaven and God. Given into temptations. And has always had this fear of God's Almighty wrath hanging over his head for millennia. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop. At any moment, everything will be taken away. But what could be the last straw? The straw that finally breaks the camel's back? To garner God's attention and punishment. It has to be something big. The biggest and most important part of his life. Something that matters to him more than anything in the world. His relationship with the Demon, Crowley. But he's learned. If you don't say it out loud.. if you keep it to yourself. Then you won't be punished. It's worked out for him so far. So why should he think otherwise? And then in the end of S2E6, Metatron gives him the opportunity to make a change to the Heavenly system. His chance to restore his best friend to his former holy glory. A chance to relieve all the suffering he's seen throughout history. A chance to make a difference. Despite all his secret sins, he's being given an unbelievable opportunity- one that proves that maybe he isn't as bad as he always thought he was. He's actually seen as worthy. But then Crowley gets angry about all this. He's against it all. He doesn't want that. He doesn't want to be an Angel again. He doesn't want to return to Heaven. He just wants to be with Aziraphale. And he finally says their best kept, unsaid secret out loud. With a love confession and a passionate kiss.

"You idiot. We could have been… us."

Aziraphale wants this more than anything but every instinct inside of him is screaming to stop it, to not let anyone see, to not let anyone know the truth. This final temptation. His one and true forbidden fruit that is the Demon Crowley.. and it's the one he knows he must resist at all costs.

The fear is overpowering. And the only words that come from his lips…

"I forgive you."

I forgive you for letting our unsaid secret out. I forgive you for trying to tempt me. I forgive you for refusing to join me in Heaven as a renewed Angel. But can he ever truly forgive himself for the choice he just made? Remember, in the end, Aziraphale is just afraid. Afraid to lose everything. Afraid to lose Crowley. Fear of punishment can be traumatizing after all. And it will all be fixed in S3. ;) HAVE FAITH IN GAIMAN!

..Sorry this was so long and drawn out but… I NEED SEASON 3 ALREADY.. (everyone! keep re-watching GO2 on Prime! and no more threats to the creators plz ^-^) Honestly, this was very cathartic to write and help me come to terms with the most heart wrenching painful TV kiss of all time D: But I need to see how their story unfolds. I need to see Aziraphale allow himself to make the choice to be with Crowley without fear of punishment. I NEED MY INEFFIBLE HUSBANDS. TOGETHER. T^T

PS. Literally as I was finishing writing this, I saw Neil Gaiman himself say this on his Tumblr, "But the story of Job is pretty central to the whole Good Omens conversation, including Aziraphale's bit of it." OMG I KNEW IT lololol

#Good Omens #Good Omens meta #good omens analysis #Good Omens 2 #Aziraphale #Crowley #ineffable husbands #Good Omens theory #go2 spoilers #character analysis #“I forgive you”

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caligvlasaqvarivm · 4 months

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Hey I know this isn't on-topic for an Eridan blog but you're the best HS theorist I know <3 so do you happen to have any theories about WHY Gamzee faked god tier? I always see theories about how he could be a real god tier too, or about how he manages to be immortal even though he's not god tier, but I cannot find any discussion of WHY he bothered with that ruse in the first place!!! He didn't even fool anyone, unless we count Caliborn for like 2 secs before Hussie told him the truth, and all he got for his trouble was shot!

I think it's mostly a gag, but this is the Analyzing Homestuck blog, so: I think it's because Gamzee wants to look like an adult to impress Caliborn.

Gamzee's lusus is physically neglectful.

But you were never taught that on account of a lousy upbringing. Your custodian was always out to sea.

And several things stem from that neglect - the first, his indoctrination into the Clown Cult, the second, his extensive and all-encompassing drug usage, and the third, his poor social skills, which leave him ostracized by his teammates.

Let's first take a look at what, exactly, that religion entails:

You belong to a RATHER OBSCURE CULT, which foretells of a BAND OF ROWDY AND CAPRICIOUS MINSTRELS which will rise one day on a MYTHICAL PARADISE PLANET that does not exist yet. The beliefs of this cult are SOMEWHAT FROWNED UPON by those dwelling in more common lawnrings.

TC: I PeEpEd oN A PlAcE Of 6 tRiLlIoN HeMoS TC: AlL Up aT OnE RoCk, BlEeDiNg aS EqUaLs TC: It's eAsY To sEe iF YoU SeArCh aLl yOuR FeElInS TC: ThAt pEaCe hApPeNs fIrSt, AnD MuRdEr's tHe sEqUeL TC: It's tHe bEaUtY Of tHe cArNiVaL, tHe mAgIc's iN TeNtS

TC: all my life i believed at a fuckin paradise to come what held the most baller, darkest of carnivals to join. TC: AND A PROPHECY TC: to tell all about a band of rowdy and capricious minstrels steeped in the good harshwhimsy. TC: THE MIRTHFUL MESSIAHS WERE FORETOLD TO BE CRASHING THAT FUCKING PIE STAND AND BRING THE HOLY RUCKUS. TC: like a giddy fuckin ninja one wheeling head long at the hugest fuckin horn heap shangri la's got to see. TC: I'M TALKING ABOUT THE VAST HONK, YOU BLASPHEMOUS MOTHERFUCKER. TC: what i believed in it to be was so beautiful, us and them all mellowing in tents, bumpin sounds, tossing back the faygo and soaking the miracles up our faith sponges, while the special stardust rained down at our elixir sticky faces, like a bunch a fuckin fairy powder from religion space. TC: IT WAS GOING TO BE US AND MOTHER FUCKING THEM. TC: them and mother fuckin us. :o(

In essence: Gamzee's cult believes that there will be a Vast Honk, which will kill all trolls; however, "a band of rowdy and capricious minstrels" will usher in/create a new paradaisical planet of nothing but good vibes and chill times, where the "mirthful messiahs" will get to enjoy eternity.

There's pretty clear parallels here to the Christian concept of the Rapture, which fits in with the Garden of Eden/Original Sin themes of the Dancestors and the Second Coming thing Karkat's got going on. But, more importantly, it's also pretty directly just... what SGRUB/SBURB are all about. Their original population all dies, but a bunch of kids band together to create a new universe, with new planets, where theoretically live out the rest of their godhood in peace and happiness.

