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cutiemochiii · 10 months

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Angel (pt. 3)

I COULDNT HELP IT OKAY

SOME MORE KOTOHA X DOUMA

EXCEPT NOW BABY INOSUKE IS THERE TOO ;-;

ENJOY!!

credit to the artist (wish I knew who it was) for the beautiful fanart

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“I’m going to eat you…” Douma sat with his legs crossed. He held the tiny, chubby, nutrient-rich infant over his mouth, his fangs glistening. He grinned, letting go of the child and letting him free fall, catching him in his cradled arms at the last minute. The child merely squealed happily. It was very amusing to him, how small and feeble humans were. He could easily devour it in one bite, but he knew that Kotoha would not be too pleased with that. And Douma simply couldn’t let such a pretty face be sullied with tears.

“You’re such an insignificant little thing, aren’t you?” Holding the boy in one arm, he ran his clawed finger down its face. If he pushed just a little harder, the child would bleed. It was hard for Douma to be delicate. The child grabbed his finger, putting it in his mouth.

Douma’s eyes widened, cocking his head to the side as he hummed in question. “Are you trying to eat me?” Douma couldn’t remember a time in his childhood where he wasn’t worshipped, so he wasn’t quite sure how normal children grew up. He grinned.

“Maybe when you’re a little older,” Douma placed his other pointer in his own mouth, piercing it with his teeth. He dangled it right above the boy as the blood welled up into a little sphere.

“I’ll share some of Lord Muzan’s blood with you, and you can live with me forever.” He whispered, eyes brightening at his idea. But he licked the blood away before the droplet fell. He sighed.

“However, I don’t think you’d survive the transformation right now.” He looked up at the ceiling, finger against his chin in thought. “You’d probably melt.” He looked down at the boy. “Right?”

The infant babbled back, making Douma smile. Humans were so much more interesting in their truest form; tiny helpless creatures. No wealth, or strength, or pride to hide behind. No pretending to be wise, or kind, or anything they weren’t. Crying when they’re hungry. Unable to function without a protector. In a way, Douma wished all of his worshippers were infants, instead of self-entitled, prideful bastards. It would make taking care of them a lot easier.

“Um, Lord Douma?” Speak of the devil.

“Yes~?” Douma set the boy down on the floor, letting him crawl as Douma laid on his stomach, watching him intently. He propped his head up on his arms. The baby crawled towards him, reaching a chubby hand up and grasping strands of Douma’s hair. He shoved the whole fist of hair in his mouth.

Toothless, and yet still trying to eat everything. What interesting determination.

Douma’s follower bowed his head. “There are people who would like to see you now.” He spoke quietly. Douma didn’t even look his way, pulling his hair away from the baby’s mouth.

“I will not be seeing anyone today.” Douma spoke casually. The man straightened suddenly.

“But sir, these people have been patiently waiting for their opportunity to meet with you-” “I must’ve not spoken loud enough.” Douma gave him a smile that should be sweet, but felt nothing like it.

He diverted his attention back to the infant, lifting him into the air. “I’ll repeat myself, I will not be seeing anyone today!” He spoke loudly, an edge to his voice that had his follower’s hand trembling. The man bowed again.

“Of course sir, I’ll let them know right away.” As the man turned to leave, he ran into a woman. She fell from the impact, the stuff in her hands dropping to the floor. The man scoffed. It was the woman taking the lord’s attention away from his subjects. Her and her wretched child.

“Get out of the way, pet.” That’s what she was, Lord Douma’s plaything for the time. Eventually he would tire of her and then throw her back out into the forest where she belonged. Before she arrived, Lord Douma never left his subjects to their own whims. It aggravated the man. Who was she, compared to him? He was one of Lord Douma’s chosen priests, spreading his words to his followers. She was just some harlot.

“Now now,” Douma’s voice licked up the man’s spine, causing his hairs to stand on end.

“That is not how we speak to lovely young women, is it?” In a moment, Douma towered over the man, standing beside Kotoha who was picking up the fruits that had been scattered across the floor. She placed them quietly into her basket.

Douma noticed her motions. “Stop moving Kotoha.” He spoke softly, but held all the command. Kotoha stilled, and Douma’s eyes slid lazily back to the man. Douma held the child against his chest. “I thought I taught my subjects how to show proper respect.” He furrowed his brows, pouting with disappointment.

The stench of fear filled Douma’s nose, and his expression faded into his easy smile. He snapped his fingers. “I know how to fix this.” He motioned one of his hands towards the ground, where Kotoha sat frozen.

