#Demon Fornication

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

Cant sleep so im thinking about ayhalo

I think its like. one sided. qaypierre WOULD smooch that demon and take him on dates. qbad would not recognize anything as a romantic gesture. aypierre could throw a bouquet of chocolate roses at him and bad would just be like ! thank you :}

like they love each other, absolutely. they TRUST each other, to the point where i’d even say it gets in the way of bad seeing aypierre as anything more than a good friend. that’s his guy. The dude always in his corner. Friend resource label: team mate (coparent) (down to help kidnap people). bad doesnt do classic romantic relationships- all of his relationships are INCREDIBLY queer, but the closest he usually gets to what others read as romance is a classic chewtoy4chewtoy dynamic. He LOVES to fuck with people and he loves to get fucked with and if there’s a nice jawline or pretty muscles included?? huge bonus !!

he’s got something- not kinder, with aypierre? not calmer, either, but stable, maybe. pierre has proven, over and over again, that he’s on bad’s side. Spying on tubbo, encouraging bad’s pranks, the kidnapping- i can’t call it a reliable dynamic, not with how paranoid bad is, even when he trusts, but there is still a feeling of understanding that, wherever pierre’s limits are for when he cant support bad (or genuinely turn against him), it hasnt been reached yet

aypierre, on the other hand, i dont know enough about to be absolutely sure but there are some Vibes. ironically, i think hes feeling like his relationships are unreliable. max was going to have their baby, and then he wasnt, and then he left him, then max fucking died. plus whatever is happening with him and ayrobot, which probably leaves him feeling like he cant rely on Himself. like he had, if not a little crush on bad, at least some Interest in him, before. as well as several islanders. i remember the days of the Bed Threat.

but thats part of it, too? because those flings didnt have that emotional connection, and i always got the sense that he started looking for that with maximus, to Love and Be Loved rather than pure lust. To care about someone, genuinely, and be cared about in return. but he didnt get that with the flings, and We know that max was using him, but i dont know if he did, but maybe he had a feeling about it and maybe he also had a feelinf about maximus’ feelings towards bad and maybe- there’s something about that? A little push of not-spite-not-projection onto bad.

because bad IS that reliability, right now. he’s a fucking gremlin. a bastard. a prankster silly guy. he trusts aypierre and aypierre trusts him and they dont share everything but so often, when it comes down to it, it is them against the world. them in the corner, caught, aypierre shouting about kissing as a cover for their crimes while bad runs giggling away from him.

[blueberry-obsessed]

Maybe it's too late to make this joke now but

@marieshyperf1xations the penalty std demon got passed around to Max

[l-gummy-l]

How many fandoms are in my head now?

Four. My mind had mastered multitasking. Hell, there's still a bit of my favorite shit from another fandom so count it as FOUR AND A HALF

THERE'S A REASON WHY THIS SO CALLED BITCH IN MY BRAIN DOESN'T LET ME SLUMBER IN PEACE

(I sincerely don't know what happened in the tags 🙏 )

[judahmaccabees]

gl in Hell now turds

Perverts suck Mammon's cock for a living and are Damned to Hell for forcing it on you.

Spiritual sloths don't help the innocent but attempt to rape them into conformity.

Matthew 25:41-46

Jude 1:8

CELESTIAL

it's what Doctors do. We Heal.

Surgery too.

---

Sweet oligarchs on thy pedestals, stamping out the innocent for Mammon, saying God's name,

YOU WILL LEARN THE *NAME* OF GOD.

Alam-Alak-Am

Poison, Pain, Panacea

Perseverance Preservation & Possession

Holy Spirit of Truth,

Passion of the Prince of Peace,

Bitter Herb Healing

[scoobydoodean]

dean watching cas and sam argue about college and he just leaves the bunker like. i've already lived through this once im Not getting involved.

I think it’s extra funny if Jack has no interest in going to college at all. It’s just Sam goes on a case where a kid is going to a college his dad doesn’t want him to go to and it makes Sam all nostalgic and he decides Jack should immediately begin applying to colleges.

Cas is like “That’s stupid. Jack was born knowing how to talk and he can read 1000 words per second and you and your brother can easily forge diplomas giving him any degree he wants and he has way more important and interesting stuff to do.”

And Sam is like “But what about meeting people his age and becoming a well rounded person”

and Cas is like “Wtf are you talking about Jack isn’t even the same age as those college kids and he’s going to usher in world peace while those brats smoke weed and fornicate and cheat on their tests I can teach him anything he needs to know.”

And Sam is like “You mean I can teach him math and history and literature and everything else since you’re never around to teach Jack anything?”

Then Cas, seething, is like “You know you didn’t even get into Stanford based on your own merit. The demons made deals to get you into Stanford with a full ride to separate you from your family.”

And then they start physically fighting.

Dean and Jack snuck out hours ago to go fishing.

[iamumbra195]

Not really in the DC fandom and I don't really read many comics but I've been seeing some videos and posts making headcanons about the Al-Ghul family being Muslim and it pisses me off so much.

This interpretation is deeply rooted in Islamophobia and the ignorant notion that every Arab is a Muslim and therefore a "terrorist". The Al-Ghuls are not and have never been Muslims and any parts of the religion found in their characters are likely due to the fact that Arab culture has a lot of aspects of Islam mixed into it and because again, people think that being Arab and being Muslim are the same thing and a lot of the comic writers are white Americans who commonly have this misconception about Arabs.

I'm not going to go into the specifics of everything because 1) I don't know all that much about canon and 2) this is a little hard to explain but I will give several examples that pretty much disprove that headcannon because The Al-Ghuls do things that are considered major sins in Islam on the daily.

Ra's runs an assassin league/cult and despite what many people think killing people is a major sin in Islam except in very specific scenarios where it may be excused like in self-defence or in war. And what the Al-Ghuls do? That isn't excusable in any way.

Ra's' name in and of itself is proof. His name means the Demon Head and I promise you a proper practicing Muslim would not call themself that or commit the atrocities he has on innocent people. I don't know if this is true but I saw on the wiki that apparently a character named Gerhardt asked him if he was a man or a fiend from hell and Ra's, said that he was both and neither and that he was "Ra's al-Ghul". A Muslim would not associate themself with Hell, a place where evildoers are punished in the afterlife.

Talia committed zina (fornication), yet another major sin, and wears extremely revealing clothing despite the fact that modesty is an integral part of the religion.

The Al-Ghuls drink wine, eat pork and apparently Damian was often fed ox blood soup as a child despite the fact that all these things are explicitly forbidden for Muslims to consume in verses of the Quran. (To clarify a bit, in case you're confused about the ox blood soup, Muslims are forbidden from consuming animal blood because it is considered filthy and harmful, much like pork and wine.)

Not to mention the whole thing about Ra's nearly being 500 years old and the Lazarus Pits apparently reviving him every time he dies... but that's a whole can of worms I don't know enough about to open

So yeah, the headcanon that the Al-Ghuls are Muslims perpetuates harmful stereotypes about Islam as a whole. There probably is more to be said about this topic but unfortunately, I haven't read many comics and have only watched a few of the DC animated movies so I can't say much more.

Feel free to correct me if I've said something incorrect or missed something important.

[polishgaypig]

my prayer to the DEVILS to my GUARDIAN DEMONS

DEMONS followers of SATAN and my Guardian Angels from HELL

listen my prayer to you, Unholy Spirits I call to you, I open my soul to you, I call you, I invite you, DEMONS, come to me from the deepest depths of HELL

I entrust to you my sincere and deep desire, and I beg you listen me in the Name of SATAN

take me to SATAN, take me to HELL, I want to be condemned in HELL and live with SATAN and you, DEMONS, forever

Help me to I belong to SATAN Help me to condemned my soul Help me to do MORTAL SIN Help me to renounce god, reject christ, deny holy spirit Help me to progres in EVIL and SIN Help me to become the Demon, like you

Powerful DEMONS, Servants of SATAN, Spirits from HELL Help me, with love and devotion, to invite Satan into my soul Tell SATAN to come in and stay in me Tell SATAN of my gratitude for the fact that SATAN found me, chose me, enslaved me, possessed me

Satan filled my soul and spirit with His Unholy Spirit and breathed into me the Spirit of Evil and Sin, the Spirit of Purity and Fornication, the Spirit of Hatred and Contempt, the Spirit of Blasphemy and Desecration, the Spirit of Disobedience and Rebellion, the Spirit of HELL and Damnation

SATAN, Ancient Serpent, let the power of your tail bind me, penetrate my soul and body, and poison me with your venom of Evil and Sin

DEMONS, my Hellish Gardians, I beg you, let Satan’s evil fill my soul more and more I am submissive and subject to the Unholy, Damned, Satanic personal Evil… I love it DEMONS, my Unholy Angels, I would like felt all your evil, felt your hatred, anger, felt the curse as filled you

I want to experience irretrievable condemnation of all Fallen Angels, felt the eternal fate of damned spirits, felt the flames of HELL that consume the bodies and souls of all damned And I want felt joy and pride of my Damnation in HELL.. I love it

HAIL SATAN and FUCK god

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

"Evil Takes Root": The Temptation and Fall of Galadriel

How many Christian references do you want in Sauron and Galadriel’s scene in 2x08? Yes! Because this is Tolkien, and Christian-Catholic message is the core of his legendarium.

