Hey Everyone

Hey everyone

This is just an apology and I'm gonna keep it quick and simple

I've injured my right shoulder and won't be able to write

I'm so sorry everyone, and pls take care of yourself

IM BACK EVERYONE

A/N:I didn't know what to write, tbh and I had so much going on in my life and stuff. ANYWAYS I still don't know so plsosksklsksplspls give suggestions and stuff, BUT YH

AND A BIG THAN K YOU TONMY FRIEND @sourcatnip for these

I will be using these for the future when I get requests

Anyway, I just wanted to let you guys know that I'm back

BYE BYE

think if reader had muzan's child and they're breastfeeding their baby & he see the child getting milk, would he be like 'hey. gimme some of that.' i imagine reader would be flustered but down for it aha

SINFUL SUNDAY

Muzan found himself in an unexpected situation. Clad in his usual elegant attire, Muzan stood beside you, the mother of his child, as you cradled your newborn in your arms. The soft glow of the moonlight falling through a large window bathed the chamber.

Your infant, a delicate mix of human and demon heritage, nestled against your chest, eagerly latching onto your breast for sustenance.

Muzan observed with a calculating gaze, his crimson eyes narrowing as he fixated on the scene before him. "I want some of that too," Muzan's voice, smooth and tinged with arrogance, sliced through the silence. His eyes bore into yours, a twisted curiosity playing in their depths. There was a certain arrogance in his demeanor, as if he believed that even the act of breastfeeding held a power dynamic that he could exploit.

You arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by his audacity. "You're a demon king, Muzan-sama. I hardly think breast milk is on the menu for someone of your stature."

Muzan's lips curled into a sly smile, revealing sharp fangs. "Stature has nothing to do with cravings, my dear mortal. A feeble concoction of life's essence, bestowed upon the weak and vulnerable is making me curious." The demon king circled around you, his gaze never leaving the child at your breast.

With a sense of reluctant compliance, you nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the delicate dance required to navigate the temperamental whims of the father of your child. Gently cradling the infant in your arms, you approached a meticulously crafted wooden crib, adorned with the most opulent silk blanket money could buy. You carefully nestled the child within the confines of its plush sanctuary.

Upon your return to Muzan's presence, you once again nodded, a gesture that carried the weight of unspoken acquiescence. The Demon Lord, perched regally, regarded you with an air of entitlement as he gestured for you to take a seat beside him on an elegantly crafted couch. Complying, you lowered yourself gracefully onto the plush cushions, the atmosphere tinged with a subtle tension.

Without delay, Muzan's hands moved with a possessive confidence, cupping yours breast in a gesture that bespoke both control and desire. Muzan deftly slid the strap of your nightgown from your shoulder, revealing a portion of your chest. His gaze fixated on the rounded swell of your breast, brimming with nourishing milk. The baby's suckling had left the aureola of your breast darkened.

The demon bent down, taking the bud into his mouth. He began to suckle gently, ensuring the sharp edges of his fangs didn't cause any discomfort to you. As the milk flowed into his mouth, he hummed with satisfaction, savoring the runny sweetness that gradually evolved with each sip.

You found yourself in a bewildering situation, unsure of how to react as he drank your milk. Eventually, you tentatively rested a hand on his shoulder, seeking a semblance of stability.

He continued to suckle, delicately pressing against the breast with his chilly hand. His long, pointed nails lightly brushed against the tender flesh, making you yelp a little.

"Shhh," he whispered, taking the bud out of his mouth to look directly at you. "We don't want the baby to wake up."

Muzan swiftly removed your remaining sleeve of the nightgown, revealing your chest completely to his hungry, crimson eyes. He then shifted his focus to the other breast, wrapping his lips around the hardened nipple. He took his time, gently sucking while flicking his tongue against the hardened bud. The milk spilled into his mouth again, prompting a satisfied hum. The entire experience, he realized, had an unintended consequence — his pants felt uncomfortably tight in the crotch.

The experience had a profound effect on you as well. You moaned quietly in relief as he eased the tension in your breasts by gently drinking the accumulated milk. "Oh, my lord," you whispered, gently caressing his shoulder.

Muzan took your hand and directed it toward his groin, where a noticeable bulge had formed.

Without a second thought, you sensed the texture of his hardened penis through the fabric of his pants and began to delicately massage it whilst his tongue massaged the erected nipple.

As things intensified, Muzan pulled away, fixing a stern gaze on your flushed face. "Take off your clothes," he commanded, his tone firm and demanding. "I want to take you, right here and now. And who knows, perhaps you'll birth me another heir soon."