“Pick them up for her,” the man stood silently. “Now.” The man dropped to the ground, hastily grabbing the basket out of Kotoha’s hands and filling it haphazardly with the fruits that were strewn everywhere.

~~~~

Kotoha watched with wide eyes as the man filled the basket with all of the fallen fruits, sitting up on his knees once he was finished. Having been with Lord Douma for over a month, she still couldn’t tell if his subjects’ blind obedience to him was out of respect for him, or fear of him. He seemed well-enough liked by them, and for as long as she’d been around him, he had been nothing but kind to her and her son.

But the situation was very tense, and even with Douma’s nonchalance, it was obvious that the man was terrified of upsetting him. “Kotoha.” There it was, that indescribable switch in his aura, when he spoke to her. She looked up at him.

“Yes, my lord?” He smiled at her. It was his most common expression. She recalled the way he had been smiling when her husband and his mother had died.

He outstretched his hand to her. “Stand up darling.” It was his nickname for her, and a part of her couldn’t tell if he used it to taunt her, to remind her of her abusive dead husband, or if it was his way of trying to make up for the loss of the man who was supposed to protect her.

She took his hand, always cool to the touch, and stood. He had her son cradled in one arm. Even with a child in his grasp, he exuded a tremendous air of power. The man bowed, head to the floor as his muffled voice rang out.

“My apologies my lord! I was not thinking, I should have treated her with the utmost respect. She is an important member of our temple-” Douma began to laugh. It was unnerving, echoing out into the silence of the room.

Kotoha touched his arm in concern. “My lord?” She asked gently.

“Why are you apologizing to me? I’m not the one you were so disgustingly rude to.” He stepped behind Kotoha, grabbing her by the arm. He lowered his face to her shoulder, voice dangerously low.

“It’s your lady you should be apologizing to.” He murmured, breath tickling Kotoha’s ear. She felt her heart pounding. The man’s eyes finally drifted to hers, wide with shock and disdain towards her. He was quiet.

“Well? Lady Kotoha is growing rather impatient.” Douma stood straight, crossing his arms. The man stared at Kotoha, slowly sinking back to the ground. “There you go~” Douma encouraged, voice barely above a whisper.

“Hashibira Kotoha, my-my lady. Please accept my apology for my deplorable behavior toward you earlier. I will not let it happen again.” His voice was strained. He had no desire to do this for Kotoha, but he did it anyways. Out of fear. Kotoha staggered a step, but Douma placed a firm hand against her back, pushing her closer to the prostrating man.

“So, what do you say darling? Do you accept his apology?” Kotoha felt his hand twitching against the small of her back. His eyes glistened menacingly, the same way they did after mutilating her husband. She knew that if she wasn’t quick with her response, something would happen to this man, something bad.

“I-I do!! I forgive him!” She blurted. She felt Douma’s hand still, his shoulders slumping as he sighed. Had he, wanted to punish the man?

He placed his hand on his hip. “Well, you heard her. Now, get out.” The man scrambled out of his way. She heard his silent thank you as he left.

~~~~

It was as if nothing had happened, the way he lifted her son into the air, giggling as the boy did the same.

“Kotoha, darling, remind me of his name again?” Kotoha smiled softly, walking behind him towards the center of the room.

“Inosuke.”

“Ah, yes. Little Inosuke. The little demon.” His nickname for her son made her giggle. She carefully took him out of Douma’s arms, cuddling him close to her face. He smelled sweet, faintly of a scent similar to the sweetness that poured off of Douma. The way plants smelled sweet to attract prey. It made her realize just how much time Douma spent with Inosuke.

“What are the fruits for?” Douma sat beside the basket that Kotoha had placed on the floor. Kotoha sank down and joined him, placing Inosuke on the floor beside her. Inosuke instantly grabbed a plum, putting it in his mouth and sucking on it. Douma stabbed one with his finger, looking at it curiously.

“Oh, I saw them at the market I visited. They were just so fresh, I had to bring some back for us.” She blushed. Douma glanced at her.

“For us?” He repeated. Kotoha nodded. “You’re welcome to eat them with us.”

Douma smirked. “I am actually quite full, but I am touched that you thought of me. In fact,” Douma scooped Inosuke back into his arms. It seemed he could not tire of her son.

“How about you eat, and I’ll spend time with the little demon.” Kotoha grinned. She was grateful for Douma’s kindness, as strange as the atmosphere was sometimes. Kotoha watched Douma take the plum out of Inosuke’s mouth, crushing it in his hand, and letting Inosuke eat the soft inside.

Kotoha could picture herself living beside Douma for a long, long time.

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Author’s Note: INOSUKE AND DOUMA 🥹 (I love them). And ugh, gotta love protective (ish? Since he doesn’t really have feelings? Idk man I’m working with what I got here) Douma. I hope you love this continuation of my lovely little drabble series.

Here’s Part 1, and Part 2!

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cutiemochiii · 10 months

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Angel

My interpretation of how the initial meeting between Douma and Kotoha went.

credit to the artist (wish I knew who it was) for the beautiful fanart

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It was no use. No matter how many times she tried to blink, the pain in her face would not fade, and the fogginess of her vision would not clear. Kotoha could still taste the iron of blood in her mouth from when she bit her husband. She cradled a bundle close to her chest, trying to protect it from the elements. The cold bit at her skin through her delicate kimono, like sharp knives on her body.

