#douma smut

[sanemisstalker]

DEMON SLAYER MANGA and ANIME SPOILERS!

Douma is a misogynist - A Short (for me) and concise (for me) interpretation of Douma from Demon Slayer

Content Warning : Misogyny might be winning in fandom spaces again / Not my typical post.

I saw a post on here (Tumblr) talking about how Douma isn't a misogynist. They framed this as a theory and a headcanon, and literally every comment on the post was people agreeing. I didn't interact because I don't particularly wish to bring negativity into their space, and they were 17, so whatever.

I need everyone to understand what canon is, and how a character fact does not have to be explicitly stated for it to be so.

Douma being a misogynist is not a headcanon. Douma does not have to come onto the page with a little speech balloon that says 'I hate women! All of them!' to be a canon misogynist.

While we can argue about what is and isn't misogynistic (spoiler : it's most things) the interpretation of Douma as a misogynist is very important to the arc that he plays a role in (Shinobu's) and failing to read his lines and interaction with that in mind, I think, hinders the experience of Shinobu's overall tragedy.

Fact : Douma prefers to eat women because of the belief that they provide more nutrients.

This is misogynistic. Point blank. He is killing more women. He is ending more female lives than male lives because of a non-proven fact in his world (wouldn't matter if it was proven.) He is actively ending the lives of PREDOMINANTLY women. Because they are women. This is misogynistic. It wouldn't matter if he said they smelled better or he preffered the taste. He is killing people because they are women. That is misogynistic. This is not some deep analysis of the text. He says this. Himself. With his mouth.

He also says this to knowingly taunt Akaza. Who Douma knows deeply despises the idea of harming women. He looks at Akaza, brags about VIOLENTLY murdering women and keeping trophies of the act, because Akaza is sensitive to the topic.

Douma is aware of this. He is very aware of this. This is a kiddie pool level deep reading of the text. I am taking in the basic character traits and dialogue in this scenario and taking in the context when framed from the relationship I know Akaza to have to Douma and vice versa.

Douma also infantilizes Shinobu. That is what he's there to do. He's there to further enforce her insecurities about being weak and small. He mocks her sister's death to her face, commends her speed as though she's a toddler, and even goes as far as to express an extreme false empathy (sobbing) for her life ending attempt at killing him. He verbally preys upon her short temper, insecurities, and actual short comings in this fight not in just the way a villain would, but in the way a man in a position of power seeking to dominate a woman in a position below him would.

This is an act of misogyny.

While you can make the claim that Douma views EVERYONE as lesser than, which he does, his actions don't exist in some misogyny proof bubble. Even in the context of him viewing humans as lesser, this doesn't mean he's being kinder to women or killing them in any more pleasant a way.

Which do you eat slower, a five course meal or a fast food burger? Because that's the difference between men and women to Douma. Realistically speaking, I don't want to be slowly tortured and live-cannablized. If you're going to kill me, I think I'd prefer to just die! I don't think I'd particularly care that you were killing me because of some preconceived worth I brought to you, and this isn't a stretch to assume most of Douma's victims think this way.

If your supposed neutrality for the entire human race just so happens to target one particular group more than the others, I don't believe your intention matters. You are an enforcer of misogyny, and, therefore, are misogynistic.

Once again, I must stress, not some deep reading! This is a tip of the iceberg interpretation of the text. I struggle to even call it feministic! This is just what's on the page!

Also to tack onto this, I have read bits and pieces of the manga, so maybe I've eaten around the good part or whatever, or maybe missed a line, but I see people stating very definitively that women DO provide more nutrients in the Demon Slayer universe. As far as I recall, this was purely theorized by Douma in an attempt to fuck with Akaza.

Feel free to link me a screenshot or an author tweet - I'll even take the light novels - Correct me, but taking modern day scam artist Douma's word is simply not something I would do as a reader.

[carriedlikeabriefcase]

But Daddy, I love Him

♡ Douma x Akaza's Daugher!Reader ♡

You have zero reason to rebel, but can't help yourself when left alone in Douma's office.

CW: Semi-Public Sex, Age Difference

WC: 4K

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You had no reason to rebel, so why couldn't you get the image of your father's colleague bending you over his desk out of your head? Daddy issues were a non issue, so why did this older man hold so much allure over age appropriate lovers?

Everyday, your father would come home rattled by this man's uncanny kindness. It wasn't uncommon for him to return home with a deep rooted migraine. A vein would throb in his forehead until he could finally shower, washing away the agitating memory of Douma pretending that they were friends.

Yet, every time you saw Douma, you became increasingly enchanted by the man. It was as though he had been blessed by the gods. His wispy, pale locks practically looked like a halo in their own rite. His opalite irises felt so sincere, carefully masking his intentions.

For the life of you, you couldn't figure out your father's pain in dealing with Douma. And perhaps you never would.

Yes, you had zero reason to revolt. Yet, you pined in the name of treason for a man, going so far as to impulsively offer yourself to him while your father was caught up in a meeting.

Douma hadn't intended for Akaza's sweet, baby girl to proposition him when he offered to give you a tour of his office. But who was he to decline the most precious gift from someone so dear?

He had known for quite some time that he had you completely wrapped around his finger. The way the pitch of your voice would practically jump an octave around him gave it away. It was utterly adorable.

While Douma was well aware of Akaza's disdain towards him, he paid it very little mind. He always considered the two of them good friends, disregarding Akaza's wishes. Especially now. It was quite amusing that the man's daughter was so completely enamored with him.

Who was he to reject the notion of one day becoming family through holy matrimony? The union of father and son-in-law was unbreakable — so long as the bride was content. Keeping a woman happy was well within Douma's repertoire.

A delicate dove such as yourself would always be held in the highest regard, gently cradled in his arms. Your wings remain unclipped, but your body is unwilling to take flight. Tenderly guiding you to nirvana was his only goal, not throwing you in some petty cage. That would be completely barbaric.

Sure, some would consider the age difference shared between you to be sinister in nature, but Douma paid little mind to what others thought. Yes, he was in fact wise beyond your years. But he always had found you to be a mature, young woman. Perhaps you couldn't quite wrap your head around men having ulterior motives, but Douma didn't believe you had to.

Not with him.

So when you innocently offered yourself up to him, bashfully grinding the ball of your foot into the ground, he couldn't possibly decline. Not when you knew exactly what you desired, taking advantage of the meeting your father was attending.

Quite frankly, Douma would typically reject a proposition, especially one made on the clock. While he could be impulsive at times, he wasn't driven by most worldly desires. But in this moment of weakness, it was painfully evident that he truly was no better than other men.

He simply couldn't help it, not when you approached him with flushed cheeks, eyes fixed coyly on the floor, unable to meet his gaze. You hastily bent over his desk, allowing him to catch a glimpse of your panties from beneath your short skirt.

The dampened splotch etched into the fibers of lacy cotton was unmistakable. The light scent of arousal was conspicuous, holding him ransom. How you somehow managed to remain an innocent flower during the act of seduction was remarkable.

It briefly crossed his mind that you had bought this skirt with him in mind. Douma tilted his head to the side, weighing that possibility. He had remembered overhearing Akaza complaining about you recently buying provocative clothing behind his back.

The thought nearly brought a smile to his face. A real one, almost meeting his eyes.