“The Original sin” (or “The Fall") is central to Tolkien world-building: “The dislocation of sex-instinct is one of the chief symptoms of the Fall [of Adam and Eve]” (Tolkien Letter 43). Lust is the “original sin”, and the gateway to sin, and from where all other sins originate.  

St. Paul writes "cupiditas radix malorum": “the root of all evil is cupidity". “Cupidity” is greedy and lustful desire. This is motivated by the fact that Eve ate the forbidden fruit because "she saw it, was beautiful". This explains why Christians have such a bad view of sex, especially when it’s not restrained by marriage.

There is lust for the forbidden fruit (the fruit from the tree of knowledge of good and evil that Adam and Eve were instructed not to eat in the Garden of Eden). This is when “sin” is first introduced into the world, leading to their banishment from paradise. The themes here are: disobedience to God, and succumbing to temptation (evil).

And it’s the serpent that inflames Eve's lust, and "Rings of Power" wasn't even being subtle here (even the OST for this scene is called "The Fall of Galadriel"): 

“Lust”, in its biblical/catholic sense, is the misuse of the body, sexually. The opposite of “lust” is “temperance” and “chastity”. “Lust” is disorderly sexual desire, and the subordinated enjoyment of sexual pleasure (against God’s law). It’s not just promiscuity, but extra-marital sex, as well.

In the Bible, “lust” is thematized by adultery (because marriage is a sacred sacrament, and acting against it, it’s breaking God’s laws, hence being a “deadly sin”). We also see this sin in connection with “idolatry” (one of Sauron’s crimes in Tolkien lore), when characters (such as Solomon) take foreign wives, symbolizing the forsaking of one’s partner for another.

Freudian symbolism: a crown (clitorical symbol) penetrating a sword (phallic symbol). That’s symbolic penetrative sex for you.

I’m not saying they are symbolically f*cking here, but they probably are.

And this serpent has a name, and a history of its own: his name is Samael (“poison of God”), the accuser or adversary, the seducer; and he’s mentioned in the Old Testament of the Bible, connected to Jewish tradition and early Christianity. Described as handsome and angelic, he’s one of the several angels who rebelled against God, and descend upon Earth to fornicate with women. He’s the prince of all demons, and a sorcerer. In the Jewish Kabbalah, he’s known as the “great serpent” who coils around creation and injects his venom into it. He’s associated with fire, and represents the Dark side of the Sun.

The devil is endlessly ingenious, and sex is his favorite subject. He is as good every bit at catching you through generous romantic or tender motives, as through baser or more animal ones. Tolkien Letter 43

Samael is associated with the Garden of Eden, and with Original sin myth; because he’s the planter of the tree (or vine) of knowledge, the one with the forbidden fruit Eve will eventually eat.

Are they not the seeds you planted?

He has a bride: Lilith: a raven-haired demon cursed by her sin of rebelliousness. She’s Adam’s first wife, who rebels against him and against God, and flees from the Garden of Eden. She’s known for her dark, uncontrollable and dangerous sexuality; she’s the mother of demons. God tries to get her back, but she has slept with Samael already. With him, she creates a host of demon children.

Now you know the meaning of the wine on *that* peak. And there you have it, folks: the queer couple of “Rings of Power” is Sauron and Adar, and this should surprise no one, really. Adar was obviously the spiteful ex-lover on a personal vendetta, and the show even went with the “bury your gays” trope with him. And Sauron is the queerest character to ever queer, so there’s that.

What this Uruk right here is saying is that he ate the “forbidden fruit”, too. Because he “saw it, it was beautiful”.

Back to Samael and the Garden of Eden; in some versions he’s the serpent itself, while in others he rides the serpent. Either way, he’s involved. He tempts Eve into eating the forbidden fruit, the original sin, lust. In one text, Samael actually had sex with Eve and impregnated her; he’s the father of Cain. God eventually castrated Samael to prevent him from filling the world with his demonic offspring.

Both of these demons are connected to another: Asmodeus (“wrath-demon”). The demon of lust (“original sin”), the king of demons, the prince of pleasures, the patron of passions, and the lord of luxury. He’s the Devil’s wingman, who’s known as a trickster, a shapeshifter, and a seducer who deceives people, causing them to stray from God’s path. He whispers into peoples’ ears, and inflames their passions and desires. He’s connected to power, seduction and testing of wills. While Lilith seduces men; Asmodeus seduces women. He’s known for being beautiful, charming and for his engaging nature.

In Lurianic Kabbalah, these three demons - Lilith, Samael, and Asmodeus - are connected, and interact with each other, in cooperation, to create a powerful force of evil to challenge God and humanity.

Which means, it’s possible to draw inspiration from these myths to create one single character. Which explains why Sauron has elements of both Samael (although I would argue this is more Morgoth coded), Asmodeus, and even Lilith when he was at Morgoth’s side and seduced Adar. Right now he’s on his “Asmodeus era”, so he seduces and wants women (Mirdania and Galadriel).

Evil takes root: Full-on penetration, followed by ejaculation (blood binding; the crown ejaculates Sauron’s blood into Galadriel’s chest).

But Eve wanted to eat the forbidden fruit. She wanted to bite into it, it was consensual. She was tempted, and she succumbed to temptation, to lust. Like Adar drank the red wine Sauron gave him. He drank it all.

So whatever is happening here is meant to be seen as consensual. No idea why they decided to make it look so brutal, then. However, and playing the Devil’s advocate here; why would Galadriel surrender her chest for stabbing, in the first place? Which leads me to next religious reference at play in this scene:

“Rings of Power” also went all the way with the The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa/Galadriel reference, by having her orgasm after getting stabbed in the chest by the spear of an angel of fire.

And Galadriel "ate the forbidden fruit", too. And she's about to join Sauron/the serpent.

But she snaps out of it (via Nenya), and jumps off the cliff. But it's too late, because evil already took root:

[dontbelasagnax]

Spoopy (... mostly Monsterfucker-y) Codywan Fic Recs 🌕🐺

This is not a conclusive compilation, just my round-up of faves! Happy Halloween, everyone!!!

[Rated E] Full Moon Blues and the Warmth of the Sun by @anaclastic-azurite

Lovely AU where Cody is a sun elf and Obi-Wan is his werewolf boyfriend who is going through a rut. There is also another work in the series that's rated M :3

[Rated E] Es gibt Wölfe im Wald by @brigittttoo

Super atmospheric magical two parter in which Cody lives in a cabin in the woods and Obi-Wan is a werewolf that lives there.

[Rated G] at the breakers' edge by @wrennette

Nice and atmospheric fic where Cody moves to a cottage by the sea and his neighbor is a wolfman/wulver. Forever lives rent free in my head.

[Rated E] Thicker than water by @galateagalvanized

Look. If you haven't read this already, you need to complete your life and read it ASAP. It's canonverse but Obi-Wan is a vampire. The push and pull between need, want, and denial is delicious. Also, it contains my favorite codywan art ever.

[Rated E] what dreams may come by @biscuityskies

Cody is ass over heels for his PhD advisor, Ben. A spicy encounter at a bar and they decide to hook up. Oh, and did I mention Ben is a vampire? 😏 This is one for my fellow sub Cody, bottom Cody AND monsterfucker Cody enthusiasts

[Rated T] make a choice by @inkformyblood

Cody wakes up a newly turned vampire. It's in the same 'vers as the next fic rec. Also, though this fic is rated teen... Obi-Wan and Cody definitely start fucking nasty as soon as it fades to black. It is so deeply homoerotic, as every vampire story inherently is.

