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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 (pt. 2)

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

————————————————————————Even with her swollen face, Douma knew something was different about the woman. The fear that he smelled on her washed him with memories of his human life. Of people whose burdens were so great that they couldn’t care less about blubbering it all to a child with special eyes.

But it wasn’t just that; she wasn’t just there to complain to him about her life as she kneeled before him. Even without her voice, Douma had heard her plea. She was exhausted and wanted help, she wanted to be saved. And who was he, if not humanity’s great savior?

The face he fixed was so gentle, all the soft and fullness of beautiful youth. A desire to just gaze at her almost outweighed his desire to taste what he could only explain as spring. Her coal-black hair, delicate body and fresh blood. He almost worried that if he closed his eyes, she would be replaced with a field of flowers, even amidst the frost.

Her eyes were green, such a saturated color that it reminded Douma of the lush forest she had stumbled out of. It resembled the very earth that existed long before any of them had. It only made sense that just as the Earth, she too was a mother.

He helped her stand, walking her carefully towards the doors of his temple. She had called the man an angel, and he wanted to laugh, tell her how terribly mistaken she was. But he couldn’t bring himself to, not when her face looked so unfathomably hopeful. Now this, this was someone worth saving. Worth giving life to. “What’s your name?” He asked as they walked.

“Hashibira Kotoha.”

The name rang in Douma’s mind like wind chimes. “Kotoha,” he tested, and to his surprise, liked the way it sounded on his tongue. He smiled down at her. “You are safe now.” He assured.

Douma wondered if the woman had even realized she was holding her breath as she released it. He felt her anxieties flow out of her, like a murmuring creek spilling into a large river. And he was the river, carrying everyone and their worries inside of him.

“Where did you come from?” He asked as they finally reached the doors. She had been staring at them as if in a trance, when she flicked her gaze to the ground. “A village, on the other side of the forest.” She mumbled. By the way she reacted at the thought of the place, Douma knew she had been running for a reason. Before he could ask about it, Kotoha spoke. “What is this place?” She questioned. Her voice was a birdsong, and once again Douma wondered if she was the human incarnation of spring.

He smiled at her. “This, is the temple of the Eternal Paradise Faith.” He moved his arm in a sweeping motion, indicating to the temple to emphasize his point. He put a slender hand to his own chest. “And I, am its leader, Douma.” Kotoha’s eyes widened, and she dropped to her knees, prostrating. “I am so sorry, Lord Douma. I wasn’t aware-” “Oh no, please stand.” He cut in, smiling playfully. “Your son won’t last much longer if you keep dropping him into the snow.” There was a small silence before she stood. As she opened her mouth to speak once more, angry shouts sounded from the forest. They were loud, and fast approaching.

Douma felt Kotoha tense, and she stared at him with wide, frantic eyes. “Please,” her voice was a squeak. A tear rolled down her distressed face. “They’re here to hurt me. Please.” She pleaded. Her shaking hand was gripping his shirt. Douma looked back at the forest to see a woman and a large man lumber toward them. “You witch! How dare you run from me!” The man shouted.

They finally made it to where Kotoha and Douma stood, gasping for breaths. Hands on his knees, the man looked up at Douma. “Thank you so much for catching her. I apologize, my wife can act quite unlike herself sometimes.” He reached a tired arm out towards him. “I will take her back now. I hope she wasn’t much trouble for you.” He panted.

“Not at all,” Douma responded coolly, like a snake waiting for its prey’s moment of weakness. He still had his lazy smile plastered on his face. He felt Kotoha take a timid step back, standing close behind him. Her hand was still on his shirt. “In fact, I was just asking about her injuries. In her little journey, she seems to have gotten quite battered.”

“Oh, that’s normal. That girl is an awful clutz, after all.” The woman chimed in, as if she was making the situation any better. Douma stood still as a statue, his casual smirk unwavering. Realizing he was making no progress with him, the man tried appealing to Kotoha.

