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depravitycentral · 1 day ago

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Demon Slayer Dick Headcannons (ft. the Hashira)

Tw: yandere, mentions of kidnapping, breeding, cumplay kinda, fem reader, MDNI

Featuring: Giyuu Tomioka, Kyojuro Rengoku, Tengen Uzui, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Obanai Iguro, Gyomei Himejima

It’s pretty – a pale color and perfectly smooth, feeling almost virginal with how perfectly unmarked it is. And of course, it is virginal – that much will become uncomfortably obvious the first time you touch him, Giyuu letting out a near pained grunt after a mere thirty seconds as his orgasm washes over him, embarrassment settling in his stomach because oh god, you must think he’s pathetic now.

Giyuu’s never been one for masturbation, and so the skin on his cock is genuinely extremely sensitive, having had very, very little experience being touched. Just a brush of your finger against his length makes him sputter a bit, Adam’s apple bobbing harshly as he gulps, embarrassment starting to creep up his spine because god, something so small shouldn’t feel so good, especially when it’s just over his robes, not even skin-to-skin contact. He’s bucking his hips at the smallest touch of your thumb against his tip, something like a whimper escaping him when you kitten lick at his base, peppering kisses up the length until you suckle at his tip and see the way his eyes roll back.

When he gets hard he gets rather embarrassed, always trying his best to be subtle about it and not draw attention to it, but the way he cowers over and tries to cover his groin with anything nearby is not nearly as smooth as he’d hope, his cheeks flushed ever so slightly pink over the bridge of his nose.

(And of course, the staring – eyes drilling holes into your body, trying desperately to not ogle at your clothed breasts or the sway of your hips, though he can’t resists a few glances that you’ll almost certainly notice.)

His balls are ever so slightly smaller than expected, not enough to be noticeable at first glance, but they easily fit together in your palm, the area sensitive enough to make him tear up a bit, biting his lip and trying to worm out of your grasp. But don’t be fooled – he likes it, something vaguely sounding like a whine slipping from his lips when you retract your hand, and if he’s especially needy for your attention and touch, he’ll even physically grab your hand and put it back, sucking in a breath and forcing his body to relax.

He's generally very quiet when he’s orgasming, the only visual cue being the way his face twists up into something entirely unexpected from the stoic, emotionless Hashira – he’s gasping, eyes fluttering closed and his eyebrows screwing together.

His body shakes, his abs visibly clenching and unclenching, his thighs flexing and his hips bucking in small, almost imperceptible thrusts, as if his body’s unsure of whether he wants to run away from the pleasure or get closer, impossibly close to have more and more of you. His cum doesn’t taste too bad – a neutral, musky flavor, though luckily without too much saltiness or bitterness.

This is great news for you, because while Giyuu won’t admit it, the feeling of your mouth on his cock has his whole body going slack, his vision becoming a bit splotchy because the sensation of something so warm and wet moving against him has every rational thought leaving his brain.

He’s normally not very adventurous or expressive in bed, trying hard to not turn you off and struggling to become relaxed enough to actually enjoy it, but something about the sight of you on your knees, looking up at him while his cock appears and disappears past your lips has him losing all control, a small moan of your name falling from him while he lightly thrusts his hips, not caring if he looks pathetic or depraved. Not when you’re mouthing at him, drool spilling from the corner of your lips, tongue prodding at his slit and suckling on his tip, as if you’re trying to coax the cum out of him. His cum is runny, and tends to stain things.

(Something alarming when you realize just how many of your clothing items have very, very similar mystery stains.)

He’s not picky about where he finishes, feeling grateful that you’re touching him at all, really, but if he had to choose, he’d pick inside of you because it just feels more intimate that way. It feels right, primal even, and he’ll often have to take a few minutes between rounds simply because his orgasms crash through him with such intensity that he can’t form a coherent thought for a few moments afterwards.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you’re straddling him, riding him and pressing your hands against his chest for leverage. He generally likes positions where you’re in control more, finding himself enjoying the passive, observing role while you take the lead.

(It bruises his pride a bit to confess it, but there’s something so, so very arousing about the idea of being a mere object and tool for your pleasure. And when you’re scooping your hips atop him, grinding and bouncing on him like he’s nothing more than a toy to get off with, Giyuu finds his breath gets heavy, his palms sweaty, every clap of your ass against his thighs bringing him closer and closer to his inevitable orgasm.)

He likes the way you can make the pace and angle exactly what you need, the way he can feel every inch of your cunt sucking him in, and of course the visual. The way you look at him with sultry, pleasure-filled eyes, your lips parted in that pretty ‘o’ shape that he sees when he closes his eyes at night. He has a perfect view of his cock appearing and disappearing inside of you, his skin glistening with your slick and a pretty little ring of white sitting against the coarse black hair of his pelvis.

His hands will grip onto your hips tightly, almost too tight, the only way he can anchor himself in the moment, living and tangible proof that you’re really here with him, touching him, wanting him, and he’s gripping onto you as if he’s afraid it’s all still just a fantasy.

But you’ll see the way his eyes are constantly darting to your bouncing chest, unblinking and fascinated as he watches your nipples grow hard, the plap plap noise of your skin smacking against your ribcage making him practically drool.

(His grows even redder if you grab his hands and use them to cup your breasts, telling him in a breathy, slurred voice to touch me, please Giyuu then you’ll be taken aback by the way he immediately squeezes and gropes, kneading and pinching at your nipples with a voracity that makes your hips stutter. And when he leans in to kiss you, his tongue immediately pushing past your lips and tracing your teeth, just know that it’s a matter of time before his orgasm hits. A matter of seconds, really.)

He likes the intimacy, and how he can feel even more connected and close to you, all the while seeing the way his cock makes you feel.

It’s a solid five inches with average girth, a few thick veins decorating the underside of his length. Kyojuro’s average in nearly every way, with the stark exception being his stamina.

His refractory period is nearly non-existant – he seems to be always hard in your presence, always sporting at least a semi any time he catches a whiff of your scent or hears even the echo of your voice. And it’s obvious, too, in his uniform – there’s always a tent of some sort in his pants, and the truly unfortunate thing is that Kyojuro doesn’t seem to care. He’s not making any effort to hide it when it’s just the two of you, even subconsciously moving his haori back and jutting his hips out ever so slightly so that you’ll notice and perhaps even be enticed by what you’re seeing.

He’s not especially meticulous about grooming himself, feeling that sex should be natural and as you are. To shave would be removing a part of his authentic self, and so there’s always a rather thick bush of dark, curly hairs sitting at the base of his cock, brushing against your clit and making you squirm when he’s got you settled on his lap, warming him while he cuddles you and presses kisses against every inch of your skin he can reach.

(This of course also extends to you – he prefers you don’t shave or wax, and once you’re trapped under his roof he simply won’t let you, denying you access to anything sharp enough to cut. And he’ll make his appreciation for your natural body very, very obvious, even going so far as to bury his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply and sighing when he’s knelt between your legs, letting your scent engulf him as he licks his lips and dives into your cunt.)