You truly had no idea what you were doing, naively overcompensating. You acted out of character for his sake, believing what your father had told you about men being wolves. Douma was acting as a predator, but was it really wrong to pounce on willing prey?

“My, we don't have much time for that. Do we?” he tutted, tapping papers into a neat pile against his desk.

Your heart thumped against your rib cage, anticipating rejection. “No… I suppose we don't.”

A pleasant sigh filled the room as Douma abruptly stood up beside you. He adjusted his reading glasses, pushing them higher along the bridge of his nose by the hinge as he proceeded to play into what he assumed was a fantasy — your father's best friend.

With each passing moment, your vision began to blur. Each blink was fuzzy, almost grating. Beads of nervous perspiration pricked at the pores at your forehead. You could feel your pulse with every tenacious swallow. No matter how hard you tried, the lump persisted, lodged in place by fear.

“Sir?” A tremble in your knees made them feel weak.

“Douma,” he corrected, cupping your face from behind. He swiped the smooth pad of his thumb across the caldera of heat, “Call me Douma.”

“B-” You were cut off by him pressing a finger to his lips as he gingerly shushed you. There wasn't a moment to waste.

Shamefully, he made peace with skipping proper preparation, in favor of fulfilling your desire for him to bed you. If provided with all the time in the world, he would tease you until your thighs were practically numb from constant trembling. You would lose your mind in constant ecstasy from orgasm after orgasm until you forgot how to formulate a sentence.

But that was neither here nor there. Perhaps one day you'd be so bold as to invite him to the private sanctuary of a love hotel, somewhere nobody could hear your blissful screams. That he was certain would register as music to his ears.

Or even better, maybe you would one day ask him to run away with you. Traveling the world as one, running from your father who would inevitably worry too much. Douma found Akaza's seemingly endless devotion to his family remarkable, and frankly, coveted it. Normalcy was beyond underrated.

“You've grown into such a beautiful woman, but…” He couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity of the scene unfolding in front of his very eyes.

“But?” Air found itself trapped in your lungs as your diaphragm faltered.

Did I do something wrong? You wondered to yourself.

“Mm, tell me, little lotus…” You could practically hear him smirking, “Why are you doing this? You don't really seem the type. Did your father say something hurtful recently?” The playful bounce in his voice dwindled rapidly, but the breathiness of his sultry vibrato lingered. His larynx lifted ever so lightly in saccharine mockery, “I'm trying to imagine what pushed his perfect, little girl, to do something so… scandalous.”

The way he practically purred the word scandalous made a chill run down the curve of your spine. Goosebumps pricked at the nape of your neck, further exposing your vulnerability. Truly, you were putty in his hands, begging to be molded into anything he asked.

Your pussy clenched at the thought of what it meant to lay with Douma. Your father despised him so completely, and you couldn't help but give him another reason — not that you would ever wish to share such delicate information with him. A future of visiting your father in prison sounded less than ideal.

“I-”

“I?” He raised a thick brow, allowing it to quickly fall back into benign neutrality. He clicked his tongue a few times, playfully chiding you.

Just as fears of rejection resurfaced, fluttering from the back of your mind, you heard the metal of his belt buckle begin to clink. It so perfectly accompanied the reeling rush of blood filling your eardrums as your heart pounded. The rush of getting caught both frightened and exhilarated you.

Tepid fingertips traced over the curve of your ass as he shimmied the skirt your father had given you for your birthday higher. Stilettos dangerously drew circles into your flesh, the drag of his nails stealing the very oxygen from your lungs.

“N-no.” You shook your head, struggling to remain still as he pulled your panties to the side. “I just — I um…”

“Aw,” he cooed, holding his hand over his heart, “Does someone have a crush on little, ole me? How so very sweet.”

The hem of his trousers slid down to his mid thigh, quickly followed by his undergarments. Frankly, he hadn't expected to ever have such a delicate opportunity land on his lap. He had always envisioned Akaza raising a total prude. But instead, the man had ended up raising the perfect minx, willing and needy although you truly should know better.

There was no doubt in Douma's mind that your father had planted seeds of doubt about him within your mind. While Douma wasn't shy to declaring Akaza as his best friend, he wasn't stupid; he knew the other man loathed him, but his daughter sure didn't.

“I-I… Maybe — I might,” you begrudgingly admitted like a shy school girl. Vocal chords pinched painfully tight, making your jumbled words come out almost squeaky.

“How…” Douma paused mid purr, leaning in to kiss your temple. If he could capture the expression you made as his lips made contact, he could die a satisfied man, “...adorable.”

Just as you nearly detected the danger beneath his veneer of jovial serenity, he shifted his head, embracing you with a proper kiss. His gentle lips brushed against you as though it were the wing of a hummingbird in search of sugared soaked water.

In that moment, you had completely forgotten how to breathe, finding the hint of tobacco lingering on his breath exhilarating. Your father would sooner find a way to ground you for life than allow you to touch a cigarette. Little did he know, his overprotectiveness sent you racing to the lion's den. Stern parenting always was an ironic hotbed for raising sneaky children.

There was also a subtle hint of plum making his lips glossy, allowing for minimal friction as your lips continued brushing against one another. It was very evident that he had just recently reapplied his chapstick — almost as though he were expecting you.

Part of you wondered if he had planned this, or just simply desired it. You were forbidden fruit and he was a creature of boredom. Your indecent entanglement was inevitable, really. Every insult hurled Douma's way acted as a catalyst for corruption.

“That was…” A foreign rush of hormones that Douma couldn't quite place coarsed through his veins. You were something else.

“Amazing,” you whispered shyly, completing his sentence.

Without another word, Douma allowed his instinct to take over, finding himself unable to deny you some extension of chivalry as he dipped down to his knees to bury his face in your partially exposed cunt.

Damp fabric grazed the tip of his nose as he inhaled deeply, soaking in the sweet scent of honey secreted. Teasing himself with the sight of glistening folds, his watering mouth begged for a taste.

His primal urges took over, roughly tugging your panties further to the side while grabbing the curve of your ass, spreading the plush as he planted face first directly against your pussy. He immediately drowned his taste buds in only a mere sample of your ambrosia, accepting a poor man's compromise for the sake of time.

A shuddered moan slipped between his parted lips. “Sweet lotus, you are truly divine.”

If only he could properly worship you. If given another chance to ravish you, he would jump at the opportunity. He simply couldn't help it, not when all the planets had aligned before his very eyes.

“R-really?” A small whimper vibrated in your throat, taken aback by both his praise and actions. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, barely containing a second whine as he offered a myriad of greedy kitten licks.

Never in his life had he been so driven by temptation, but the clock was ticking, bringing a frown to Douma's face as he pulled away. Your essence still stained his chin in clear gloss. Evidence of betrayal had never before been worn so beautifully.

His infatuation was hollow, but only because he could not understand it. There was something about you that was almost as addictive as sake. Of course he had dabbled in romance, but the allure of taboo had rearranged his viewpoint on the matter.

After watching romcom after romcom, Douma knew it was beyond cheesy for one woman in particular to throw him for a loop. There were zero chances of you being vastly different from his previous lovers. And yet, he swore otherwise.

