⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ elise !

Young Rerir 🩸🪶

aftercare ; what is he like after sex?

honestly it very much depends! if you're a one night stand... he will not care LOL. that's if ever he does do one of those. if its not you, he has no need to stay.

but when you're his partner... he will not speak much (unfortunately). on the other hand, he'll show his appreciation for you with his actions, like just rubbing soothing circles on your waist while he holds you close. he also likes running his fingertips through every strand he can, he just finds scratching your scalp.

if you want, he will just sit in the bathtub with you in his arms while pressing his lips wherever he can. that includes the marks on your nape, and massaging your scalp.

body part ; what's his favorite on you? what about himself?

for himself? he loves how big and buff his arms, literally enough to pick you up off the ground no effort needed no matter how much you weigh. he likes how much he can reach/hold with them, especially when he has the chance to hold your body close to him.

oh gosh, but for you? did... did he really have to choose only one? gun to the head and everything on the line answer would be ass though, especially when you start throwing it back onto his cock and he gets to see the way it jiggles. god he loves it so much.

would make a joke about how he'd sin again for that ahh.

obsessed. - rerir ｡𖦹°‧

𓂃★ REALLYYobsessive!rerir, not rlly smut?? (⁠ᗒ⁠ᗩ⁠ᗕ⁠), takes place after war in nodkrai, descriptive

the prison doors had not creaked in decades. they were not meant to. rerir was meant to rot here, bones wasting away in silence, his name dissolved into dust. yet stone that should have held him forever finally gave way, crumbling in a storm of violence as chains clattered to the floor. his body, thin from starvation but unbroken, stirred with new life as if the years had been nothing but a long inhale, held tight and waiting to be released. his eyes burned with a feral gleam, sunken but sharp, starved of light and yet still seeing too much.

freedom was not what he tasted first. it was obsession.

her name, her face, her shadow; she had haunted him in that black pit where no voice answered him but his own. that woman, untouched and untainted by the ruin of her homeland. she had become an idea in his head, not a person. a thing that survived in his thoughts when nothing else did. when the walls closed in, when madness crawled beneath his skin, it was them who burned brightest. he told himself stories in the dark—stories of how he would claim them, drag them down into the same abyss he endured, strip them of that untouchable light until they were only his.

it was not love. love was far too soft a word. this was hunger. this was possession.

the landscape of nod-krai stretched before him as he stepped into the open air, moonlight painting his skin like death’s blessing. his body trembled, not from weakness but anticipation. he could almost smell them. somewhere, they lived, breathed, thrived. the world had moved on without him, and they had been allowed to move with it. unacceptable.

rerir’s instincts sharpened. he tore across the land, scavenging weapons from corpses long decayed, draping himself in rags of armor. his hands twitched, desperate for the feel of her throat, her wrists bound, her voice breaking in pleading. the thought alone nearly sent him to his knees.

and when he reached the city—where she would hide herself behind walls of stone and soldiers, weaving their little games—he did not hesitate. blood followed his path like breadcrumbs, bodies crumpling behind him as though they were made only to slow him down. he moved through them with a predator’s single-minded focus. they were not his prey, she was.

by the time the city bells rang in alarm, he was already inside their chambers. a figure out of nightmares, gaunt but unyielding, eyes alight with mania. he did not greet them with words. he let the silence stretch, savoring the moment as he stared at them, every inch of him trembling with violent purpose.

then his lips parted, and his voice was a rasp of hunger and madness: “love… do you know how long i’ve waited for you?”

he took a step forward, slow, deliberate, the corner of his mouth twitching in something far too feral to be a smile.

“you lived. you thrived. while i rotted for eternity, i kept you alive in my head. i broke myself into pieces and stitched them back together with the thought of you. do you know what that means?”

he tilted his head, eyes wide, unblinking.

“it means you belong to me. you’ve always belonged to me. and now—” his voice cracked into something feverish, desperate, cruel. “—i will never let you go.”

the sound of iron scraping stone echoed as he drew the jagged weapon at his hip. he didn’t need to rush them, not yet. he wanted to see them realize. wanted to watch her eyes widen as she understood there was nowhere to run.

tonight was not her night to die. no, death would be too merciful. tonight was the night she were taken. forever.

and rerir had waited too long to be denied.