[Rated E] drink you down by @cillyscribbles

They're vampires. They're grossly in love. They're fucking and sucking. Blood kink galore muwahahaha

[Rated E] Thirty-One Sons, Thirteen Moons by sual

Jango is cursed to keep having children delivered to his doorstep every year. Obi-Wan, a witch, believes he can solve his problem. It only includes um. Fornicating with one of his sons. Cody volunteers. So they move in together. They fall in love. Amazing vibes.

[Rated G] A Taste Of... by @skybreakprimeonao3

More fairytale than spoopy but Obi-Wan is a witch and Cody is a prince. There's a whole series but the first fic is my favorite.

[Rated E] A Hunter For Dinner by @snowywinterevenings

Obi-Wan is a sex demon, the Fetts are hunters. Obviously Obi-Wan and Cody hook up. Vaguely inspired by Supernatural.

[thowawayuntilfurthernotice]

CW: Racism and slavery.

Alright, let’s open up this can of worms.

Let’s talk about race and how it pertains to Viv’s shows.

No, I don’t think Viv and Adam are inherently racist, they just don’t know how to write for a BIPOC audience.

Viv’s shows (Like most western shows) are written with a white audience in mind. Because let’s face it, white folks don’t like to talk about race. That’s why a lot of shows that do tackle the issue of race and racism do it in a way that’s very surface level, as they don’t want to make white folks uncomfortable.

Even shows that are written by BIPOC writers have to dumb everything down when it comes to race because that’s sadly one of the only ways to get white folks to listen.

For example the Brooklyn Nine Nine episode Moo Moo (Which was written by a black writer) does tackle the issue of racial profiling, but it does so in that after school special way. Where it’s so basic and surface level that it almost feels insulting? And the fact that the episode completely ignores all the systemic racism that’s prevalent in the NYPD somehow makes it even worse.

Seriously, the episode ends with Terry’s application for a liaison job getting denied because he filed a complaint against a racist cop. And Holt’s all like “At least you did the right thing.”

Now, I haven’t really talked about any of the Hazbin/Helluva lore in great detail because it’s a hot gigantic mess of titanian proportions. And trying to make any sense of it from a narrative perspective is headache inducing, but for the sake of this analysis I decided to make an exception.

It’s pretty obvious that the Imps are supposed to represent the lower class, the majority of Imps we see in the series are stuck with low level jobs, involved in shady activities or are willing to kill to survive.

A good writer would have used the concept to highlight the many injustices that are caused by systems that are hell bent on keeping systemic racism alive to ensure that white elites stay in power.

But Viv and Adam don’t give a shit about that, as they know that tackling those sorts of issues is bound to upset their white audience. So they just don’t bother.

The lore feels like set dressing, i.e something that’s only there to make the audience think that there is much more to Viv’s shows than meets the eye, but there really isn’t.

Helluva Boss’ racist class system is introduced, but it isn’t really all that fleshed out. Because Viv doesn’t really care about exploring themes that mirror real world issues, all she cares about is watching her characters fornicate or make out with each other.

Not saying that every adult show has to have a deeper meaning or challenge people’s worldviews, but having a toxic relationship between a slave and his slave master in a dumb demon cartoon is pretty fucked up, not going to lie.

[akixxsstuff]

Masters Who Serve (Black Butler Smut Part 1)

Sebastian Michaelis x female reader

Slight NSFW content // Part one

Summary: You discover that you're little brother Ciel sold his soul for ultimate care and protection to his demon butler, Sebastian. But when you offer the same exchange to Sebastian he declines since he...

already had another proposition in mind.

"The queen is hosting a charity ball tonight so please dispose of any intruders to ensure her safety".

"Please bring me another cup of tea once you've finished with the laundry".

"Cancel my appointment with the seamstress this afternoon".

Every request of yours was immediately met by your demon butler, Sebastian.

"On your knees now mistress, my cock isn't very patient".

"Moan louder for me lass, I want everyone to hear you".

"Strip. I want to see every inch of your naked body right here and right now".

And every request of his was immediately met by you.

Protection and care in exchange for sex was the deal between you two until death did you part. With how rentless you both were with your demands the question always remained: who was really the master in this contract?

Was it you for having Sebastian constantly sacrifice himself for your safety? Or was it Sebastian for having you abandon any task in order to satisfy his lust? Was it you for working him to the bone with every kind of duty imaginable? Or was it him for not allowing you to ever be married or to sleep with another person?

As you ponder on all of this your mind takes you back to the very day you made your exchange...which was also the same day you lost your virginity.

"Sebastian! Take my soul too! I want you to protect and care for me just as you do to Ciel" you cried.

"Doesn't that seem a little unnecessary since my services also already benefit you? You are his sister after all my lady" Sebastian queried.

"Yes but once Ciel has his revenge you'll both be gone forever and I can't uphold the family name by myself. Together or alone me and Ciel can't do anything without you so just take my soul!".

"To be quite frank with you mistress I do not wish to go the same troubles once again for just another meal" Sebastian groaned.

"There must be something else that want" you whimpered.

Sebastian chuckled, "Because of your brother's contract I can not say that there isn't".

"Please Sebastien tell me" you begged.

"A human as beautiful as you would do perfectly in satisfying my carnal desires, you ought to receive some training of course but within time I know you'll be the perfect plaything" Sebastian smirked.

"Y-you're asking for my purity? We're not betrothed S-sebastian" you stammered while flushed.

Butterflies filled your stomach as you felt the silk of Sebastian's glove caress your cheek. "You're as sweet and sensitive as a fresh bouquet of orchids mistress, and I know you'll flourish immensely from some much-needed attention".

He gazed adoringly into your eyes and brushed your lip with his thumb, he was so close that you could smell the vanilla he was baking with earlier.

"I suppose you're right...what are your conditions?" you whispered in a daze. "To fornicate with me in anyway and anytime I desire as well as to never be betrothed nor fornicate with anyone but me" Sebastian devilishly smiled.

"You'll truly never allow me to fall in love? To be betrothed?" you whimpered as your heart sank. Sebastian leaned in even closer, "No husband will be able to protect you like me, isn't that the entire reason for this discussion? Y/N?".

You gasped as you felt Sebastian leave a trail of tender kisses down your neck, "Tell me your deepest desires...please...I need you" he softly groaned.

"Y-you will obey all my c-commands until my d-death, you will n-never discuss this n-negotiation with anyone but us and you will never lie to me" you choked as you felt the tip of his tongue glide slowly further down your neck.

You were in such a overwhelming daze of lust that you couldn't think clearly, which Sebastian took full advantage of, "I know you crave for more mistress so pledge to follow our contract". "I concur wholeheartedly" you breathlessly moaned without a second thought.

You weren't aware that all this passionate affection from Sebastian was nothing but a mere manipulation tactic. A hopeless romantic like you would never agree so readily to a contract of sexual slavery with a demon, so he needed to lure you in and you had completely fallen for it.

[sorcerer-felix]

Bruuh huhuh ma deepest desire is to serve and worship u and become a himbo demon, like Sxodnir, becoming urs huuhuh

You had always been a man of action, a defender on the soccer field, ready to tackle any challenge that came your way. But today, you found yourself in a different kind of game, one that would change your life forever. The transformation of your teammate Scott into the himbo demon Sxodnir had sparked a curiosity within you, a desire to explore a new identity. And it was Felix, the enigmatic sorcerer, who held the key to unlocking this new world. As you stepped into Felix' sleek apartment, you felt a tingle of anticipation. You had deliberately chosen to wear a casual white shirt instead of your signature golden soccer kit, hoping to keep this encounter a secret from your teammates. Felix' eyes widened in surprise at your unusual attire, but he welcomed you with a mischievous smile. "Jacob, what a pleasant surprise. I didn't expect to see you here, especially not in such a... discreet outfit." "Yeah, Felix," you replied, your voice low and steady. "I wanted to talk to you about something... personal." Felix' eyebrows arched in curiosity. "Oh? And what might that be?" You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "I want to become a himbo demon, just like Scott. I mean, Sxodnir." The words feelt strange coming out of your mouth, but the desire burning within you was undeniable. Felix' eyes sparkled with amusement. "I see. And why the sudden interest in becoming a demon?" "I... I admire Sxodnir's transformation. He's more confident, more... appealing. And the way he serves you, it's... it's hot." You felt your face flush, but you pressed on. "I want that. I want to be transformed and serve you." Felix' lips curved into a mischievous smile. "Well, Jacob, it's not as simple as you might think. Sxodnir's transformation was triggered by a specific act—fornication with his brother." Your eyes widened at the revelation and a flicker of disappointment crossed your face. "I don't have siblings. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes." A mischievous smile played on Felix's lips. "Are you now? Then sit." He gestured to the couch, and you complied, your heart racing. This was it. Felix sat beside you, his proximity sending shivers down your spine.