Had you not been off limits, he wasn't sure he would be having these thoughts — or any thoughts for that matter. Typically, his brain shut off during exchanges or what should have been intimacy, going through the motions as he did was everything. But that was neither here nor there; you had blessed him with the sun, and he fully intended to betray his values to worship you as his goddess.

“Are you sure about this? You're very welcome to rescind the offer.” The tip of his cock prodded your weeping hole. “There is no going back I'm afraid.”

For a moment, you could not respond. Everything you had wanted to say clung to the roof of your mouth. It was as though your tongue had gone completely numb, turning a meek murmur into utter nonsense.

You knew this was wrong, yet you slowly nodded, desiring everything you shouldn't want.

“I need a verbal confirmation, little lotus.” A nod was enough in theory, but Douma was not one to take advantage of some poor girl. He required some semblance of enthusiasm. “Not just a cute, little nod. Okay?”

“Oh, okay…” An adorable tremble in your voice betrayed you. Part of you wondered if he would stop purely due to your lack of experience. There were a plethora of mature women in that very building he could share this moment with instead. You didn't want to ruin it with your astounding lack of confidence. “Please — please continue.”

“There we go. Oh, you're such a good girl. I'm sure your father is very proud!” Douma praised absentmindedly, unaware of the way your eyes widened in shock. As he giggled freely, his own eyes slowly began to mirror yours. He gasped into his fingertips. “Goodness, how rude of me to keep you waiting!” Slowly, the tip of his cock pushed past your taut entrance, breaching your walls. He leaned forward gracing your ear with the baritone cascade of his voice. “I really should mind my manners. Don't you agree, little lotus?”

Tears kissed your waterline, your body unprepared to the sudden bout of penetration. Damp eyelashes fluttered as your pupils searched for something to hold onto. Hands grasped onto stray papers that crunched in your hand like a cheap stress ball.

“S-so big,” you slurred, finally grabbing the edge of his desk, knocking down a red ink pen to the cold ground in the process. Blood boiled beneath the surface of your cheeks, sheer sweat threatening to spill from your pores.

It was almost too much, but then Douma lowered one of his hands between your thighs. Two of his fingers dipped between your folds, teasing your clit. “Now, now, I thought we concurred that you could take it?”

“I-” You were cut off by your own yelping as he glided through crushed velvet, nearly biting your tongue as his free hand shot to cover your dawned mouth.

“Shh,” he smirked, feeling your drool dribble into his palm as he drew perfect figure eights into your clitoris, “Wouldn't want your father to catch us, would we?” Childishly, you licked his hand in protest. With a chuckle, he unveiled your lips, “Sorry about that, sweet lotus. It's just that we need to be quiet.”

Not only was he risking his job, he was risking his life, and more importantly: your reputation.

“I can do it,” you reassured, unsure if you were trying to convince him or yourself, “I swear.”

“Very well.” Douma gave a curt nod. His long, pale hair danced along his waist. “I trust you.”

The way he embraced you almost felt loving. How he made your muscles shake, discouraging your need to remain quiet. Each precious rub of your clit was intentional. Rapid circles painted a masterpiece as you struggled beneath him, dragging your teeth against the thin flesh of your cheek.

The tang of iron filled your mouth in sudden droplets, eliciting a breathy gasp to tear from your throat. That only made his touch painfully slow, almost like a punishment.

Douma nearly derived pleasure from the way your eager cunt was grinding into his hand, begging for more. Weak willed and desperate like a wanton whore, superseding his expectations given your lineage. You truly did not disappoint.

“Such a needy thing.” It was painfully obvious from that moment on that you were neglected in the romance department. You wore inexperience well, but it intrigued Douma, nearly vexing him.

It was such a shame for a woman as beautiful as you to still be single. But he had met your father; the odds of him intimidating potential romantic partners away were painfully high. Luckily, Douma was numb to that, for better or worse.

Finally, he bottomed out, tossing his head back to enjoy the silk allure of your pussy squeezing him so deliciously. Never in his life had he expected to be balls deep inside the daughter of his best friend.

Sure, he had been aware of your little crush. But this was something else entirely. Most girls didn't act as brashly as you had. A dreamy sigh rolled off his tongue, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

You truly were your father's daughter, only softer, and certainly more naive.

“Goodness — you're tight.” Opalite irises rolled into the back of his head.l “I honestly wasn't sure it was going to fit. Oh, but you take it so well.”

You could've melted on the spot.

Your father was convinced Douma was a method actor, playing a role conceived in manipulation. Unbeknownst to him, every insult only pushed you deeper into the claws of an apex predator. Yes, you had no reason to rebel, but how could you not when Douma could make you feel blissful?

He made you feel desired, something you severely lacked. Your father could get rather intense, frightening any suitors that dare to look in your direction. Douma could not be intimidated. In fact, he enjoyed the challenge.

“F-feels so…” It was becoming increasingly difficult to speak. Every adjective in the dictionary evaded your hippocampus, evaporating, floating into cloud nine.

His cock glided perfectly within you, unintentionally kissing your cervix with each thrust. Your pussy hugged him as if you were designed just for him. While Douma certainly didn't believe in fallacies such as soulmates, in the heat of the moment, he could delude himself.

“Good,” he completed your sentiment, “It feels so good, little lotus.”

Feels so right…

Your cunt reminded him of flower petals, velvety to the touch, dampened with the sweetest morning dew he ever has the pleasure of tasting. The scent of love making filled the air, an aroma that rivaled only the most expensive designer perfumes.

“Unfortunately...” The paintings he drew into your clit were becoming more rapid, almost rushed. He hated to rush a masterpiece, but the clock was ticking and he refused to send you unsatisfied, “We have to hurry.”

“Hm?” You blinked, completely forgetting the context surrounding your entanglement. “Hur-”

“Yes, sweet lotus.” His thrusts were becoming increasingly driven by intent, rapidly teasing your sweet spot, encouraged by the sounds of your pussy squelching. “Could be any minute now.”

The thrill of being caught by any number of his colleagues made heat begin to pool in your stomach. Magma and butterflies were at odds, fighting for dominance over your self control, begging for your inhibitions to fade, alleviating the pressure on your psyche to let go.

“Please,” you begged, ignorant as to what you were even asking of him.

“Hm, what was that?” He feigned ignorance, knowing damn well what you were asking of him. “Please, use your words.”

“I wanna — I wanna,” you slurred redundantly, raking your teeth against your lower lip, “NGH!”

“Sh, we wouldn't want anyone to overhear us, now would we, little lotus?” Douma was well aware of the fact that this little stint may as well have had you caught in the act. Someone definitely overheard, and word always got out eventually. Wandering eyes definitely knew which office you had entered, and your unprecedented crescendo was all the evidence to hammer a nail into the coffin. “Wouldn't want to draw any attention to ourselves, would we?”

“Ah-uh.” Your head was spinning, unable to fully agree to his proposal.

“Such a good girl.” Douma could hear footsteps approaching from down the hall, the ones of an enraged father. “But, I'm going to need you under my desk, okay?”

You whined as he pulled out, feeling incomplete, “Aww…”

Douma hastily shoved you beneath his desk, sitting down without wasting a beat to shimmy his pants back up. This obviously wasn't the most ideal scenario, but he was not about to put your reputation on the line. Especially in front of your father.