Were it not for the casteist influences as a result of being a cult largely followed by highbloods, there'd pretty much be nothing inherently objectionable about Gamzee's belief system - it's fundamentally hopeful, and, in fact, when he raps about it to Tavros, part of it is outright about "equalizing" the hemocaste (they all bleed as equals, see). Tavros agrees:

AT: tHE SLAMS WERE TRULY PRIME, aND, AT: yOUR RELIGIOUS VIEWS, tHOUGH i DON'T SHARE THEM, aRE, AT: rEASONABLY INSPIRATIONAL, AT: i THINK i'M IN THE PROCESS OF RELEASING AT LEAST ONE TEAR,

Next, we'll look at the sopor usage and ostracization together, because I think they're interlinked. People on Gamzee's team are friggin' mean to him.

CG: MIRACLES ARE LIKE POOP STAINS ON GOD'S UNDERWEAR. TA: eheheh makiing fun of people2 reliigiion2 i2 the be2t thiing two do.

GC: NO TH4T SHOULD BOTH3R YOU, TH4T R34SON GC: WHY DONT TH1NGS L1K3 TH4T BOTH3R YOU?? GC: NO WOND3R V4NT4S C4NT ST4ND YOU

CT: D --> What you do appear to know is e%actly how to ma%imize my livid contempt for you CT: D --> With your revolting language and your sense of decorum CT: D --> At such breathtaking odds with the richness and perfe%ion of your b100d CT: D --> I just hate you so much

CA: that is the wworst fuckin advvice CA: wwhat an awwful thing a you to say CA: MAGIC ISNT REAL STUPID STOP BELIEVVIN IN IT

On the whole, the team treats him as the party joke, if not outright worthy of derision. The one person on his team who IS nice to him, Tavros, ghosts him after Gamzee is too forward and asks to make out with him. He's deeply lonely, and what's more, his introductory narration is littered with pessimism.

You'll be doing one thing then something else hits you just like that and you roll with it. That's what you do when life hands you lemons. You sure as fuck don't make lemonade because who the fuck knows where that fuckin' shit comes from?

Someone is bugging you. This is exciting. You're always down for shooting the wicked shit with anyone that who'll put up with you.

That last one makes it clear that Gamzee is also aware of how much people on the team don't like him.

I'm also of the opinion that "Soft Gamzee" was always fake and never existed, which is outright stated by Hussie from the book:

The best explanation for why Gamzee says he's scared of Vriska, in my opinion, is this: he's flat-put lying. It's a good way for him to maintain his cover as 'Soft Gamzee.' It also provides some ammunition for those who, against all sense of good taste and judgment, want to continue to believe and assert that Gamzee is a decent guy with sensitive emotions and vulnerabilities before he undergoes his Muderstuck awakening. He was none of those things, ever.

But there's evidence for this - Gamzee has actually always been kind of casteist:

AT: i THINK i'M IN THE PROCESS OF RELEASING AT LEAST ONE TEAR, TC: Me tOo, BrO, yOu mOtHeR FuCkIn kNoW ThErE Be sOmE Of mY EyE's RoYaL JeLlY To gO WiTh yOuR EmOtIoNaL pEaNuT BuTtEr. AT: wHOA, aHA, hA,

He's trying to be affectionately so here, but given Tavros's "whoa, haha," reaction, it seems like it's still a pretty out-of-pocket thing to say. Especially in light of GamRezi, it's pretty easy to read him as making passive-aggressive digs to Terezi here:

TC: I'm OuTsIdE kEePiNg An EyE oUt HeRe FoR tHe OlD gOaT. TC: yOu KnOw HoW iT iS wItH fAmIlY. GC: NO, NOT R34LLY! GC: 4DURRRR DURR DURP TC: Oh YeAh...

TC: hAvE yOu EvEr EvEn SeEn ThE oCeAn? TC: oR i MeAn SmElLeD iT... TC: SoRrY. GC: >:[

His reaction to Eridan is also "indulge emotional theatrics," but depending on whether you believe Eridan killed his lusus, it's debatably justified. I'm just going to mention that that's also there.

His constant assertion that Karkat is his best friend, which isn't reciprocated until after murderstuck, also kind of reads as a palecrush to me. This is supported by the fact that Nepeta has always had pale GamKat on her shipping wall - which I believe is more representative of how people feel and what they want than whether a romantic pairing is viable, as part of her Heart (and NOT Blood) powers.

He won't stop referring to Karkat as his best friend, really awkwardly changes the topic when the conversation has led to him having to acknowledge that Karkat is closer to Sollux (whom Karkat calls his best friend):

TC: yEaH mAyBe BuT hE's YoUr BeSt FrIeNd ThOuGh So It'S aLl CoOl. TC: AnYwAy I tHoUgHt ThIs SoUnDeD lIkE a PrEtTy BiG mOtHeRfUcKiN dEaL mY mAn. TC: aAaUuUhHh... CG: WHAT. TC: Aw BrO nEvErMiNd, I jUsT fUcKiN dId LiKe To ScArE tHe ShIt OuTtA mYsElF hErE. TC: tHeSe DaMn HoRnS.

(Sidebar about the usage of "best friend," Karkat pretty much outright says he's unreliable when it comes to who his best friend is at any given moment LOL - he spends pre-murderstuck insisting Sollux is HIS best friend. King of mixed signals.)

EB: who is gamzee? CG: HE WAS MY BEST FRIEND. EB: really? i thought terezi was your best friend. ... CG: GAMZEE WAS MY VERY GOOD FRIEND, WHO WAS THIS GOOFY LOVEABLE BULLSHIT CLOWN UNTIL HE WENT PSYCHO AND KILLED SOME PEOPLE. I LIKED HIM A LOT. CG: I DON'T KNOW, I GUESS MY BEST FRIEND IS REALLY JUST THE GUY WHO I HAPPEN TO BE FEELING MOST SENTIMENTAL TO AT THE MOMENT, IS THAT A FUCKING CRIME.

If we take Hussie's statement that Gamzee lied when he chased Vriska (whom he doesn't like) away from his horn pile -

GAMZEE: VrIsKa hEy yOu wAnT To uH… VRISKA: What? GAMZEE: ShIt, I WaS AlL GoInG To aSk iF YoU WaNtEd tO HoP In tHe hOrN PiLe fOr a bIt oF MoThErFuCkIn sHuTeYe, BuT… GAMZEE: I DoN'T ThInK I WiLl cAuSe i'm pReTtY MuCh sCaReD Of yOu, SoyEaH. VRISKA: Aww. ::::)

Then it stands to reason he's also lying about being scared of Jack so he can prevent Eridan from providing Karkat with emotional support:

CA: this is a lot a pointless fuckin rubbish and isnt no emotional help to him or me either for that matter CA: put kar on TC: UuUuH, i cAn't rEaLlY ThInK AbOuT InTeRvEnInG, tHe bLaCk fRoWnInG MoThErFuCkEr kInDa sCaReS Me

So, personally, signs point to Gamzee always having been a lot shiftier and meaner than he let on.