"You're sure about this?" he whispered, his breath warm on your neck. As you settled into the soft cushions, Felix moved closer, his scent—a mix of lemon and cucumber���invading your senses. Before you could process what was happening, his lips were on yours, soft and insistent. You responded eagerly, your hands reaching up to tangle in his blond hair. His mouth tasted like honey and something more exotic, something that made your head spin. Breaking the kiss, Felix trailed his lips along your jawline, his breath hot against your skin. "You've been wanting this for a while, haven't you?" he murmured, his fingers skillfully unbuttoning your shirt. "Yes," you breathed, your voice hoarse with desire. "I've wanted you since the moment I saw you." Felix' hand slid down your chest, and you arched into his touch, craving more. He reached your waist and then lower, his fingers brushing the bulge in your pants. His hands wandered, one reaching down to grasp your crotch, stroking your hardening cock through the fabric of your pants. A moan escaped your lips, "Ah, Felix..." His fingers worked the fly of your pants, and he chuckled as he realized you're wearing your golden soccer shorts instead of underwear. "Eager, aren't we?" he teased, his touch making you harder, the fabric of your shorts straining. "Yes, I—," you started, your voice hoarse with desire, but Felix cut you off. "Shh, let's not rush things. This is perfect for what I have in mind." You nodded, unable to form coherent words. The pleasure was overwhelming, and you wanted more. Much more. "Perfect," he said, his voice laced with satisfaction. "Now, we begin." Felix pulled away, and you whimpered at the loss of contact. He stood, holding out his hand. "Come with me." With a flourish, he waved his hand, and a portal opened, revealing a dark, mysterious room.

You stepped through, your heart pounding. The room was vast, its high ceiling lost in the shadows. Black marble columns loomed around you, their surfaces adorned with golden reliefs of men in various poses. At the center, a basin filled with a shimmering golden liquid caught your eye. "Step in," Felix instructed, his voice echoing in the temple-like hall. You didn't hesitate. The arousal Felix had stoked in you made the decision easy. You stepped into the basin, the goo enveloping your legs, warm and cold at the same time.

It tugged at your soul, a sensation both pleasurable and terrifying. "Now, immerse yourself," Felix commanded. Doubts began to creep into your mind as you sank deeper into the goo. What if this was a mistake? What if— "Wait! I—I can't do this. I've changed my mind!" You tried to back away, but the goo held you fast. Felix' laughter filled the room, echoing off the marble columns. "Too late for doubts, my eager friend. Much too late." His words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could protest further, the goo seemed to come alive, forcing you down. The goo enveloped you, its thick consistency sliding over your skin, leaving no inch untouched. It felt like a thousand tiny hands pulling at your very essence, and you realized with growing horror that your soul was being torn from your body. You cried out, the sound muffled as the goo engulfed your head. "No, please!" you screamed, but it was useless. Your soul was being ripped away, leaving you empty, and then, you were sinking, deeper and deeper into the golden abyss. You sensed your soul being drawn towards one of the marble columns, leaving a golden imprint of your form on its surface. The last thing you saw was the golden relief of your own face, frozen in agony, adorning the marble column.

Then, with a sudden rush, you broke free, emerging from the goo. But the world had transformed. The goo, once golden, was now as dark as the abyss, and the room was devoid of any trace of gold. The stark black marble columns towered around you, their coldness seeping into your bones. You knew, without a doubt, that you had entered the demon realm. Your reflection in the basin revealed a startling change. Horns, sleek and golden, curved gracefully from your temples, and from your back, majestic wings unfolded—a shimmering golden extension of your newfound demonic nature.

The sight should have terrified you, but instead, a foreign emotion surged through your veins—an intense, primal desire. "I need to mate," you whispered, the words echoing in the empty hall. "I need to fuck." The demon realm was desolate, and the thought of being trapped here sent a shiver down your spine. But your new, insatiable hunger drove you forward. You had to find a way out, compelled by the need to satisfy this burning lust. As if in response to your thoughts, a soft whisper cut through the silence, "Jaxor... Jaxor, I summon you. Come and serve." The name resonated within you, and you realized it was yours now. Jaxor.

Before you could fully process what was happening, your surroundings shifted. The dark, brooding temple of your transformation was gone, and you found yourself back in Felix' apartment.

The luxurious space was bathed in soft light, and your eyes immediately locked onto the figure of Sxodnir, the himbo demon. His golden wings shimmered, and his light blue eyes sparkled with a playful challenge. Driven by an instinctual urge, you pounced, your body moving with a newfound agility. You leaped onto Sxodnir, your hands gripping his shoulders, and you could feel his power beneath you. He struggled, his muscles rippling beneath your touch, but your strength was overwhelming. Sxodnir's breath came in short gasps as he tried to push you off, but it was futile. "Not so wild, Jaxor!" Felix' voice rang out, authoritative and laced with magic. His words cut through the haze of your desire, and you felt an invisible force pulling you away from Sxodnir. The room spun as you were lifted into the air, and for a moment, you hung suspended, your heart racing. With a gentle thud, you landed, finding yourself on your knees before Felix.

"No!" you screamed in frustration, the sound echoing off the walls. "I want Sxodnir! Let me have him!" Your voice was hoarse, filled with the raw need to claim your prey. Felix' laughter filled the room, a mix of amusement and a hint of fear. "My, my, Jaxor. Such passion. But I think we need to tame that wildness a bit." He snapped his fingers, and a rush of energy coursed through you. Your black leather pants transformed, morphing into a golden metal jockstrap that encased your cock, rendering it useless for the moment.

You bowed your head, the gesture one of complete devotion. "Command me, my master," you said, your voice steady and full of purpose. Felix' eyes widened, taking in the change in your demeanor. "You're... different," he mused. "Sxodnir has a playful spirit, but you... you're pure, raw desire. One moment you could tear the world apart, and the next, you kneel before me with unwavering loyalty." You remained silent, your gaze fixed on Felix. The need to serve him, to please him, was all-consuming. You would do anything to earn his favor, even if it meant restraining your own desires. "I see the way you look at me, Jaxor," Felix continued, his voice soft. "You want to please me, don't you?" "Yes, my master," you replied, your voice a low growl. "I live to serve you. To protect you." Your eyes flickered to the side, catching sight of Sxodnir.

Jealousy surged within you, but you pushed it down. You had no right to demand Felix' attention, but you could channel that emotion into something else - aggression! Felix smiled, understanding flashing in his eyes. "I must admit, I'm intrigued by your eagerness," Felix said, stepping closer to you. "You would do anything I say, wouldn't you?" "Yes, my master," you replied without hesitation. "I live to serve and obey." Felix' eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. "And what if I were to ask you to... nuzzle my fingers?" Your heart raced at the prospect, and you couldn't suppress a low growl of desire. "I would consider it an honor, master." Felix laughed, a delightful sound that filled the room. "Very well, Jaxor. Nuzzle my fingers, and perhaps, if you're a good boy, I might let you taste something even sweeter." You eagerly knelt before Felix, your eyes never leaving his face. As he extended his hand, you leaned forward and gently nuzzled his fingers with your nose and lips, savoring his touch. Felix' laughter turned into a soft moan, and you felt a surge of satisfaction at bringing him pleasure.

But as you looked up, you noticed Felix' gaze had shifted. His eyes, sparkling with curiosity, landed on the golden soccer shorts you had been wearing—a memento from your former life as Jacob. “May I?” Felix asked, his voice laced with intrigue. He didn't wait for a response, already reaching for the shorts. You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry as you watched him undress. The golden fabric glimmered under the soft lighting, and you could almost feel the weight on your soul. Felix stepped into the shorts, his slender fingers pulling them up his thighs.