He’s decently sensitive, always letting out these pleasured little sighs, a boyish grin sitting on his face every time you touch him because oh, isn’t this heaven, feeling your pretty lips and fingers and cunt on him, just as he’s so longed for?

His cum is warm. Like, unnervingly warm – he’s always running a few degrees warmer than you it seems, every cuddle and press of his body against your own feeling startingly hot, and when his cum lands on your skin it’ll feel like fire. Not painful, but right on the edge of it. It’s thick, too, having the consistency of melted ice cream and leaving a sort of residue on your skin that he’ll gladly lick off of you.

(Cuteness aggression tends to affront him after he’s orgasmed, still out of breath and staring down at your disheveled, messy state underneath him, his cum staining your skin and sweat lining your brow.)

His stamina is off the charts, capable of fucking you for hours on end and holding off his orgasm if he concentrates hard enough. However, his refractory period is also quite short, leading to him instead preferring to come multiple times and not edge himself as strongly, thinking that the act of orgasming for you is proof of how deeply he’s attracted to you, how strongly your touch and words and presence affect him.

And he’ll make you very aware of when he’s orgasming, too – he’s loud, groaning your name and all sorts of praises, that same breathless laughter falling from his lips as he buries his face against the crook of your neck, fingertips pressing against your skin so hard that bruises form the next morning.

(Which he’s inconsolable about, really, the next morning fussing over you and promising to never do it again, only to get lost in the pleasure a few nights later and leave you with fresh bruises. He’ll always beg you to scratch down his back as he thrusts into you as repayment, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the pain-tinged pleasure, proudly wearing your scratches as a badge of love. He’ll even brag to Tengen about it, proudly proclaiming that he’s able to pleasure you so well that you simply must mark him as yours.)

His favorite way for you to touch him is when he’s fucking you in a deep, intimate mating press. He likes the fact that he can get as deep as physically possible in this position, always angling his hips to brush against the front of your walls and against that spongey spot that makes you whine his name, the sound making his head spin and his tongue coming out to lick at his lips.

He loves feeling the way you clench down onto him, the grip you leave on him almost making it hard to pull out and push back in, and idea of you never wanting him to leave you only furthering his thrusts, becoming faster and more bruising.

He’ll have you hold one of your knees against your chest, the other tangled in his hair while he supports himself on his elbow, holding your other leg up while his other hand permanently rests against your clit, drawing circles and tracing the kanji of his name over and over again. The sound of his hips and balls clapping against your ass encourages him to move faster too, and the sight of your breasts bouncing and jiggling underneath him makes his head dip, enveloping a nipple in his mouth and sucking.

(Sucking hard enough to leave you squirming, almost as if he’s expecting something to come out – the mere thought makes him groan, teeth lightly nibbling at your skin and his hips stuttering ever so slightly.)

He just thinks the positions blends the perfect mix of intimacy, eye contact, physical touch, and pleasure, and this is his go-to position that he’ll always default to any time the two of you are naked with one another.

You can request something else, asking him with a sultry hand on his chest to take you from the back or let you ride him, but you’ll always find yourself eventually back up in this position, his sweaty chest brushing against your nipples as he moans and begs for you to tell him you love him.

It’s a girthy six inches, with a near comically large, bulbous tip. It’s the kind of cock that makes you immediately freeze, simultaneously intimidated and immediately salivating, and he knows it. He’s a fan of all things extravagant, and this certainly extends to his cock – there’s a rather obnoxious piercing sitting right underneath his tip, the small metal ball framing an acidy green gem that manages to brush against your g-spot perfectly when he’s got you bent over.

It’s a pretty pink color when he’s flaccid, but when he grows hard it turns to a deep near fuchsia color, never quite making it above the ninety degree mark because it’s simply too heavy. He takes great care in grooming himself, always making sure that he’s impeccably trimmed and clean. He likes to leave the dark pubic hairs in interesting designs and patterns, all sorts of shapes gracing his navel.

(He loves when you trace a fingers along the perimeter of the hair, his skin erupting into goosebumps at the feeling, his cock stirring to life because the tasing sensation is simply too much for him.)

He even takes the time to very carefully trim up his balls, wanting to make sure that everything is pristine and perfect when you touch him – he wants you to be impressed, after all, and he waits with baited breath the first time you see him nude, eyes watching your each and every expression because he wants to see exactly what you’re thinking and feeling.

(This happens every time he’s naked before you, even if it’s the hundredth time – he’ll even ask if you like what you see? Maybe you should taste it, too, to get the full picture.)

His cum is thick and tends to stay where it lands, often not dripping and instead just drying against your skin or lips or shirt or panties, wherever he feels the urge to finish. And he likes to mix it up – his favorite places are of course inside of you, your face, and your ass, but he’s game to try anything you’d like.

He likes to finish inside you when he’s feeling especially worn down or overwhelmed by his job, clutching onto you and groaning in your ear as he pushes himself as deeply as possibly and letting go, filling you with so much that it leaks out of you even with his cock still plugging you up.

He likes to finish on your face, too, because it’s just so dirty and taboo and you look so naughty when you’re looking up at him with your tongue lolled out, a flare of possessiveness and adrenaline making him feverishly fist his cock mere inches from your face, groaning out an uneven take it as he lands spurt after spurt in stripes across your face.

And of course, your ass – he loves to watch the fat bounce back against him as he fucks you, smacking at it and grabbing it in fistfuls, spreading your cheeks apart to get a better view of his cock fucking into you. And seeing it stained with his cum, even a bit dribbling down and settling into the folds and pockets of your cunt makes him whistle, giving himself just a few more strokes to ensure he’s given you every drop he can.

He’s loud when he’s finishing, always narrating what it feels like, groaning your name and even breathlessly laughing, still partially in awe because he’s fantasized about fucking you for so damn long, and you’re even better than he’d been hoping for. He also tends to thrust throughout the entirety of his orgasms, going even harder and faster, losing control for a few seconds because the pleasure is blinding him and driving him to fuck into you harder, faster, deeper, anything to prolong the pleasure your body is giving him.

His favorite way for you to touch his cock is when you’re giving him head while he reciprocates, in a somewhat modified 69 position. However, unlike the traditional, Tengen prefers to be on top of you – he likes the way he can hold onto your thighs, keeping you perfectly spread for him so that you can’t close him out or run when he gets you closer and closer.

Besides, the way he can (very) carefully thrust lightly down your throat from the angle gets his ears ringing, the sense of dominance he feels over you making him drool against your clit. He likes the depth he can get, and although he’s conscious of choking you, the small gagging noises you make when he goes just a hair too deep have precum dribbling against your tongue, his cock pulsing against your lips.

His favorite sexual experiences are when you’re both getting something out of it, and so he’s a big fan of pleasuring you simultaneously. But with this position he gets the most control, able to tease you and nose at your clit all the while letting his own pleasure steadily build.