Naturally, that begs the question of why he's pretending to be nicer and higher than he actually is (not that he isn't high, but he's definitely more cognizant of what's going on than people both in- and out-of-universe give him credit for). Well, the answer to that is pretty simple: it's because he loves his friends and wants to get along with them.

You like to chat a lot with your pal Karkat, who is usually pretty cranky, but he is your BEST FRIEND. You have a lot of OTHER GREAT FRIENDS who you also like a lot.

Gamzee's story pre-murderstuck is a pretty tragic one about a kid who never got to learn proper socialization and has whacked-out religious beliefs, whose neglect from his lusus has left him with deep loneliness, who desperately wants to fit in with his friends, especially the lowbloods, and therefore feels the need to hide how pessimistic and angry he actually is under the guise of drug usage and not retaliating against the constant digs they make at him.

I also feel like I have to specify that Gamzee was already a pretty angry, mean, troubled kid prior to Murderstuck, because it helps to clarify his actions after being influenced by Lil' Cal. The nonlinear nature of the story kind of confuses the sequence of events, but it seems to be as follows:

Dave blasphemes against Gamzee's religion so hard that Gamzee has a total crisis of faith.

Gamzee has a breakdown and gets so pissed off that he oopsie-daisy'd a jester puppet into John's room on Prospit.

Gamzee, with his faith lost ("and now i don't know what to think about the spiritual fantasies i had"), Tavros dead, and thus in a very emotionally fragile state, is contacted by Doc Scratch and given instructions (likely to kill his friends and paint his wicked pictures in their blood). At some point during this, he falls under Lil' Cal's influence, too. As every person we've seen under LE's sway has very compelling, natural reasons for acting the way they do, I think it's better to see Lil' Cal's influence as influence and not mind control. It brings out the worst in its victims, but only what was already there.

This seems to give Gamzee a new belief system to replace/supplement the old.

TC: i've been kicking the wicked ignorance on this shit. TC: BEEN MOTHERFUCKIN SLAUGHTERING THE WICKED IGNORANCE, BRO. TC: all up in lifelong denial about my calling. TC: AS A DESCENDANT OF THE HIGH MOTHERFUCKIN SUBJUGGLATORS. TC: we are higher than you, brother. TC: WE ARE HIGHER THAN MOTHERFUCKIN EVERYBODY. TC: honk. CG: GAMZEE CG: PLEASE NO TC: and now i'm the last one, so i finally motherfuckin understand. TC: I FINALLY GOT MY MOTHERFUCKING UNDERSTAND ON TO WHO THE MIRTHFUL MESSIAHS ARE. TC: they were always both me. :o) TC: AND ALSO MOTHERFUCKING ME. Do:

Remember, his original belief system actually emphasized equalizing the castes - in death, anyway. It also never specified that the Mirthful Messiahs would be specifically highbloods. The hint that Gamzee had internalized casteism was always there, but now that his belief system has been supplanted by this new one, delivered by Doc Scratch (the story's Devil figure), his casteism becomes full-blown:

GAMZEE: heheh. GAMZEE: CHECK IT THE MOTHERFUCK OUT. GAMZEE: it's the peasantblood. GAMZEE: HEH HEH. GAMZEE: fuckin heh. EQUIUS: D --> Peasantb100d EQUIUS: D --> Is that a joke GAMZEE: if your blood. GAMZEE: IS A RUNNING MOTHERFUCKING GAG. GAMZEE: then soon. GAMZEE: IT WILL BE RUNNING. GAMZEE: through my motherfucking fingers.

TC: shit was motherfuckin poison, didn't you know? CG: UH... CG: NO? I MEAN, I WOULD NEVER EAT IT, BUT TC: THEN GET MOTHERFUCKIN SCHOOLFED ALL ABOUT THE WICKED NEWS, PUNCHLINE BLOODED MOTHERFUCKER.

Basically, the religious boy had a crisis of faith and was tempted by the Devil into becoming his servant - into desiring utter oblivion for everyone except his own continued existence within the one doing the destroying, rather than a paradise of love, friendship, and hope. And this new faith is what carries Gamzee through to the end of the comic:

KARKAT: HE STARTED GETTING SO UNBELIEVABLY SELF SATISFIED AND PIOUS, LIKE WAY MORE THAN HE EVER WAS BEFORE. KARKAT: LIKE HE'S JUST SO COMPLETELY CONVINCED HE'S FOUND HIS CALLING, THAT THIS SESSION IS THE GATEWAY TO THE PROMISED LAND WHERE HE'LL FULFILL HIS DESTINY. KARKAT: HE'S SO CAUGHT UP IN HIS IDIOTIC SCHEMES HE COULDN'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ME ANYMORE. KARKAT: WHATEVER. AT LEAST HE STOPPED KILLING PEOPLE.

So where does that bring us WRT the fake god-tier ensemble? Well, god-tiering in general is kind of a metaphor for becoming an adult - SGRUB/SBURB sets out for its player a quest directly tied into their maturation into adults, and god-tiering is (normally) supposed to sit right at the end of that questline, a semi-permanent state achieved at the end of adolescence. Characters who DO manage to god-tier without having naturally reached that point in their questline, especially Vriska, Dave, and Rose, have struggles that deal directly with "growing up too fast" - Vriska with the expectation that she be a vicious murderer, Dave with having never addressed his trauma and abuse, and Rose with having missed out on a loving relationship with her mother because she insisted on being more mature than her.

Gamzee's relationship to Caliborn is that of a parent:

ARANEA: It is just as well that cheru8 parents a8andon their offspring. Raising such a child 8y the familial standards of any race would 8e a monumental challenge. ARANEA: Nevertheless, it would seem there were those who tried. ARANEA: Details in my research suggest our villain had a num8er of acolytes oper8ting in the shadows, preparing for his arrival.