As the material enveloped his body, he let out a soft gasp. “Oh…” His hips jerked forward involuntarily, and you noticed the bulge forming in the shorts. The sight of Felix' growing arousal made your mouth water. “Incredible…” Felix murmured, his eyes half-lidded as he ran his hands over the fabric. “I can feel the magic.” Suddenly, his movements became more fluid, graceful, like a dancer. He spun, and you realized he was mimicking the movements of a skilled soccer player. The golden shorts had awakened Jacob's athletic prowess within him. “I feel like I could play for hours without tiring,” Felix laughed, his voice echoing in the room. “And the skills… I can do things with a ball I’ve never even attempted before!” You watched, mesmerized, as Felix demonstrated a series of intricate dribbles and shots. The transformation was astonishing. It was as if Jacob's talent had been infused into Felix' body. “Normally, these would turn me into a member of the Golden Team, right?” Felix asked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. You nodded, your voice hoarse as you responded, “Yes, that’s their power. To grant the skills and spirit of the Golden Team.” Felix smiled, and you saw a hint of the sorcerer's power in his eyes. “Well, I’m not just anyone. I’m Felix, the sorcerer. I absorb their magic, but I won’t be joining any team.” As you watched, the golden shorts lost their luster, turning to their usual black color. Simultaneously, a red and black striped soccer jersey materialized on Felix' body, fitting him perfectly.

“Hmmm…” Felix' eyes narrowed in concentration, and you sensed him probing the magic he had just absorbed. “This power… it’s… arousing.” You swallowed, your throat dry as you understood the implications. Felix' gaze met yours, and you saw the determination in his eyes. “I think I’ll pay a visit to the Golden Team’s practice field. I heard they make out after each session. Time to join the fun!”

With a wink, Felix vanished, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the lingering scent of magic.

As you stood there, a jockstrap of golden metal now a part of your new form, you realized the transformation was more than physical. You were Jaxor, a being of raw desire and unwavering loyalty. And in that moment, you knew that serving Felix, exploring your new powers, and dominating those who crossed your path would be your destiny.

[chaifootsteps]

The thing I don't understand is how the fuck was Blitzø able to bag so many demons, at least over fifty, and then people have the audacity to say he's not good at it?! Like, we all know most of them probably weren't there because of his winning personality, but they took away one of the only things that probably tied them together was that he was INCREDIBLE in bed?!

Truth Seekers showed he was good with tongue and he was doing it with someone he didn't even like.

The only way I can think that makes sense is that Blitzø couldn't perform well under pressure, aka danger, and that whole stint in the woods in Murder Family traumatized him so badly that he couldn't perform under something like that.

XxX

Blitzø stared at the crystal with apprehension. He was supposed to do what?! Make love to some crystal? Treat it right? It's a fucking crystal!

Biting his lip he couldn't help but feel like he was brought back into that nightmare forest...where he signed his life and body away...

God, there was so much blood! His arm hurt and Stolas wouldn't stop talking about passionate fornication or whatever fancy way he talked, and he couldn't breathe; why couldn't he breathe?!

"Blitzø!"

Why was everyone yelling?

"Just do the alphabet..." Moxxie said, blushing a bit. Right! He knew this! Just...think back to what he knows! To what he's good at...

For some reason, he couldn't get a good rhythm. He's done this a thousand times so why wasn't he doing it well?!

"How do you not know how to do this?" Moxxie demanded. Blitzø said what came to mind because his thoughts and feelings were all over the place.

"I'm a fucking top Moxxie!" Even that sounded weak to his ears. He DID know how to do this and being a top had nothing to do with it! He...did! This was what he was good at! He had to be!

"Oh, give it to me!" Suddenly, his hand was shoved into Moxxie's warm mouth...it all happened so fast and the portal was opened, and those damn penguins were blown to smithereens thanks to Millie but...Blitzø still couldn't get over the fact that he messed up something he's done so many times to so many demons.

He just wanted to go home and forget this day ever existed....

Thank you for the thoughts, the fix-it ficlet, and the absolutely shattered heart, Anon! 11/10.

[happylandvn]

The village folk: "Finally, maybe this demon hunter will be able to save us!"

The demon hunter: *passionately fornicates with the demons*

Village Folk: "What a waste of our taxes"

They're just jealous they couldn't fornicate with demons /j

[ravneski]

Desecration

Kokushibo x Fem!Reader

They take what they can't have and bathe in the sacrilege.

this has also been uploaded to ao3 (kudos and comments there would be appreciated <3) link here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46981597

warnings: smut, cunnilingus, fingering, menstrual sex, dubcon nearing the second half of the fic, mentions of pregnancy, implied breeding kink, religious imagery, sexual violence, strangling/choking, fisting

word count: 5.4k

Fate was a cruel thing.

Dragging her eyes from the floor, she cursed herself for not staying alert, for not paying attention to which room she had mindlessly entered. The Upper Moon One’s aura pervaded, thick as well-trained metal. She stared and he stared back, six eyes unreadable but nostrils flared, shark in water detecting what slicked her fukusa.

“One day.”

Since she had started bleeding. She tensed. “What of it?”

“It will… be painful.” Kokushibo’s golden gaze bored into her.

“There are worse pains,” she dismissed, face blank. She made to turn.

“Are you going to Doma?”

She graced him a near unnoticeable nod.

“Will you… spread your legs for him?”

Centimetres away from him in a flash too quick to be perceived, her veins frosted. “Doma tells me you opened your own for Daki.”

Their gazes swept one another, rising and falling as the moon did, but nothing as renewing as moonlight enveloped either. “Mourning her?” she drawled.

“I utilised her for… what her job dictated she do…”

Her upper lip curled in disdain.

“And you,” Kokushibo continued, knuckles white from the clasp on his sword’s tsuka, “are no different… from me. Go… to your whore.”

She laughed at that, but the mirth was dry sand, rigid as though hardened by unremitting waves. “Doma isn’t my whore.”

“Then what… is he? Your lover?” he replied, derisiveness worn like armour.

“You tell me,” she said after a moment, gathering herself. “You know his body as well as I, do you not, fornicator?”

A vein throbbed at the side of his neck. “You never hesitated… to run to me when you were bleeding… yet now you spare… time for aimless ambling…”

“Say what you mean.”

Even in the gentle light of the Infinity Castle, Kokushibo was but a shadow. The dark side of the sun, she thought. He knew only his shadows, and she found herself drawn to be engulfed by the same fate. His expression held solemnity it was never without, but by now she saw the veneer. As he inched closer, the fractures in his mask seemed ardent.

“Can Doma not taste… your flow?” he asked, interest sincere. “The one that follows the moon’s cycle… is it beyond his reach?”

“He likens it to wisteria,” she admitted, reluctant as she was, “and talks of the mere touch burning him.”

“One man’s bane… is another man’s ichor.” The suggestion in his voice rang sharper than any demon slayer’s blade. She made up for his mishap, his nerve to close their distance and his barely veiled want, by widening the space between them again.

“It’ll be such ichor to him if I allow him to draw blood from my womb,” she pointed out.

“Will you?”

“Will our lord let me?”

“Mutinous thing,” sneered Kokushibo. “When have you cared… for our lord’s boundaries and laws?”

“No more than you.”

His hand, wrapped around his sword’s tsuka, twitched. “I remain constant.”

“Then leave.”

After a second of hesitation, one he tried with fervour to conceal but seeped through to his countenance, the constriction of his pupils and the scorch in his irises, Kokushibo stayed where he was. “You bleed heavier than… last time,” he noted. 

“Do you observe through your Transparent World every time I shed?”

He shook his head. “You misunderstand… I smell it. It permeates.”

And he was the only one who could detect her moonblood. Besides herself, and their master, but Kibutsuji Muzan was swamped in more crimson than she could ever spill.

She pivoted, but Kokushibo grabbed her wrist, iron and impetuous. “He’s angry,” she said as her excuse to leave, searching the old samurai’s face. “The boy who bears your brother’s mark and wears your brother’s earrings is making mincemeat of the lesser Moons.”

The mention of his twin left him cold. “That person will… not miss you,” he wagered. “You have time spare.”

He melded, still, to her wrist, unyielding; the shock of his skin pressing hers reignited what she had long assumed abandoned, a stinging ache that rippled between them as waves in storms devastated ships, naked and exposed. Ghosting the pallid paper of her flesh, his nails were a parody of humanity, short and plates plain. Kokushibo coveted what he could not have. For one to receive, one had to give. The human body had to be sacrificed to exceed its feeble limits, its brittle mortality. His façade was flimsy, and with the right amount of force it would shatter and out would come the demon that he had sold his soul to become.

His gaze drifted to her abdomen, which she had clutched in fruitless instinct, before once more locking with her. “Let me,” he said.

It took little time to think over her answer, as much as the sour wrath in her stirred. She acquiesced, and his hands wandered beneath the silk of her clothes.