“Shh.” His cautionary hush was silenced by the squeaking of hinges followed by a door slamming into the wall. Standing in the doorway to his office was a fuming Akaza, shaking in rage. In a singsong voice, Douma greeted kindly, “My, it's so unexpected of you to visit. Whatever do you wish to chat about?”

“Where is she?” A vein throbbed painfully in Akaza's temple. His fists shook at his sides, prepared to destroy the other man's delicate features.

“Where is who?” Douma's eyes went wide, feeling your fingers curl around the base of his creamy cock.

“Don't play stupid, asshole!” Akaza's nostrils flared. “Nakime told me she could hear moans coming from your office.”

“I was watching a movie!” He dismissed Akaza's concerns with a flick of his wrist, trying to ignore the way you flicked yours along his length. “You really worry too much. It's sweet, truly.”

“You watch porn on the job?!” Even Akaza found that hard to believe.

“And exploit women?” A faux gasp filled the air, covering a subtle moan. Your thumb circled his slit with ease, teasing his pretty, pink tip. “My, what a bold accusation.”

Akaza scoffed under his breath. “Could've been gay porn.”

“Mm, but it wasn't, I'm afraid,” Douma sighed dreamily, enjoying the sensation of your lips pressed against the tip of his cock before taking him in your mouth, “As for your daughter, I'm sure she's caught up with Daki. I believe the two are similar in age? They are both recent graduates after all.”

“I'm fucking serious.” Akaza's fist slammed against the desk, startling you, forcing Douma deeper down your throat as you flinched. Unwilling to have you gag at such a tense moment, you were held into place by the back of your head. “Where the fuck is she?”

Bubbles of sly laughter bounced off the walls, grating on Akaza's ear drums. “I already told you, my good friend, she's with Daki.”

For a moment, it seemed as though Akaza almost believed him. But then you heard him say, “You have two seconds to get out from under that desk, young lady.”

[carriedlikeabriefcase]

Part One of my Yandere!Douma x Reader, Never Leaving, is up now

Douma was your psychiatrist, that was until he forced his way into becoming your husband.

[carriedlikeabriefcase]

Hypocrisy at its Finest

♡ Douma x Fem!Reader ♡

Douma hates lust, but can't help but financially support his local sex worker so she can quit the industry.

CW: Sex Work, Fucking Machine, Vibrators, Masturbation, Squirting, Mild Cyber Stalking,

WC: 1.7k

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

Douma hated perverts. He found lust to be distasteful and uncouth. So why was he so drawn to watching your wanton, little live streams?

It all started when he visited the cozy coffee shop you worked at part time. Something about you immediately pulled him in. You sealed the deal of neat obsession the moment he saw the flower you drew; he had to have you one way or another, if only for a brief, whirlwind romance.

He got bored easily to say the least.

First, he searched for your Instagram, letting out a faint whine when he found out that your account was private. He complained even louder when you ignored his follow request. His woe was only subdued noticing the cute, little link in your bio: your Twitter account.

The account was almost inconspicuous to a fault. But with someone monitoring your socials daily, things began to fall through the cracks. Eventually, someone tagged you and another account he didn't recognize in a gif of a woman sucking seductively on her fingers.

He'd recognize those lips anywhere. Those were yours, supple and soft.

Curious, he then clicked on the other account on the offhand chance it also belonged to you. The pinned image nearly made him drop his phone in shock. He never expected for his coffee shop beauty to be an online tramp.

There you were in lacy panties that you had pulled to the side, exposing a rhinestone plug that glimmered perfectly in the lighting. You had placed pink heart emojis over your bare breasts as if that left anything to the imagination. Honestly, he found the teasing adorable, and craved to see more.

That's when he noticed another link to an auspicious website, one he knew all too well through his incel colleague, Gyutaro.

But he wasn't like Gyutaro, right? Douma was just curious. Maybe if he spent enough money on you, you wouldn't have to resort to such filth. Yes, that's it. He was helping you. No ulterior motives whatsoever.

He sat at his desk for a moment, contemplating his actions before impulsively purchasing a subscription. The confusing rush of dopamine that coursed through his veins was exhilarating. It wasn't quite happiness, but he was beyond content for once.

Scrolling through your pictures was suddenly his newest indulgence, his greatest vice. His mouth watered a little, opalite eyes transfixed at the sight of you fingering your perfect, pretty cunt. He was immediately enchanted by the subtle moans that left your glossy lips with each curl of your fingers.

Douma was certain your nectar was far sweeter than any pastry he had ever purchased from you. All he craved was just a taste, overcoming his vice for sake in favor of you. Well, at least that's what he deluded himself into believing. In reality, he was a hypocrite. Just as horny and perverted as the men he cast scorn towards.

Convinced this was different, he only wanted to desecrate you, not any other online whore. Other men are addicted to pornography as a whole, not just a single user. Besides, he'd convince you to quit eventually — after he conveniently saves everything for safe keeping of course.

A notification popped up and his smile grew wider at the realization of what you were up to. Airy, amused bubbles cascaded off his diaphragm. You truly were a minx, milking your subscribers for all their worth, and Douma feared he was no better than them.

You were undressed and sprawled out on your bed with your legs spread for the camera. In your hand, you had a cute, pink, vibrating wand placed a little too eagerly against your clit. Inserted in your tight pussy was a large, fake dick that was attached to a machine.

Every so often, either one or both of your toys would stop working and you would beg, looking into the lens with half lidded, fuck me eyes. At the same time, your hips bucked against the silicon cock, desperate to get fucked by some simp who would never know the real thing.

“Please...” You rubbed pathetic circles into your puffy clitoris with the smooth wand. Your chest heaved almost delicately with each breathy whine. “I really wanna cum again.”

Taking pity on you, Douma paid for you to have thirty seconds of clitoral stimulation at a sensual pace. His face nearly lit up, but not quite, at the sight of your eyes rolling into the back of your head in euphoria.

Each subtle roll of your hips was like you begging for him to fuck your greedy pussy. Perhaps he would take his time with you, swirl his long, slender fingers around your needy clit long after you became undone. Holding you in place as you writhed beneath his touch, forcing you to cum for him until you could only utter nonsense.

Or perhaps that was too cruel?

He couldn't be sure. All Douma knew was that you deserved to feel good. So when the thirty seconds were up, he paid for both toys to simultaneously stimulate you at the lowest setting.

You were ecstatic, thanking him by name — well, his username — bringing a twisted smirk to his face.

Unable to hold back for a moment longer, he shimmied down his silk pajama bottoms down his thigh, allowing his erection to slap against his navel. He began fisting his cock to the sensual pace of your toy.

With your free hand, you caressed your warm breast, squeezing the soft tissue with every rise and fall of your chest, perfectly in sync with your mewling. Occasionally, you would pinch your budding nipple betwixt your index finger and thumb, rolling it three times before alternating back to kneading your tit once more.

He would give anything to suck upon your breasts, giving into worldly desires enough to picture you beneath him as he suckled deep contusions down your delicate throat. It was like painting the pretty hues of sunset, working the tender brush strokes of his lips to your bosom.

He'd begin by enticing your areola with the tip of his tongue, circling increasingly inward until it flicked against your nipple. Worshipping your heavenly body with torrid kisses, lavishing his way down your abdomen to between your thighs.