Kurloz also directly states that Gamzee's role in their religion is to serve and mentor their young lord:

KURLOZ: I COME BEARING THEE FINAL JOLLY ACCOUTREMENT MY FAITHFUL INVERTEBROTHER KURLOZ: THY BARDLY REGALIA IS DONE AND FUCKING DUSTED BY THE SPECIAL STARS THEMSELVES KURLOZ: ON THIS DAY THE DARK CARNIVAL REJOICED AND SAID IT WAS MONEY KURLOZ: NOW BRING TO LIFE OUR WICKED RUSE WITH APLOMB MY NINJA KURLOZ: OUR LORD AWAITS YOUR SERVITUDE AND TUTELAGE AT ONCE

And even beyond the religion aspect, Gamzee would take this job mother fucking seriously...

... Because his own parent failed him. See, we tie it all back to the beginning! Gamzee putting together a shitty fake god tier outfit is because he wants to be a good parent to Caliborn, an adult figure he never had in his own life, and god tiering is symbolic of that. And I think the saddest part is, he still didn't really manage to do that... because, perpetuating the neglect he faced from his own lusus, he wound up locking the two in a room and leaving them alone - possibly out of exasperation.

ARANEA: We will pro8a8ly never know who these scurrilous conspir8tors were. 8ut it is evident that at some point the cheru8 was locked in a room, either out of exasper8tion, or for its own good, until it was old enough to enter the session.

Like, I feel kind of bad for Gamzee, y'know? Especially since, alongside Eridan, he's one of the trolls the fandom seems to understand the least, and his story is also one of being failed by his family, society, and friends. This winds up turning him towards the worst parts of himself - the religious fundamentalism, the casteism, the emotional isolation - and away from the good - the fact that he loved his mother fucking friends, enough to wish upon them eternal paradise.

#homestuck #gamzee makara #homestuck analysis #homestuck lore #idk what to tag this #also i give up on fixing the colors. sorry

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doumadono · 8 months

Note

sinful Sunday: Douma with a breeding Kink. He is in heat and it last for 4 weeks but he see's reader, who has marriage problem. He secretly eat Reader husband and convince reader to sleep with him for 4 weeks. After the 4 weeks he keeps reader alive snd makes reader his wife and might even turn her into a demon after birth...

SINFUL SUNDAY

Douma's keen eyes locked onto you the moment you strolled into Paradise Faith. Sure, there were plenty of girls wrapped up in his cult's allure, but you managed to snag his attention in the blink of an eye.

Douma couldn't ignore the profound sadness radiating from you, and in that very instant, he made up his mind to do whatever it took to "fix you up."

Douma orchestrated a meeting with you. The mere thought that Douma-sama desired a face-to-face meeting left you feeling honored, and you found yourself in his private chambers.

As you spilled the beans about your marital woes, Douma lounged, chin rested on his palm, savoring the drama as you animatedly gestured. As you spilled the beans about your marriage troubles and an unfaithful husband, Douma leaned back, resting his chin on his palm, thoroughly entertained by your animated gestures as you waved your hands while speaking. Little did you know, you were unwittingly serving him the information he craved.

Douma graciously allowed you to stay in his temple, instructing maids to prepare a cozy chamber for your rest.

As the night unfolded, he disappeared into the shadows, fully aware of the task at hand.

Dealing with your husband turned into a delightful game for Douma. He relished every moment as he devoured the scoundrel alive. Despite the guy being less nutritious than you could ever be, Douma savored his macabre midnight snack.

Upon his return to his chamber that night, a tingling sensation ignited within his groin. The heat, as predictable as every quarter, began to surge. Douma already knew precisely how to indulge and alleviate himself.

The next day, he enveloped you in his presence, engaging in endless conversations, assisting you in selecting materials for a new dress he generously offered to procure. Douma threw himself into mundane human activities with an intensity he wasn't aware he had. But there was a good reason for him to act that way.

Your response was impeccable; you couldn't get enough of being close to him.

It only took him a few days to convince you to share your bed with him, though for him, each moment felt like an eternity. The relentless heat was becoming unbearable, and time seemed to crawl at an agonizing pace.

Douma strolled into your chamber, a sly amusement dancing in his rainbow eyes as he found you eagerly waiting, sprawled naked on your futon. Complaints were the last thing on his mind.

Going down on you sent a thrilling shudder through him. Your intoxicating juices proved irresistible, and he couldn't resist lapping on your folds, making the most obscene noises.

Douma quickly discerned that you were incredibly tight, almost pushing the limits of accommodating his impressive girth. However, a prolonged session of eating your tiny, delicious pussy out for nearly half an hour worked its magic, allowing his lengthy cock to snugly nestle within you, embraced by the welcoming grip of your spongy, slick walls.

Douma fell in love with a classic missionary and doggy style — he relished grabbing hold of the meat of your ass to pull you back onto his cock, playfully spanking your cheeks whenever you attempted to crawl away.

"I'll breed you thoroughly, my little lotus. By the end of the night, you'll be filled with my seed," he confidently assured you, intensifying his pace as he fervently took you from behind as you laid on your side, his cock spreading your entrance painfully.

He fucked you in a myriad of positions throughout the night, leaving you not only adorned with a tapestry of bruises but also drained to the extent that moving your limbs became an impossible endeavor.

For nearly four weeks straight, Douma fucked you every night, making no exceptions. He particularly reveled in the sessions during your period — your blood tasted heavenly, and he found himself intoxicated by your flavor even more.

After pumping you full of his semen one night, he revealed the truth — you were in the arms of a demon, one of the Twelve Kizuki, following the orders of Muzan-sama, the demon king.

Initially, fear gripped you, and you hesitated to accept his words. Yet, deep down, something convinced you he wasn't spinning a tale — his avoidance of daylight, heightened activity during the night, and abstention from human food spoke volumes.

"Douma-dono," you whispered, fingers delicately tracing the lines of his jaw. "I'm not afraid. I've fallen in love. You've given me the warmth and acceptance I've craved. If you wish to feed on me, consider it my repayment for all you've offered me these past weeks, my love."

He chuckled, his long index finger gently caressing your still-slick mound from your combined releases, his cum still slowly oozing from your abused entrance. "My little, silly lotus. I won't feed on you, you're too precious to me. You're going to stay by my side forever. I want you to become a demon, just like me. And if he agrees, you will. Perhaps one day, you'll grant me an heir. That's what I desire most."