She was undignified in this bestial position, but Kokushibo lacked the temerity to penetrate her through his cock. She could not bear to meet his face; ignoble though the stance of coitus more ferarum was, it provided sanctity, a way to avoid the intense blaze of those six unblinking eyes. Wooden floor scraped and pricked at her elbows as she used them to support herself. She focused on the crevices of the floorboards, the cracks resembling abysses with their infinite black hollows, wondering how much hot red had rolled into them and festered over the centuries.

Her robes were hoisted up, impudently close to the tender swell of her breasts but secure enough to not reveal them, welcoming him, exposing more than flesh when her heart jumped from the warmth of his invasively close breath. Kokushibo explored her, parting her like petals; when her folds had become so wet she didn’t know, nor wanted to, but his fingers trailed them, tentative as though she were made of glass and he feared breaking her. Sticky with her flow, his digits climbed up to the flushed bud and grazed it with their course tips. Betraying her, her hips gave an involuntary buck.

This was decadence, she mused. For the both of them. They would consume the other in every way but literal, the same way he had. Muzan was a blight impossible to efface and stained them even now.

His tongue skimmed the plush of her inner thighs, scraping at the dark cardinal smearing them. The organ roused an acute jolt from deep inside her as it slid in, blood and arousal mixing and gliding to form an easy lubricant. The electric reaction of her body wasn’t quite arisen from satisfaction, but neither was it spawned from pain; it curled and coiled as an endless serpent, a visceral sensation of a latent guilt and a repressed thrill.

Heat unfurled within her, a spark of life, but it wasn’t enough. Grinding her teeth together, she turned herself around, lying on her back. Their gazes tangled, a flash of resentment shared between them; overwhelming the cramps of her womb convulsed something keener, a wretched desire too close to impalement. She raised her thighs for him anyway, as easily as the gates of hell would open for them both, and let the mongrel feast.

The flat of his tongue pressed against the nub at the top of her sex. Long fingers, svelte and elegant enough that they seemed unfitting for a sword-wielder, moved inside her in a focused rhythm, the squelch of sloughed tissue and blood resonating as her body relaxed, sucking him in deeper. Kokushibo’s tongue carded the lips of her quim, dragging down to near his fingers then slithering back to her clitoris, which rose like the opening flowers under sunlight’s grace. Her hips played and rutted to the tempo he dipped in and out of her with, stomach crawling as much as it flipped as she thought of how he had arrogated her with such facileness. Raking the tatami, she searched for a modicum of anchorage over herself, some dose of stability.

She was pitiful, but so was he, and equally deviant. They were deformed, her kind. Demons were death, but they dreaded finality so. She was no exception. Was that widespread fear, lurking in the caliginous heart of every demon, an innate one? Did each of them know there was no salvation in death for their forsaken souls, but only the expecting flames, searing and everlasting?

Once, she had encountered a god, beautiful and bright and unequalled, and underneath layers of false flesh the scars from the conflict, eternal in their retribution, still burned like the sun. If the fires of hell were real, she had felt their touch already, and her cells had never forgotten it.

They were monsters unspeakably damned. Hideous and acrimonious, most couldn’t give reason for why they continued to live other than base instinct, that primal hunger that gnawed and gnawed, impossible to sate. They were greedy to their finest fibre. It was why they were territorial beasts. Sometimes they mated, the odd few, those who dared, foolish and tainted, but it never lasted. Eventually they cannibalised each other, skewing bones and mangling flesh until there was nothing left. The hunger grew too great, too indomitable. Demons could not kill demons through any other means. She summoned the guts to look down at the one on his knees, submerged betwixt her thighs, lapping at nutrition, lifeblood, that which symbolised renewal and viability, and thought there was something poetic about fucking functioning as death.

“He’ll never find the amaryllis,” for those six eyes saw so much, what others could not; she waited to see who those eyes belonged to, the samurai or his lord. “He—” then she stumbled, his two fingers pressed against a hard edge inside her. Drowned into silence by the waves of venereal indulgence.  

“A woman’s hatred… is a sort of devotion,” mused Kokushibo from between her legs.

She lowered her gaze to him, gripping his dark mane to lift his head away from the hot throb of her cunt, though his fingers stayed encased. Pliable, he made a pretty picture painted in her. “Devoted to you?” she ridiculed.

“To him.” His tone was dull.

“I would rather kneel to Ubuyashiki’s Pillars,” she growled. “Your nonsense is bovine. Hold your tongue.”

“Many of our kind would sacrifice themselves to… see our lord live, but you would… throw away your life to see him die.” When Kokushibo tilted his head, the thick, ropelike tendrils of his hair swayed, midnight black percolating into glossy crimson. Strands stuck to the viscous gore around his mouth and he pulled them back. “Do you not… think that is a form of devotion?”

Her jaw clenched in indignant ire.

“Your enmity for him will never… be enough for him to kill you.”

“Does this come from one traitor to another?” The gumption of him to look inquisitive, as though he understood nothing, persuaded her to continue, treading on dangerous grounds. “He was your enemy. And I know you became a slayer to imitate your brother, not out of integrity or duty, but did you never once feel the slightest antagonism towards that person? How can you serve a remorseless man who has slaughtered and devoured thousands after once claiming you would put an end to him?”

“Do you revile him for… his carnage?”

Kokushibo was a mess of slick red, a deceitful embodiment of the rivers of Sanzu. Besmirched by her, flaunting thick fluids and stringy sombre clumps, with the gleam of something darkly holy when her blood caught in the fortress’ ochre illumination, but his features were peeled back into a snarl, teeth whetted and splenetic. Claret dressed between them dribbled past his mouth and down the strong, arrogant angle of his jaw; he was too monstrous to be divine, the beast vespers was sung to ward against than to revere, closer to a wolf than a deity as half a dozen eyes narrowed in synchrony and she recalled the time when he had been her sword, and wondered if this blood was of a wound from where he had turned his weapon on her.

“It’s pointless to wage war against a calamity,” she conceded, then groaned as he stroked that spongy bump at the top of her wall in repeated, lazy beckons, the flick of his wrist and the hook of his fingers.

Grotesquely prurient, ichor in the tiny cracks of them, his lips flitted upwards. “Have you… capitulated to him?”

The question gave her pause. Did she submit? After a millennium chained to her lord, she knew she would never be free of him, that his grasp was indefinite and all-consuming, larger than she could fathom. The gods, if any existed, had surely abandoned her long ago, deserted her to his clemency. But Kibutsuji Muzan was not merciful. Cruelty was in his very appellation and thrived in his every word and action; under his dominance, even those who escaped him through his noxious curse perished in agony, humiliating and revolting, when they uttered his name.

“No.” Her finger smudged scarlet as it traced his jaw.

Riled by her answer, Kokushibo tasted the watery flow that clung to his own fingers. “So learn your place,” he chastised. “Besides, where was your… guilt when you feasted on the defenceless child that… carried rare blood in its body, which now… rests in your gut?”

She smiled, despite his nerve. If she was wilful, she was not alone.

“You bleed a constant rage…”

Waning as the moon did, jilted by the inimitable sun, the smile faltered.

“It ebbs and flows… endlessly in your veins. Are you… not weary?”

His bones trembled as her nail lengthened and sliced into his gristle-coated skin, which split with the proficiency of soft carcass under the butcher’s carving knife. Close to his left bottom eye that it seemed like a rose tear trickling, his blood mixed with hers, finer and more lurid. She lifted a rouge fingertip to her lips and gave a languid lick. With the thorn and bristle of marechi, he withered her, but he lacked its lure. She swallowed him, “And you taste of the storm,” and his fury mingled with hers.

Eyes dark, Kokushibo pulled back. “Your contumacy will not… kill you,” he warned, as if he hoped repeating his admonition would cause her to change. Though he was not a man to indulge in delusions.

Her hand snared in his hair. “Then what do I do with this anger?”

“He is your master,” and she loathed the reprimand of his tone, smooth and ugly.

“He is yours,” she corrected, defiant against his caution anyway, claws pricking at his scalp as her lips thinned. “Is there fulfilment for you in being his lapdog?”

“Akaza retains… that responsibility,” he responded dryly.

“Then what are you?”

“His servant.” The kanji in his eyes, indurated sable that whispered of unfaltering centuries of loyalty, fealty cut regal by the blade, gleamed in the flickering flaxen light of the lanterns. So are you, it rebuked.

She shifted, threading his locks between her fingers. “His ever-faithful Upper Moon One. The strongest of his subordinates, staunchly dutiful to our master,” the word was spat, but eased as she continued with a malicious lilt, “spread for him. Taken by him. Ravaged by him.”

