#upper moon two

He warms up to your touch though and slowly begins to crave it himself, sometimes even initiating your touch by hesitantly and a little too stiffly pulling you into a small side-hug or reaching out to hold your hand.

And now, Kokushibo is even cuddlier than you are. Almost like a cat he snuggles up against you when you sleep, meditating quietly while you hold him closely against you, all of his eyed closed in relaxation.

Sometimes he silently asks for your time by wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. You can feel his chest press up against your back so closely, you could swear he’s trying to absorb you into his body.

He really adores your cuddly and touchy nature and gets a little gloomy when you deprive him of it for a while.

Overall, Kokushibo is as cuddly as you, even if he needed some time to get comfortable with his need to having his hands on you at all times. It makes him feel safer and more comfortable to physically feel you being nearby, and having you gently scratch his back while he crushes you with his weight beneath you is a mere bonus.

—

Douma // Upper Moon Two

Oh, he absolutely adores it!

Douma is very physical and cuddly with you and always has been. He is very dramatic about it too, insisting that he will get depressed and lonely when you ignore him on purpose for whatever reason. You can’t possibly deny a snuggle from the exhausted, whiny demon that has been stuck listening to woes and sob-stories from his followers, right?

It’s an important part of the day for him. Douma will seem a little moody all day if you slip out of bed too early and will purposefully wake you up during the night to make you cuddle back onto him whenever you slip away when you sleep.

He also adores it whenever you get touchy in front of his followers, slipping onto his lap during sermons or holding his hand when walking from one place to another. It makes him feel like you’re announcing to the world that he is yours and you are his, which makes Douma kick his feet internally in delight and giggle like a smitten girl. It’s funny to him to think back how soul-crushingly empty his heart and mind was before you came around— he was merely drifting around through “life”, if what he is living through can be called a life.

In summary, Douma actively encourages and welcomes your cuddly and clingy nature. It’s almost like he demands it by wrapping his arms around your waist and practically trapping you against his body. Personal space? Neither of you ever heard of her.

—

Akaza // Upper Moon Three

He is a little stingy about it at first. Akaza is a little hesitant about letting you cuddle and touch him because he is a little afraid that he will crush you by simply holding you.

Akaza is aware of his own strength and how fragile you are and you can feel every single muscle in his body tense when you wrap your arms around him. It makes you shy away from touching him for a while, which he of course, notices.

You can tell that he needs time to get used to his own feelings towards you and to feel comfortable with what you have going on, so straight up jumping and cuddling with him might be too much for him. He needs baby steps, starting with intertwining fingers, moving onto holding hands and slowly moving towards hugs and holding him for a longer each time, until Akaza can comfortably curl up against you and close his eyes.

He still is very shy about touching you but will never deny you. You sometimes think he wants you to initiate touches and affection because he is too embarrassed to admit that he wants it more than you so.

Overall, Akaza gets more comfortable with you every day. You predict that one day he will wrap his arms and legs around you and never let go, it will be any day now!!

—

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!

I missed them so much ughhh it’s like getting back to together with someone you weren’t ready to let go 💔 Idk ughhh I needed this. Douma specifically actually

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

his free hand moved to your uniform, fingers curling into the fabric over your chest. the tear was sharp, merciless—the sound of cloth splitting open echoed loud in the empty shrine. he didn’t bother with precision; he didn’t need to. your haori ripped down the middle, falling open to expose the skin beneath. his hand slid inside, palm rough and hot against your bare stomach, pushing higher until he gripped your breast hard enough to make you gasp.

“too fragile,” he drawled, thumb brushing over your nipple as if testing, then pinching cruelly, making your back arch against the altar. “i could crush you with one hand… but no. i’d rather break you in other ways.”

your legs kicked, trying to push him off, but he seized both thighs at once, fingers digging into flesh. in one brutal motion, he forced them apart, spreading you wide over his lap as he dragged you closer. the wooden altar dug into your back, sharp and unyielding, as he shoved your legs up until your knees nearly pressed to your chest.