#doumadonos sinful sunday 🔥#sinful sunday #douma #douma smut #douma x reader #douma x y/n #kimetsu no yaiba douma #kny smut #demon slayer smut #kny douma #demon slayer douma #douma kny #kny x reader #kny x female reader

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cowpokeomens · 8 months

Text

absolution

Pairing: Pastor!Joakim "Jolly" Karlsson x fem!reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI!!!!!!!!! A looot of references to religion (it all takes place in a church, so), smut smut smut (p-in-v) I'm including dubcon bc consent is weird with power dynamics, age gaps (10 yr) (everyone is of legal age though!!), some body horror stuff, power imbalance, I think that's all but if you come across something that I missed please reach out so I can tag accordingly!!! Love u bye!!!

A/N: This was really cathartic to write lmao I have a sprinkling of Religious Trauma and this helped me work through some of those feelings in my own weird horny way. It is porn, please don't start expecting me to be some kinda respectable writer with plotlines or whatever. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS. Okay enjoy!!!!

The guilt of it is eating you alive.

The pressure between your legs- the raw, empty ache that plagues you day in and day out. Sitting on your pew, you are once again swept away by long, glossy hair and inked knuckles, turning sacred pages of a holy book that can do nothing to hold your attention at this moment.

What an impression of Christ he makes, you think to yourself, sounding hypnotized even in your internal monologue.

He arrived when you were 19, to your small town, to your even smaller church. The rest of the folks in town think your congregation is too… fanatical. You can’t imagine a world in which someone could be over-zealous for the word of God, and even so, Pastor Karlsson had done a lot to level the congregation out.

He was a divorcee, not by his choice, he has said. He was only 29 when he first rolled into town, funny accent and even funnier sounding name causing immediate distrust in your tight-knit community.

But God, did he have a testimony. Sex, drugs, rock ‘n roll, the tattoos adorning his body told you the story better than those gaudy stained glass windows in the snobby Catholic churches ever could. A lecherous lifestyle with a woman who didn’t love him, not really - not the way you do. He had humbled himself to you all, and you gladly let him in. He was made a pillar in your community - he became a leader to the congregation.

Which is why you always suppressed your feelings, putting them in a locked sarcophagus and hurling it to the far recesses of your mind. You will not be the thing that tries to come between him and the Lord.

You look up at him as he speaks, standing at the pulpit and wielding the word of God like the Archangel Michael who so valiantly struck down Satan. He who is made in God’s image; Had it not been for your utter devotion to the Lord, you would have wondered if he could sin at all.

But you knew better. Everyone carried their own sins. You had heard stories of husbands and wives who idolized each other so much that they left the church altogether. Your heart broke at the thought of leaving God’s light to worship something as sinful as human flesh, couldn’t imagine risking an eternity of paradise for what would one day be dust.

Not that you’d know, of course. You’d never felt the touch of a man outside of when Pastor Karlsson baptized you the day before your 21st birthday. It had been fuel for weeks, his gentle hand on your back, guiding you underneath the water of the river that ran out behind the church. You had stuffed yourself full of your own fingers that night, stuffed your mouth full of bed linens so that no one would hear how you came undone at the mere thought of him.

Perhaps you are the lecherous one, after all. Though you can’t help but think that God has given you Pastor Karlsson on purpose, as a test of your faith. A test that you believed you were passing, for the most part. You haven’t missed a Sunday sermon since you caught the flu in 2021, and even so, you watched the livestreams on Facebook. You keep your nose in your Bible, and ignore the clench in your gut when he tells you good morning.

This morning is different.

This morning is worse.

You just come off of your period- disgusting and uncomfortable as it was, you are thankful it was over and you can enjoy the rest of your June in peace. But it lingers under your skin, an itch that can’t be scratched. Your emotions are raw, and you burst into tears twice this week, unprompted. Worst of all is the ache.

You didn’t know you could feel so empty. It claws at your insides like a caged beast, mockingly calling in the voice of Moloch himself, “Fill me up, fill me up.”

You threw yourself headfirst into your studies; you reviewed Ecclesiastes as a way to ground yourself, to remind yourself that this was a temporary feeling, and would pale in comparison to the absolution of Heaven.

Still, sitting in your pew, you felt the hunger gnashing at you, gnawing at your throat. It was overwhelming, all-consuming. You stutter through your hymnal, barely reading half the words. Your mother keeps giving you concerned looks, your father aloof as ever. Halfway through the sermon, she hisses in your ear, “What is the matter with you?”

You blink up at her, wide-eyed, and stammer out a “I - I don’t know. I feel… weird.”

She purses her lips, but says nothing, turning back to Pastor Karlsson in the pulpit.

You pass the time in silence, feeling itchy and hot, until the sermon concludes, and everyone makes a mass exodus to the dirt lot where their cars are parked.

“Hold on.” Your mother stops you as you begin exiting your pew.

She walks over and, to your utter horror, greets Pastor Karlsson, pulling him aside and speaking to him in hushed tones. He nods once, glancing at you, then nods again as she steps away. She looks grateful, patting his shoulder in that way that mothers do.

He looks at you then, and his full attention is enough to make you combust. Suddenly your dress is too tight on your chest, your breasts straining with every breath against the linen that encases you. Your bones itch, but your hands stay resolutely tucked into your sides, your Bible held against your chest.

You’re so busy focusing on breathing that you don’t realize he’s walking towards you until he’s right in front of you, smiling warmly while greeting you by name. Your mother is by his side, looking at you in such a way that tells you she had something to do with this interaction.

“Darling, Pastor Karlsson here wants a word with you. He even said he’d give you a ride back to the house! I’ll set aside a plate for you at home, you two take your time here.” She was smiling in a way that made all of her teeth visible, like a snarling animal. A lead brick settles in your stomach at the expression as you look up at Pastor Karlsson.

He was so tall, you think as you peer up at him. Dark eyes meet yours, making your gaze flicker away to something else- anything else to avoid the intensity you find there. Looking directly into his eyes was like looking into the maw of a starving beast- you weren’t brave enough to even consider it.

Your mother departs with a final “Wonderful sermon, Joakim, thank you!” Flashing one of her pageant smiles at him - one she’s never given your father - as she goes.

He nods politely, murmuring a quiet, “All the glory to God.” before turning back to you. He gives you a thoughtful look before he speaks again.

“Your mother is concerned about you.” His tone was not accusatory or pointed, just repeating facts.

You inhale shakily. “Yeah, I feel kind of weird today.” Admitting to such a thing is not a lie - you do feel weird today.