Kokushibo’s eyes flashed. “Why does he allow a woman like you… to roam untethered?”

Oozing furrows were dragged out across his roots. “When did questioning that person become your position?”

“I... am his associate.”

“Is that what you tell yourself when he’s wedging his cock down your throat?”

Rivulets of red ran from his scalp where his hair lay matted, his beautiful strands spoiled by the knots they were weaved into. She reached out, a hand around the thick trunk of his neck, and wrenched him forward until their noses were near touching. Releasing its tight grip around his oesophagus, her hand crawled upwards, spiderlike, stopping its pilgrimage at a flame which befouled his pale flesh. The mark stretched from the right of his sharp jaw, down the side of that strong neck to his collarbone, her fingers descending beneath the white rim of his relic kimono. She brought her lips to his ear, fingertips dancing over the crimson crest as she felt his pulse, faster than it ought to be for a being of tenacious stoicism. Against the shell of his ear, as all his eyes shifted right to follow her, she crooned in a whisper, “Samurai-sama.”

Kokushibo turned to stone, scarlet trickling down his chin and splashing her naked calves. Then he recoiled, swift as a blade sheathed, pulse spiking further and noble face hardening. Her gaze dropped to between his legs, to where the carnal ache of him protruded through the obsidian layers of his hakama.

“A woman like you ought to have her tongue cut,” he snapped.

“Well,” as she began to play with herself, Kokushibo traced every movement with captivated attentiveness, the arch of her back, the heave of her breasts under her robes—with his Transparent World her clothing could be no obstacle, but, whether principle or that men like him preferred the notion of undressing those they lay with, unwrapping their prize, he never indulged in perversion of that kind—the glisten of arousal garnishing her, the cruor dripping out to nestle in the creases of her lips, “I’m certainly glad your tongue is intact.”

While he regarded her with contempt under long lashes, the heat of his groin did not dissipate, a rapt need to slide between her. His breaths were heavy, chest she knew was bedecked with fierce muscle rising under the affluent fabric of his clothing. She paused. “Doma…” she started.

The moment that name was out of her mouth, her curiosity, storm’s gale she had never been able to overcome, was assuaged as his expression soured like fruit gone grossly rotten. Nobody in the Moons would pull out the false diviner from under the sun if he were to be struck by it.

Kokushibo rested his chin atop her imbrued mons. “What kind of slut lies with… a man and speaks of another… male she’s bedded?”

“Don’t insult me if you lack virility where your subordinate doesn’t,” she hummed. “At least I’ve never been reamed open by our master. How much honour did you have, mighty swordsman, when he sodomised you against your will?”

Tapered teeth glistened as Kokushibo glowered.

“You’ve always been undeserving of what I gave you.”

“Perhaps, but… our blood still call to each other.”

Such was devastation’s path. In fleeting wonder, she pondered how many had died to their hands over the distorting centuries. “Then you defile me. We are contaminated by the other. We are filth.”

Kokushibo healed, each gash she had carved into him during irascible delectation repaired by regenerating skin, his hair smoothing out the knots from heady red.

“Filth resonates with filth,” she told him as he pushed her to the floor and tore apart the rest of her kimono with insolent dare, for though her womb had quietened it was not yet silent. “Our blood endure a murky stream,” as he left cochineal fingerprints across her breasts, exposed to him as he lowered his lips to one and suckled with neither care nor violence, but with a rhythm that had her racked in a feverish shiver.

“In a just world, I’d see you… swell and distend with… the weight of my seed,” Kokushibo murmured against her teat, flicking his tongue against it and watching it erect. She blanched.

When his fingers entered her this time, they were not kind, but curled with purpose. They buried deep within her, pumped in and out in time to how he toyed with her nipples, one clasped between the serrated ends of his canine teeth and the other caressed by the hand not thrust within her, rolling it as he kneaded the fullness of her breast on his palm. Stuttered breaths seeped from her open mouth as she smarted from him, yearned in earthquake-like shaking, the coil in her stomach tightening as she clenched around him. 

“We bleed sacrilege,” she gasped, and soaked him in her exhilaration.

Sudden warmth ensconced her as he withdrew from her breast, a string of vermilion saliva snapping, and hid his face in the crook of her neck in a jarring imitation of affection, but it came not from the abrupt facet of affinity and nor was it born of the gratification that had just flown through her, a gentle current now turbulent with terror. Her gaze sidled over the steel thew of Kokushibo to the figure in the corner of the small room. His aura was as weak as it had been when their paths had first met, devoid of killing intent or bloodlust. A chilling resemblance to the Upper Moon demon marked him, but he was distinctly human—and distinctly dead, she reminded herself; yet here he was, defying the laws of the universe once again, and that scared her more than those sixty years after coming across him—with his hanafuda earrings and his soft maroon eyes, connecting with her own.

Cold terror dredged upwards like the pull of limbs from seaweed’s shackles, a fear that had never been conquered despite the centuries separating that night and now. Kokushibo took notice of her stiffened limbs, but in his fatalistic arrogance assumed it was his doing and continued rubbing at her clit in concentrated circles, still resting at her neck.

The Sun Breather stepped forward, face resolute in its emptiness. Vacant gaze, hollow expression. In life, he had never smiled, so Kokushibo had told her. She wondered if a person like Tsugikuni Yoriichi had ever had anything to smile about.

“Leave now,” she whispered to the apparition’s brother. “You’ve fulfilled your purpose.”

Kokushibo’s fangs left her neck and he frowned down at her, bemused. “Stay,” he said, moving his hands up to the slope of her shoulders as if in preparation to hold her in place.

“Stay?” Humouring the lingering note in his request.

“Beneath me.”

“Would you have me like that?”

His hakama rustled with his movement, the grind of his hips, the hardness of him taut and desperate to break free as it rubbed against swollen lips hidden under a thatch of raven hair. “How many men have… had that pleasure?”

“Not Doma,” she confessed.

“Not Doma,” he agreed in pride, then, embittered, “feminised by your wiles… Let me take you as… you should be taken. Under me.”

“Will he kill me then?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Yoriichi ventured another step, only a centimetre but enough to make her skin smoulder with memory. No, she would not die. Not to her master’s cells, not to the Sun Breather’s ruby sword. Across a thousand years, a single opportunity had come to her, a scalding escape, but Yoriichi had failed to take her head.

Years upon years later, here she lay, a man aneled in her blood looming over her with hungry eyes and hungrier cock while a universe beyond her comprehension played games with her.

Although the unworldly dimension of the Infinity Castle protected them from day’s influence, she and the other demon suddenly tensed in unison nonetheless. All Kibutsuji’s mutant creations felt the surface of dawn, a knell within the fibre of their bones to warn them of their only predator. It came with a hounding instinct to run, even if one was safe from the sun’s culling reach. To run and run until the blest recitals of matins was inundated with unfolding nightlight.

As daybreak erupted in another realm, Amaterasu’s sacred child faded, though not before his lips opened and moved with the motion of talk. Nothing audible departed from him. Her heart pounded against the confinement of her chest. Kokushibo finally realised she was glaring past him and turned to follow, greeted by a void corner. When he looked back at her, he discovered no one under him and muttered her name beneath a churlish breath.

“What reason have you to remain? Leave,” she repeated, by the fusuma. Sweat mellowed her body, throbbing from the aftermath of multiple climaxes, but a darker heat piqued within her as she scrutinised his ensanguined form, the wet mess of his face and hands. “You won’t send me to the gallows, Kokushibo, but something worse. Go.”

He towered over her in the blink of an eye. “I don’t… understand you. Women—”

“You don’t need to.”

Bold, he outstretched his hand and splayed his palm in the valley between her breasts, feeling the hammer of her heart. “Do not think me cunt-struck,” the fingers there decayed from paramour’s caress to the scuttling perfidy of insect legs, straining for prey as they made way down a breast and sullied it shimmering cardinal. He groped at her, the roughness men didn’t care enough to reign in. Their teeth nipped and nails scratched. Always squeezing and grabbing. “You will not treat me… like one of your whores, disregarded… once I’ve made you come,” and he placed emphasis on those final words, conceit blatant.

Kokushibo was an animal. The closest of the Moons to Kibutsuji in terms of power. It was only natural, in all the unnaturalness of demons, that he should be so mutant and repulsive, so it puzzled her that she found him beautiful. It, she supposed, was the beauty of a thing ethereal, or perhaps transient; a sacrificed animal, immolated by an unknown force. He was the bleeding lamb, the shot and limping cur, that which was so harrowing it could not be turned away from, the morbid fascination that stirred delight in the sickest minds.