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© kdotsmoneytree — all work belongs to me! any changes to my works is not permitted. thank u ᕙ⁠(⁠⇀⁠‸⁠↼⁠‶⁠)⁠ᕗ

I also think Earis is aware of this, thats why they want to win so badly. I dont think earis wants their mother's legacy to fade, so they are willing to give up their dreams for Roena.

I was wondering who would get along with Zaros the most?

Thank you! Have a nice week!

MDNI 18+ CONTAINS: muzan ‧ kokushibō ・dōma ‧ akaza | fem!reader . explicit sexual content . headcanons

鬼舞辻 無惨 KIBUTSUJI MUZAN

❅ ── edging is one of his many cruelties, and he’s exquisitely sadistic about it. he’ll watch you squirm, listen to your begging, and only allow release when your voice cracks into sobs. not that he’s merciful, but because he finds your swollen eyes and runny nose unbecoming.

❅ ── control disguised as generosity. he’ll make you ride him, but only so he can sit back and watch how pathetic you look scrambling for your own pleasure, while he corrects your pace with a lazy hand on your hip.

KOKUSHIBŌ

🀥 — You better mark this day as your bravest moment ever. 

🀥 — Perhaps it’s your dull-witted bravery that saved you because what in gods name did you just say in that mouth of yours? All six of his eyes blink separately and look at you as if you’re the one who’s grotesque here. No one, not even Muzan himself who is currently sitting across from your lover and deep in thought over a disrupted meeting, dared enough to simply utter his full human name out of the blue. Not without consequences, that is. 

🀥 — And yet here you are, bouncing at the soles of your feet with the most innocent looking face they have seen from you. But you are nowhere near innocent; the bite marks littered across your skin (barely even healing from your regeneration) is proof enough. 

🀥 — You should also be glad that you are a demon he specifically requested to turn, and that you’re his lover, because you may have hit a spot in that chipped armor of his. His wretched name uttered in that wretched mouth. 

🀥 —  As one would expect though, he refuses to speak with you for the next 91 years. And that’s just rude! 

DŌMA

🀥 —  Truthfully, this demon doesn’t even remember his true name and so you call him as Dōma because that’s who he is. When he first chance upon you, that was the name that stuck. Nevertheless, a century has passed and you have yet to utter his name. You are too afraid of what can happen if you do, until today.

🀥 — Dōma stares at you with a faux curiosity, then he hides his face in that deadly fan of his and laughs. “So cute! Very cute, yes! You said my name. My, my, now what reward should I give you, hm?” 

🀥 — “You’re not even going to ask why I sounded angry?” That’s the first thing you say. You planned everything right and you wanted to see the look on his face. But instead, he gives you exactly what he shows the rest: Dōma. 

🀥 — He blinks then smiles maniacally. “Oh, but you know. I am different! We can go down memory lane if we must. Let’s see – ah! – I was always . . . different and as a child I was revered to as a go –”

🀥 — You walk away, huffing. “Goodbye,”

🀥 — “Wait! Don’t you want to hear how different I am! I heard that women go crazy if you’re different!”

🀥 — “No.”

🀥 — “But don’t you want to be the one who ‘fixes me’?” 

AKAZA

🀥 — Now this one . . . this one hurts, a lot. 

🀥 — It’s not a joke and you mean this. 

🀥 — When you whisper his name, and not even the entirety of it yet, every nerve of his fighting spirit trembles and stops. He turns around, looking at you in sheer-cold panic and wonders if he just heard what he thought he heard. Of course like a lunatic, you mistook his behavior and think that why yes, this is how one dies.  

🀥 — “Was – was that my name?” He tells you, almost afraid to have that bone-chilling hope. It’s been a long time and he thinks he rids himself of who he used to be, of his weakened self, thinking that this is who he is now. This is power beyond anything he imagines. This is moving forward. But no, the moment you call him, he’s heartbreakingly reminded that he’s still that weak boy searching for some purpose of living. 

🀥 — And just like a broken compass, he doesn’t know which way to go. 

🀥 — All along, that arrow zigzags its way to you, and in one breath, you tear him apart and he is finished. 

🀥 — His gait becomes uncoordinated, stumbling right in front of you. Instinctively, you pick him up. He refuses to meet your eyes, perhaps frightened of what other kind of power you have over him. Never before has he felt undeniably lost. 

🀥 — For a while, you give him a chance to regain himself. 