An impassioned moan spilled out as he fantasized himself littering playful bite marks along the plush of your inner thighs. He be bruising your skin over and over again before shoving your legs even further apart to devour your sweet and sour main course.

Precum dribbled from the slit of his pale pink cock. His balls clenched in agony, holding off his impending orgasm in hopes that he would finish at the same time as you. Hoping in the back of his mind that you weren't faking it like most adult models. He wanted this to be real. He wanted at the very least a modicum of normalcy.

His heart was racing and his face was flushed an amorous tint of red. Beads of sweat began to form along his forehead, slightly matting the pale hair that fell across his face. Never in his life had he ever been such a mess for someone.

Was this what love felt like?

As the toys stopped once more, you opened a small bottle of lubricant, pouring a modest amount against your abused hole. He frowned. Were you not enjoying yourself? Was it possible that the setting was inadequate? Or that you just didn't enjoy coming over all?

Generous at heart, Douma needed to get you out of this situation, quickly finding himself purchasing the most intense settings for you before some incel could get the opportunity. A staggering tip of an additional eighty-thousand yen was dropped on you on top of the already outrageous price tag. You truly knew your worth.

Douma chuckled to himself, noticing the immediate shift in your demeanor. The way your fingers curled tighter around that magic wand. How you also clutched one of your tits for dear life as the other bounced freely.

Your throat had tightened, eliciting strained cries between breaths. Between gasps, your teeth would rake over your bottom lip, making it increasingly puffy with each bite. Your lipgloss was ruined, and he wanted to mess up your mascara with blissful tears.

You had lined up your body perfectly with your perverse machine, allowing the tip of the toy to fuck into your sweet spot with each thrust. Your thighs trembled, noticeably struggling to stay parted as that coil in your stomach knotted tighter.

“Fuck.” Drops of saline descended from your tear ducts as you redundantly cursed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Douma flicked his wrist faster, feeling warmth pooling in his abdominal muscles. His self-confidence grew with each passing second.

Your clit was practically pulsing with need, begging for release with every moment of rapid vibrations. Then that coil snapped, your body jerking as clear fluid released from your already squelching pussy, staining the sheets with evidence of Douma's charity.

Overstimulated, you wanted to at the very least remove the wand as euphoria overtook your body. But you couldn't, not when the show must go on for at least another thirty seconds.

Your pussy squeezed that fake cock almost painfully, body steadily building another orgasm. Agony blended beautifully with bliss until the clock counted down to zero once more.

Eager to finish up, you tossed the vibrator to the side. “Cum with me!”

You dipped your hand between your legs, rubbing your almost numb, abused bundle of nerves with fervor. You rocked your hips into the stationary cock, grinding the tip deep within your velvety walls.

Douma switched up his pace once more, adding an additional fifteen seconds to destroy your weeping hole at a medium pace. He found himself holding his breath at the sight of it going a little too deep and nudging your cervix, smiling at the realization that you'd have to get used to it once he got his hands on you.

Yes. He'd ask for your number tomorrow. He'd work his way into your life until you didn't have to debauch yourself with these little shows. Should you wish to continue these lustful acts, they would be in private between the two of you.

“I- I'm cumming!” you cried once more, flooding your bedsheets once more with your release.

The tip of his cock twitched as he orgasmed with you, painting his midsection in white, hot ropes. Clarity did not hit him. The perfect picture of your salvation still plastered in his mind.

Yes.

He would save you from yourself… tomorrow.

Now he needed to wash away his sins. Or take the thought of you with him to the shower.

He wasn't sure yet.

[whitelilybodhisattva]

[deathmetaldreams]

18+

Having Sex with Douma

Playlist on Shuffle would include:

Little Monster - Royal Blood

Angel - Massive Attack

Hatefuck - Motionless In White

Dried Up, Tied Up and Dead to the World - Marilyn Manson

Death Of Me - Amira Elfrkey

If I Was Your Vampire - Marilyn Manson

Toadies - Possum Kingdom

Closer - Nine Inch Nails

Thoughts and Prayers - Motionless In White

Love Me Like You Do - Living In Fiction

Red Velvet - Jutes

God Complex - Violent Vira

Sweet Dreams - Marilyn Manson

Angel With the Scabbed Wings - Marilyn Manson

knight - escorte

Running Up That Hill - Loveless

Hope you visualize what I do XDD

#deathmetaldreams

[nyjafushigiro]

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⟡ CHAPTER ELEVEN: NOW LIVE ⟡

“you were not meant to survive that night…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

⟡ title: When the Heavens Answered Me

⟡ chapter one: the night everything ended

⟡ pairing : giyu x reader x sanemi

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

⟡ summary:

The Kurohana family lived quietly, far from danger—until the night everything was taken from them.

What should have been a new beginning became something far darker, leaving you alone in a world where demons exist… and survival is never guaranteed.

But something else awakened that night.

Not just grief.

Not just rage.

Something the heavens themselves should have never answered.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

⟡ genre:

angst • dark fantasy • emotional trauma • action • slow burn (future)

⟡ warnings:

graphic violence • character death • blood • grief • trauma • family loss • eventual smut

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

(I was recovering from the lake yesterday sorry for the late post 💝 the next chapters are going to be so tea I can't wait to post them 🤭 )

⟡ read chapter eleven below ⟡

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The days that followed were quieter. Not peaceful…But quieter.

The storm that had been building inside you had settled just enough to keep from spilling over again, your body slowly recovering under the care of the Butterfly Mansion as the bruises faded and the deeper wounds began to close.

Time moved differently there…Slower. Like it was forcing you to sit with everything you had tried to outrun.

But finally, after weeks of recovering at the Butterly Mansion you were cleared. The walk back to your estate felt longer than you remembered. The gravel shifted softly beneath your steps as the familiar path came into view, the structure of your estate standing just beyond the trees, untouched, waiting, exactly as it had been left.

A few members of the Corps greeted you upon arrival, their expressions respectful, relieved, as if your return had been quietly anticipated.

You acknowledged them with a soft smile and a small nod. Nothing more.

You moved through your space slowly, your fingers brushing along familiar surfaces, reacquainting yourself with something that once felt like yours.

The faint scent of herbs lingered from the garden outside, carried in through the open space where the wind slipped freely between the trees, rustling the leaves in a rhythm that felt almost… comforting.

Birds called softly in the distance. The world had continued..And for the first time in a while…You let yourself stand still long enough to feel it.

You dressed carefully without rushing. The soft fabric of your kimono settled against your skin, light but present, the color warm against your complexion as it draped naturally along your form.

Your hair, freshly washed, fell in soft curls down your shoulders, still carrying a faint sheen from the oil you had worked into it earlier, each strand catching the light just enough to give the illusion of something… brighter.

There was something different about you. Not just in the way you looked, but in the way you carried yourself.

Like the storm hadn’t disappeared..It had simply become something quieter or maybe..Something deeper.

Your reflection didn’t feel unfamiliar..But it didn’t feel the same either. 

You turned away from it as you brushed your kimono down trying to distract your mind to something else…Because thinking about that too long would only pull you back into something you weren’t ready to face.

As you stepped outside the air greeted you immediately, cool against your skin as the breeze moved through your curls, lifting them slightly before letting them fall back into place.

The garden the Master had arranged for you rested just beyond the walkway, small but thriving, each herb carefully tended despite your absence, leaves full, vibrant, alive.