And when he comes, something about the physical position makes him feel like he’s genuinely coming down your throat, cum settling against your uvula and dripping down your throat. It’s romantic, he thinks, and when your hands come up to grasp onto his thighs Tengen feels shivers roll down his spine because oh, you’re just so fucking cute.

He likes it, and when you pull off to take a small break, stroking at his cock, he likes when you run his tip along the outline of your lips, your cheeks, you jaw and collarbone, even your nipples if you can maneuver it. It makes him groan, licking long, flat stripes against your hole, a thumb working diligently, frantically at your clit because you’re getting him so very close and he needs you to come before he does.

It’s just a guilty pleasure of his, and while he won’t often request it, it’s his go-to when he’s been away from you for long missions, desperate to kiss you and taste you.

(And due to his near non-existent refractory period, it’s the warm up to fucking you good and proper.)

Sanemi’s overall thoroughly average in terms of length and girth, but the thing that sets him apart is how genuinely heavy his cock is. When you’re holding it in your palms, it weighs against your skin, feeling thick and intimidating, throbbing hard enough for you to feel. He’s got no experience before you, and when you first slowly exhale and marvel at his sheer weight, he grows embarrassed, terrified that you don’t like what you’re seeing.

(He won’t explicitly ask you if there’s something wrong with it, but he’s carefully watching your reactions, holding his breath and managing to mutter out a quit staring just to simply end the insecurity swimming in his chest.)

He’s scared that you’re disappointed, cheeks tinging pink and struggling to look you in the eye, but he’s putty in your hands the moment your skin touches his. When he’s got you bent over, hands groping and grabbing at every inch of your body that he can reach, you can feel how heavy he is inside of you, too – it’s impossible to ignore the way he’s bullying into you, stretching you and feeling like he’s practically in your throat with how overwhelming the sensation is.

Matching his length, a pair of sensitive balls sit firmly underneath his base, always a rosy pink color and twitching alongside his length when he’s especially hard. They’re extremely sensitive, however, and while Sanemi will never, ever tell you to stop touching him, you’ll see the way he clenches his fist and squeezes his eyes shut when you play with them just a hair too hard, the strained groan that falls from his lips sounding more pained than he wants it to.

He likes it though – you just have to be gentle, and if you really want to see him melt, gently suck on one and let your tongue loll around it like some sort of musky candy – it makes his cheeks go red, his lip stuck between his teeth and his hips twitching because oh fuck you look so damn good drooling all over him like that.

His cum is hot, and there’s a lot. He’s pent up – he doesn’t masturbate often, instead letting all the rage and irritation fester and channeling it into swinging his sword. And so, each time you touch him, Sanemi has so much to give you that it inevitably ends up leaking out of you.

If you’re on your knees for him, all pretty and staring up at him through doe-eyed lashes with pouty lips, he’s coming down your throat, grasping onto your hair and simply keeping you there, cum spilling out from the sides of your mouth because there’s simply too much and you can’t swallow quickly enough to keep up.

When he’s folding you into a mating press, mouth hot at your ear as he gasps and groans and growls, when he eventually calls out what vaguely sounds like your name in a slurred frenzy along with fuck and yes yes yes, he’s coming so much that it physically forces him out of your cunt, the sheer volume filling you up so well that there’s not even room for him.

And Sanemi absolutely loves to see you covered in it, too – he never suggests the idea because he doesn’t want it to feel disrespectful, but he absolutely loves to finish on your face. There’s something about the way you look underneath him, with your tongue lolling out and your palms pressing against his thighs as if bracing yourself that gets him throwing his head back, his orgasm ripping through him with enough force to leave his knees almost collapsing underneath him.

(And if you were to lick your lips and then reach out to lick him clean of every last drop? Well, please don’t say anything about the way he whimpers, a few sad, pathetic little spurts of cum ooze out, a last ditch attempt to give you absolutely everything he can.)

He’s a dribbler, cum oozing from the tip in a steady stream that never seems to end, and when he’s coming he always blindly reaches out to grab something to ground him. More often than not it’s you that he’s clutching onto, his grip tight enough to leave slight bruises (that he will feel incredibly guilty for the next morning). It’s to ground him, to remind him that you’re real, that you’re with him, that you’re not merely a figment of his imagination or some poor, pathetic stand-in that he can fuck and desperately pretend is you.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you’re seated on his lap, straddling him with nothing separating you. He loves fucking you, of course, something primal and animalistic in him satisfied with the knowledge that he’s claiming you from the inside out, but there’s something equally pleasurable – if not more so – about the intimacy of simply holding you and feeling your cunt slowly and steadily grind against him.

He wants both of you completely nude, your tits pressing against his chest and your lips attached to his and he slowly guides your hips, a hand clutching at either side as he brings you forward and back, the wetness of your folds coating him in a thick layer of you and letting him slide easier.

It’s heaven to him – the perfect vantage point, though he’s much too embarrassed to admit why. Truthfully, it’s because the position almost feels like you’re holding him – he’ll often just wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you as tightly against him as possible, listening to your heartbeat and trying to match the rhythm of his breathing with yours.

Often, if he’s feeling particularly vulnerable or if he’s just returned from a long, grueling mission, he’ll slip a nipple into his mouth, gently suckling and biting, closing his eyes and focusing on the way that you’re so very warm and soft in his arms.

It’s comfort thing, more than anything else, as if being with you in such a raw, intimate way means that he’s safe, comfortable, loved and wanted. It’s sappy and he’d rather die than admit it, but you’ll notice the way his eyes grow red, tears prickling at the corners because it just feels so damn good to hold you like this.

He’s a bit shorter than average, coming in just slightly under five inches, but Obanai has a pretty significant girth – significant enough to get you gasping the first time he fucks you, the feeling of being so stretched out leaving you gasping for air.

You’ll always be able to tell when he’s close to coming because everything literally throbs – you can feel him pulsing inside of you, the sensation making you squirm because it’s so very arousing but so very weird against your walls. And it’s a constant, too – from the moment he gets hard, it’s constantly pulsing against your palm, his cheeks bright red and embarrassment running through him but he just can’t stop, too turned on by the sight and smell and taste of you, and his body is betraying that.

He’s pale everywhere on his body, delicate skin that’s shockingly soft and so, so very sensitive – one touch against his chest gets him shivering, every nerve in his body feeling on fire because all he can focus on is the fact that you’re willingly touching him and you’re so much softer than he’s imagined.

(And he’s extensively imagined. Frequently.)

His cock is pale, too, with hardly any color differentiation from base to tip. As he gets near his orgasm, the tip turns a pinkish color, the blood rushing in and leaving him dizzy, and his entire navel area turns a pink color too. He’s pale enough that if you try hard enough you can even see a few of the near-surface veins dipping down under the tuft of dark hair on his navel. And it’s a rare occurrence that Obanai shaves – it’s not for lack of trying, but rather that he’s simply worried that he’ll look strange without the hair to cover himself, worried that you won’t like what you’ll see if you can see the entire expanse of him.

