Summary: Part 1 of a multi-part series involving Douma x human F! reader.
Douma assaults reader and gets her pregnant. Follow this drama as reader faces the challenges of becoming a new mom as a slayer, and having Douma, upper moon II, as the father.
Douma x F! Reader (reader is presumed to be a very young adult)
Warnings for this chapter: Nonconsensual sexual content, sexual assault, r*pe, overall dark lore
“Hello? Hello, are you there?”
Your fingers are numb, stiff knuckles cracked and frost-bitten in the heap of fresh-fallen snow.
Snow clumps together in heavy piles around you, disregarding your limp body, the soft fallen fluff turning into icy jagged flakes against your chilled and exposed skin.
Crisp lashes scrape against the skin of your lower lid, your eyes flutter open hesitantly, vision focusing in on the brittle, snow-covered branches above, delicate flakes leaving petal-soft kisses against your paling skin.
You measure your breathing, huffs visible as they frost in below-freezing air.
Your cheeks are flushed, hair completely unraveled from its intricate braid, uniform cuts seep deep into your flesh, fresh blood pouring from new wounds. Your fingers lock, frozen in a tight grip on your sword handle.
“Hey there! Oh! You’re still very much alive. That’s a relief. For a second I thought our fun was over!”
You will your muscles to stop their quivering, audibly gasping as you force yourself to stand on shaky knees, but quickly landing on the wobbly joints in the snow, which continues to pile in heavy heaps from the unwavering blizzard.
The moon hides behind a haze of clouds, its slivers of light highlighting the glints of frost, making the snowy terrain look like a blanket of tiny glittering diamonds in the night.
You struggle to regain your composure, your muscles straining in pain, fatigue, and cold. Your breathing is labored as blood pours from your wounds, staining the frozen floor a deep crimson, its warmth steaming softly against the ice.
Your ears pick up the crunch of footsteps heading your direction. Slow and determined. Slow and mocking, as if they didn’t need to move any faster, they knew just where to find you.
Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, skin vibrating in anticipation. You’d never been so afraid in your life.
Why won’t he just kill you?
It had been hours of this nightmare. Hours of you fighting and losing. Hours of his wind-chime laughter and haunting taunts as you fight for your life against a demon in human form.
You wince at the thought.
“Ss-stop it!” You scold yourself, tightening the grip on your sword as your exposed knees sink deeper in the snow, the microscopic crystals leaving tiny cuts into your raw, reddened skin.
You’d fight from down here if you must. You’d die sword swinging.
His figure closes in, footsteps stopping just a few feet away, kaleidoscope gaze falling on you.
His presence in the scenery is nearly unreal. His eyes glow bright in the hidden shadows of nightfall, the mosaic colors dancing gleefully behind the sinister upper rank 2 markings, reminding you of who you were up against.
Your breath hitches, heart thumping wildly in your chest. You don’t dare blink, don’t move, learning quickly that even the slightest hesitation could mean your death.
Your lungs tense as you attempt to steady your breathing, but before you’re able to exhale, to allow the air to leave your nostrils, he’s there.
Standing directly in front of you, your nose mere millimeters from his trousers, lines crisp, no wrinkles in sight.
You feel the cold scrape of nails against your scalp as his arm wounds around the side of your neck, snaking your hair around his hand in a tight grip, snapping your head back so forcefully you hear a sharp crack! at the base of your skull.
“You look so much prettier with your hair down! Why do you wear it in that braid?”
The rumble of his voice rings loud in your ears, his tone candy sweet, sickening in a way that makes your stomach churn in disgust and hatred.
You don’t answer, audibly breathing misty puffs in the cold air, eyes darting about, trying to focus on something, anything to steady yourself.
You chant the mantra repeatedly as your heart continues to thud wildly in your chest.
“Ah, is it because it’s more convenient for battle? That’s so silly! as easily as it comes undone it can’t be that convenient, although I must say, you’re very good! We’ve had so much fun playing this night, I don’t want it to end!”
He says with icy, musical laughter that vibrates against your chilled skin, so close that you feel the tickle of the tips of his hair skimming across your cheek—the prickle of the ashen strands causing you to shiver.
Your neck aches from the grip he has you in, follicles burning as your hair remains taut around his fist.
Your eyes start to water, tears threatening to spill over as you feel heat crawl up your neck. Your jaw tightens as you grit through clenched teeth.
“Let go of me, you prick”
The words come out low and determined, masking the fear boiling hot within your veins.
The demon turns slowly, lips no longer lingering too close to your ear, but turning to look at you directly.
His features are sharp, each outline highlighted subtly in the moon’s light, beautiful in a way that someone who dances with the devil can be. Painfully enticing, meant to rope one into their own demise.
Your heartbeat quickens as he faces you, the colorful prism of his eyes scanning your face. Determination etches across your soft features, but he doesn’t miss the thrum of your blood in your pulse or the way your eyes dilate in delicious fear.
A wicked grin stretches his lips, sharp fangs peaking out beyond the plush barrier of skin to taunt you. His eyes bore into you, searching every pore and orifice for something you aren’t aware of.
Your eyes blink tiredly, body completely encompassed within the throws of exhaustion. Blood still seeps from your forgotten wounds as your eyes fixate on his, their beautiful glow drawing you in, pulling at the depths of your soul like a magnet to metal.
For the briefest moment the world halts. Your knees stop their shaking, blood stops its thumping.