“stay still,” he growled, pressing his weight forward to pin you. his hand slid down, tugging at the waist of your trousers. another rip—fabric splitting as easily as paper—and he yanked them off, leaving your lower half exposed to the cold air and his heated gaze.

you opened your mouth to curse him, but the words broke into a cry when he shoved two thick fingers between your folds, spreading you open with obscene ease. the intrusion was rough, fast, forcing your body to react before your mind could catch up. slick coated his fingers almost instantly, and his grin widened, sharp and cruel. “already wet? pathetic little slayer—your body betrays you.”

he withdrew just long enough to shove his own trousers down, his cock heavy and flushed, the sight alone making your stomach twist. then he lined himself up, the blunt head pressing against your entrance. the resistance was sharp, the stretch nearly unbearable—but he didn’t pause, didn’t give you time to adjust. with one brutal thrust, he slammed inside, burying himself to the hilt.

you choked on the breath that ripped from your lungs, body bowing off the altar as the stretch burned through you, walls clenching desperately around the intrusion. his grip on your thighs tightened, forcing them wider, locking you in place as he pulled back and slammed into you again, harder, deeper, the sound of your body taking him echoing through the ruined shrine.

“fuck,” akaza groaned, head tipping back, tattoos glowing faintly in the moonlight. “so tight. even your cunt’s trying to fight me.” his hips snapped forward with punishing force, each thrust rocking the altar beneath you. “but you can’t win this fight either, can you?”

your cries tumbled out broken, sobs and whimpers spilling into the cold night air as his pace grew merciless. he leaned down, his mouth hot against your jaw, teeth grazing before sinking in—not enough to pierce, but enough to make you jolt. “you’re trembling,” he muttered against your skin, voice dark, taunting. “your body loves this. every squeeze, every twitch—you were made to be ruined like this.”

each thrust forced slick down your thighs, dripping onto the altar, pooling beneath you. your nails clawed helplessly at the wood, leaving shallow grooves as heat coiled low in your belly, unbearable and blinding.

“don’t hold back,” akaza snarled, hips snapping into you faster, deeper. “cum for me—show me how weak you are.”

and when it broke, it was violent, tearing the breath from your lungs as you convulsed around him, tears streaking down your cheeks. your orgasm hit hard, walls spasming, dragging a guttural groan from his chest. he pounded through it, chasing his own high, until his hips stuttered and his cock spilled hot ropes of cum deep inside you, filling you until it leaked messily around his length.

you slumped against the altar, trembling, throat raw from sobs. akaza stayed pressed to you, cock still buried deep, his grin cruel and satisfied. his thumb brushed a tear from your cheek almost mockingly. “fragile little thing,” he murmured, voice rough, “and yet you take me perfectly.”

then his hips shifted again, his cock twitching back to life inside your overstimulated cunt. his grin widened, sharp as a blade. “we’re not done. i’ll break you over and over—until you forget what it means to stand against me.”

✎ 𝒅ōma 𓂃 ♡︎ the lotus temple was quiet. too quiet.

by day it seemed serene—bright lanterns swaying, golden statues smiling benignly, prayers murmured into incense smoke. but by night, when shadows pooled in the corners and the air grew still, it became something else. the painted faces of the bodhisattvas warped in the dark, their smiles eerie and knowing, their hands reaching endlessly in frozen blessing. you should have turned back the second you crossed the threshold, but you didn’t. curiosity or duty carried you inside.

and that was when you heard it—the laughter. light, airy, musical, but wrong. it didn’t echo properly. it slid through the dark like oil, clinging to your skin, chilling you to the bone.

“ooh… a guest.”

your stomach dropped. he hadn’t stepped from anywhere—you simply blinked, and he was there. dōma, upper moon two, sat casually at the base of a massive statue, lotus-shaped war fan twirling lazily between his fingers. his eyes—bright, gleaming with too much light to be human—fixed on you with a delight that felt like claws dragging over glass.

“how lucky am i?” he said with that too-cheerful lilt, tilting his head as if truly considering it. “the night was starting to feel so lonely, and here you come stumbling in. a pretty little slayer, all alone. ahh, i feel blessed.”

your blade was already out, shaking slightly despite your grip. you lunged—fast, precise, desperate. but before the tip could even graze him, his fan clattered to the floor and his hand shot out, clamping around your throat with effortless strength.