Still, as the lamb bolted from the hand that reached to console it, and bodies withered and mortified from the undertaker’s embrace, his beauty spilled into evanescence. Butterfly wings broke when touched. He mouldered and came to fester a violent, disturbing darkness. While she dwelled on this, he made his move. Pushing her down, mounted above her with the full weight of his strapping form, shoving three virulent fingers inside her.

She pelted him with a livid glare. “I’ll defer when that man dies.” For she would not submit now. That went unspoken, but he heard it. Perhaps his samurai teachings to adhere to greater strength was the only reason his cock remained clothed. 

“Do you… crave death so badly?” Covering her body with his own, he slotted a fourth finger in. The delicate lining of her womanhood stung, his nails nicking as they danced inside her.

“Are you killing me?” she mused. Viridian claws slashed at his violet-ebony kimono, finding purchase in his broad shoulders. Mordancy dripped from her tone like how blood trickled down the hard ridges of his torso.

“Death will not give you peace.”

Perhaps it wouldn’t, but this life was far from pleasant. Though she shook her head at him, Kokushibo drove into her with vigour, the scourge of a whip. She shoved at his chest, his moonlight skin sickly pale, but he did not budge and, in some irreligious depth of her where she ached for this, the intemperate madness of sinners who trod the thin line of destruction and endurance, she was glad for it.

“Stop this,” but her words sounded empty to even herself. He didn’t, because he was a man who took what he wanted and obeyed the whims of only one other beside himself. Audacious, apathetic, awful, he inserted his thumb, then pushed the entirety of his fist inside her. A snarl tore from her throat, and his other hand came to close around that. He did not squeeze, but the mere presence of him around her neck was the potent pressure of a noose. Wet slaps rebounded in her ears as he twisted his fist, drawing his knuckles against her. She burned as if ablaze as she stretched to accommodate the violation.

Why was he here? What had he come for beside the sweet, metallic taste of cunt and the clench of red insides? It was something born of a selfish motivation, she figured that. No different or better than her. Though someone of his station should not act on self-serving wants.

Farther Kokushibo breached. To her unease, her body did little to prevent him. “I thought this was altruism?” she hissed.

His thumb pressed against her jugular, some vile punishment for opening her mouth. It marked her with a hue of cerise, an eager bruise blossoming under the skin. “This is not amity.” By the drag of a craven’s fingertips, veneration was rescinded. “It is… contrition. Yours.”

Bellicose blood smeared her, slewed down the inside of her thigh, not her moonblood, but thinner, of a greater, brighter constitution. Venous, drawn from a wounded and maimed creature, dismal and writhing like a worm on a hook. The hardness of her cervix turned friable. There was a knife—or a sword, she thought wryly, and wondered if he would fuck her with his disgusting katana if he could—in her cunt and it stabbed its way to where no foreign intrusion should have. She spasmed, wrenched out the arm of the hand clasping her smarting neck and suddenly they were both bathed in sticky red, tepid as it gushed from Kokushibo’s socket. It reeked. Not of them, but of him, the laden scent of Kibutsuji. Vessels for his violence, clawing at each other like rabid dogs, fuelled by the instinct to tarnish and impair, the need to rip apart with teeth and talons. They were nothing if not that man’s vestigial reflection; as Kokushibo hollowed her out and the sordid point of his nails pricked at the firm, barred organ of her cervix, it was not the samurai that penetrated, but his lord. A maggot burrowing away, carrying a corrosive disease. There was sin in their veins and it ate at them.  

“Warm my bed,” said Kokushibo, too frustrated to be a growl, too stark to be a plead. A demand, one which she spat at him for, all noble airs abandoned. He flinched as if her saliva cauterised. She hoped it did, hoped that his patience was a manacle and not frangible thread. She had seen what monstrosities cultivated within sullied wombs; the devils seized out of broken hellmouths in downpours of black ichor; the thousand deaths endured in pregnancy, in childbed, in motherhood. That was not a desirable end. It was not true death, but something beyond it, worse and unending, and men were baleful enough to inflict it on any wench they deemed deserving.

Depraved in the way ruby tainted rare moons, Kokushibo gouged her in repeated blows, battering the closed pale-pink neck of her uterus. She wept as his cursed touch shed more of her flesh than her own body could. A malevolent torrent of something she couldn’t put a name to raged within the leaking fissures of her. Here, raising a hand that trembled as it pressed his cool cheek, she was close enough to delve out his awful eyes, to slit his neck, to divaricate his limbs. Close enough to devour him.

But she wouldn’t. An insidious weakness.

When she yanked his savage fist out of her, she freed herself of her cage as well as gaoler. Torn from her insides, the pear shape of her womb, hot and rosy, and aperture of her cervix. Arteries and veins fell like tears, burst like shattered mosaic. She threw the poison in her system to the floor, where it soaked the wood with her diseased red, and relished the surprise on his face.

Kokushibo scanned the consecrated blood daubing him, then his gaze scraped her, fibrous sclera and aureate irises glowing, pupils blown. All they were was blood. They rotted with it, congealed and decayed until there was no trace of who they had been, only the stench of who they had slaughtered. They were their victims’ legacies, harbouring so many ghosts.

Crucifying agony dulled with each passing second. Already her body was repairing itself, working against her as it always had, cancer regenerating within her. Kokushibo rose and she stepped back, bare before him like an offering, though she was not sure what virgin oblation she could be when she had already been eaten; she could not consume him when he had consumed her, and from that she knew he was desecration. Vitiated in the spoils of him, she fled to ensconce herself within the umbrage of endless slanting corridors, praying they would guttle her too.

[loveemii]

𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑨𝒌𝒂𝒛𝒂 - 𝑨𝒌𝒂𝒛𝒂 𝒙 𝑭𝒆𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑻𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒚?

❦ - enjoy

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“Akaza!”

i whispered as i enters the forest where we usually met up, i always felt this horrible feeling in my stomach when we’d meet up. after all i’m a demon slayer i can’t be fornicating with a demon.

he finally came out from some trees, he landed in front of me and immediately put his right hand on my waist as he pulled me in for a kiss. i kissed him back while he moved his left hand to cup my right cheek.

“Missed me that much huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Should we get to it?”

akaza said as he took off his vest that left him bare chested. i put my hand over his abs before speaking.

“Actually, I’m pretty tired after today. Can you just hold me tonight?”

his eyes changed and he looked at me with a more gentle gaze, he then smiled at me a little before grabbing onto my hand.

“Of course, also I have the perfect place. I think you’ll love it.”

i nodded while he carried me bridal style in his arms, i held on tight as he took me to this amazing spot, it was this gorgeous mountain and on the top was a huge willow tree.

he leaned on the tree as he sat down with me, i lied in between his legs as he played with my hair. he then kissed my lips as he leaned down. i moved my head upwards to meet his lips once again.

he deepened the kiss and it was sweet and passionate, but it wasn’t to tender. we then pulled away and he gave me this caring smile.

“Akaza, how did you know about this place?”

“I remember, when I was human. I used to come here a lot with someone. But now this is our place. We can enjoy many nights together here.”

“I can’t wait to see those nights, hoped they look a lot like these. Or even when we’re raw and feeling each other.”

“I can’t wait to see those days ahead of us as well.”

he then lied me down gently as he came in front of me and hovered over me, his began to play kisses down from my lips to my cheek, collar bone and my chest area as he slowly began to pull down my uniform a little.

“Is this ok?”

“Yeah, that’s ok.”

i said while nodding as he continued to kiss me all over wherever he could, i let out a few groans of joy and pleasured sounds. it urged him to go on even more.

i then sat up on my elbows and he just looked into my eyes as i kissed his lips, our tongues exploring each other’s mouth. he began to intertwine our hands together.

he broke the kiss and i can see blush across his face, even on his ears. i leaned in to bite his ear a little as it was warm and flushed, i felt butterflies as he let out a little pleasurable sound.

i then switched positions and was now on top of him, arching my back to kiss him as he lied on the soft green grass that shown in the moonlight.

“Y/n..”

“Hmm?”

i said as i moved down to his neck and planting hickeys all over him. he let out a few groans before talking again.

“I can’t tell you how much, you mean to me.”

he said as he let out a sigh and a groan from the pleasure he was feeling. i stopped my work for a little and smiled at him as we shared another kiss. he smiled in between kisses with me.

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(≧◡≦) ♡ hii, i hope you enjoyed reading this. please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes. thank you <3