You stepped closer and brushed your fingers lightly over them. Finally..Something that grew instead of took. You stilled as your thumb brushed a pedal. Then..right before your mind could be filled with the previous weeks again..That was enough.

“I’ll go to the market,” you murmured quietly, more to yourself than anyone else, your voice soft as the decision settled into place. At least for now this felt like something normal. Something that reminded you..You were still here.

And the world hadn’t ended with everything you had been through.

So you left your estate once more- not as someone running from something.

But as someone trying, even if just for a moment..To breathe again.

You had just stepped past the edge of your estate, the path ahead already set in your mind, when- “…No, that sounds stupid…”

You paused. A familiar voice cut through your thoughts..

“…Y/N, I’m sorry for- no, no that’s not right…”

You blinked once. Then brought a hand up to your face, covering your mouth slightly as you giggled quietly.

Tanjiro stood just beyond the corner of the walkway, completely unaware you were already there, pacing slightly as he spoke under his breath, his hands moving awkwardly as if he were trying to physically shape the words into something better.

“I’m sorry for what happened—no… that sounds too stiff…”

A small laugh almost slipped out. You straightened once his shadow appeared around the corner. Then- “Hi Tanjiro.”

He froze. Then jumped slightly, his entire body stiffening as his eyes locked onto you, shock written plainly across his face. “…Y/N- !”

He didn’t move for a second. Because you weren’t just there. Something about you looked…Different. Like something about you had settled into place without him noticing.

“…You’re-  ” he started, then stopped himself, blinking quickly as he tried to recover. “You’re up already?”

You tilted your head slightly. “I’ve been up, but you knew that already.” you replied calmly, a small hint of amusement in your tone. “I was actually just about to leave.”

“Leave ?” he repeated quickly, stepping forward a little. “Where are you going?”

“The market, in town” you said simply. “I’ll be back.”

He nodded.

Then hesitated. Right back to where he started. “Oh- right- uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck, his expression shifting into something more serious, though the awkwardness didn’t leave. “I actually came here to- um…”

You waited patiently for him to form a sentence together. 

“…I wanted to apologize,” he said finally, his voice more steady now. “For what happened the other day. I didn’t mean to upset you like that.”

Your expression softened. “It’s alright, Tanjiro,” you replied gently. Then, after a small pause- “I should be the one apologizing.”

He blinked as the look of pure confusion smeared across his face. “…For what Y/N ?”

You smiled faintly. “For losing control of my emotions.” you said. “I won’t let that happen again.” There was a quiet confidence in your voice now.

Something he noticed immediately. “…You know you don't have to carry that alone,” he said softly, his expression warming again, that familiar kindness returning as easily as ever. “We all mess up sometimes.”

You let out a small breath. “I know.” A pause. Then he smiled brightly after that. Almost too bright for everything that had happened. “…Well,” he said, clapping his hands together lightly as if resetting the mood, “at least you didn’t throw me across a field.”

You raised a brow. “…Yet.”

He stiffened. “…Right,” he said quickly, his smile tightening just slightly. You let out a quiet laugh. And for just a moment, everything felt normal again.

“…I’ll see you later Tanjiro,” you said, stepping past him as you continued down the path.

“Yeah!” he called after you. “Be careful Y/N !”

You lifted a hand in acknowledgment without turning back.

And as he watched you walk away- The unease from before…Still lingered. Even if he didn’t understand why yet.

The path to the market felt lighter than before.

Not because anything had changed, but because for a brief moment… You let it.

The village greeted you with quiet life, the soft hum of conversation blending with the rustle of fabric and movement as people moved between stalls, trading, laughing, existing in a way that felt almost distant from everything you had been through. It was… normal.

And you weren’t used to that anymore. Not after everything you’ve been through. The scent of herbs reached you before the stand did, dried bundles hanging neatly as the vendor sorted through them with practiced hands, their earthy fragrance grounding you instantly as you stepped closer.

This is exactly what you needed. Something simple. Your fingers brushed lightly over a bundle of herbs, feeling the texture between them as you examined it, your focus settling in a way it hadn’t in days.

“You’re… beautiful.” The voice came softly. You glanced up and saw a woman standing across from you, around your age, her eyes wide with quiet admiration, like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud but couldn’t help herself.

You blinked once..Then gave a small nod. “Thank you.” Your tone was polite. Then you turned your attention back to the herbs- but she didn’t move.

Her gaze shifted. Lower..to your bag filled with purchased goods. More specifically- To the book you carried with you to read later. “The breath of the heavens…” she whispered, her voice changing, something brighter slipping into it, something almost reverent.

Your fingers tightened slightly around it. “And what do you know about it ?” you asked, your attention returning to her fully now.

Her expression lit up immediately. “I’ve recently joined the Eternal Paradise Faith,” she said, stepping closer, her excitement barely contained. “Our founder… he hears the voices of the gods.”

That caught your attention quickly “…The gods?” you repeated, your tone calm, though your curiosity had already begun to surface.

She nodded eagerly. “Yes! He guides us lost souls… understands us… helps us find eternal peace.”

Peace…How could peace exist in a place like this where there are demons killing people every night..

You didn’t respond right away. Because something about the way she said it- Didn’t feel like peace. It felt like belief. The blinding type of belief. “…Where is your founder ?” you asked instead.

Her smile softened. “We will gather in two days, actually” she said. “When the sun falls.” A pause. Then- “You should come.” The invitation lingered, like she already believed you would say yes.

Your gaze drifted past her briefly, scanning the market without thinking and for a second you felt it.

A presence watching. You turned and saw nothing. Just people. Just noise.

Just the same world as before…Right ? Your attention returned to her. “…I’ll consider it,” you said. Not a yes , but not a no.. And for some reason, that was enough.

Her smile widened, relief washing over her features as if something had just gone exactly the way it was meant to. “Good,” she said softly. “I’ll be waiting.” She stepped back and disappeared into the crowd quietly.

Just like that..You stood there for a moment longer. The herbs still in your hand. The noise of the market returning around you. But something else had shifted subtly.

And as you finally turned to continue what you came for, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had just stepped into something that you couldn't turn back from…

The cult member frantically ran back to the palace where the upper moon was waiting patiently. Her steps had quickened, excitement pushed her forward, her breath slightly uneven as she moved through the narrow trail that slowly gave way to something far more… breathtaking.

The mansion revealed itself gradually.

Rising from the center of a vast water garden, its structure stretched wide across the surface, supported by dark pillars that disappeared into the glowing depths below.

Lanterns burned along the bridges, their warm light reflecting against the water where lotus flowers drifted endlessly, soft petals glowing faintly as if the garden itself breathed.

It was beautiful…Too beautiful.

She crossed the bridge quickly, bowing her head as she was allowed inside, her body lowering the moment she entered his presence.

Her knees dropped to the floor like dead weight as she bowed her head deeply. Like an unseen force had dropped on her body. 

“Ahhh… my devoted follower,” Doma sang lightly, his voice echoing gently through the chamber, playful- yet carrying something deeper beneath it. “What brings you to me so soon ?”

She lifted her head as her heart began to race a million beats per second. “I… I found someone,” she said quickly, her words stumbling slightly as she tried to gather them. “A new disciple- someone who… who needs your guidance.”