“tsk, tsk,” he sang, voice bubbling with laughter as he lifted you effortlessly off the floor, legs kicking. “so aggressive! but you’re trembling… do you really think you can hurt me?”

you clawed at his wrist, the pressure at your throat making spots dance in your vision. he smiled wider at your struggling, as though each desperate kick was entertainment. then, with a casual swing of his arm, he slammed you down against the polished temple floor. the breath flew out of your lungs, chest heaving uselessly as your sword skittered out of reach.

“much better,” dōma hummed, kneeling over you, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand as if they were weightless. “look at you… all pinned down like a little insect. don’t worry, i’ll take good care of you. i always take care of my guests.”

his free hand slid over your chest, fingertips featherlight, deceptively tender. then, with a sudden vicious tug, he gripped your uniform and ripped it open down the middle. fabric tore under his claws like paper, exposing the soft skin beneath. his eyes glittered as he leaned down, tongue darting out to lap across your collarbone with mocking reverence.

“mmm… delicious,” he purred, teeth grazing. “so warm. so human. you make the cutest noises when you squirm, did you know that?”

you tried to jerk your wrists free, tried to shove him off with your knees, but his grip was unyielding. he only laughed at your struggles, as if they delighted him. “oh, don’t pout. it’s fun when you fight. but you’ll learn—” his hand slid lower, cupping you between your thighs through the fabric of your trousers, squeezing with enough pressure to make you gasp, “—you’ll always lose.”

he didn’t wait. another sharp tug tore your trousers at the seam, leaving you half-bared under him. his fingers trailed along the edge of your underwear before hooking in and yanking those away too, discarding them in a careless flick.

“ahh, now that’s better,” dōma cooed, eyes darkening with something hungrier as he spread your legs apart with his knees, forcing you open under him. “so pretty like this. like a flower, just for me.”

you hissed through your teeth, shame and fury burning hot, but it only made his grin widen. he shifted down, one hand pinning your wrists still, the other spreading you with merciless ease. when his fingers pressed inside, the intrusion was sudden and unrelenting—two sinking deep without warning, curling against sensitive walls that made your body betray you with a sharp, unwilling moan.

“ohhh, listen to that,” he crooned, pumping his fingers at a punishing pace, each thrust stretching you open further. “music to my ears. mm, you’re squeezing me so tight already. how adorable.”

slick coated his fingers quickly, dripping messily onto the floor. he withdrew them just to lick them clean, humming with obscene delight at the taste. “sweet, sweet, sweet. just as i thought.”

then he freed himself—trousers undone with a lazy tug, his cock heavy and flushed, obscene in the dim temple light. he aligned himself with your entrance, teasing the head against your folds, smearing slick across your swollen skin.

“you ready?” he asked in a sing-song voice, mocking because he had no intention of waiting. “of course you’re not. but that’s the fun part.”

he slammed into you in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. your body arched violently off the floor, a cry tearing from your throat as the sudden stretch burned through you, hot and unbearable.

“nnnh—” dōma groaned, eyes fluttering, his smile turning near feral. “ohhh… that’s perfect. you’re so tight. oh, you poor thing, you’re shaking already. don’t worry, i’ll break you in gently.”

he didn’t mean gently. his hips began to snap forward in quick, merciless thrusts, his cock driving deep again and again until the wet, lewd sounds of your bodies echoed through the temple. every movement shoved you harder into the cold floor, wrists aching under his grip, legs spread wide by his weight.

“so loud,” he teased, laughing between groans. “every moan, every cry—ah, i could eat you up.” his lips pressed to your jaw, sucking a bruise there before nipping cruelly. “and maybe i will. but not before i’ve ruined this sweet little body.”

your climax built sharp, unbearable, heat curling in your belly as each thrust hit deeper, harder, stealing every breath from your lungs.

“that’s it,” dōma sang, his pace quickening, hips slamming into you so hard it hurt. “break for me, my good girl. cum for me—i want to feel you drown on my cock.”

when it hit, it was devastating, your walls clenching violently around him, squeezing him so tight he groaned loud, head tipping back. he fucked you through it, riding your trembling spasms until his thrusts grew sloppy and he spilled inside you, filling you so deep the warmth leaked back out around him.

he slumped over you briefly, panting, then licked the tears off your cheeks with a bright, delighted hum. “mmm. salty. sweet. perfect.” his grin curved cruel and charming at once. “see? i told you i’d take care of you. aren’t you glad you wandered in?”

his cock twitched still buried inside, his smile widening like a blade. “and don’t pout, little flower. we’ve got all night.”