His body hunches over you in the snow, face millimeters from your own. You feel the vice grip he has on your hair as the other hand clutches the small of your back, sharp talons slicing the delicate patchwork of your uniform.
The words fall as a whisper that licks your skin.
The grip on your sword tightens.
No time to think, no time to process.
You go to swing, wrists taut, elbows flexing with a single whoosh! of the polished steel blade that doesn’t land.
In the same instant you make the split decision to draw your sword, you land face first into the snow with a heavy thud.
“Silly! So silly, silly slayer girl”
Your head is pushed further into the ice. Your skin burns, you struggle to breathe as your nose fills with frosted pellets.
You try to move, fingers fisting frozen earth as your body wriggles in desperation, trying to fight in vain with a spirit that was far from broken, but finding it impossible to move with the oppressive weight pressing into the center of your back.
The world around you muffles as snow fills your ears. You hear utterances of
Each word punctuated by the tearing of your uniform.
Your eyes widen, suddenly very alert and aware of what was happening.
You move to struggle harder, to loosen his grip even a little, but to no avail. The powerful demon holds you firm, tearing at your uniform, enjoying your muffled yelps and cries as your bare skin makes contact with the ice.
He seats himself above you. Your sword is no longer in your grip, broken in half across the snowy terrain after your final attempt at slashing the sinister demon.
You were powerless, tears falling and melting with the ice beneath you as you feel your legs being parted, bracing yourself for what’s to come.
“Calm down dear, there is no need to be afraid. I will free you.”
His voice is much lower than the taunts he’s thrown at you this night, but still sickly musical in a way that makes your eardrums want to burst.
He tears your underwear. You gasp and whimper in whiny desperation, still face down in the snow. Your thighs instinctively try to clench together, resisting the inevitable assault of your most sacred space.
“You’ll obtain happiness. Nirvana that you never knew existed!”
You scream as the invasion rips through you, the explosive burn rippling throughout your body, tearing and stretching spaces you’ve had yet to explore.
His thrusts start off slow. You feel every drag, every push and pull of his heavy manhood leaving and entering you as your body works with your brain to adjust to the unwanted intrusion, making you slicker and wetter with every thrust.
His groans vibrate against your back. Hums of pleasure rumble low in his belly with every rush of slick your body provides, lessening the friction of your velvety walls.
Your limbs lay heavy on the earth, no longer registering how frozen and cold your skin is, buried in between the heaps of ice.
As the assault continues, your mind wanders, focusing in on the snow and how it continues to blow in the wind, landing softly on your broken body, completely unaware of the torture you endure.
You were so young when you lost your entire family, so young when you became a slayer. There was so much you never got to do, never got to see, feel, or touch.
A sharp tug at your hair abruptly halts your daydream, causing a breathy gasp to erupt from your throat as your head is positioned to expose the side of your neck.
You gasp for air, finally able to see the world around you as you had forgotten your face was buried in ice.
Wet lashes flutter and your vision steadies. Involuntary moans escape your chest as your body responds to his relentless thrusts. His lips hover against your pulse point. Your eyes squeeze shut.
This is it, he’s going to drain you dry and leave you there dead in the forest, in the middle of a blizzard, naked and alone. You’d be lucky if anyone found your remains under the piles left by the winter storm.
Fat tears fall from your face as you embrace death.
At least you gave it your all.
His lips graze the skin of your shoulder. Trailing up your neck and hovering over your pulse, feeling the blood that pumped just beneath the surface. Dragging sharp porcelain fangs over velvety skin—testing, willing himself to do it, to drain you until there was nothing left.
You send silent prayers and pleas for forgiveness, thanking all who knew you for their love and kindness.
A sharp thrust jolts your body forward.
You scream into the wind.
He can’t do it, can’t bring himself to kill you.
The world is still as he unwinds your hair, letting your body fall to the ground, bloody and wrecked.
He blinks, your blood flowing down his chin, eyeing the fresh bite mark on your neck.
His cock hangs heavy and limp outside of his trousers, having roared his release into you just moments ago. He enjoys the view of your body, dead-like and limp with his cum flowing out of you at one end and blood flowing out the other.
Douma chuckles to himself, licking the remnants of your blood off his face and adjusting himself before standing to his feet.
He gives your feeble body a measured kick, smirking at the recoil.
“Let’s hope you survive the night, slayer girl. You ignite something in me that I never thought existed.”
His whisper trails off into the wind just like his presence.
He’s gone. He didn’t kill you.
Relief directly followed by overwhelming disgust washes over you.
You go to move, but quickly double over as vomit forces its way up your throat. You struggle to catch your breath, heaving and coughing streams of blood and bile.
It was over. You had survived a brutal attack at the hands of an upper moon.
But he was still alive, still out there.You had survived without landing as much as a single scratch on him.
He had violated you in the worst ways and left without a scratch.
Rage threatened to surface, but you hadn't the energy. Your body collapses, all the will to fight, to stand, to even move now gone.
A/N: Hi everybody! Tysm for reading! I’m kinda anxious 'cause I’ve had this idea mulling in my head for weeks and now I actually have to follow it through *sighs*
Anyways! As always, thank you to my favorite pookies who always show my work some love 💗
If anyone can spare any change in support of my works, that would be greatly appreciated: all proceeds will go toward helping me pay down my balance as an incoming freshman of my Doctor of Pharmacy program
Thank you for supporting my dream of becoming a Pharmacist 👩⚕️’30
[cover art created with the assistance of AI]