His fingers tapped lazily against his jaw. “And what makes her so specia ?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his tone light, almost curious.

She hesitated. Because words didn't feel like enough to describe your divine aura. “She…” she started, her brows pulling together slightly as she searched for something that could truly describe you. “Her hair- it fell in curls, like silk… like it was touched by something divine…”

His gaze lifted slightly as his curiosity spiked.

“And her skin…” she continued, her voice softening, almost reverent now. “It glowed… like it was kissed by the sun itself. I’ve never seen anything like it before…” A pause. “And the way she smelled- ” her breath caught slightly, “it was… warm. Like something sacred.”

That caught his attention. Fully. His rainbow colored eyes flickered upward instantly, something sharp slipping behind that ever-present smile as his attention sharpened in a way it hadn’t before. “…Is that right?” he murmured, his voice quieter now, though amusement still danced along the edges of it. 

“And she also was carrying a book,” the woman added quickly. “The Breath of the Heavens.” Silence fell heavily after that. Then, he smiled. “Now that…” he said softly, almost to himself, “is something I haven’t heard of, .” His fingers stilled.

Then resumed, slower now, more deliberate. “Well,” he hummed, his voice slipping back into that sing-song tone, though something beneath it had changed completely, “I simply cannot wait to meet our new disciple.”

His gaze lowered again. Settling on her. “And she will come ?” he asked. She nodded quickly. “Yes! She said she would attend the next gathering.”

That seemed to please him, deeply. “How wonderful,” he said lightly, though his eyes betrayed something far darker than his tone. “Then we shall give her the warmest welcome.” A pause. “And make sure she feels… right at home.”

The woman bowed again. Completely unaware… Of what she had just delivered to him.

The following days passed quickly, before you realized it- the day had come. It was a quiet morning. Inside your estate, everything felt still. Almost too still.

You stood before your reflection, fingers moving slowly as you adjusted the final fold of your kimono, the fabric settling perfectly against your body as if it had been made for you alone.

The color was soft, but rich. 

Your hair had been carefully pinned up, the delicate pins gifted by Tengen’s wives resting between your curls, holding them in place while still allowing soft strands to fall naturally around your face and neck.

Nothing about it was forced. Nothing about you ever was. You didn’t wear heavy makeup. Your skin carried its own glow, warm and radiant, like it had been touched by sunlight and refused to let it go.

Your lips held their own color.

Your eyes, Alive. You didn’t look dressed for battle. You looked..Untouchable. Like something meant to be admired.

For a moment, you just stood there. Taking yourself in. Not with any sort of pride, just awareness. 

Then you turned away..Because lingering too long would only lead to thoughts you didn’t want. You stepped outside. The breeze caught you immediately, slipping through the loose strands of your hair as the world greeted you with the same quiet peace it always carried.

“…Y/N ?” You turned. Tanjiro stood a few steps away, completely caught off guard, his eyes widening slightly the moment they landed on you.

For a second- he didn't speak. Because you didn’t just look different. You looked…

Beautiful.

“…What are you up to now ?” he asked finally, his tone softer now, almost curious as he glanced over you again. 

“The Eternal Paradise Faith gathering,” you answered simply.

He smiled brightly. “ I've never heard of it but that sounds nice,” he said easily. And you gave a small nod in return before stepping past him, continuing down the path without looking back.

He watched you go. For a moment longer than he realized, then turned.

Beginning to walk in the opposite direction.

“…The Eternal Paradise Faith…?” he murmured under his breath, his brows pulling together slightly as the name lingered in his mind.

Something about it didn't sit right with him at all, but he couldn’t understand why. As he rounded the bend- He slowed.

Two figures stood in the distance. Sanemi and Obanai returning from a mission, talking. Or- arguing ?. Anyways..It was hard to tell.

Tanjiro hesitated to approach the two. His gaze flicked back briefly- To where you had disappeared..Then forward again. Because for some reason that uneasy feeling he felt curling in his chest hadn’t left.

It had only grown.

As the sun began to fall you approached the herb stand where you met the woman last time. 

You didn’t have to wait long. Because she was already there. Standing exactly where you had met her before. But this time- The moment her eyes landed on you, something shifted.

Immediate relief found her gaze quickly. “You came,” she said softly, though her voice carried something beneath it this time… something tighter, something that didn’t match the calm she tried to present.

You gave a small nod. “I said I would.” She stepped closer quickly, almost too quickly, her hands folding neatly in front of her as if she were trying to contain something.

“Please,” she said, turning. “We shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

You followed.

The path felt longer at sunset. The sky melted into warm hues, light stretching across the horizon as the sun slowly dipped lower, shadows growing deeper with each step you took.

For a while neither of you spoke. Only the sound of your footsteps filled the space between you.

Until- “How long have you known of this prophet you follow ?” you asked. Her steps faltered, just slightly. But enough for you to notice. “…Not long,” she answered quickly, her voice smoothing over itself as she continued walking. “I only recently joined.”

You watched her quietly. Something about that tone she used didn't feel true. “You seem devoted,” you said.

She laughed softly. “Well… when someone saves you from this wicked world,” she replied, her tone lighter now, practiced, “it’s hard not to be.”

Saves you.

Your gaze shifted forward again. You didn’t press on the subject for long to avoid suspicion. But you didn’t believe it either.

She didn’t notice..Or maybe she chose not to. 

Because her thoughts had already begun to spiral. Perfect…She came. She’s beautiful… strong… different…He’ll like her. He has to.

Her fingers tightened slightly at her sides as she walked.

Maybe this is it…Maybe I won’t have to keep bringing them anymore…

The screams of women being devoured alive echoed faintly in her memory.

Nights she couldn’t sleep.

Faces she tried not to remember.

Please…Let this be enough.

The path opened as the mansion revealed itself. Bathed in the last light of the setting sun.

Lanterns flickered to life one by one, their glow reflecting across the water where lotus flowers drifted endlessly, the structure rising above it all like something untouched by the world beyond it. 

You stepped onto the bridge.

The wood creaked softly beneath your feet as the sky dimmed further, the last light slipping away as you approached.

By the time you reached the entrance- The sun was gone. And something else had taken its place. The woman didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward quickly, dropping to her knees the moment you crossed inside.

“I’ve brought the new disciple ” she said, her voice echoing slightly through the space as her head bowed low. “Just as you requested” Silence followed.

Then a voice appeared out of thin air. Softly and Amused.

“Ohhhh how delightful !.” It carried easily through the room.

Doma stepped into view slowly, his presence filling the space without effort, his expression bright almost welcoming as his gaze settled onto you.

You didn’t move at all. Not even when he stepped closer, Or when his presence settled into the space like it belonged there.

You simply watched…Because that was safer for now.

But from where you stood- Doma looked…Beautiful. In a way that didn’t make sense. His features were soft, almost delicate, his pale skin untouched, unmarked, like something that had never known struggle or strain. His hair fell in layered strands, light and effortless, framing his face in a way that only drew more attention to his eyes-

And those eyes-- You stilled. Because they weren’t normal at all. Colors shifted within them, soft pastel tones blending into one another in a way that almost looked… Hypnotising.

His smile remained gentle and welcoming. But something about it didn't reach his eyes. Didn’t reach anything real at all it seemed like.

It felt… Practiced. Like he’s done this hundreds of times over and over again.