❅ ── dōma has no real attachment to material things, yet he understands the human fondness in beauty. so the hairpins, jeweled combs, and silken sashes he presents to you are drawn from his vast collection of "leftovers" from decades ago. he is careful, so careful, never to risk placing in your hands an keepsake that might once have belonged to someone you could remember. instead, he offers them with a flourish, smiling as though each gift were chosen specifically just for you.

❅ ── insults don’t faze him in the slightest; if anything, they seem to delight him. you can call him childish, annoying, a downright a charlatan, and he'll laugh heartily, before pressing a kiss to your knuckles, "why, yes, all true! but you still like me, don't you?"

❅ ── scolding earns you no contrition either, as he doubles over in gales of laughter, shoulders shaking as though your reproach were the finest joke he's ever heard. he looks up, grinning widely, and croons, "ouch, how cruel! i think i rather like it when you're mean to me."

❅ ── hand-holding with him is constant. if not to swing your arm in wide arcs, then to twirl you mid-step into an impromptu dance. sometimes, he simply threads his fingers through yours, admiring how small they look compared to his own.

❅ ── when dōma sleeps (or rather, pretends to,) he habitually slides a leg between yours or drapes an arm across your waist.

❅ ── he enjoys sake baths with you. the bath is deep and aromatic, liquid steaming with a golden-tinged glow. half-submerged he sits across from you, hands respectfully idle unless you initiate play. when you splash, he counters with mischievous ripples, shooting rivulets from clasped hands and laughing uproariously at your shrieks and retaliations.

❅ ── he's perpetually cold, corpse-like to the touch, yet that never stops him from sliding icy hands against your stomach just to hear you yelp. "ooh, you're so warm! like a little stove~" but on a redeeming note, when you shiver at the mysterious draft in his quarters, he drapes his cloak over your shoulders with unexpected care.

❅ ── his kisses are never quite solemn. dōma peppers them across your cheeks and nose in a flurry, punctuating each with cute little "mwah!" sounds until you're laughing or annoyed. if you try to kiss him properly, he plays along (though inevitably, he'll attempt to slip his tongue past your lips, far more invested in your fluster than in the kiss itself.)

❅ ── he insists on "sharing meals" with you, though you notice he never seems to partake himself. instead, he sits across from you, plucking up sweets and slices of fruit to hold against your lips. whether you're hungry or not is irrelevant; he beams as you accept the morsel, praising you as though you've done him a great kindness by eating.

❅ ── in front of his followers, dōma tempers his physicality so as to maintain his guru persona. his disciples see you as part of his court or his favoured companion, but nothing more; as he offers serene smiles and gesticulation with elegance, but never touches you beyond polite proximity.

❅ ── formalities bore him in private. he waves them away with a grin, pressing a finger to your lips. "none of that stuffy '-sama' nonsense, alright? just dōma. nicer that way." he prefers the sound of his name on your lips without adornment.

❅ ── when storms roll in, he insists on pulling you outside to watch, uncaring if the rain soaks through your clothes. he gestures toward the sky, presenting the lightning and thunder as a divine performance for the two of you to enjoy. every flash throws his features into violent chiaroscuro, and you cannot help yourself but steal glances at the kaleidoscopic whirl of his irises, the colours ever-shifting. each thunderclap earns an exultant clap of his hands, laughter ringing clear and bright like a child at a firework festival.

❅ ── and when the weather clears, dōma's amusements turn domestic. he delights in dressing you like his personal doll, layering brightly dyed silks across your shoulders, fussing over which colours flatter best. when he finally deems you finished, he guides you to the mirror, slides in behind you, and rests his chin on your shoulder. arms encircle your waist, his smile reflected alongside your image, as he marvels aloud at just how cute you are.

❅ ── he enjoys walking with you after dark, wandering through the estate garden. holding your hand, he twirls you in dizzying circles. at some point he leans down and plucks a flower, tucking it into your hair without concern if his followers watch from afar.