🀥 — Then you tilt his chin so you two can look at each other, and all you can see is the gentleness of his gaze upon you and all the times he wishes he could’ve still been that boy who could’ve done the right things when the world forced him to do everything wrong. 

🀥 — “Hakuji,” you say his name, and you feel his embrace engulf you as he holds you tight and tighter, burying his face against you. 

🀥 — “Let’s go home.” 

HANTENGU

🀥 — You basically triggered all versions of him. And each has their own consequences, especially given their fragmented and deluded personality. 

🀥 — Sekido bursts, anger engulfs him quickly like flames. He never thinks for one second you would have done this to him, but you do. Do you think that you can talk to him like that? It takes him a moment to rein it in. When he realizes that it’s all a ploy, he eases slightly. Still, he is a personified version of anger, so it will always be there to linger. 

🀥 — Karaku might see through the illusion of your playful deceit and play along. “Does my name have a certain ring to it, my love?” He likes the musings you do and he is not one to be insulted over trivial things. In fact, he loves the entirety of this exchange.

🀥 — Aizetsu doesn’t want anything to do you with you for a day or two. He wallows in his self-depravating bubble and releases chokes of sadness. When you tell him it’s all some sort of joke just to lighten his mood up, he sulks even harder. You then realize that this is one of the versions you should have not chosen, as you sulk in your own corner, too. Plan completely backfiring. 

🀥 — Urogi is a tricky one. Though he omits what joy should be, you aren’t too sure if that joy of his is what can resemble as genuine or he has some ulterior motives that results in you taking flying lessons with him. Either way he keeps squawking at you for even remembering his name. You don’t even have the time to tell him it’s all a mere jest to see what he would do, he just soared off to who knows where. Because of that, a part of you wishes that he accidentally knocks some corners of the castle along the way. 

🀥 — Never mind Hantengu or Aizetsu, Zōhakuten is the one you are most careful about in all the versions. While he must have sensed you merely wish to tease him of his name that he cares not of in a manner that he might’ve committed something drastic, that still doesn’t stop that unsettling feeling from you that this may or may not end with you dead permanently. Thankfully, he merely gives you a nod and walks off. He’s used by your insignificant and pointless antics by now. 

🀥 — Hantengu himself will not believe a word you say. Not from your trick of getting angry at him, and not even when you call him by his entire name. But he will cry and cower, and find any means to distance himself from you. Regardless if you tell it’s a joke, Hantengu will scurry off. 

🀥 —  And you wind up wondering just how on earth you end up with six of him.

GYOKKO

🀥 — Gyokko will not tolerate the sound of your tone, and he will throw childish tantrums when you call him by his name. 

🀥 — “You think I’ve done something!” He shouts. “Maybe it was you! You probably started it!”

🀥 —  You merely sigh and call his name again. He lets loose a scream and jumps from vase to vase. 

🀥 —  Perhaps you are sort of a masochist, but it amuses you just how funny he runs away into pretty little vases. 

GYŪTARŌ

🀥 — Gyūtarō reacts to your call in confusion. He wonders when has he admitted his name because even he has a troubling time remembering. Though, it doesn’t hurt that you know it; he doesn’t mind it at all. 

🀥 —  Perhaps in his case, it feels a little good. At least someone never forgot him even if one day he will walk through the fires of hell. 

🀥 — He lowers his weapons and slumps over. Yeah, maybe even a cold-hearted demon such as himself doesn't mind that sometimes there’s someone else thinking about them. 

🀥 — Even if it’s just a joke. 

DISHONORABLE MENTIONS:

NAKIME

🀥 — Joke or not, Nakime will not be entertained. 

🀥 — With that stupid biwa of hers that you despise very much, you will be transported from one end of the castle to the other, until she finally has had enough torturing you. 

🀥 — Jokes on her though, you’ve got eternity to keep teasing her. 

KAIGAKU

🀥 — That arrogance of his shatters beneath the call of his name and that tone you choose. Through hurried steps and a perplexed expression, he appears face to face with you. 

🀥 — You raise your brow in challenge and call him again. 

🀥 — It’s not that long that he’s been turned into a demon and yet just the remembrance of the past he’s ashamed to even have is maddening. 

🀥 — What’s even more humiliating is when you begin to smile and laugh, admittedly telling him it’s all a joke. But the point still stands: he is still very much affected with who he used to be. And he vows harder to change that.