He nods, as if understanding. Then, “Would you like to speak in my office? I have to pick up a few things, then we can head out.”

The thought of being in an enclosed space with him made you almost pass out, but you persevere, giving a meek nod as you follow him out of the sanctuary.

It was a short walk from the sanctuary to his office, your church is small, even among small churches. You love its modesty; It is a far cry from the towering spires and flying buttresses you saw in your history books back in school, but it has a self-effacing quality that makes it approachable to people from all walks of life.

The walls are painted white, though slightly yellowed with age. Dark wood lines the floor, blue carpet cushioning your steps as you walk. There aren’t many windows - it was built for insulation, not sight-seeing, after all. Crosses hang sporadically throughout the hallways, some wooden, carved by members, others purchased at a discount at the craft stores a few towns over.

His office is a glorified coat closet, something the elders threw together haphazardly when God called him to serve. It fit a desk, a desktop computer that was older than dirt, and two chairs, one on either side of the desk. The carpet is green, the walls beige, and you have always thought it is an entirely unbecoming space for such a Godly man. It’s a good thing he was humble; God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble, you think, almost bitterly, as he sits down in the chair by the computer. You make a mental note to work on your own humility as you sit down in the chair opposite him.

“So, what’s got you feeling weird?” He asks with a small smile, putting his elbows on the desk and lacing his fingers together. His hair falls over his shoulders with the movement, cascading down in a curtain of silk. You remind yourself to breathe.

Stammering, you try to explain yourself. “I’m- I’m not sure, Pastor Karlsson-”

“Joakim.” He interrupts you gently.

You blink at him, confusion evident in your face. He must find something about the expression amusing, because he’s smiling softly and continuing, “You can call me Joakim. We’re both grown-ups here.”

You swallow loudly, the sound all but ricochets in the stillness of the room. “R-right. I’m not really sure why I feel so weird. I just had a really hard time focusing today.” You suddenly realize what you’ve said, correcting yourself quickly. “Not that the sermon wasn’t good! Your sermons are always wonderful, Pastor Karls - Joakim.”

He’s smiling broadly now, clearly entertained by your flailing. “It’s okay, käresta, I understand what you mean." A pause, then he lowers his hands. "Is there something on your mind specifically? Something that’s preventing you from focusing?”

You go still, scared to breathe too fully, lest it give you away. Your eyes slide to the ground, teeth coming out to gnaw at your lip. You can feel your heart racing in your throat- the throbbing sensation makes you wonder if you’ll actually vomit from anxiety. You freeze further when Joakim places a hand on your arm, gently.

His voice is barely audible when he whispers, “Hey, it’s okay. We all have our sins, and sin is sin -”

“- Is sin.” You finish for him, sounding unconvinced. You take a deep breath, then redirect your gaze back to him. His eyes are soft with concern, mouth pulled into the faintest frown. Hating to imagine you’re the reason he’s so upset, you blurt out before you can even process your words.

“I’ve been having lustful thoughts about a man in the congregation.” Once the words have been said, you fight the urge to grab them clean out of the air and stuff them back into your mouth.

The hand on your arm tenses for half a second, then relaxes again. “Okay.” He begins calmly, pulling his hand back to the table. You resist the urge to whimper at the loss of contact. “I can see where your concern is coming from. Is this man married?”

There were only so many unmarried men in the congregation; it would be an easy elimination if you were truthful. But... You were already coming clean about one sin, no need to add on others, you reasoned. Shaking your head in a negative, you give a meek, “No, he’s not.”

Joakim nods thoughtfully, staying silent for a moment. You can all but see the gears turning in his mind, deducing who it could be. You wonder if he lists himself amongst the unmarried men- or if he is courting some woman, unbeknownst to you all. No, your mind fired at you venomously. He is not the sort of man to slink around in the shadows.

Finally, he spoke. “While lust is never something to give full rein to, it is understandable, biologically speaking.” Upon seeing your confusion, he offers another soft smile, continuing. “You’re at an age where your body wants you to have children. It is what God made you for, it’s only natural that someone as devoted as you are would respond strongly to His plan. You’re not doing anything wrong, käresta.”

Relief floods your body, making your shoulders sag at the loss of tension. You aren’t doing anything wrong, Joakim even told you so. But that makes you wonder- is there anything you should be doing? You’re about to ask when he speaks again.

“I’ve been wanting to speak with you privately for a while now.” He huffs a small laugh. “It seems the Lord thought today would be a good time, so it shall be.”

You straighten your shoulders, sitting up, wanting to make sure he knows he has your full attention. Looking at him fully, you’re not surprised why your body is so responsive to him. He’s so handsome, even with the shadow of dark stubble on his face. You wonder what keeps him up at night, which chapters he gets stuck on for days before clarity dawns on him. It’s no mystery why your body is putting thoughts of lust in your mind; he’s the sort of man who would make a wonderful father.

You cut off that train of thought, needing to focus on the present moment. He needs your full attention for whatever he’s going to say next.

“The Lord has been communicating with me for some months now, on the topic of finding a wife.” You both take deep breaths, though for different reasons, you imagine. “You’ve heard my testimony on my previous marriage, so I don’t need to emphasize how much I’ve prayed about this.”

Your heart breaks, shatters, combusts into nothing but ash at his words. The Lord wants him to find a wife, and it sounds like he has someone in mind. You swallow the lump of bile in your throat, trying to listen to his next words as your guts fight the natural inclination to stay in your body.

“I’ve spoken to God a lot, the last few months- even by pastor standards.” The playful smile he gives you feels like a knife twisting in your chest. “And if I’m understanding his message correctly, I believe God wants me to court you.”

You’re so busy wallowing that you don’t understand what he’s said at first. The words sink in slowly, like the drip of an IV into your veins. When you think you understand, you manage a, “What?”

He chuckles, not a degrading sound, rather like he understands your confusion. “I know, it seems sudden, but I’ve been speaking to the Lord about this for many months, and-”

“Oh my goodness.” You interrupt as realization hits you like a freight train. “No - I know. I know. Because God has been speaking to me, too.”

Joakim’s brow furrows at you, and it feels nice to not be the confused one for once.

You continue, looking up at him shyly. “The… lustful thoughts I’ve been having, they-” You pause, building up your courage. “They’re about you.”

He’s frozen, mouth slightly agape as he processes your confession. His head tilts to the side slightly, eyes darker than usual as he asks, “You’ve been having lustful thoughts about… me?”