(He’s insecure that he’s not perfect enough for you – that his cock is too small or his balls are shaped strangely, and a single compliment about it from you will have him going wide-eyed, swallowed hard and a large, insistent glob of pre-cum oozing from his tip because oh god, do you really mean it?)

His cum is watery and, quite frankly, doesn’t taste great. It’s remarkably bitter – your face screws up the first time it lands on your tongue, the sight making Obanai shrivel up in embarrassment, mortified that you’ll no longer want to touch him.

(He immediately tries to change his diet to almost exclusively foods he thinks will make him taste better, even swallowing his pride and approaching Tengen about it, embarrassment making it difficult to spit out the words.)

He’s a shooter, the arc looking truly pornographic because he tends to throw his head back when he’s coming, eyes squeezed tightly shut and almost a grimace overcoming his features, all while hips jut out and cum practically pours out of him. He prefers finishing on your stomach, simply because there’s something about the sight of you stained white that makes his possessiveness flare up. If it’s a particularly powerful orgasm (as they all are, when you’re the one touching him), he’ll be out of breath, cheeks still flushed pink as he hovers over you, mesmerized and letting his thumb dip into the cum, smearing it across your skin.

He likes it best when the two of you finish at the same time – simultaneous orgasms, if only because Obanai knows that as you get closer you tend to reach out and grab for whatever is nearest to you, and he’ll purposefully maneuver himself so that you’re clutching onto him, the sight of you moaning for him and shaking hurtling him towards his own orgasm.

(He’ll often scoop up a bit of his own cum and your slick, mixing them together with his fingers, swallowing heavily and letting his finger brush against his tongue, eyes rolling to the back of his head because the taste of you together is making his cock throb again, slowly rising up to ninety degrees, desperate to give you more more more.)

His favorite way for you to touch him is a slow, intimate handjob. He’s typically a little bit harsh when he’s touching himself, his tugs leaving his arm sore, his fingers clutched so tightly around his shaft that it’s nearly suffocating. And yet, when it’s your fingers wrapped around him, Obanai finds that there’s something indescribably sensual and passionate about the soft, slow strokes you give him. The softness of your fingers combined with the way you carefully, almost hesistantly grip him leaves his head spinning, the pleasure somehow feeling much more acute despite the lessened stimulation.

He likes the way your thumb comes up often to brush over slit, collected the precum and letting it guide your hand up and down, up and down, his toes curling and his fists clenching because you’re being such a damn tease, making his hips buck up over and over.

And there’s something about the eye contact that gets him panting – the attention leaves him squirming as you let your eyes rest on him, the intensity making every brush of your fingers against his sensitive skin amplify a thousand times.

He wants you to talk to him, to let your voice get all low, to call him all sorts of possessive petnames that only fluster him more, a pointed thrust against your fist with each name. My pretty boy is his favorite, even as embarrassing as it is, and if you lean in and kiss along his collarbone and jaw, complimenting him about his looks, his ability to care for you, how he makes you feel he’s immediately gasping, abs clenching wildly and his balls visibly clenching as he paints your hand white with cum, the liquidy consistency making it run down your knuckles like rivers, dripping down onto your thighs and making Obanai suck in a breath because fuck fuck fuck you’re still going and it’s so sensitive, too sensitive but he doesn’t want you to ever ever stop-

He wants to feel cared for, wanted, loved, and even something as simply as you jerking him off with a few well-timed flutter of your lashes and purred words leave him putty in your hands.

It’s big and Gyomei knows it. Easily a solid seven inches and thick enough to leave your fingers barely touching when you wrap them around his girth, even when he’s not fully hard. The skin is slightly tanner than the rest of him, with his tip flushing into an even darker shade matching the two low, heavy balls that sit snugly underneath his shaft, hefty enough to feel substantial in your palms as you cup and squeeze at them.

Tufts of dark hair decorate his navel, the curls thick and almost coarse, tickling your nose as you take him down your throat and tickling your clit as you oh so slowly inch your way down on his lap. Even the sight of him flaccid makes you suck in a sharp breath, nerves starting to eat away at you because there’s absolutely no fucking way it’s fitting inside of you. It just looks too heavy and big and full, veins protruding along the sides in enough detail that you can practically see them pulsing.

And really, your fears aren’t unwarranted – Gyomei can feel the movement with every step he takes, the sensation of his cock brushing against his undergarments and his balls pressed against his thigh always leaving him slightly uncomfortable, always consciously aware of the feeling. (He’s extremely grateful for the loose nature of the Demon Slayer Corps uniform pants – otherwise, the bulge would be unbearably visible, even when he’s completely soft.)

All things considered, it takes Gyomei a long time to orgasm. He’s not terribly sensitive (not for a lack of experience – he has none, he’s just genuinely not the type to immediately buck his hips and gasp at the slightest bit of stimulation), but finds that steady, consistent pleasure is the golden ticket to finding his high.

Specifically, pleasure that involves a lot of lubricant: spit, slick, hell, even blood when you’re on your period and needing something to help relieve the pressure. He likes how smooth it all is – the slick schluck schluck sound of him rolling his hips into yours makes his knees weak, the wet feeling of your cunt clenching down on him enough to get him groaning lowly and grasping onto your hips hard enough to almost leave bruises. He’ll refuse to fuck you until you’re absolutely dripping, wet to the point of insanity because he’s been fingering you for what feels like hours and you can’t handle the teasing anymore.

It’s only then, after he’s brought you to your high some three times with his tongue and the pads of his index fingers that he’ll finally, finally press inside, moving slowly and chanting what sounds like prayers intermixed with your name under his breath, almost as if you’re some god he’s thanking over and over for the feeling of you.

It takes him a while to get off, but there’ll be a few signs that he’s getting close �� his thrusts turn from deep, slow, almost tentative, to quicker and more clipped, the actions somehow feeling needier and more desperate because he’s holding you in place and his breath is stuttered as he gasps and exhales, pleasure hitting him like a tidal wave and sending his eyes rolling back.

He produces an almost obscene amount of cum with every orgasm, ropes spilling out in long, rather impressive spurts. It’s thick, almost viscous, leaving a residue against your skin that he’ll oftentimes idly rub at when he’s pulled you against his chest, cock still nestled inside you as tears flow down his cheeks from the intensity of it all. It’s bitter, almost earthy, and while Gyomei doesn’t expect you to swallow, you’ll be earned with the smallest, quietest little whimper once he hears you audibly gulping.

His favorite way for you to touch his cock is when you’re simply riding him. There’s something about the way you grip him in this position that makes his toes curl, his voice getting a hair deeper because it just feels too good. He likes the way you control the pace – sex feels better to him when you feel good, and having you dictate the speed, angle, and depth gives Gyomei an insight into exactly what you like.

(And he’s committing every detail to memory – the sounds you’re making, the way your nails bite into his chest as you steady yourself, the way your ass bounces against his thighs over and over, the tensing of your legs as his tip brushes against that spot that makes you gasp and moan his name…)

He likes the way he can feel more of you in this position, too – the curve of your ass pressing against his balls, the slight pressure pinching and giving him just the slightest bit of pain that makes blood rush south, cock throbbing inside of you because god he wants you to go even harder.