Some early retirement ghoap for Stephanie! Thank you 😮‍💨💜

Hrrmmm, shure would be a shame if I didnt get a hate fuck fic for Arthur Morgan 😇😇😇

(I need him to use me.)

Me rn

BEST THING , GREATEST THING IVE RED THIS YR NGL

Hello! So it said your requests are open and I just figured I’d shoot my shot lol. But obviously you don’t have to so if you don’t want to I understand!

Douma x chubby insecure reader where he worships her? Fluff/smut? Douma and her are in a not secret but not known relationship and one of his followers insult her somehow and he finds out and proves the follower wrong to her.

If you don’t want to write this I understand! I love your writings btw! Have a good day/night!

hnnnnnng yes!!

Pairing: Douma x chubby!f!reader

Content guidance: NSFW. One line of nastiness from a side character due to reader's weight. Vaginal penetration. Gentle clit slapping. Douma praising and worshiping you. Approx 1.7k words.

There was a common misconception that Douma didn’t feel. 

True, he didn’t feel regret or remorse for the things he did, nor did he truly feel pity for his whining disciples when they offloaded their silly little problems onto him and begged to be delivered to paradise.

But he felt a great deal toward you.

You were the one person he had met in over a hundred years who listened to him, who didn’t shun him from conversation or dismiss him as an idiot or the purest form of evil. And you were soft, ever so soft, and ever so fun to play with. From your sweet, soft tummy to your plush thighs, and the pillowy warmth of your arms when you held him. He adored every voluptuous inch of you. 

So, when he returned to his chamber after a particularly draining day of listening to his disciples’ worries to find you lying in bed with tears running down your cheeks, he immediately felt compelled to set things right. 

“Hush hush now, sweet one,” he said, sitting cross-legged on the bed and gathering you up in his arms to sit you on his lap. You weighed nothing to him, he could throw you around like a temari if he so wished, but he never would. “Tell me what happened…”

You shook your head. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Oh but I have now, so I need to fix it.” He wiped away your tears with his fingertips, continuing to stroke your cheeks with the pointed tips of his fingernails. “Isn’t that what I do? Talk to me, my love.”

You simply shook your head. “I’m okay. I don’t want to burden you. It’s just a silly thing.”

“You are a silly thing,” he sighed adoringly, leaning down to playfully nibble the tip of your nose, knowing that so often got you to squeal and bat him away. But when you simply huffed a halfhearted chuckle and allowed him to bite you, he knew he had to persist. “Sweet dove, what’s wrong? Please. You’re never a burden. You can tell me anything. Do you not like staying in my room? Are you cold? Did the cook prepare your food badly? I’ll eat her–”

“No! No, Douma, it’s not that.” You pulled in a deep breath and sighed. “One of your disciples cornered me today. She… demanded to know what I did to become your favorite since there’s no way someone like you would love a big fat pig like me.”

The answer took him aback. It seemed so silly to him, so trivial. Why on earth would you care about the opinion of someone so insignificant? But it was clearly important to you, so he smiled and gripped your cheeks between his fingers and turned your face up to look at him. “Who said that to you?” 

“Hana, I think her name is…”

“Ahh, bitter old Hana. Well, don’t worry about her anymore,” he said cheerfully.

“Why? What are you going to do?” 

What was he going to do when he left the chamber? Oh pretty dove, you didn’t need to know that. Douma simply laughed and wrapped his arms tightly around you, his hands resting on the soft pillow of your belly as he pressed his face just below your ear and let his lips glance against your neck with every word. “I’m going to show you just how loved you are, my darling. How I love every inch of you, how you’re a divine creature I can’t help but adore.”

He heard your breath shudder as your hands instinctively came to cover his, as though you could stop him from touching your stomach. Poor love, you were so wounded by such a little thing as a few silly words, soft and sweet as you were. It just wouldn’t do, so he lay you down on your back, his claws making short work of your clothes. 

“Douma!”

“Ah-ah, shh shh, I’ll get you new clothes. Nicer ones; the most beautiful fabrics scantily draped over your beautiful body, and then I’ll parade you around the temple so everyone knows that there’s only one deity within these walls and they must sing praises to your name.”

Oh your sweet little laugh made his heart flutter. He always knew how to draw them from you. You squirmed a little as he kissed your stomach, but quickly realized your efforts were in vain; he had you pinned down with one hand in the center of your torso. You weren’t going anywhere until he was satisfied that you felt beautiful.”

“So lovely,” he cooed, grinning as he licked at your soft skin just beneath your navel, making you shiver. “As though I could do anything other than love you? Hah! You were made for me, sweetness.”