You nod, cheeks tinged pink. “When you’re in the pulpit - I try to focus, I really do, but my mind wanders to… other things.”

You should be embarrassed, should be ashamed of admitting something so unbecoming. But the comfort of this being God’s plan washes away any ill regards you have about the situation; this is what He has always intended.

“Other things?” He echoes, eyes focused on you intensely. His voice is hushed, only loud enough for the two of you to hear. “Like what?”

Your blush deepens at his inquiry. “Well, it’s more of a feeling than an exact thought…”

He’s leaning forward now, all but hanging over his desk at your words. He looks hungry, you realize suddenly; Like he’d seen firsthand the famine in Canaan, pupils blown wide, mouth open, breathing slowly. “A feeling?” He prompts.

Nodding, you find yourself leaning forward too, almost desperate to close the gap between you both. You can feel the dust in the air, hear the quiet electric hum of his old desktop computer. Your breath is coming too loudly, it ricochets off the walls around you both. “It feels like an ache.” You explain, sounding hoarse. “It feels like an emptiness.”

He takes a shaky breath, pushing himself back from his desk in a controlled motion. Standing up, he makes his way around the desk to stand in front of you, one of his calloused hands guiding your chin up to look at him.

“Do you want me to help you - with the emptiness? The ache?” He questions, eyes boring into yours.

The thought of it makes your thighs clench together, and the feeling is so delicious that you almost vocalize it. Your mouth is dry, but you feel wetness gathering in your cotton panties already. You almost forget to respond, nodding and breathing out, “Yes, please.”

“Always so well-mannered.” He praises, making you feel warm. You would do just about anything for him to keep going.

The hand on your jaw guides you upward until you’re standing in front of him. You’re not touching, but you can feel the heat emanating from his body, feel the way the air vibrates between you. His eyes travel down to your lips, back up to your eyes, then down to your lips again.

“Have you ever kissed a boy, lillis?” He asks, eyes half-lidded and voice quiet.

You shake your head, a tiny movement. “No.” You pause, then decide to continue. “I wanted to save myself.”

His inhale is sharp, deep. “Such a good girl.” The words light a fire in your belly, and the familiar gnawing is back, worse than ever before. You shift on your feet, subconsciously searching for any kind of friction. He picks up on the movement.

“Do you feel empty, now? Are you desolate?” You can feel where his breath hits your face. If you tilted your head right, your lips would meet. The clothes you’re wearing feel itchy - too tight, too rough.

You can’t speak, so you nod “yes.” His eyes run down your figure, back up again to your lips.

“Show me where.” Is his only command. You can’t read his expression fully, features arranged into careful neutrality. The spark in his eyes seemed to hint at desperation, though.

Your face is probably the color of a sun-ripened tomato, but you do as he says, grabbing his free hand, guiding it between your legs. His fingers curl up through your skirt, cupping your mound. Your eyelids flutter shut at the contact, hands coming up to rest against his chest to steady yourself. Heartbeat racing, you don’t think there could be anything better than the feeling of what’s happening right now.

“Here? Is this where you feel empty?” His lips move against your cheek, breath fanning across your ear, making you shiver.

You blink several times, trying to clear your head. “Joakim, please.” Is all you can muster, fingers gripping at his shirt.

You can feel him sag against you as his lips crash into yours. You’re not completely sure of what to do, allowing him to guide your lips open, licking into your mouth. You hear yourself groaning into the kiss, crowding impossibly closer until your bodies are pressed against each other fully.

He breaks the embrace to place wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down your neck. The feeling is euphoric, making your hips buck into his without conscious decision.

Hands run down your sides, coming up again underneath your dress skirt to grip at the backs of your thighs, yanking you forward with such force that you almost topple over. His left hand is at your back in an instant, holding you steady before unzipping the back of your dress in a swift motion.

The material pools around your front, hanging loosely until you pry it off, happy to be rid of the too-rough fabric at last. His lips are back on yours in an instant, one hand gripping the back of your neck while the other kneads the flesh of your breast through your bra.

You outright moan at the feeling, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as your mouth opens to let the sound out. He works a knee between your legs, rubbing the meaty flesh of his thigh against your core in such a way that has you seeing spots in your vision. Fingers curling into claws where they grip onto his shoulders, you grind down onto his leg, an animalistic snarl escaping you as you do so.

You know this feeling; Though it’s a sin to give into lust, you’ve made yourself climax before, silently, long after everyone had laid down to rest at night. This is so much more, though - you feel as though someone has soaked you in gasoline and laid a lit match to your flesh. Nothing could have torn you from the carnal desire you felt, being entwined with Joakim like this. You want to take turns ripping each other apart, severing limbs and gluing them back together until you have both been remade in His image. You want to bite and gnaw and lick until you taste blood, to soothe the worried skin with soft whispers and softer hands. Dragged to Hell and back, nailed to a cross and left to rot, rising from the dead with such vigor that Lazarus would envy you - you wanted it all, so long as this moment didn’t end.

“Joakim - I, I -” You choke out, eyes focusing on his, foreheads pressed together.

“Good girl, give it to me, everything you’ve got.” He urged you, the hand on your neck coming down against your hip, ushering your pelvis against his thigh.

Burying your head in his chest, you climax with a wanton moan, body shuddering through the shockwaves of it. Your breathing is labored, vision blurry from clenching your eyes shut so tightly.

He’s gently prying you off his leg then, maneuvering your positions until you find yourself face-down on his desk. Using a knee, he nudges your knees apart until he fits comfortably between them. The new angle has you feeling vulnerable, visible, licentious.

You don’t have time to dwell on the feeling, because suddenly his fingers are playing with your folds through your ruined panties. Your knees almost buckle at the stimulation, so sensitive it almost hurts. Gripping the other side of the desk to hold yourself upright, you do your very best to stay still as he explores your body.

Two fingers hook into the side of your panties, moving them to the side. You know he can see everything like this, and while part of you is screaming at the debauchery of it, another, louder part of you hopes he likes what he sees. You’re fighting the urge to sneak a glance at him when the two fingers that moved your panties aside are thrust deep into your core.

You let out a howl that could rival a rabid dog, nails scraping against the wooden laminate of the desk as your hands clench into fists. He’s curling his fingers inside you slowly, and you can feel every millimeter of it. A string of drool escapes your open mouth, cascading down into a puddle on a stack of prayer requests from this morning’s sermon.

“That’s it, so good, just take it, lillis.” He murmurs, fingers still unfurling deep inside you.