He can feel your stomach pressed against his navel when you lean forward in this position, your muscles growing tired and starting to give out, the softness of your skin against the overly sensitive area right above his shaft making him grasp onto your hips and thrust upwards, meeting you halfway and mumbling out your name as you whine.

It just feels more intimate this way – like you’re using him, like his body is just a tool for your pleasure. And really, that’s exactly how Gyomei sees it – his cock is your cock, and he’ll thank the heavens each and every time you so much as look at it.

#yandere kny #yandere demon slayer #yandere ds #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #kny smut #yandere kny smut #_kny #_giyuu tomioka #_kyojuro rengoku #_tengen uzui #_sanemi shinazugawa #_obanai iguro #_gyomei himejima #_lee rambles

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depravitycentral · 1 year ago

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Hi! I know you already discussed this with the hxh yanderes, but do you think some yanderes in demon slayer, hashiras and demons, would want to get married to their darling? Hashiras probably would, but i'm not so sure about demons.

Hi anon!!

I'm always happy to write about kny, and this is a good question! I'm not too much of a buff on Japanese history/historical time periods, so hopefully I'm not too factually off - based off of Tanjiro's reactions anytime skin is shown/ Zenitsu's insistence on marriage, I'm going to guess that marriage was probably more expected than it is today. So we're going to move forward with that in mind!

(Also I know next to nothing about traditional Japanese weddings, so you're getting my Western norms/knowledge... sorry! Also, I'm still debating on whether I want to write Mitsuri and Obanai as separate or poly yanderes because I really can't stomach the thought of separating them, so you're getting poly for this!)

Without further ado, let's discuss!! (This is long I apologize)

First of all, you're right - almost all of the Hashiras have marriage on the mind once their obsession forms. They're dreaming of you in pretty white gowns, boquets of flowers everywhere, and a pretty, glittering ring on your finger. There's something comfortable and good about knowing that you're safe, that you're protected, that you're theirs, both in the eyes of the law and of each other.

The demons, on the other hand, are more of a mixed bag - none of them really remember their time as a human, but some are more connected with their human sides than others - and thus, some of them are much, much more desperate to make you theirs in a way that satiates their remaining scraps of humanity. (Plus, this is a way to bind you to them that the demons know you'll recognize the weight of - after all, it's not like divorcing them is really an option; you can't even run two feet without them immediately catching and immobilizing you. What makes you think you could ever truly escape them?)

But of course, let's start with the beloved, oh-so-righteous Hashira. They each have a different level of motivation for getting you to share their last name - personal trauma, dependency, and their awareness of your feelings for them make each individual approach in asking for your hand very unique.

(Though each is laced with just a hair of hesitance, their vulnerability coming to light when they pop the question, because even if they've already stolen you away, even if Stockholm Syndrome has already bent and warped you, there's still the possibility of rejection. There's still the possibility that you don't want them as badly as they do, that you don't need them like they need you. You'll say yes, they'll make sure of it, but you need to mean it - you need to love them, too.)

Kochou Shinobu wants to marry you, and while she won't force you to, she's not too shy to drop hints. In general, she's not too terribly controlling, aside from her extreme overprotectiveness, and this extends to her plans of marriage with you.

She wants to bind you to her permanently, to get you officially and legally tied to her in a way you can't deny no matter how badly you may want to, but she won't force it. After all, while she does force you into all sorts of things in the name of protection and your wellbeing (forcing you to eat certain foods, keeping you inside the Butterfly mansion with scheduled times for you to sit outside in the garden, and a whole variety of other things that make you bristle with indignation and shame), she wants big steps in your relationship to be consensual.

(Aside from your kidnapping, of course - though she sees your captivity less as a step and more of a necessity, more of something she's doing to make sure you aren't the victim of some horrible, disgusting demon. And, of course, so that you're alive and well and she can see you and hear you and smell you and touch you.)

She'll pop the question once she thinks Stockholm Syndrome has set in, and even then, the moment is actually quite nice. She'd set up a nice meal for you (with foods you actually like, not the overly healthy, bland slog she always forces down your throat), with a few candles glowing and nice, fluffy blankets surrounding where you both sit on the floor.

Her voice is strangely soft and sweet when she asks you, this odd look in her eye that almost looks scared, as if she's genuinely afraid of how you'll respond to her slightly wobbly will you marry me? She wants you to say yes, needs it, really, but if you say no she'll respect that.

She won't let you go, of course, but she won't force it onto you. She'll be more distant, a little more snappy, and she'll spend noticeably less time physically close to you, but once she's recovered a bit (meaning she's slaughtered enough demons that her anger is slightly quelled, though the hurt is still very much present), she'll return to you, working even harder than before to make you happy and want her.

Perhaps you'll change your mind if she's more accommodating, if she's sweeter, if she's just better.

Giyuu Tomioka, for one, probably won't ever ask you to marry him.

It's not that he doesn't want to, but rather that it seems like this unnecessary step that doesn't need to happen for your relationship to be stable and happy and loving. He's a bit of an odd duck as a yandere - he's emotionally stunted and difficult at communicating his feelings, and because of this, he often worries that you're feeling things that he's unaware of.

He's paranoid that you secretly hate him, that you're lying every time you say something even remotely nice to him, that you wish he was dead or being tormented by a demon. (And frankly, this isn't entirely false - he does eventually kidnap you, once his hand is forced, and of fucking course you hate him after that - you're terrified of him, and it nearly breaks Giyuu, sending him into a spiral that'll take months of you eagerly convincing him otherwise to move past.)

And because of these fears, Giyuu is hesitant to really do anything romantic at all with you - anything from calling you pet names to cuddling you takes a long time for him to feel comfortable with, and so marriage?

It's unlikely that he'll ask, but not impossible - after all, he does harbor strong feelings for you, finding you on his mind constantly, his hands always twitching and itching to reach out to you, his eyes always seeming to wander back to your figure, his entire body just yearning for you you you.

Giyuu does genuinely want to marry you - he likes the idea of you having his last name, and the idea of being tied to you in a real, tangible way. It makes some of the paranoia quell, because would you really leave him if you were married?

Widows don't survive easily in this world - you'd find it extremely hard to remarry. (That thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth, though he does like that it means you're less likely to leave him.)

So while Giyuu probably won't ever ask, just know that when he's staring at you so longingly, gazing at you with those wide eyes that never seem to blink, he's imagining the way you'd look in lace, how your pretty face would look at him from under a veil, how your voice would caress his name when you say your vows.

It's a sweet thought that he harbors, and it's only many, many years into the future that he'll admit this to you. (And even then, it's only in passing, only when he's in your arms, on the brink of sleep and feeling the most calm and vulnerable and safe he's felt in his whole life - you'll hear a small would you want to be a wife? He won't elaborate if you ask him to repeat himself, instead pretending it never happened, but that's probably the closest you'll get to admittance.)