You smiled softly and let him continue kissing your body. “Why me though?”

“Because I like pretty things,” he uttered between kisses, “And you do this to me.” Smirking against your stomach, he took your hand and led it to the bulge tenting his hakama, relishing the way your own smile spread. “Which Hana could never.”

“Douma!” You pressed your lips together to hide your grin, but it didn’t escape his notice. 

Raising onto his knees he lowered his hakama and let his erection bounce free. “There now, do you see? Hm? Do you see the effect you have on me?”

“It’s hard to miss.”

“Aha! Such a cheeky little thing,” he teased as he lifted your thighs and dragged you down the bed toward him, pressing the head of his cock into you. Oh how he loved the way you gasped as he penetrated you, engulfed in your warmth, how his body shivered with delight as he felt your lovely cunt tensing around him. But he didn’t move his hips, no not yet. He simply let his cock sit inside you, completely still as your walls pulsed around him, silently begging him to thrust. 

“Now, dove, I’m not moving an inch until you tell me you’re beautiful.” 

You groaned in protest, “Douma…”

“Ah ah,” he chastised you, giving your clit a little slap, not enough to hurt you, of course. Just enough to make you squirm and make your pussy squeeze him delightfully. Wicked lovely thing, it was hardly a punishment at all if you enjoyed it. “Say, I’m Douma’s favorite because I’m beautiful and soft, and he loves the way my tits bounce when he fucks me.”

Your cheeks flushed darker as you hid your face behind your arms, but he knew you loved this teasing. 

He slapped your clit again. “Come on, pretty one, you can say it. I know you can.”

The conflict warred behind your eyes, the need to give in and receive your reward battling against your internalized shame. How silly of you to believe the oft-spouted lie that the worst thing a person could be was fat. It was so absurdly untrue, and yet your poor sweet little mind had absorbed it and made it fact. Douma wouldn’t stand for that. He slowly inched his cock out of you, watching your expression turn to desperation.

“No, Douma, please fuck me. I’m pretty and soft and you make my tits bounce so nicely.”

A victorious smile beamed across his face as he thrust into you, his hips slapping against the plump cushion of your ass. “There now, that wasn’t so hard was it?”

“Douma-ha!” 

“Now say, my body is chubby and it’s beautiful and all for you, Douma.”

You groaned in frustration but did as he asked so quickly he barely had to break his momentum to coax it out of you, good girl that you were. Oh and the way your body reacted to him, your silken nectar coating his cock, the heat of you, the way your pussy clenched around him as though it didn’t want to let him go. You were delicious, divine, every thrust making the flesh of your belly undulate and your breasts sway, and Douma had never seen anything so utterly perfect.

His nature made him inclined toward detesting humans, but not you. No, not you at all. You were his ripe peach, his blossoming lotus, his Goddess, his world. He fed his cock into you, deep and slow, letting you feel every inch of the erection that you gave him.

He almost laughed at the silliness of it all when his arms began to tremble beneath him, as though his strength were only that of a pitifully besotted mortal man. The way his cursed heart was all a flutter and his cheeks which should have been hauntingly ashen grew warm and pink. Oh you lovely, wonderful, perfect thing. He couldn’t hold back fully, and it wasn’t long before his hips began to piston, fucking you fast and hard, lifting your leg over his shoulder so he could go deeper and tease your swollen clit with the pad of his thumb. 

You came for him so sweetly, your body quivering as the pleasure consumed you. And he could no longer hold back from moaning as he fucked you, the sounds emerging from him a lewd symphony.

“Oh my…  ohh you’re so— hoh… so so-hoh-ft… w-warm… OH! Cumming…” His abdominal muscles fluttered, his body tingling as he released into you, his orgasm pulling a string of whines and giggles from his lips. “My love my love oh sweet lotus you made me– hah! Oh… haha fuck…” He chuckled as he came down from his high, aware of you yet not, his body throbbing and tingling, his mind fuzzy. Pleasure like that always took him out entirely. 

When he fully came to his senses he found himself resting his head on your belly, comforted by your softness as you threaded your fingers through his hair. His hand lay cupped almost possessively over your pussy, feeling it twitch and pulse, and the composite elixir of your essence and his spend wetting his palm.

“There now, do you feel better?”

You nodded, though he knew you’d likely let cruel words get to you again, be they your own or someone he was happy to deal with for you. It didn’t matter. He would keep on doing all he could to silence anyone who dared to challenge the fact that you were anything less than divine perfection. After all, Douma would never settle for anything less.