She must look like a madwoman, staggering around in the forest, running farther and farther from her village home, in a snowstorm as the sun began to set. Kotoha didn’t care, that was no longer a home to her. She could hear shouts, calls of distress from neighbors still echoing behind her. The same voices that had stayed silent during her husband’s many onslaughts towards her. She let out a frustrated cry, bitterness planting a twisted, ugly seed in her chest.

No, this was not the place for anger, she had to stay focused. In no time, her perpetrators would be on top of her, considering how much slower she was moving due to her injuries.

Kotoha shot out her free arm, waving it around in an attempt to keep herself from running into anything. Her feet were beginning to struggle as the snow piled. The sky was darkening fast, and dread pooled in her stomach. She would freeze to death if she wandered in the dark for much longer.

No, no, no. Keep going. Keep pushing. Don’t stop.

The trees were clearing, and she started to feel less resistance against her legs. She ran with all the strength she could muster, her muscles screaming. The sky and the earth all blended together in a sea of white, and Kotoha cursed her eyesight for failing her. But even in the blurriness, she could make out a large temple ahead of her, black with a blood red roof.

The doors were plated in gold. Even the last strings of dusk pulling at the sky in thin tendrils made them shine blindingly. And at the doors that towered high above all else, stood a person, who was turning away to head back through them. Kotoha had no idea what the temple was, how far she had run.

Would she be offered safety there? Or would she be pushed out like the filthy wretch everyone made her out to be? It didn’t matter. Those doors, they were built high and golden for a reason. Only a select few could enter and earn the security of that glowing monolith.

They opened for the person, and Kotoha imagined the pearly gates of heaven probably looked similar. The figure stepped through, slow and elegant. The blessed gates began to close. No…

“Please.” Her voice was a desperate, frozen rasp. Please let her in. Please let her be chosen. Please do not shut her out. If not for her sake, then for his. Please. She continued, stumbling as her legs numbed from the cold. She tried to beg again, but her voice had left her entirely. She was still too far from the temple to catch their attention.

A small misstep in the snow was enough to cause the woman to collapse. She quickly lifted her bundle, crawling with her free limbs. She had to make it, prove her worth. She was deserving of a haven. She was.

To her relief, the person had stopped. The gates did not close. There wasn’t much distance left. The rocks and sticks on the earth tore her palm and knees.

The air seemed to still completely. Time felt slow. There was a shadow looming over her. Kotoha stopped, her gaze following up the silhouette standing in front of her.

A man —in beige pants and a blood-red shirt— watched her with crossed arms, head quirked in fascination. His glowing blonde hair was only surpassed by his glittering eyes. Even with her lack of sight, the young woman gawked. It was the man from the gates.

“You poor thing.” His voice was silk. A gentle caress of warmth in the blistering cold. Suddenly, Kotoha wasn’t shivering as much as she had been. The man looked up, glancing around in every direction.

“Are you alone?” He asked smoothly, as if she wasn’t groveling at his feet. She wanted to respond. To beg for his mercy, to ask for reprieve from her hell. But she couldn’t. All Kotoha could do was hold back a sob as her eyes welled up.

“Angel.” She choked out, voice merely a soft croak. The man flinched, looking down at her. She hoped her eyes could tell him everything her mouth could not.

“You can talk?” He kneeled down onto a knee, at eye-level with the woman who couldn’t stand. “Oh my, look at your face. You’re so young. Such tender, supple skin should not be so mangled.” He brought his hand to her cheek. His touch was cool, the kind of sensation that a breeze would bring on a hot summer day.

It was all clear. The sky, so vast and dark that even the storm-bearing clouds could not cover it entirely. Kotoha felt like she could see every crystal of snow crunching under her weight. Her vision had returned, and as she blinked, the pain too had vanished.

And there he was, clear as day. His skin —almost the color of the snow around them— brought out his eyes. Rainbow eyes, shifting in color like a glimmering opal with each movement of his head. If his eyes were so mesmerizing in the dimness of a stormy evening, she could only imagine what they would look like in the light of day. She knew her voice had been restored, but she was quieted by her awe. All she could do was stare as he stared back, his eyes seeming wider than before.

He pointed a finger, and Kotoha realized how long his fingernails were. “Whatcha got there?” He questioned. He was looking at the white cloth in her arm. Suddenly Kotoha stumbled back, hugging it tighter to her chest. The man stood.

“It’s your child.” He stated matter of factly. He glanced around one last time, before approaching her again and extending his hand. “Come. Let’s get you somewhere warm.” She hesitated, before taking it and slowly letting him help her stand.

Kotoha had done it, she was worthy. “Rainbow angel.” She finally mustered the strength to speak. She looked up at him. Her mouth started to curve upwards, in a smile so true it almost felt as if she had never smiled before. “Thank you.”

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Author’s Note: I really hope you guys liked this! There will be a part 2! We’re not quite done with this first meeting juuuust yet! This is my first real writing post here, I can’t wait to do more.

Here’s Part 2! Part 3!

#kimetsu no yaiba douma #kimetsu no yaiba #kotoha hashibira #inosuke hashiriba #kimetsu inosuke #kimetsu kotoha #kimetsu douma #douma x kotoha

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