He reached his hand out, almost to touch her, but she shrank away from his grasp. “Darling,” his voice was strained, Douma knew he was barely keeping up his facade. Humans, so easy to read. “Come with me, let's head home.”

Douma looked behind him to the young woman, eyes void of any emotion. “Go on,” he urged. “You can go.” But Kotoha merely shook her head in silence, the scent of her fear overwhelming as she stared her husband down. Douma’s brows furrowed, looking at the man with feign confusion. “Hmm.” Douma crossed his arms. “Seems you wife doesn’t want to go with you. How bizarre.” Douma was practically taunting him, and he could tell her husband was becoming agitated.

For a second, he wondered what flavors the man would have. He’d definitely taste fermented, with all the booze Douma was sure he drank. That was fine, Douma enjoyed intoxication every once in a while. The woman however, would taste like poison. The kind that would work slow, until it had you twitching on the floor, confused as to how you got so ill. Douma would just take his time with her, to give his body time to absorb all the poison from her pathetic little fangs. The man had dropped his hand, curling it into a fist at his side. It trembled.

“I will ask you again, kindly give me back what I own.”

Douma laughed softly. “No.” He smiled menacingly at the man. The man shot him a glare.

“Bastard!” He yelled out, raising his fist in an attempt to attack Douma. Something landed in the snow with a soft thump. The man stared in horror at the blood pouring out of the stump that was once his hand. Him and the old lady both began to scream, the man using his other hand to attempt another assault, this one aimed for Kotoha. “You bitch!” He yelled out.

~~~~

Kotoha blinked, and the man was gurgling, clutching desperately at his throat. Blood was spurting violently from the deep cut on his neck, before Douma reached out a finger to push against her husband’s forehead. The head slumped all the way back, touching his spine and only hanging onto the rest of his body by a few stringy tendons. His struggling stopped, and he collapsed before Douma in the snow.

Kotoha didn’t realize just how much blood a person could spill. The red snow had spread and stained the bottom of her kimono. Douma lightly fanned himself with a gold fan that seemed to have materialized out of thin air. The silver edge of it was covered in thick, red fluid. “Man, I hate working up a sweat.” He sighed, as if he was complaining about some warm weather.

Her mother in law stared at her son’s body, her mouth gaping, eyes bulging to the point that Kotoha was afraid they would drop right out of their sockets. She put her hands up in surrender. “You know what? You can keep her, she wasn’t that important to me anyways. How much would you like for her? Maybe I can bring her stuff here for you! Since she left all her belongings back home. I hope she brings you good fortune and company! Consider this our payment for your kindness in finding her-” She rambled on feverishly, when suddenly she too started to choke, dropping to her knees before Douma.

“You speak far too much, hag.” He spoke, his voice dripping with sugar sweet malice. He glowered at her, face plastered with disdain as if looking at vermin. “Die.” The woman could only let out a petrified squeal, similar to that of a tortured pig. Her body broke apart, each joint sliced to pieces and bleeding.

What just happened? Kotoha wondered if she was hallucinating. Her heart was beating erratically. Eyes wide, she turned to look at the man standing beside her. “What,” she was gasping. “What are you?”

“Hmm?” Douma was looking at the carnage with an idle grin, eyes sparkling as they slid over to Kotoha. “My my, Hashibira Kotoha. It was like you said.” He brought the fan to his mouth, tongue running across the edge. His hand dropped to his side, face smeared with blood. He smiled wide, seeming to have forgotten all about the massacre he was responsible for.

“I’m an angel.”

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Authors Note: YAY!! PART 2!! Thank you for enjoying the first part, it means a lot to me. :) Now, as for more, this is as far as I have for now. I was thinking of writing more for these two (maybe that sad sad scene with baby Inosuke ;-;), but for now, this is what I got! I hope you enjoyed.

Part 1! Part 3!

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