❅ ── when you cry, dōma's reaction is twofold: fat, shimmering crocodile tears immediately well in his own eyes, coursing dramatically down his cheeks as if he's weeping on your behalf. he gathers you into his arms, cradling you close, stroking your hair in gentle yet practiced consolation.

❅ ── when you're feeling down, he produces games to keep you busy: go boards with their black & white stones, hanafuda cards painted with flowers. or even simple menko, slapping decorated cards to the floor with gleeful noise. he plays with exaggerated concentration, and yet somehow always manages to lose. when you "win," he explodes into applause and cheers. (though you suspect that he threw the game on purpose.)

❅ ── he loves to create small "rituals" with you that seem important only to him. for example, braiding flower crowns together from the blooms his followers present to him, a pastime he treats with uncharacteristic solemnity. he selects the brightest blossoms, tongue poking between his teeth in concentration, then beams when his creation is finished. he settles the crown onto your head with a flourish, before bowing his own to receive yours in turn.

❅ ── being sheltered all his life, even the simplest chores fascinate him. he trails after you with bright eyes while you sweep or cook, insisting on "helping." and though he manages a few useful tasks, he is a whirlwind of chatter.

❅ ── he carries you whenever the impulse strikes, with little regard for dignity. sometimes cradled in his arms bridal-style, sometimes straight up tossed over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. every time he lifts you, it is heralded by his singsong "up we go!" followed by laughter when you protest.

❅ ── you take turns brushing each other’s hair, the simple act a shared ritual. he hums tunelessly as he combs through your strands, teasing knots apart with care, fingers occasionally trailing along your neck.

❅ ── when boredom sets in, he idly traces shapes across your bare skin with manicured nails. often it's kanji characters or doodles. he urges you to guess what he's written.

❅ ── for a guru with nearly two hundred and fifty followers ready to obey his every word, dōma proves disarmingly agreeable when it comes to humouring you. any whim is met with sparkling enthusiasm, "ooh of course! let's try it!" the result never matters half as much as the novelty itself, the brief reprieve you grant him from that endless void inside. in practice, it means he is willing to try anything in bed. he'd probably even let you peg him.

❅ ── the moment he realises his cock is simply too large for you, his reaction is both merry and seemingly flustered. tilting his head, he gives a helpless little laugh, "ahh… tight fit. that's a shame, isn't it?" still, the discovery doesn't stop him from rocking his hips in small, testing motions, determined to find out just how much you can manage.

❅ ── when he finally bottoms out, your gasp and frantic squirming bring him to a pause. he blinks down at the sight of you straining around him, genuinely mystified by how poorly suited you seem to be for his size. then, with mock-despair, he sighs, "poor thing… 'm too big for you, huh?"

❅ ── his way of encouragement borders on parody, but it's hard not to find comfort in it. he strokes your hair, coaxing, "c'mon, you can do it! just a little more and you'll fit me like a glove—oh, not that you're a glove, that would be weird—hehe." the chatter is aggravating, yet in its own way, reassuring. when at last your body yields, he claps his praise with tears spilling freely down his face, shimmering trails on his cheeks. "look at you… so brave! you really did it!" as if you had performed a great miracle.

❅ ── he watches himself disappear inside you with rapt fascination, murmuring to himself, "wahh… it really all goes in, huh?"

❅ ── when you whimper that it's too much, his lips curl into an exaggerated pout, "eh? too much? but it's just me! i'll be gentle, promise." the promise shatters within two thrusts, his eagerness far outweighing his self-control.

Kokushibo:

• though internally panicking, looked just fine when he picked up on the smell of blood

• came to check and the silent panic vanished

• will eventually know when your period starts before you know it yourself

• has no problem going down on you, but somehow always end up balls deep inside you

you whined as the man pulled two fingers out of your cunt, satisfied with the way you were dripping both blood and arousal.

he held eye contact with you as he brought the two digits to his lips, pushing them past his lips and licking the blood off.

"it's more than sweet.." he uttered, all three pairs of his eyes narrowing slightly. you held back a needy hum, seeing him glance at you.

he let his kimono slide of his shoulders, your mind occupied by the gracefulness of his actions. the cloth fell to the ground, revealing the pale body you've seen many times already.