Kyojuro Rengoku knows marriage is in his future from a young age. He's always dreamed of having a loving family, of having another family for Senjuro to grow close to.

And really, you just make it so easy - it's disturbing how quickly he's fantasizing about dropping to one knee, imagining your face - in detail - when he pops the question; he's sure your jaw will drop, your eyes going wide, maybe you'd even cover your mouth with your hand because you can hardly contain yourself with excitement.

And then you'll say yes - over and over again, crushing him into a hug that he eagerly returns, burying his nose into your hair and smelling and breathing and yearning -

Nights he spends fantasizing about your future normally end with flushed cheeks and sweat coating his body, his chest heaving and dried cum splattered along his navel.

He expects marriage, really, simply because he's a traditional man and he wants to become your protector and provider - he's lenient on most things involving the wedding, however. He's daydreaming about you in your dress, of course, but he'll be delighted with whatever style or color you choose, tears of joy in his eyes when he sees you walking down the aisle towards him, towards your future.

He'll let you decide the flowers and how you style your hair, and he'll even let you choose his own clothing - he will be incorporating the flame somehow, however, and that goes for more than just his clothing. Your ring will have a large, somewhat gaudy opal jewel in it, along with a flame engraved on the inside of the ring, so that you're close to him always, even when he's away on missions.

Kyojuro is so very sure that you'll become his wife one day that even before you're aware of his obsession with you, he's referring to you as my flame and my spouse and my lovely wife both in private and public. It's off-putting and strange, but no amount of explaining or pleading will get him to stop.

He's genuinely dead set on becoming your husband, and he'll even allow you to invite a select group of your family and friends to the event - after all, it's not like they could stop it. What could they do? He's the Flame Hashira, responsible for saving more lives than you could count - he can have whatever he wants, and that includes you.

(At least Shinobu will be on your side at the wedding - she'll watch with sad eyes, sad for you but happy for her comrade, though ultimately she can do nothing as well - even when she sees the way he looks at you, the way his eyes absolutely devour you.)

Marriage isn't exactly necessary for Gyomei Himejima, but it's still certainly a thought that lingers in the far corners of his mind, dancing behind closed eyelids on the rare night he's laying in his own bed, the blankets feeling cold and empty.

He normally wills away any sort of fantasizing about you at night - both on principle and because once he starts thinking of you, you don't leave his thoughts for hours, making sleep - something already a bit difficult for him - even harder to come by. But on the few nights where his self-control wavers ever so slightly, he allows himself to imagine the way your hands would feel with a pretty, smooth ring adorning your finger, standing out against the softness of your skin.

He'll move his own fingers against the fabric of his futon, pretending the lackluster linen is you instead, moving up to cup your face, brush over your hair, let his fingers trace the curve and juts of your collarbone.

He'll let himself imagine coming home to you, how the smell of you would fill his nostrils the moment he opens the door, how your voice would sound calling his name, telling him I'm so glad you're home, my love, it's lonely to be a wife without her other half by her side...

It's a desire he nurses, slowly letting it fester and grow and rot in his heart, and so when the day finally comes that you've given up on fighting him, that you've reluctantly accepted that he is your future now (and after months of him calmly and simply stating that I'm doing what is best for you, you are weak and you need protection, helpless creatures like yourself cannot be left to the wolves), he'll swallow and ask you, with a voice that's just slightly uneven, if you'd do him the honor of becoming his wife, if you'd share yourself with me, both in life and death?

It's not like you really have a choice, but he can't help the tears that slip down his cheeks when you answer him, those big, scarred hands of his slowly slipping down to your hips, excitement brewing in his chest that makes him feel both elated and sinful because married couples show love in much more intimate ways, and he's been holding himself back for so long, far longer than any other man could endure...

Sanemi Shinazugawa is, even to you - the love of his life, the woman he finds himself so ardently and frustratingly obsessed with - difficult to understand. He never explicitly tells you about his past nor childhood, only dropping small, hardly-there hints once in a blue moon.

All you've managed to gather is that something horrible happened to him, and that despite seeming rough and callous and cruel, he's significantly softer at heart than you'd expected.

And so, when Sanemi bites his lip a few months into your kidnapping, his fingers tapping together in his lap and his eyes struggling to stay fixed on you while you quietly and calmly folded the pretty, new kimono he'd just returned from a recent mission with, you're completely floored by his question.

Will you marry me?

It's rushed, nearly slurred, full of doubt and sounding more like a statement rather than a question, but when you freeze and flick your eyes to him, he only furrows his brows and looks angry. Truthfully, he'd been planning on asking you for months - marriage was on his mind embarrassingly early into his infatuation with you, though he'd never made any action to make you believe so.

He has a cold exterior and is outwardly brash and rude to those around him, but he's still the young, caring, gentle boy he once was - and when he's with you, ever protective instinct long buried from his childhood comes back in full force, urging and begging him to wrap his arms around you and protect you from each and every horrible thing in this world.

(And, of course, so that he can feel you - your heart beating against his chest, your breaths tickling his hair, your soft body pressing flush against his own, so opposite to his own scarred, calloused skin.)

And so, when you eventually tell him yes after a very, very long period of silence, Sanemi can only nod and chance a glance at you, a small pink rising to his cheeks because fuck, somehow you're even prettier now, like you're practically glowing, like you're practically his - and now, you are.

He's a lot more gentle to you after you accept his proposal - he's always treated you like you're made of glass, but his touches are even more feather-light now, his voice noticeably softer, his eyes noticeably wider when they follow your every move, this shy, boyish smile slotting onto his lips when he sees you humming to yourself or reaching for something on a high shelf or sleeping soundly in what is now your shared bed.

Marriage domesticates him, and while he's still obsessively checking your health and forcing you to report what you did every moment he's not at home with you, he's different. Softer, happier, needier.

Tengen Uzui pops the question early. Extremely early. The idea of marriage is no foreign concept to him - and as his darling, you are also, by default, his wives' darling. And so, while Tengen alone is overwhelming with his flirtations and overprotectiveness, it's something else entirely to have three other people also doting on you, keeping a careful eye on you and making sure you're always, always out of danger's way and never having a moment of privacy to yourself.

And so, while Tengen is the one who actually asks for your hand, all of the wives are dropping hints and not-so-subtly mentioning how things will be once you're an official wife, too. It's always when you're their wife, not if - and they're not shy about it.

Hinatsuru will be standing behind you while you sit at the vanity, brushing her fingers over your hair and smiling down at you, pink sitting high on her cheeks while she tells you that Master Tengen will buy you the most lovely dress for the ceremony, Makio and I have already picked it out. You'll look so very beautiful, though you always do.

Suma will clutch onto your arm and beg you to do her vows first, to tell her that she's pretty and sweet and beautiful and perfect and exactly your type.