Your gaze dropped briefly, taking in the rest of him- the layered clothing, the way it draped cleanly over his built muscular frame, the subtle movement of fabric as he walked, every detail composed like he was meant to be looked at.

And around you there were women…So many of them.

All of them were beautiful in their own way, their eyes filled with devotion as they watched him, as if nothing about this felt wrong to them at all.

As if this was normal, as if he was a safe haven.

Your fingers twitched slightly at your side. No..Something was off. Everything in you knew it. But you didn’t react for now. Didn’t step back away from him. And you didn't show it.

Because you were alone.

And whatever this was- You needed to understand it first. So you tilted your head slightly, softened your gaze…And played along.

“…You must be the founder,” you said calmly, your voice smooth, controlled.

His smile widened.

“Ahh… and you must be the one I’ve been waiting eternity for,” he replied lightly, his tone almost delighted.

Your lips curved faintly. As if that didn’t bother you at all.

As if nothing about this place- Or him felt wrong. Because the only way out of this was to pretend you didn’t see it yet.

And for the first time in a very long time Doma was silent as he stood in front of you. His eyes dragged you, slowly. Taking in every detail like he was committing it to memory. “…Well now,” he murmured softly.

Something in his tone shifted. Not playful anymore, more… certain. His smile widened. “You didn’t tell me,” he said lightly, his gaze flicking briefly to the woman before returning to you, “that you were bringing me something this divine.”

He moved first. Taking his steps slowly and deliberately. Like there was no reason to rush. “May I ?” He said lightly with a polite tone. Almost playful in a way as he extended his hand toward you, palm open, fingers relaxed in a gesture that felt… practiced.

Like something he had done a hundred times before. 

Like something people never refused.

You looked at his hand just for a second. Then placed your hand gently in his palm.

The moment your skin met his it felt like you just sat your hand on cold ice. Not the kind of cold carried by wind or night air. No…This was different.

It was lifeless to the touch. It didn’t warm against you at all. Didn’t shift to your touch. It just… stayed still. Your fingers twitched instinctively, but you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t with all these people surrounding the two of you. Not here, not now, you had to keep playing it smart.

His grip tightened just slightly as he lifted your hand closer to his face. Turning your wrist to face him gently. Like he was examining something fragile or more like something rare.

You felt it before it happened. That shift..The type of shift that happens when the predator is about to devour the prey. That closeness made your heart pulse just a bit faster as you held your breath slightly.

He leaned in closer, his breath brushed against your inner wrist and your body stilled instantly. It was so cold. It felt like someone had just rubbed ice directly where his breath hovered . Like winter had settled directly against your pulse.

Then he licked his lips like he was about to taste something, Like a man savoring the first bite of a rare, exquisite dish he’d been craving far too long. He then pressed his lips pressed lightly against the inside of your wrist, right where your heartbeat lived.

 Almost delicately in a way but it didn’t feel gentle. He lingered there. Long enough for you to feel the intention behind it. Long enough for your body to recognize he wasn’t normal.

“You’re intoxicating…” He said lowly. Then he inhaled deeply like he was taking you in fully . Like he was memorizing it. “…Perfect, made just for me.” he murmured against your skin.

Those word sent something sharp through your chest. Because he didn’t use them for admiration. It was for possession. He pulled back slowly, his gaze lifting to meet yours, those shifting colors in his eyes catching the lantern light as his smile widened just slightly.

“Ive already decided” he said softly. A pause. “You belong here with me.”

Your breath caught. Not because of what he said..But because of how he said it. Like it wasn’t a thought or a question…Like it had already been decided.

Something in your chest tightened…He’s insane. The realization came quietly. You weren’t just somewhere dangerous. You were somewhere controlled where leaving wasn't as easy as a stroll in the park. 

His fingers shifted against yours.

Then, without asking, he turned, guiding you away with him to his private chambers. “Come, I want you to see your new home.” he said lightly, his tone returning to something almost cheerful, as if nothing about that moment had been strange at all.

Like what he said meant nothing. But it did mean something..and you knew it.

The crowd parted for him immediately, the women stepping aside without question, their eyes following you both as he led you deeper into the mansion, away from the light, away from the open space- and into something quieter…more secluded.

As the doors slid closed behind you-- you felt it. That shift.

Whatever mask he wore out there…was about to change.

And you were about to face it

The woman who brought you here lowered her head further. Relieved. Because she had finally done it. She had brought him something worthy. 

And now..She might finally be free.

“The Eternal Paradise Faith…” The name wouldn’t leave him…Tanjiro walked with his brows pulled together, repeating it quietly under his breath as if saying it enough times would make it make sense.

It didn’t. “…The Eternal Paradise…” he muttered again- and walked straight into someone.

“Ah- ! I’m so sorry!” He bowed quickly, head lowered without hesitation.

“…Watch where you’re going Kamado,” Obanai said coldly, his gaze narrowing slightly before recognition flickered across his expression. 

Tanjiro straightened slightly. “Yes- Apologies, Mr.Iguro sir,” he said quickly. “I actually had a question if you don’t mind- ”

“Well I do mind so now what ?” The voice came sharper. Sanemi didn’t even look at him at first, his posture already tense from whatever mission they had just returned from.

Tanjiro swallowed. “Well, I was just speaking to Y/N,” he began carefully, “and she mentioned she was going to a gathering… for something called the Eternal Paradise Faith.” 

Silence fell eeriely. Then Sanemi’s head snapped toward him. “…She what ?” The shift was immediate.

Tanjiro blinked, slightly caught off guard.

“She said she was invited to meet their founder,” he continued quickly. “She got dressed up and left earlier- she looked,- ” he hesitated for a second, trying to find the words, “like an oiran… like- like a goddess or something- ”

That was enough. Sanemi’s expression darkened instantly, something violent flickering behind his eyes as his jaw tightened.

“Tell me where she- ” The voice cut through the air. As the sound of rushed wings were fast and desperate.

Your crow.

It crashed down in front of them, wings beating unevenly as it struggled to stay upright, its voice strained, panicked-

“Emergency! Emergency! Upper Two- !” Everything stilled. “…Upper Two?” Tanjiro repeated under his breath.

“Y/N has encountered Upper Two!” the crow cried out, its voice cracking as it tried to catch its breath. “I repeat Y/N has encountered Upper Two !”

It gave the direction immediately to the hashira. Sanemi moved faster than Tanjiro could react. His hand shot out, grabbing the front of Tanjiro’s uniform and yanking him up off the ground like he weighed nothing. “If anything happens to her- ” his voice dropped, low and furious, eyes locked onto Tanjiro with something that felt more like a threat than a warning, “If Y/N comes back with so much as a scratch-”

His grip tightened. “I’ll make sure you’re coughing up blood.”

Tanjiro didn’t argue. Didn’t resist. Because he could smell it.

The anger..and the fear of losing you beneath it. “…Shinazugawa,” Obanai said sharply. A pause. Then- “We have to leave now.” That was it. Sanemi dropped him and the next second, they were gone.

All three of them, running fast like their lives depended on it. Straight toward you. Because somewhere ahead you weren’t just in danger anymore.

You were facing something the Hashira knew all too well.

And for the first time…They might already be too late.

Taglist: @sanemisrealofficialwife

[deathmetaldreams]