It was early night and the moon was just starting to peek through the curtains, casting a faint golden light across the room.

The soft glow of the moon highlighted the contours of Douma face, making him shine like a masterpiece in the making. Suddenly, a husky voice broke the stillness, speaking directly into Muzan's ear.

"Good morning," Douma whispered.

His arms were wrapped tightly around Muzan's waist, and he could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against his back (you represent as Muzan) (also nighttime is like daytime for demons)