Makio will swat your hand away from sweets when she thinks you've had enough, telling you with a pout that you must stay healthy and not grow a stomachache, I saw the ring in Master Tengen's room early this morning and the whole moment will be ruined if you've eaten yourself into illness!

(Of course, you're allowed to have more sweets if she feeds them to you, but this is just a technicality.)

And Tengen himself is even not particularly subtle about the whole ordeal - he'll wrap an arm around you and plant a kiss to the crown of your head, telling you that the proposal will be quite extravagant, I can't wait to see your face!

Marriage has always been an assumed milestone that you will complete with the Uzuis - it's only a matter of time, and even if you say no over and over again, you will end up their spouse, one way or another.

(It's been such an ingrained concept in their minds, of course, that even before they stole you away, more than one night was spent with all four in bed, each imagining you on your wedding night, laying in silk fabrics with four wedding rings glistening on your fingers and your face all twisted up in ecstasy and their names tumbling form your lips like some sort of prayer...)

Mitsuri Kanroji and Obanai Iguro are both partial to the idea of marrying you, but Mitsuri is considerably more likely to make it a reality.

Obanai wants to wed you, to call you both his wives, to share your bed every night and to know that you're his. But there's still lingering fear and self-resentment that bars him from ever actually asking you simply because he thinks he doesn't deserve someone like you. You're utterly perfect - divine in a way that's hard to stomach, as if the air is being sucked out of his lungs every time he so much as glances at you. He's shy, frankly, and afraid to confront his own feelings, and so it's left to Mitsuri to make your marriage a reality.

And oh, she doesn't mind this responsibility at all - marriage plans are happening early on, her brain filled to the brim with ideas of different color schemes, which flowers to use, which songs to play, even which undergarments to have you wear to make undressing you even sweeter.

She's daydreaming about it near constantly, and similarly to Uzui, she's not particularly great at keeping it a secret. She doesn't purposefully blurt out how good you'd look in a particular dress style, but when she sees you, her brain turns to mush and it's like she has no control of her words.

(Or her actions, it seems, because she'll always, always greet you with a hug that's just a bit too long, your body pressed flush and tight against her own in a way that feels too purposeful to be innocent.)

So as their darling, marriage is likely in the cards - but contrary to others on this list, Obanai will persuade Mitsuri to actually take your wishes into considerations as far as decorations or style goes - you get to choose your wedding dress and the food that's served (Mitsuri's only stipulation is that there is a lot), along with most other personal items you wear/interact with.

So from that aspect, marriage actually doesn't sound too bad with them - the only unfortunate portion is that you're marrying your captors, of course, and the vows. They're long and sappy and extremely detailed, sharing facts you weren't previously aware of but really shouldn't surprise you - admittance of stalking you, stealing some of your clothing or personal items, even to sometimes tampering with your food just to make things 'taste better'.

It's hard to stomach and it's things you really already knew in your heart, but it's hard to hear it nonetheless - especially when it's spun in such a way as to sound romantic, as if it's some testament to their love for you - pretend to be wooed, or things will get ugly. And you wouldn't want your wedding night to be forceful and rough, now would you?

And then of course there's the demons, who have a very, very wide variety of opinions regarding the topic of marriage.

For Muzan Kibutsuji, the context in which his obsession developed is extremely key to how he feels about marrying you.

Most likely, you were some human he came into contact with frequently during one of his many false human aliases. He finds you annoying at first, of course, deeming you as horribly pathetic and someone literally not even worthy of his time to consider, but then one day something changes - some small act of kindness or defiance that piques his interest, and suddenly he's finding himself idly thinking of you, noticing you amongst the crowd, recognizing your scent even in crowded spaces.

And he doesn't like it. At all.

It takes him a very long time to navigate his feelings for you - he's intrigued and feels this strange, carnal urge to be around you, but he's also disgusted and angry and irritated that you have this control over him. And so, it's most likely that he won't marry you - the anger and possessiveness he feels for you will likely overwhelm him and lead to him kidnapping you, and once you're stuck with him, under his thumb, what's the point of marrying you?

You're his, the possession of the Demon King - what are you going to do? Run away? Try to fight him? (Some part of him wishes you would, just so he could punish you, just so he could pin you down and see those pretty tears roll down your cheeks, just so that for one solitary moment, you're looking at only him and thinking of only him and seeing only him.)

He doesn't see the point in marrying you if this is the route his obsession takes - the only benefit is making you more complacent, which isn't too much of an issue anyways because Muzan makes it clear from the very beginning that he's in charge.

If you were to catch his attention in another way (say, if he'd chosen to get close to you for a strategic reason - perhaps you're the daughter of some important figure or a powerful merchant), then he'd intend to marry you. It'd been the plan from the beginning, but once he gets to know you and decides that you aren't absolutely abhorrant, the marriage becomes less of a chore and more something that pleases him, because now you're his.

Tied to him, irrevocably his property that no man will ever touch. It quells his possessiveness and strokes his ego, all the while he'll tell that it's your duty to provide your husband with your heart, body, and soul - the smirk that curls onto his lip when he pins you down is hard to miss, as is the way he sneers out show me how devoted you are to your husband.)

Kokushibo is traditional. He's a fan of power structures and order, and while he doesn't necessarily believe that women are weaker (he doesn't respect Daki, but he can admit that she isn't horribly weak), he does believe that women are incomplete without a male partner. It's a sexist view and a product of his left-over human morals from many centuries earlier, but it stands strong in his relationship with you.

Similarly to most other demons, he doesn't really view you as a partner - you're his, his possession, a human that he finds himself oddly fascinated with despite himself. And so, he doesn't really care about your opinion in the matter of marriage - you're his woman, and he'll marry you.

It's about possession, not romance - he's certainly not bound by any laws, but marrying you might get you to realize the extent to which he owns you, the extent to which he's in charge of every aspect of your life. And the traditional values don't simply stop at the idea of marriage - they bleed into marriage as a concept, too.

He has strong opinions about what you should be wearing, how you should be acting, how the ceremony itself should be run. He's a bit domineering, and while he does hold a feeling as close to love as demons can have, it manifests itself mostly as controlling behavior.

He's running the ceremony, essentially, and it's extremely small - you're both in attendance of course, as are his fellow Upper Moons, but that's the extent. It's small, quick, and seamless, and before you know it you'll be back in the small, remote cabin he keeps you in, his form standing in the doorway and the room entirely silent.

He's controlling and doesn't fully view you as a person, but it's in moments of intimacy that just a sliver of his humanity comes crawling through, because no matter how badly he wishes to, he simply can't allow himself to touch you without your approval. He doesn't enjoy the sight of you crying, and he's internally conflicted about what the wedding night should look like. He should be fucking you, claiming you as his in the most primal and natural way a husband can, but you'll start sobbing again, and he doesn't want that. And so, instead, he compromises by simply holding you, his voice monotone as he tells you we can make love, if you'd wish.

It's awfully open-ended, and if you were to take him up on the opportunity, he'd be overjoyed - you'll find yourself waking up the next morning with a new kimono laid out on the bed, a small note written in extremely neat, near-perfect handwriting: a gift for my wife.