"now let me have you.." he quietly said, steeping out of the last piece of clothing. though your eyes were focused on the clothes piled beside him, he was completely focused on you.

before you knew it, the man was over you, strong arms caging you between them. you felt your face heat up, almost making you forget the cramps you were experiencing.

"look at me." he demanded - requested. despite the embarrassment, you met his gaze, the smallest tug on his lip indicating his content state.

you held eye contact with him until he had fully sheathed himself inside you. his hand traveled over your stomach, pressing down where he suspected his cock would be.

you gasped, trying to keep yourself from arching your back. with his hand still on your stomach, he began slowly thrusting into you, watching your face for any discomfort.

"is that it? are you feeling good like this?" he whispered into your ear, his voice lightly breathy. you didn't answer - he didn't need one, not when you were squeezing around him so tightly.

Douma:

• you know he takes advantage of situations that could be good for him and this is definitely one of them

• yes, sex is something he had come to enjoy, but this was totally different

• blood, he didn't even need to do anything

• free source of food for a week, definitely will eat you out, no way he'll use his cock when he can just fuck you with his tongue

this was perfect, you were perfect, everything about this situation was perfect to him. he had you right where he wanted, right at his mercy.

you, on the other hand, were exhausted and in desperate need of a break. when did this start? you couldn't even remember how many orgasms the man - the demon - has pulled out of you.

his tongue licked a long stripe up your pussy, watching you shudder and cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain. he was too focused on his actions to notice the way you were weakly tugging at his hair, trying to stop him.

"so sweet, my little follower." he muttered against you, eyes finally opening, just enough for them to be lidded. he looked at you, realizing that the blood had decreased over time.

"don't tell me you're already finished? i thought you were going to give me more - show me your respect." he laughed, knowing that you could barely react to his words.

tears had started falling down your cheeks a long time ago, not sure how to handle any following orgasm. yet you couldn't move, body cramping up every few minutes while his arms pressed you against his face.

he didn't care how messy it got, a mix of slick, spit and blood staining his lips and chin. how could he care? you were divine.

if there was anything close to a god, it had bestowed him with the pleasure of getting to taste you every month.

your weak cries pulled him out of his thoughts, feeling you convulse and tremble once more, cooing at the orgasm he pulled out of you.

"look, there's more! i knew you had it in you, little follower, now be good and give me even more." he chuckled, kissing up your thigh until he was ready to dive into eating you out again.

Akaza:

• panicked when you got your first period and he didn't know of it

• first thought: danger, first thought after finding out you were on you period: nonexistent

• knew you were in pain and does his best to help, but keeps away from sex for quite some time

• eventually gives up because he can't resist your pleading

• enjoys it, but constantly worried

you watched him wipe the blood off his chin with the back of his hand, licking the rest of his lips. the action alone made you shudder in anticipation, feeling him stand up to position himself over you.

"are you feeling better, darling?" he asked, his voice quiet, as if he knew it would hurt you. you were fragile in his eyes, at the verge of breaking whenever you felt like this.

he treated you with the outmost care, abandoning pride to ensure your comfort. feeling another cramp shoot pain through your stomach, you held onto him, squeezing your eyes shut.

"please.. i need you.." you breathlessly whispered, his warm hand coming down to rub soothing circles against your waist. his other hand helped him guide his cock towards your entrance.

"shh.. i'm here for you." he answered, rubbing his cock against the mix of your slick and blood, the action making you moan out quietly.

he let you hold onto him as he pushed in, whispering words of praise and appreciation. the man didn't stop until you took him full, quietly grunting at the way you were squeezing.

"you.. you have to relax, darling. you're squeezing me so damn tight.." he groaned, letting his head fall down.

his hand let go off your leg, rubbing circles against your clit. "a- ah.. relax for me, darling. relax so i can take care of you."

he made sure to put your pleasure above his, to ensure your safety, your comfort. you gifted him the opportunity to eat you out, to taste you in such a special way, he needed to make sure you were doing good. it was only fair in his opinion, this wasn't about him, he could hold himself back if it made you feel better.

nevertheless, you didn't mind thanking him once your period was over, making sure to give him the pleasure he made you feel.