You don’t know that you can do anything but take it. His fingers are so much thicker than yours, taking up twice as much space as you’re used to. You feel wonderfully full, the emptiness inside you finally satiated.

But then he’s pulling them out, and you almost sob at the loss of it. You could feel your hole clenching on nothing, throbbing with want; Whether you enjoy it or not, you aren’t even sure.

You hear a zipper, then the sound of something metallic hitting the carpet. When you turn your neck to see what’s happening, you’re met with the sight of Joakim’s full manhood on display.

You’ve never seen a man naked before. There were pictures, shown to you unwillingly by the cruel boys who called you a “Bible-thumper” in school, but this is entirely different.

Joakim is… prettier, you think is the right word. His tip is pink, almost red, and wet-looking in the glow of the fluorescent office lights. Veins bulge along the length, throbbing at you angrily as if to mock the throbbing happening within you. It’s big, you realize suddenly. You can’t begin to fathom how it’s going to fit inside you, when his fingers alone made you feel so full already.

A hand is placed at the back of your neck, holding you flat in place. The weight is reassuring, grounding in its pressure as you’re pressed fully against the desk, the cool laminate a welcome reprieve from the fever burning in your skin. You feel him press his tip against your folds, running it through the slickness there, before slowly pushing past your threshold.

“It hurts.” Is the first thing you whine, legs already trembling. It does hurt - in a sharp way, like stretching to reach your toes first thing in the morning.

You gasp as he leans over, thrusting further into you as he whispers in your ear. “Shh, I know. It’s the price we must pay for our sin.” His murmur relaxes you a bit, reassures you of what you’re doing. Joakim would not lead you astray; God had spoken to him, given him fortitude in the last months. This was His plan.

The stretch continues as he slowly slides further into you, until your bodies are joined completely. You’re panting, open-mouthed as he fills you entirely. Your toes are barely brushing against the ground from how far he’s pushed you into the desk, corners digging into your hips sharply.

A soothing hand runs up and down your spine, unraveling the muscles that have been pulled taut with anticipation. Your breathing slows, body easing around the intrusion until only the sensation of fullness remains.

Joakim pulls back then, a slow movement that has you inhaling harshly as he drags along your inner walls. Your mouth goes to ask him what he’s doing, when he slams back into you, cutting off your train of thought in favor of gargling on your breath.

“Oh my God,” You keen, eyes so wide they might bulge out of your head altogether.

A jarring slap lands against your backside, stinging skin left in its wake. “Do not take the Lord’s name in vain.” Joakim rasps, sounding as out of breath as you do.

He pulls back again, only to crash back into you a half-second later. The force of it jolts you, making you wail as your hands reach out for something, anything to hold onto. Documents and envelopes fly onto the floor in your frenzy, looking as haphazard as you feel.

He continues at an unrelenting pace, hand still firmly gripping the base of your neck from behind. You know you’re being loud; A distant part of you even registers that, given the circumstances, you should probably be much, much quieter. You can’t bring yourself to care, though, an endless chant of Joakim’s name falling from your lips as you do what you can to grind back into him.

The hand leaves your neck, coming down to grab onto your hip while his other hand mirrors the action. Your pelvis is lifted off the desk, thrusts never even pausing as the new angle drives him deeper into you. Tears spring in your eyes from the overstimulation, having climaxed only a few short minutes ago.

This is absolution, You think. Being tangled together, conjoined like this - There is no fear of sin, no guilt at succumbing to the lust-filled desires of the flesh. As Joakim plunges himself into you, over and over, you find yourself almost dizzy with relief at the weight lifted off your shoulders, the panic of condemnation a distant memory.

His arm wraps around the front of your hips, holding you in place, as his free hand tangles into your hair, yanking your head towards him.

“Say the Lord’s prayer.” He groans in your ear, breath hot and sticky. “Beg for His forgiveness. ‘Our Father-’”

“‘-Who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name.” You whimper, the words slipping off your tongue like muscle memory as your body is rocked back and forth by his thrusts. “‘Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth-” Your voice is cut off by your own gasp as he reaches something in you that you’ve never felt before. Knees shaking, you dig your fingers deeper into the mess of papers surrounding you to try and stabilize yourself.

“Keep going. ‘On Earth, as it is in Heaven.’” He urges, grip tightening on you.

“‘Give us today our daily bread,’” You continue, moaning pitifully as he drives into that same spot again. “‘And forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.’”

Tears stream freely down your cheeks now, a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation driving you mad. Joakim is mouthing at the junction of your neck and shoulder, tongue brushing over a spot that makes you shiver into him. A fire is building in your belly, lapping at the bottom of your throat as you move closer and closer to climax.

“‘L-lead us not into temp- temptation,’” You stutter, mind hazy with want. “‘But d-deliver us from evil.’”

Joakim’s voice is back in your ear. “‘For thine is the Kingdom,” A harsh thrust, “‘The Power,” Another thrust, “And the Glory forever.’”

The fire burns so hot that it rips the oxygen straight out of your lungs. Your eyes struggle to stay open, fluttering closed each time he rams into you. A particularly harsh pull of your hair reminds you that he is waiting for your response.

“Amen.” You whisper, vision going white as you climax, body twitching forcefully in his arms. His hips stutter once before he buries himself inside you, spilling his seed into you as he does.

Whether you lay there for seconds or days, you don’t know. Eventually, Joakim pulls out, a string of his release coming with him, rolling down the inside of your thighs. You whimper at the loss, still too sensitive to move.

“C’mon, käresta, we need to get you dressed. Your mother will wonder where you are.” His voice is gentle behind you, hand rubbing against your lower back to rouse you.

Your joints pop in protest as you try to push yourself up off the desk. The room is a mess of papers and scattered writing utensils, your dress nothing more than a rumpled pile of cloth on the ground.

You slip it over your head gingerly, every muscle in your body somehow sore. Joakim zips up the garment for you, running his hands over your clothed back, as if to smooth the wrinkles.

Turning to face him, you’re met with a soft pair of lips to your forehead, dark hair brushing against your cheeks. The kiss makes you feel brave as you ask, “Joakim?”

His eyes are warm as he gazes down at you, his fingers coming up to comb through your tangled hair. “Hmm?” Is his response as he works out a particularly knotted strand.

You flutter your eyelashes, a move that feels foreign, but somehow right. Looking up at him demurely, you ask, “Will you be leading tonight’s Bible study?”

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