He's a bit of a sap, though it's hard to see - he'd never admit, either.

Douma doesn't have any particular desire to marry you, but he is admittedly intrigued by the idea.

It doesn't even cross his mind until one of his followers mentions something offhandedly about when the leader will marry his clearly favorite follower, and it gets him thinking. Marriage seems pointless, really, but humans do seem to like it, and he does like it when you smile and when you look at him all shocked and flustered.

And so, he considers the idea and decides that maybe he should do it - it'll force you to be closer to him, which is never a bad thing, and perhaps it will finally deter all other cult members from getting close to you in any way.

(Not that any of them are currently - they all know that you're Douma's, that you're staunchly off-limits. They know that everyone who approaches you disappears, and while Douma writes it off as a coincidence, it still leaves most people wary of your presence. But still - Douma likes the idea, his possessiveness quelling and his excitement sky-rocketing because it means he'll be all you have, and therefore you'll have to give him all the attention he craves from you.)

He pops the question in a not-at-all romantic setting, but he does gently cup your chin, tilting your head to look at him, those flashy eyes of his sparkling as he asks you whether you'd like to be my wife? He can't help the sigh he lets out at your bashful expression, the sound seeming much, much too high pitched to be normal (mimicking something more akin to a moan), and when you stutter out a y-yes, I would like to, Douma is pleased beyond words. It strokes his ego that you said yes, that you clearly want him, and he's quick to get the preparations rolling.

The wedding is extravagant and honestly way too much, but Douma wants everything to be over the top. The entire cult is in attendance, your dress has a train that drags a few feet behind you, and the flowers are such a vibrant red that it almost looks like they're stained with blood. The ring is simple, surprisingly, and the look in his eye is borderline psychotic as he slips the ring onto your finger.

And when he dips you for your first kiss as a married couple, he'll linger at your ear, sharp teeth grazing the shell as he whispers that you're mine, pretty, so don't run.

Akaza doesn't feel any need to marry you, surprisingly. He's another who has a difficult time rationalizing his feelings for you, simply because his view of humans being weak is difficult to move past.

He does, however, respect women significantly more than the other demons discussed in this post - and not only does he respect you, but he's genuinely the closest to being an absolute simp that a flesh-eating creature can be.

He's a bit rough around the edges and a bit abrasive, but he absolutely spoils you. You're getting high-end clothing and accessories, the best foods he can find in the local villages he slaughters, all kinds of trinkets and things that caught his eye and made him think of you.

He lives to see your smile, feeling this weird sense of accomplishment and self-satisfaction when you're pleased. And so, if you expressed some desire in getting married, Akaza would happily oblige, feeling only the tiniest bit of embarrassment. He's a bit clueless, however, so if you were serious about marriage you'd need to do all the planning. He'll let you dress however you want, whatever decorations and color themes, and he'll even let you choose which forest clearing the ceremony happens in.

(He won't allow you in any human establishments, even if you beg - he can't stand the thought of another person looking at you, and even if the entire village was killed before the ceremony, he's not willing to risk anything ruining the day he wants to be absolutely perfect for you.)

His vows are a bit choppy, the raw emotion on his face difficult to miss, though the words are more disturbing than sweet. There's talk of how he'd kill for you, proclamations of the extent to which he'd go for you - even detailing the murder of a man he'd noticed wash staring at you in a derogatory and objectifying way early on into his obsession when he was stalking you one day.

And when the infamous kiss occurs, he kisses you hard - his tongue is in your mouth and he's dipping you so deeply that your back is fully arched, and he keeps pressing into you harder and harder and harder, as if trying to bridge any little bit of space between you.

He wants you to be happy, and while he's not willing to let you go, he'll (somewhat) accommodate to your desires - so if you want something, just tell him.

(Especially when it comes to your pleasure - your wedding night will be much, much smoother if you guide him through your pleasure. After all, he'll do absolutely anything you want if it means seeing you pretty face when you come for him.)

Gyuutaro harbors a surprising amount of romantic fantasies between you and him. Of course, he'd never admit it, but he's frequently daydreamed about marrying you. Even during his human years, marriage wasn't too prevalent in the area he grew up.

(He's very familiar with sex and companionship work, but marriage? Not so much.)

Even so, he understands that marriage is the ultimate sign of love in the human world, and as his obsession with you grows deeper and stronger, so too do his fantasies of living through every human milestone of a happy relationship. He wants it so very badly; he wants you to want him, to love him and cherish him in a way that makes him scratch at his neck and warble on about how he's too ugly to be loved.

He wants you to want him - and so, after a few years of being stuck under his thumb, slowly letting the Stockholm Syndrome build and shatter your concept of reality, he'll pop the question. It's harsh and defensive, as if he's absolutely convinced you'll say no even before he's asked - his voice is sharp and whiny as he asks you if you'd like to marry a monster like me? What do you say, eh? Could you stomach marrying something so disgusting and ugly as me?

It's disguised as a self-deprecating comment, but the way he waits on edge for your response will tell you that he's very, very interested in your answer. Every muscle in his body is taut and tight, tension eating away at his stomach because oh god he's nervous, even as embarrassing as it is to admit.

If you say no he'll close himself off, berating you and telling you that you're judgmental, that you're no different from the hundreds of humans who only care about looks and beauty. His words are cruel and harsh and they hurt, but he doesn't mean them - he's just lashing out because he's hurt and doesn't know how else to express his pain.

But oh, if you say yes? Well, Gyuutaro's suddenly scratching himself hard, finding it difficult to maintain eye contact with you, a flustered feeling rising up his throat and nearly making him sick because god, is this what acceptance and love feel like?

The wedding itself is a bit half-assed, though he tried it best - his tastes are built upon the very little he knows about human weddings. But despite the fact that everything is a little dirty and the dress you're wearing doesn't fit you correctly, there's something about the way Gyutaro's hands are shaking as he hands you the ring that's almost, almost endearing - he resembles a shy, awkward boy rather than the man-eating captor he actually is.

And that night, he'll spend hours worshipping your body, pouring over every detail and scar and mole and committing it all to memory - committing you to memory, though he really doesn't need to because he'll be turning you into a demon soon so that you never leave him.

But still, it's the principle - and when he fucks you, with a voice that's especially high and a pace that's sloppy at best, you'll be able to feel what your marriage means to him - the way he moans when he sees the ring on your finger tells you as much.

So anon, long story short: they all feel a little different, but most are happy to marry you. It's a product of the time, yes, but also just another way to bind you to them - something they will not pass up.

So who would you marry? Choose carefully - because once you say 'I do', you're absolutely trapped.

#yandere kny #_kny #_giyuu tomioka #_kochou shinobu #_gyomei himejima #_kyojuro rengoku #_tengen uzui #_mitsuri kanroji #_obanai iguro #_sanemi shinazugawa #_muzan kibutsuji #_akaza #_douma #_kokushibo #_gyuutaro #yandere demon slayer

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